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#Why does he have his mouth open on almost all of my art???
coryosbaby · 1 day
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i saw that you wrote for donnie darko a while ago and since i’m currently fixating on him i present a very intriguing concept: stepbro!donnie.
i feel like he’d love the taboo aspects of it and would have no trouble justifying it to himself bc it’s not like you’re related.
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18+, MDNI !! stepcest (stepbrother x stepsister), suggestive content , kissing
No cs he literally would. In the movie he’s all about “I don’t want to fuck my family, that’s weird.” But with you, he doesn’t even view you as family— not really, anyway. Sure, your parents are together but at the end of the day there’s no blood relation, right? It’s not normal to daydream about tit fucking your sister, either, so— yeah. Definitely doesn’t view you as a relative.
He’s a total horn dog. I can imagine him making a move on you for the first time when you’re both watching a movie— some dumbass sex scene comes on and suddenly his dick is springing up and he’s subtly placing a pillow across his lap. He watches your concentration on the screen, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“Why do they always decide to fuck in these movies?” You question. You say this because you’re both watching some random slasher with an unnecessary amount of girl on boy sex scenes. “There’s like, a killer on the loose. How stupid can you be?”
He shrugs. His hand moves to the bulge in his pants.
“Spur of the moment, I guess,” he replies. “Can’t really control it once it starts.”
“And what would you know about the art of intimacy?”
It’s a joke, an innocent little jab that usually has Donnie firing back with something like, “you’re one to talk,” and then making a joke about your empty dating history— but he doesn’t do that this time. No, you’re too pretty. He’s too horny. He needs to break the ice before he lands hard on his ass and doesn’t get back up.
“Wanna find out?”
Your pupils dilate, eyes a bit wide and freaked out when you hear the (incredibly impulsive) words spill from your stepbrother’s lips. But also— and only Donnie would notice this, seeing you all the time and all, and not because he thinks about you every waking moment— you seem to be intrigued. Your eyes scan over his body and move back up to his face.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” You tease, and let out a nervous chuckle. “You wish. I’d never fuck your virgin ass.”
“How’dya know if you’ve never tried it?” And he gives you that shit eating grin when he’s really amused, the one that makes your stomach do flips. “You could kiss me instead, then. See if you like it.”
“I’m not kissing my brother.”
“Stepbrother,” he corrects. His legs spread apart, almost like an invite. You pretend not to notice. “C’mon, kid. don’t be a pussy.”
He calls you kid even though you’re only one month younger than him. He does this because he knows it irks you. You roll your eyes, licking your plump bottom lip.
“Whatever,” you mumble, then you groan. “Come here, then. But if you slip me tongue, Darko, I swear to god I’ll tell your English professor that you cheated on your exams last year.”
He begins scooting closer, his jean clad thigh pressing against your bare one, and he seems very giddy.
“Won’t give you tongue,” he replies. “I swear it on my life.”
You give an annoyed hum. Donnie’s arm goes behind you on the back of couch, and you can smell his cologne and the dial soap he uses in the shower. When neither of you makes a move— an awkward stare into each other’s eyes, faces a few inches apart, Donnie’s eyes filling with something you can’t quite make out— you utter, “Well, are you going to do it or not?”
Instead of replying, he just.. goes for it. He presses his mouth to yours in a smooth peck. But fuck, he’s so hard, and he’s wanted this for so long. He goes back in for another, mouth opened slightly, awkward. Virginal. The two of you kiss like this because that’s exactly what the both of you are— virgins. When you pull away from him, his lashes flutter open and he grins again. You want to kiss him some more— maybe his tongue in your mouth wouldn’t be so bad. But you hold back, eyes blinking.
“This is really fuckin’ weird, Donnie.”
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:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz
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vafr0 · 1 month
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I made a sketch for this art a year ago. I finished it more or less six months ago, but I was still not satisfied with the result to the end. Now I think that I will not return to this art, so why not show it to you?
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emsgoodthinkin · 6 months
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18+
“Oh.. hell yea baby bounce on it”
You and Steve have been together for 5 months now. Met in college, specifically art class, he was forced to take an elective, anything for him to graduate. That’s when he saw you in the middle of the room.. naked. Well kinda, there was a long white sheet wrapped around you. Figure drawing was that days subject.
You seemed happy? Not at all flustered having all eyes on you, Steve was a bit intimidated, not only because of how beautiful you looked and all, but everything about you made the whole room glow. And made the bulge in his pants grow.
After class he was the last one out, he wanted to talk to you, little were you aware he was stuck behind in the room; that’s when you dropped the sheet to put your clothes back on. You both screamed in sync and he scrambled out of the door faster than you could’ve blinked.
Later that afternoon, you seen him in the library and came up to him to talk about the book he was reading. He was surprised you didn’t mention the incident, and since then you two hit it off.
He knew you were a virgin, so heavy make out sessions, mutual masturbation and lots of oral was the base of your guys relationship.
You woke up, extremely needy and horny. No vibrator or dildo could sedate your craving other than Steve. He wanted to take his time with you, telling you that you’ll know when the time is right. He made a mistake years ago losing his to quickly so in his terms, he’s doing you a favor. In your terms, he’s torturing you.
You swear he gets off on it.
You’ve been rubbing your pussy up against your hand every five seconds at work, coaxing him through sexy texts and lewd photos. Trying to give him the heads up you’re ready for him to finally fuck you. Or “make love” as he’d exclaim. same shit
He’s usually arrived home by the time you get off of work and today, you were definitely worked; panties have been sticking to your cunt since 10 this morning
“I need you now!” you shout kicking your shoes off and tossing your bag elsewhere, meanwhile, he’s wide-eyed, staring at you with a mouth full of cereal
“Pardon?”
“Steve baby please I love you so much but I need your cock in me right now, I’ve been so horny all day, I mean I can literally smell myself through my own pants right now,” you admit ridding him of the bowl, climbing into his lap, immediately grinding your hips
He scoffs.
“Baby we’ve been through this.. damn, really can smell it huh?” he replies cursing himself, biting his lip, “I thought we were going to wait? you know I want it to be special for you”—
“and it will be, please I promise I’m ready” you pout
The heavy feeling of you has him already babbling.
—“just like that baby, bounce it a little bit — y-yeah that’s it there we go,” he strains bucking, his hips up into yours, cock fully solid
“yeah? like that daddy?”—
“Don’t! Stop that.. fuck, don’t call me that, you know what that does to me”
“what does it do hm?” you lean down to nip his ear, “does it make you wanna fuck my brains out?”
He growls, moving your hips faster “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you doing this to me, fuck! keep bouncin, keep boucin that hot pussy on my dick sweetheart oh— shit”—
“Come on Stevie you know you want it, you’ve been dying to feel my pussy squeeze it, anytime with you will be s-speacial, just.. PLEASE!” you, almost in tears, begging; your thighs are burning the faster and harder you grind
“Ahhh, fuck it, get up!”, he demands angrily and eagerly ripping your pants and soaked panties off—
“Open those fuckin legs, ill make ya feel real special tonight”
reblogs appreciated
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mitsies · 1 year
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thinking about high-school!gojo today.....
he’s top of his classes, a-list student, and everyone knows him. people across campus gossip about his latest romances and grades and all— he’s an open book. and a new york time’s best seller, apparently.
gojo is specifically notorious for his position as top student at your prestigious school. only the best from the best lineage, it seems. in graded discussions, he’s viciously tearing down others’ points. he disagrees with the teacher. makes jokes that make the whole class laugh. has been responsible for at least 3 faculty members’ quitting. all this, and he’s still failing art. sculpture class, to be exact.
it’s an elective both he and you have been forced into; you’re a lot happier about it than him, it seems. because he always complains. loudly. and he sucks at art, quite frankly.
it's plain to see that the boy has never even drawn a portrait in his life. he's got two right hands and he's left-handed, it looks like, that's how bad he is. and even worse is the fact that he's got no friends in this class; everyone's a stranger. which is probably why he resorts to bothering you.
you like to think you're a strong person, of mind and of being. but your resolve to being kind crumbles as soon as gojo opens his big fat mouth.
you see why people like him. he can be funny. he's good at lots of things (arts not included) and sometimes, only sometimes, does he have something valuable to say. but mostly, you find gojo satoru to be a nuisance.
working on your projects is made incredibly difficult when 6 feet of pure frustration is bitching right next to you. "this clay," he'd complain, "it's gotta be broken. it's not working."
you try to ignore him, you really do. him and his inane excuses, and empty commentary. and for the most part, he disregards you right back. he looks through you, sometimes. sometimes. that is, until the teacher pulls him aside a few weeks before the end of the school year and he comes back more stone-faced and scared than you've ever seen him. he's quiet for longer than you've known possible and you're surprised to find that you kind of miss hearing his voice.
he doesn't really say much, and class lets out, and you go on with your life like normal. but there's an itch in the back of your mind, and it sounds like his name over and over and you can't quite get it out of your head. not until the next day, when you see him again- 2nd period sculpture class, 9 o'clock in the morning.
and this time, he looks right at you.
"you're really good at this whole sculpture thing." he's making a statement, not asking a question. you blink and realise that this is the very first time he's spoken to you, directly. he was complimenting you in a way- on what? does this mean he's seen you? all this time you presumed he stared straight through, blue eyes burning holes through your skull. maybe, just maybe, he's been looking at you the whole time. you're not sure how to reply so you just nod, "i guess."
"i," he says the next words like he's choking on glass and you see his adam's apple bob (his skin is so pale; translucent. you think it'd be cold to the touch,) "need help."
you almost feel bad. he looks like a cat that just got soaked in water. pitiful. playing dumb, though you know exactly what he means, you tilt your head innocently. "help with what?"
he grimaces. you bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile from spreading like wildfire.
"this class."
"oh? what about it?"
he dramatically slumps against the desk, knocking over the boy in front of him's water bottle. he doesn't bother picking it up. "sculpting. art. everything."
"i thought you were good at everything, though."
that might've been too far, because he looks at you again. he really, really looks. and you think he sees you. because he smiles, "my reputation precedes me. i'm so famous, aren't i?"
"i guess you are," you concede, allowing an edge of amusement to lighten your tone. he is still looking at you. he does not break eye contact. it makes your stomach churn with something sickeningly alive, something abhorrently beautiful.
"then it should be your honour to help me out or something, yeah?"
it should be. it will be. you could let it be.
"i'm pretty busy. sorry."
he blinks at you. you turn away. why did you say no? you didn't want to. but then again, you'd prefer to be away from him and his life- lavish, elegant, mansions and stars and cameras and glamour- you have homework to do.
you think that, after this, gojo satoru will leave you be.
he does not.
in fact, you think it gets worse.
if he wasn't talking to you much at all before, it's all he does now. he sits in your seat before class starts, getting there before you, waiting for you. chats your ears off, too, when you try to get work done. and he always ends up bringing up that proposal again- to help tutor him in sculpture, or give him pointers, or whatever, you try to tune him out.
you wonder why he only asks you. there's plenty of much more talented, much more friendly students in your class. ones that'd say yes. but he only asks you. you think he knew it was only a matter of time before you gave in. that was what he was banking on, probably. all it took was two weeks worth of asking, talking non-stop, and basically borderline begging. and you folded.
..which, is how you find yourself in the art room, after-hours, sitting next to gojo satoru and a pottery wheel as he helplessly squishes the miserable and miserly beginnings of yet another deformed clay pot.
"you can do it," you encourage rather dryly. he shoots you a look. "great acting."
"sorry. i'm trying my best here."
his hands are covered in wet clay, so when he wipes his brow he uses his forearm. the crewneck he wears is pulled up and pale, pale skin glows a wintery shade. you tear your eyes away. "and i am too! but it isn't working!"
you frown. he really is bad at this- ignoring all your direct pointers and advice. you've told him what he needs to fix; be gentle, go slowly, be patient, patient, patient. all that has gone in one ear and out the other.
you really dread what you're about to do. but you want to help him save his grade in this class, because gojo satoru was not gojo satoru without his 4.0 gpa. so, bracing yourself, feeling a tight, tight knot in your stomach, you ghost your hands over his on the wheel and hold on, shadowing them. a guide.
his skin is cold, you were right. big hands, bigger than yours, they feel good and frigid beneath your touch; like they were made for you, sculpted to your touch. you feel his breathing stall before he starts rambling again.
his words move fast, but not faster than his heartbeat, which you feel in his wrist. you'd be dizzy with the proximity if you weren't so focused on making something. it's almost magic, how 2 pairs of hands come together to make something- a small pot, spinning on the wheel.
it's a little lopsided and wonky looking but it's far, far better than anything gojo's accomplished. he goes quiet. "wow," he says, so so hushed you almost don't catch it. you know he's not talking about the pot.
"i told you that you could do it."
his hands break away from the wheel, leaving the clay formation and pulling your hands away, too. they're in his, still, and covered in a think muddy-coloured sludge of slip. but he holds them.
"you have something on your face," you exhale after a beat of silence. because he does; a dash of clay, marking the expanse of skin on his cheek. just below his lip. he smiles and a dimple creases his pretty, pretty face.
"yeah? why don't you get it for me?"
you blink. "my hands are filthy. i'd make it worse."
"do you think i care?"
you're surprised your hands are steady, a sculptor's hands, as you wipe away the drying residue of slip. it crumbles and flakes off his cheek, but your thumb brushes his lip and you feel him freeze before grinning wider and pulling away. you miss his cold. you feel a bit too hot all over, now.
"it's all over your face now," you inform him, snapping your gaze away to hide your embarrassment. he doesn't look away. he looks at you, he looks at you, he looks at you. like he likes you, a little bit.
"we can deal with that after the lesson, yeah?"
you expect him to sound different than he does, when he says this. you expect his voice to be full of ego and confidence, like usual. boisterous, louder than life. but he's quieter. almost like he's shy. you turn back, and you see the way he watches you. like you're precious, like you're fleeting and rare and the most beautiful, beautiful piece of art he's ever seen.
"okay," you say, "okay. sure."
his grin is worth a million dollars and his boyish confidence returns after the lapse of shyness; "awesome!"
promptly after, he moves to go back to the clay pot. in his excitement, he squishes it into a lump again.
"awesome," you sign, resigned. but you can't find it in yourself to be mad. you like him too much for that.
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unamused-boss · 8 months
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Tip Toes
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Prompt: "Shut up, you know I'm literally obsessed with you"
Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader
(Billy maybe a little OC) May have some misspelling.
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It all started with a simple question "You free Saturday at 1?". Such a simple question right? What could possibly happen when your boyfriend of 6 months, Billy Hargrove, asks if you're free Saturday afternoon. Well lets start from the beginning right after your shift at the record store...
The chime of the bell at the front door gains your attention, putting on your customer service smile and voice. "Hello welcome to- and it's just you." Your voice going somewhat flat after seeing it was your boyfriend and not a customer.
"Wow, do you welcome all your favorite customers like that?" Billy grinned at you.
"What do you want?" You said to him, "You know I don't get off till 6:45." You lean your body over the counter and crossing your arms under your chest to be closer to Billy. Billy, having the same grin on his face that he walked in with, does the same motion as you. In a result your noses almost touching. You giggle at his antics.
"Well. I was wondering if you were free Saturday at 1?" Billy asked.
"Why?"
"Cause your pretty and I wanna take you out" Billy said like that was reason enough.
"Why?" Now you got playful.
"Cause it's a surprise." Billy said.
"Why?"
"Can you go Saturday or not?" He laughed.
"Yes I can go Billy, I would love to." You smiled. Billy leaned forward an gave you a smooch on your lips. You giggled into the kiss as he parted ways from your lips.
"Okay, Saturday at 1. Just look pretty like you always do." He said making his way out of the store. Now you get to be giddy till this Saturday when your date is.
Saturday, current time-12:55
You have been meticulously been putting yourself together for you date. Your make had warm tones and put delicately onto your face to enhance your already pretty features. Your outfit was put together perfectly in the case of being outside, going to a cute restaurant, or the need for back seat action for after.
You stared at the clock on your bedside as the hour changed to 1:00. At that moment the doorbell rung through the house. You jump up from your bed and down your stairs to the door, running past your mom to the door to open it.
"I got it!" You yelled.
"Alright, honey." Your mom laughed. You opened the door to see your dashing boyfriend. With his usual unbuttoned shirt that showed off his chest and jeans that fit him right. Billy smiled when he saw you.
"Hello gorgeous."
"Hey handsome." You said to Billy. "Bye mom!" You shouted to your mom as you shut the door leaving. Making your way to Billy's car, he opened the door for you to get in.
"Wow, doing all the stops are we." You joked.
"Just get in sweetheart." Which you did. Then Billy got into the drivers seat. And the date has begun. The short drive you thought that was going to be taken turned into a two hour drive to Indianapolis. You started looking out to all the tall buildings, "Billy what are we doing?" You asked as you still looked out at the city.
"Don't worry pretty girl, I know what I'm doing." Was all Billy answered with. It was another twenty minutes till Billy parked that car in a parking garage. He took my hand. We walked for what felt like five minutes; we then arrived to a familiar building, 'well at least for me.'
"Billy, why are we at the International Indianapolis Museum?" You looked to him. Billy just smiled to you.
"Because your super amazing boyfriend got two tickets for the limited time art expedition for his sweet girlfriend that he loves." He said, flashing two tickets to you. You stared wide eyed at him, mouth gaped an all. You've been talking his ear off about the exposition. Painting from not only the British museum is here but the Louve as well, only for two weeks here in Indianapolis. You couldn't afford ticket so you thought it was out the window. But some how your boyfriend got you tickets.
"You got us tickets." You said.
"Yep."
To go to a museum?"
"Yes I did."
"But you hate museums?!" You are flabbergasted by this.
"Yes, but I love you." Billy smiled, " I'm gonna have ten hour shifts for a while but it's worth it." Putting his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him. Your chests meet: Billy is just smiling down to you.
"But-" You were cut off.
"Shut up, I'm literally obsessed with you." Billy stated, holding you close. "You are the only girl I wanna be with, and the only girl that stand my bullshit." You laughed at him hugging him close to you.
"Okay, let's go in lover boy." You both made your way to the front, Billy giving the tickets to the man in the booth. With the transaction down with you made your way in.
The colors blasted into your face. Never letting Billy's hand go, dragging him from one painting to another. Whispering small notes and facts about each painting to him. Billy letting you do it with a smile on his face. You and Billy made it to a hall of art pieces. They were gorgeous. The pinks were bright, the purples, the yellows... the red. Everything was perfect. Faint classical music played in the back. What also surprised you was what small number of people were here. Well it was the last day of the expo, so it made since. You and Billy did kinda stick out a bit; being that you guys weren't as well dressed as the others. Nothing mattered though. You were with Billy holding his hand the entire time, no one else existing to either of you. In front of you, for real life, was The Kiss by Gustav Klim. You just stared ahead at the piece, unknown to you was that Billy was staring at you.
"Isn't she beautiful." You simply said.
"Yeah, you are." Billy answered. You look to him with wide eyes; a smiled then forms on your face. You realize that it was only you and Billy in the exhibit room now. You felt Billy lean back a bit dragging you with him, taking your other hand within his.
"Okay do it." He said with no context.
"What?" You asked.
"Really." He laughed, "You dance on my feet, now do it I find it cute."
"Okay bossy." In your doc martins you step onto his motorcycle boots, even on his feet you were still kinda on your tiptoes. You both gently swaying to the music that played over head. Nothing mattered to either of you except for right now. The light were dim but you both could still see each other. Your hand in his the other on his shoulder; with his hand also in yours as for the other is on your hip. Billy guided you both across the floor of the museum following the melody. You both just stared at each other, lovingly. Billy leaned toward you kissing your cheek softly then moving to your lips. This wasn't your first kiss with Billy, obviously, but this was one your few kisses like this. Nothing but soft. passion that you hold for each other. Your kiss felt like the universe was yours, nothing else could ruin this. Billy separated from the kiss.
"I love you." He said sweetly.
"I love you too." You smiled. Stepping of his boots, locking your hand with his and continuing you way through the museum. After a few more expo rooms and a few sculpture pieces, you and Billy made your way outside. Billy's watch reading 5:30.
"So what are we doing now?" You asked.
"We, my sweet girl, are going to the best restaurant in all of Indianapolis." Billy stated walking with you in hand down the street.
"Really?" You were shocked.
"Yeah we're going to Burger King." You laughed at his response. "Hey we are on a budget from the point out." He joked back at you.
"Alright, whatever you say lover boy." You wrap yourself around his arm and continue your prefect night with you perfect boyfriend. Laughing and kissing the night away.
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Hope you enjoyed!
Also I will start working on Part three of California Dreaming soon!
@capitanostella
@maackiimoo
@mystargirl-interlude
@bbarbiegurll
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nariism · 5 months
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a/n: fwb zhongli who catches feelings for you and mopes when it's time for you to part ways bc me and art said so. suggestive obv but nothing blatantly nsfw
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You've become sort of a sore topic for Zhongli.
No, not because you've rejected him in any way. Not even because he's trying to avoid catching feelings for you. Quite the opposite, actually.
He doesn't know what you are. He doesn't know if he means anything to you below the surface.
Sure, the flings were fun—distracting, even, when he was stressed from work. You were only meant to be a good time outside of work which Childe so earnestly encouraged him to find. And you were for the most part wonderful company even when he wasn't tangled in bedsheets with you.
The problem is that he was falling hard and fast, and he's almost positive the sentiment isn't shared.
"You're going out again?" Hu Tao asks as she peers into his office. He's packing up his belongings and shoving your favourite snacks into his bag.
"Yes, does that concern you, Director?"
"Yeesh," she hisses. "Cold. Haven't you two made it official yet?"
"No."
"And that's because...?" She trails off, awaiting some sort of explanation. It's been months after all. Months. Frankly, she's tired of watching Zhongli do this back and forth without making any actual advances outside of... well.
She coughs when he doesn't provide any answer. "Are you going to?"
The man only sighs, frustrated with himself or with the Director, he can't tell anymore. And again, he tells her:
"No."
She shakes her head. He's utterly hopeless.
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"My, you sure do know a lot about Glaze Lilies."
Zhongli's fingers twitch and he recoils from you. The flower he placed behind your ear shimmers in the glow of lanterns, sparkling like diamond itself is sprouting from your hair. You look so breathtaking, he thinks. Could he tell you that? Probably not.
Ah, he must have been rambling without realizing. A bad habit that he has yet to kick. It must bore you to death.
"An old friend of mine used to love them," he tells you. "My apologies for going off on a tangent."
"No, no," you wave him off, a smile spreading across your face—warm and welcoming. For a moment he believes that you're looking at him with something more. "It's alright. I like listening to you talk."
"You... do?" He questions.
"Why wouldn't I?"
He opens his mouth like he has an answer but it quickly snaps shut. Yes, why wouldn't you? He's surprised that you haven't lost interest in him yet simply because he's a talktative walking history book, yet simultaneously relieved that you haven't left his side.
There's zero dishonesty evident in your expression, nor is there any sign that you genuinely want him to stop blathering. But the time has come to leave you anyway. If only the night could be as lasting as his growing feelings for you.
The winding streets of Liyue have lead you back to your front porch. It must be well into the night—hardly anyone is around. The shops have all packed up and closed down for the day and even the croaking of frogs has quieted down.
You turn slightly, glancing at the welcoming entrace of your home. "So... this is it."
"Home."
"Home," you echo.
"When will I see you next?"
You laugh, seemingly amused by his formality. "Whenever you'd like, Zhongli."
A long silence settles over you as you watch each other. Your eyes bore into his intensely, as if searching for something in them. With the distance between you, he can't make out exactly what it is that you're thinking.
You turn to leave and it's a familiar, gut-wrenching feeling. The sight of you leaving him: sometimes draped in nothing but his bedsheets and others like this. And for some reason, this version bothers him infinitely more.
It's pathetic that he mopes about it, feels like a kicked puppy now that your date (if you could even call it that) has ended. The uncertainty of having you means that it could be the last time he holds your gaze, or it could be just be the beginning of your story.
He wants you. He knows he does. Would it be selfish to ask you to be his? Does he have that right?
Just as he's about to leave you at your door, once he knows you've gotten safely there, your voice calls out to him.
"Actually, do you want to walk around a bit longer?" You freeze, looking surprised at your own suggestion before continuing. "I-I know it's quite late but..."
He holds his breath. But?
"But... I just want to hear your voice a little longer."
It's a silly reason, he knows. It's even worse how giddy he feels inside, acting like a child having a crush on someone. He's certain you can see the melting of his expression, eyes impossibly soft.
The realization strikes him down like lightning. Oh. How could he have not realized? Had he been so busy worrying about how to move on from you while you were still in his bed that he missed the way you purposefully lingered around a little longer? That you were always the one asking him when he was free?
He chuckles—to you or at himself, he isn't sure. "Of course."
When you close the distance between your bodies, he offers you his hand with a blooming smile. He can't help admiring you under the warm lights of the harbour. You take it without question and don't let go. He doesn't either.
"Where was I?"
"You were telling me about why they only blossom under moonlight," you ponder. You're not very subtle with the way you scoot your body closer into his side and how you try to nimbly interlock your fingers, but he doesn't mind.
He had been blind this long. He would be remiss if he were to let the opportunity slip.
"Ah, yes." Zhongli squeezes your hand as you walk. "I should tell you of this old legend."
There's an uncontrollable joy in his heart when he realizes that, indeed, it is only the beginning of a long tale.
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© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.
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fayes-fics · 9 months
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A Job Well Done
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU
Summary: Quickie, office sex after being reunited.
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Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, quickie vaginal sex, office sex, semi-public sex, workplace sex, exhibitionism.
Word Count: 1.5k
Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (ask HERE) who wanted quickie office sex with Benedict. This is lighthearted, almost crack in places tbh. Unbetaed. Thanks to my discord peeps for help with some ideas for this one. Enjoy <3
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You barely make it through the door into the fancy corner office before clothing is wrenched open, both so desperate. You’ve been away on a business trip for two weeks, but it feels like two months. 
“Fuck, I missed you,” his words hiss on your lips as your kisses land wet and hot, open mouths just taking from each other.
“I missed you too,” you can barely gasp, fighting off your knickers under your skirt.
“Shouldn’t we wait until we can go to one of our places after work?” he checks.
“No, here,” you insist and back yourself against the wall, pulling him by the open fly right into you, moaning at the crush of his chest against yours.
“Really?” he sounds disbelieving, even as you roughly yank down the front of his underwear and shimmy it down his hips along with his trousers.
“Yes, really. Just make it quick,” you confirm, wiggling your skirt up around your waist, revelling in his groan as you grab his cock and pump it in your hand, standing on tiptoe to line him up with your aching pussy. 
He splutters the most adorable noise as his hot tip slides inside you, and you groan loudly in his ear.
“Say you are going to fuck me til I can't walk straight,” you command through gritted teeth.
“Okay… that,” he stumbles, still slightly stunned by the speed and ferocity this is happening at.
“Say it!” you demand.
“You already did!”
You grab his face and make him look into your eyes. “Ben. I need you to say the filthiest things to me. I'm so horny, please; don't be embarrassed.”
“We are at work! Isn't it enough we are doing this in full view of London and its recently arrived visitors!?” his voice slightly incredulous, gesturing vaguely at the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the crowds pouring out of St Pancras International a couple of storeys below.
“The glass is mostly reflective; they can probably barely see us,” you dismiss, hands grabbing his bottom and sinking fully onto his cock. “Fuck yesssss!” you hiss, eyes rolling back at the sheer delight of being so filled again.
“Is this revenge?” he exhales raggedly, a hand heavy on your hip as he adjusts to your heated cling. “Fucking in Ant’s office? Cos your PA told you he fucked Kate in yours?”
“Maybe,” you look askance, feeling called out but still pushing up onto tiptoes and sinking back down again as he groans with you.
His face morphs into a crooked grin, and his tone changes. “Well, why didn't you say before?” his voice turning into a velvet rumble. 
You gasp as he grabs one of your legs, hooks it over his arm and proceeds to take control just as you wanted. You moan your appreciation as he immediately starts to slam into you. You make a quick mental note that family oneupmanship is apparently an excellent motivator for him before you lose all capacity for thought.
If HR ever finds out about this, an executive fucking a junior colleague, there will probably be trouble—so it's a good thing HR reports to you. You co-founded this business with Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and have run it successfully together for the last five years. Three months ago, Anthony brought his younger brother into the firm in a decidedly nepotistic hire of in-house graphic designer after his art business stalled. You fought Anthony about the optics of it until about three seconds after you clapped eyes on one Benedict Bridgerton. And then, well, you agreed your company definitely needs someone to design PowerPoint templates or whatever he does. You resisted flirting with him for precisely two weeks, just enjoying his arse walking up and down the corridors every day doing fuck knows what.
But then it was the work party, and honestly, who can be held responsible when Anthony manages to score a whisky sponsorship? You'd be a lousy co-founder if you didn't indulge, frankly. And so you did. And you proceeded to flirt outrageously until Benedict took you up to the roof terrace and had you screaming at the London skyline. Since then, well, you've been together at every opportunity. It's especially thrilling that Anthony doesn't have a damn clue about it, either.
“I'm going to fuck you til you can't walk straight,” he growls, just as you wanted, slamming into you so hard your bra strap catches on the textured wall through your shirt.
“Oh fuck yes,” you mewl your appreciation, tipping forward to bite his neck, not entirely gently, until he hisses and moves faster.
Then, as if he can read your mind, still buried inside you, he suddenly picks you up, spins around, and almost throws you down onto Ant’s glass desk, never leaving your body.
“Oh, you fucking genius,” you compliment, grabbing his shirt greedily and pulling him on top of you, uncaring that you are sending Ant’s stationery and fancy tchotchkes flying. Your mouths meet in an artless, hot-breathed kiss, and then he starts to move again, wrapping your legs around his hips and standing up to drive into you hard.
You start to yell his name and all the praise you can think of, knowing Ant’s office is soundproofed like yours. His cock drags all the places inside that turn off your brain, not capable of anything but chasing more and now and more again. 
“Not so sure the glass is particularly reflective, by the way,” he states almost casually as he keeps pounding into you. “Pretty sure we are drawing a crowd.”
“Then fuck me really good,” is your only breathy response, unwilling to tip your head back and look down at the people below. At least at this angle, they shouldn’t be able to see his cock ploughing into you. And everything else is covered by clothing… mostly. You could just be having a very vigorous wrestling match. Kind of.
“Exhibitionist, hmm?” he hums, leaning over you and kissing down your neck.
“You’re the one who took me on the roof terrace our first time,” you point out, closing your eyes and enjoying the slide of his warm lips on your skin as he thrusts so deep you swear you’ll still feel it tomorrow.
“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs, bemused, a little out of breath now, his tongue lathing hot on your throat.
Then, there’s no talking for a while as you skate closer to your peaks. Desperate hands grab bodies and table edges, growling and moans, hot wet kisses, the sturdy glass desk withstanding his harsh strokes even as your whole body rolls on the surface. 
Then, with a dangerous smirk, he winds a hand between your bodies and flicks his thumb against your clit, and you scream. It’s the little extra sensation you need to break, calling his name, your nails scratching down his clothes, biceps clinging to him as your pussy clenches hard around him, floating somewhere on a blissful cloud, eyes screwed shut, as he growls at your vice-like grip on his cock. A few artless thrusts, and then he is stilling, groaning loudly in your ear and collapsing on top of you as he spills inside.
After a few panted moments, you feel yourself returning to the room, the power of speech returning.
“Oh god, that was just what I needed,” you huff, sated, a fuzzy, languid, bone-deep satisfaction only he can seem to provide. 
“You are welcome, boss,” he sasses with a playful smirk.
“You don’t report to me,” you point out, swatting his arm gently.
“Shame… I think I’d get an excellent review and a hefty raise if I did,” he gloats a little, dropping a quick kiss on your lips.
“I will neither confirm nor deny,” you volley back, pushing him off your body and standing up, shuffling your skirt back down your legs. 
You feel a little unsteady in your gait as you dip down to collect your underwear from the floor.
“There are, however, two things you can do for me?” you smile as he rezips.
“Anything…” 
“Tidy your brother's desk,” you nod towards the mess. He rolls his eyes, accepting his fate, seeing as it was his decision to throw you upon it.
“And?” He prompts you for the second thing as you make final adjustments to your appearance.
“Be naked in my bed by the time I get home,” you breeze as you reach for the office door handle. “Feel free to tie yourself spread eagle to the bedposts if you’re feeling adventurous,” you end with a wink.
“How exactly am I supposed to do that with only one set of hands?” you hear him call after you as the door closes behind you.
With a huge grin, you saunter down the corridor, phone in hand, already texting him a reply.
Y/N: You’ll figure it out. You’re the artist, after all.
BB: I’m a landscape painting artist, not an escape artist.
Y/N: potayto, potatoh…
BB: I’m getting a round of applause from what looks like a stag do outside, by the way…
Y/N: See? There’s your glowing performance review. 
BB: … 🤷‍♂️
Y/N: 😘
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Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb
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misguidedasgardian · 8 months
Text
I need to... (6)
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... Think
MASTERLIST
Summary: You almost forgot…
Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Cursing, modern au, mentions of cheating and past relationship, reader and Cregan are orphans :( might miss some warnings
Wordcount: 3.2 k
Notes: Thank you all for reading, I'm having such a fun time writing this. I already have the groupd's summer vacation plan and THEY ARE GOING TO BE SO AMAZING!
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Thanks to your injured ankle you had missed the rest of spirit week, you had won the hall decorating competition, BUT, had lost the whole thing… the engineers won, again…
You were bummed that you had missed it, BUT, tomorrow you were allowed to resume your activities, and you were glad because you were losing it being locked up in your dorm room, and you were even more glad because a classmate of yours, and Rhaena, told you the freespot in the Arts school was filled with someone else other than Alys
She didn’t get the job! you could breathe easily now.
And your ankle had finally healed
That day, Sara came back from classes with snacks and face masks to celebrate, and you placed a green goo on your face as you watched movies as you snacked happily
You hair in a messy hairdo, pajamas at six o’clock, and a green facial mask in your face, the both of you, and you believed it was a good idea to answer the door to whomever was knocking, asking him to come in
It was Cregan
“Why everytime I see you I have something on my face?”, you asked, now feeling embarrassed
He looked at the both of you watching a funny movie with an entertained look on his face
“Hey you”, he greeted, “Now that it's been two weeks since your little accident, I was wondering if you wanna’ catch the last week of Arthur Deyne’s screening”, your face lit up, not that he could see it, because of the  the green goo
“I’d love to”, you whispered
“Tomorrow at five?”, he asked, you nodded 
“You came all this way to ask her?”, teased Sara, he just looked like she struck him on the face, “all across campus?”, you thought about cleaning your face with your pillow but that would be even more strange
“Well, uh, no I just… didn’t have her number”, 
“Well… we can easily fix that, can’t we?”, she asked, as she typed on her phone, “there it is weirdo”
“Alright… “, he chuckled, he then looked at you, “see you tomorrow”
“See you”, you whispered, he waved awkwardly, and left. Sara turned to you with a silly grin on her face
“Nop, no”, you said
“You have a date with my brother!!!!”, she screeched 
“NO”, you sentenced
“You do!”
“We are only watching a movie”, you muttered, standing up from the bed, you needed to wash your face 
“(Y/N and Cregan… sitting in a tree…”, she forgot the lyrics of the song, and she opened her mouth in thought, “.... kissing!”
“Very original!”, you teased
“You are going to be so cute together, my roomie with my brother”
“Sara…. I don’t know…”, you muttered
“Yes!”
“Oh I don’t want to be that girl”, you whined with teasing smile, Sara cackled
“You won’t!”, she said
“I don’t want to ruin this!”, you said, pointing at her and then at yourself, “I love you Sara, you are my friend, I don’t want to lose you over a boy!”
“You won’t!”, she laughed, “Cregan is not like that! she is actually a very decent man” 
“I chose a man over a friend once, and I don’t want to do that again!”, you tried to reason
“And I’m telling you that you won’t have to!”, she insisted, “my brother is a genuinely nice guy and I promise you that if it works out it's going to be amazing, and if it doesn't… it will end gracefully, and we won’t have to separate because it didn’t work out!”, she explained
“I don’t even know if he wants to…!”
“He does!”, she said, giggling, you sighed
“Let’s see, alright?”, you said, not that convinced. You liked Cregan, you did. but it felt strange, you remembered what it was like when you liked someone, had a crush, your stomach flipped, butterflies inside, you start to feel nervous, to say something foolish, or do something, the expectation running high, you wanted him to notice you
Is he looking at me?
Does he think I'm pretty? smart? funny? nice?
When you saw Cregan it wasn't like that, you felt calm, some sort of relief, like you were glad he had arrived
The problem started when you believed or thought about doing something else
Even thinking about being with someone, or going on a date, or being intimate, made your skin crawl, your stomach made summersaults
But he was so nice, a normal guy, would he… wait for you? would he mind spending time with you expecting… nothing, in return?
“Alright let’s finish the movie”, she said, seeing that you got lost in your thoughts 
You didn’t even get to do that, and your phone dinged
Hey, it’s Cregan 😊
Hey - you texted back -
So now you have my number… 
Indeed, I’m excited about the movie tomorrow - you texted easily, looking over at Sara who was just too distracted to notice, you didn’t want to hide from her, but you certainly didn’t want her to build up her expectations 
Mee too, they say is the best one yet! - he texted quite quickly
Do you want to meet up at the cinema? I will need directions though haha - you said cheekily
I’ll meet you in your dorm and then we can take a bus or sm, don’t worry, I’ll guide you ;)
“Great! 4:30 then? it sounds silly but I like to watch the trailers for the upcoming movies
It doesn’t sound silly, I like to watch them too - you smiled warmly
Oh great! - you teased - you are shaping up to be a hell of a good movie partner -. were you going too far? you felt nervous
Well, let’s see how you like the popcorn - he texted with a blushing smiley face
Sweet, with M&M’s in them
Really? never tried them - well at least he didn’t say no at the gate… like Aemond..,
No
You had to stop that right now
You couldn’t compare
Never 
You are missing out, but how do you like your popcorn? - you asked him
Sweet too, See? we were made to watch movies together haha - that text made you feel so nervous, but good nervous 
Well, yes, I completely believe in movie soulmates - you texted with a small giggle
Sara leaned in and shrieked in your ear
“I wanna’ wear emerald green in my maid of honor dress”
“Very funny”, you mocked, she smiled widely 
You were so determined to not make it look like a date, that you dressed in jeans, a nice shirt, but a hoodie over it, and a big jacket and beanie, it was still very cold outside, and a pair of boots, you did payed attention to your face in more detail, putting some makeup on, nothing very fancy…
“you look lovely”, Sara teased, “you just text me a winky face if you are not coming back at night ok?”, she kept teasing, but she finally let you go to meet Cregan outside
There he was
Dressed in a Maroon color henley, leather jacket, jeans, and urban black sneakers, he even wore a thin scarf and a beanie of his own. When he saw you, he smiled, and you just then
Felt something fluttering inside your belly
“Hey”, you greeted, but then you got all serious, “Arthur”, you called, and he smiled
“Winston”, he said back, all serious, like Arthur Deyne called the owner of the mafia hotel in the movie 
You giggled as he leaned in and kissed your cheek in greeting
“Ready?”, he asked
“Can’t wait”, you teased
“I think if its a good idea we take the Trolly art”
“You still hae trolleys?”, you asked all excited, he laughed
“Yes, we needed to help defrosting as much as we could as a state so we brought back all the goods”
“I love that”, you started walking out of campus in a comfortable silence, you haven’t been out in the town much, you needed to see the capital of the North
Contrary to the State of the Crownlands, the cities of the North were smaller, but there were more of them, king’s Landing was the biggest city, and then the others were small towns all around, but in the North, all cities stayed and grow in similar rates, so Winter’s Town wasn’t a metropolis, still held that beautiful and quiet town feeling…
The snow still lingered as you watched the well and softly lighten streets
“Winter’s Town is so beautiful”, you look up at him, who was taller than you, and catched him looking back at you, and smiled warmly
“i can see it”, he whispered, “your face says it all”, you chuckled, embarrassed
“What face?”, you mocked
“Your face of wonder and marvel”, he said back, you giggled, feeling again the butterflies 
You arrived at the small station and soon enough the Trolley passed, you climbed up and led you to the center of the Town, as Cregan stated the small cinema was
And when you got there… It looked like the one from an old movie, preserved since it was built many years ago. Even though it was Friday, it was mostly empty, because probably it was the last week of screening, the movie had premiered a month ago 
“Do you wanna get the tickets and I’ll get the snacks?”, you asked
“Sure thing”
Was this a date? you didn’t want to make it look like one, you didn’t want to think it was… so you went for the snacks, even though bought the “couples” combo, big popcorns and two sodas… you didn't get the M&M’s, there wasn’t any at the concession stand. And as you were going to struggle to grab it all in only two hand, Cregan met you there, taking the sodas off your hands
“Got them”, he said calmly
“Thanks”, you whispered, you smiled at each other, every little interaction about him and you felt like something meaningful, everytime you looked into his eyes made you believe this meant something for him, and in a second, you found yourself wanted this to be a real date
You started to walk to the screening room
“I brought you something”, he whispered, juggling with both sodas to take something out of his jacket pocket
You gasped when he offered you a huge package of M&M’s 
“You remembered”, you said
“Of course I did, I was so curious to try it and I remembered the cinema doesn't’ sell them”
“Good job Arthur”, you teased
“Anytime Winston”
The movie… was incredible
Not romantic by any means, so you didn't have much instances to lean into Cregan or him to lean into you, not that you expected it, but you were still a bit nervous, but you jumped and gasped together and complimented the actions sequences, and he devoured your favorite snack as much as you did
And you cried at the end and he surrounded your shoulders with his arm to comfort you.
When it ended, you both couldn’t stop talking.. you talked and talked and kept talking, about the movie itself, about the ones before, about which one was your favorite, you talked so much, neither of you wanted the night to end, and when you reached the trolly stop, you looked at eachother expectantly
“Want to walk?”, you asked, and he nodded enthusiastically
The campus was near, but like half an hour walking, but you kept talking, and when you shivered he offered you his arms and you coiled yours with him and he dragged you near him, so you could get warmer together.
And then the heat of the movie died down, and the talk became more personal
“Did you always want to come up here for school?”, he asked
“Well, I was like sixteen when I realize what I wanted to study, so I discovered this school of design was the greatest, and, we were ebay friends with Jace, and we both agreed we were going to come here together, to fly off the nest”, you told him, “an adventure”
“And what took you a semester?”, he asked lightly, he probably knew trough Jace, but you appreciated that he wanted to know trough you
“Well, I had a boyfriend”, you answered with a shy smile, “he convinced me to follow him Dragonstone U, and… well… “, he knew, he had known about Alys, so… “I decided to take a leap of faith and have trust in us and our future, it didn’t work out”
“I’m sorry”, no he wasn't but you didn't know that
“Well, I’m just relieved it happened so early on, and not two years into the future, you know?”, you asked, smiling, he chuckled
“Oh yeah, I get it”, he said, “do you still talk to him?”
“Oh no”, you said, “never saw him or heard from him since last semester”, that by now, it was like two months ago.
“And you are happy you followed your dreams?”, he asked, and when you looked up at him, you saw something in his eyes…
No… this wasn’t a date, he wasn’t that into you, he just wanted to see the movie, he just wants to add you to the friend group
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as happy as I am now”, you confessed, “this is everything I’ve dreamed of and more”, you said, “Even if they say the first year is the most difficult one, I love the career, and I’m so happy to have Jace back in my life, and I’m happy I met you, and Sara, and Ben, and reconnected with Baela and Rhaena…”
“I’m glad, and I’m more glad I’m part of that dream”, he teased and as you looked at him, he winked, you laughed 
“Did you ever know you were going to study business administration here?”, you asked
“Yes I did actually, completely predictable”
“You never thought about going South?”
“Well, when I was underage, it was more difficult for me”, he said
“Why?”
“My parents passed when I was twelve, and my uncle wouldn’t let me out of his sight”, he said
“I’m sorry”, you whispered
“It’s alright, i’m glad he had me stay here”, he said, “this is my home, and I will have plenty of time to travel once I finish my studies”
“You are right”, you said
“What about your parents?”, he asked
“They are also gone”, you said back, “I was ten”
“I’m sorry”
“Is fine, I have my godmother who took me as her own”, you offered with a wide smile, “I love her”
“She sounds lovely”
“She is”, you said back. And you chit chatted all the way back to campus, and when you finally arrived back, you didn't want to part ways, but it was already late to go eat something, and you were running out of time, you really didn't want to 
And then you were in front of your dorm, and you didn't want to part ways from him, and he didn’t either, you could tell… you looked at each other expectantly.
“It's late but… I think the tavern is still open for an hour or so… would you like to…?”, and then something caught his attention over your, you looked at him and then you turn to look too.
A beautiful girl was walking your way
blonde, sharp blue eyes, dressed in a puffy pink jacket and white wool knitted beanie, jeans and fluffy boots
“Arra?”, asked Cregan, and when you looked back at him, he look like a child had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar
“Cregan, I was looking for you”, she said softly, looking at you but then completely ignoring you
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you”
“I’m busy”, he said defensively, and suddenly, you felt like you were playing the third wheel
“It’s alright”, you said, “we can raincheck”
“Yes you can raincheck”, she muttered urgently. Cregan sighed, and looked at you with puppy eyes
“You are not staying?”, he asked her, “in town?”
“I’m staying with Alyssa, but no, I’m just here for the weekend”
“Then you should talk”, you said, and something inside you didn't like it
“Raincheck on the tavern?”, he asked you, and you smiled and nodded, he leaned in and hugged you, you hugged him back
He waited for you until you reached the glass doors of the dorms, you looked back and the blond had approached him,he looked annoyed
And now you were more annoyed, as you find yourself wanting this to have been a date. 
You arrived back in the dorm and Sara was sleeping, a thing you appreciated and sneakily took your clothes off and got inside the bed, it was cold… 
You grabbed your phone, questioning yourself…
Aemond haven't reached out
Well… You had blocked Aemond, his brother Aegon from instagram, (not that he would contact you) and unfollowed all your common friends, more like, his friends from college who he made you hang with… because you couldn’t bare to see him, and you truly believed that if you saw even a glimpse of him, you would get a panic attack. So maybe that’s why you haven’t heard from him again
Even though he had a huge ego, you found it weird he didn't even reach out to curse you or tell you how bad of a person he thought you were. 
And that is when you decided to check your mail, the spam box
And oh there they were
Hundreds of emails
Of another account, but it was clearly him
Even reading the titles you saw his own journey of mourning your relationship…
Denial
“...Maris said you left, and I don’t believe you would do something like this…”
Anger
“...It’s alright, really, now I see how selfish and short sighted you really are…”, he even dared mentioned Alys in that one, the audacity
Bargaining
“...The baby isn’t even mine, that whore lied to me…”, that one you read, Alys tried to baby trap him, and he made her do the Amnio, which was a very dangerous DNA test, and it turned out it wasn’t even his
Depression
“...I can’t believe I lost you, and I'm begging you to give me another chance…together we could rule the seven states…”
And Acceptance never came 
You thought long and hard about it… now that you had time to cool off… 
No, the anger was still there, and you couldn’t forgive him, not ever, he was a nineteen year old man, yes she was older, but he wasn’t a kid, he knew exactly was he was doing, besides, you were not compatible anymore… he dind’t make you happy any longer, and it took you to see him fucking another woman to realise it
No aspect of your relationship was making you happy
Only the praxis was left 
You had made the right decision, even though you did feel like you had things left unsaid, in a relationship that had meant so much for you and your families, since you knew each other since forever…
But coming back to the present...
Who was that girl? they clearly had unfinished business, but before that, has it been a date? did you wanted it to be? he had been so thoughtful and kind... you liked him!
Gods you were confused
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taglist! <3
@mxtokko@princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @speedyballoonpainter
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lulu-tutu · 1 year
Note
Rise tmnt request; platonic hc of mom figure female reader who's taking care of her teenage turtle kids; how she's enjoying cooking with mikey and attend his dr. Feelings sessions, how she sew for raph many dolls and teddy bears with different colors (she hate ghost bear for hurting her baby), how she used to put donnie and leo in get together shirts whenever they start chaos.
But her favorite activity; gathering embarrassing pictures, videos of the turtles's childhood and show it to everyone, like if she ever were kidnapped by big mama they would spend a lovely time talking about the turtles when they were kids (the mad dogs try to save their mom faster before their secrets get exposed😂)
Mother Dearest ⭐️ Rise!Turtles HCs
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A/N: *throws unlimited affection at you* How in the world did you manage to give me so many heart clenching, tooth aching, fluff filled requests?? Please take my hand in platonic marriage, we do not deserve you. I almost enjoy these parental requests as much as I enjoy angst. Almost.
Pairing(s): Mother Figure!Reader & Turtles
Warning(s): FLUFF, may make you cry from wholesomeness
Proof read :)
The boys are, well, your boys. You don't make the rules. The turtles are your babies.
Do you spoil them? Yes. Will you ever stop spoiling them? Of course not.
You do everything in your power to keep your kids happy, no matter the cost, even if it's the tiniest of things that make their faces light up like fireworks.
Mikey, oh sweet baby angel, you could never say no to him, why would you even consider that in the first place?
You and him make the most mouth watering dishes the universe has ever seen, and you always give the credit to Mikey despite how he tries to wave it off and reflect it back towards you.
When the two of you are in the kitchen, it's like watching art come to life. When one of the other boys enter the room, they sometimes have to stop and gaze in amazement at the two of you, hypnotised by the way you both work so effortlessly around each other.
You always try and give Mikey little tips to push his dishes towards perfection, and he always does the same to you when you find yourself making something you haven't even heard of before.
You and Mikey are the dream team when it comes to the kitchen, no one could even compare.
Watching his face turn darker from your praises as you all dig into his meals, it just makes you so giddy to see him so happy.
When it comes around to it, you definitely attend his Dr Feelings sessions! You're there to listen and take in whatever your youngest son has to offer, your face serious the whole time he reads through his clipboard or points towards the projectors screen.
Raph was also one of the most spoilt of the four, though you tried to make sure to evenly give the others gifts.
After many nights of learning how to sew and stitch (while getting many pricks and pokes at the same time) you had learnt how to craft the most adorable plushies, dolls and teddy bears Raph had ever seen.
Or maybe it was the thought behind them that made him love them more than any other plushies he had. He would just guess it was both.
The first time you had rushed into the lair with a plastic bag swinging at your side, Raph had thrown you so many worried questions. "What happened? What's in the bag? Did Donnie make you steal from the museum again-?"
Like I said, you'd do anything to make your boys happy.
When you tore open the bag to show him your hard work, he gasped so loudly, tiny stars in his eyes.
He couldn't pick a favourite! Of course the red bear was one of them, with it having a red bandana around its neck and tiny roses dotted around its body, the blue one was also adorable-oh, the yellow one too- a pink one?
The more he looked around in the bag, the more colours he saw.
And then he caught a glance at your bandaid covered hands, which instantly activated his own 'mother bear' instincts. heh.
"You didn't have to make me anything, you hurt yourself doin' it!" "Raph, sweetie, I'm fine! The look on your face was enough to heal any injury."
He melts, which makes you melt.
You helped him organise his room, placing the plushies on his bed, making sure each one got enough love and care. You didn't want any of them feeling left out!
And oh, don't even get started on Ghost Bear. You hear one mention of him and you're shaking your head, biting your tongue from cursing him out for even thinking of hurting your baby boy.
"That guy has no right being idolised by the great Raphael! If I ever get my hands on that no good-"
Mikey has to drag you away after that, hand covering your mouth to prevent some not very nice words from slipping out.
You knew how much Donnie needed to hear any sort of praises from a parental figure, and you were there to give it and more. He was desperate, and you didn't blame him.
You spend a lot of your free time in his lab, even when he has his music blaring loudly. You got use to it after so long.
He doesn't say it, but he really enjoys your presence. You two don't have to speak, all he needs to know is that you're there for him while he tinkers away.
He shows you something new and most likely dangerous?
"Holy cow, that's amazing! You're amazing! How did you even make that?"
Cue him flapping his hands around wildly before diving into a deep explanation about it that you don't understand at all, but you nod along and smile as he talks away.
You also offer to help collect materials with him! Bonding! He never turns you down, even when he's in a bad mood thanks to Leo's pestering.
You let him get his frustration out to you, happy to listen to him rant and just be that shoulder for him. If he wants you to give him advice or feedback, you will. But most of the time you let him just get everything out in the air.
Talking about Leo, hoo boy.
Chaos. Always chaos.
There's rarely a time to relax around that boy, he is such a handful.
"Leo, leave Donnie alone before he pulls out a flamethrower or something."
"Leo! How can you make the most fanciest looking sandwiches I've ever seen, but manage to burn toast? And why is the toaster on fire?!"
"Did you take Raph's shark bear? I'm going to count to three and it better be back on his bed before I stop counting. One- Good. That's what I thought. I'll make you one too, just ask next time."
When you do get the rare moments of peace, it's blissful and strange at the same time.
Sitting down reading together, whether it's him reading a comic and you a novel. Playing video games with him teaching you some neat and secret tricks, or him even showing you around the Hidden City.
You meeting Hueso was the worst thing to ever happen to Leo. Now he has to deal with the teasing of not only one parental figure, but two? At the same time? He has many regrets. At least you two end up getting along well.
When Leo and Donnie decide to have their daily argument? Into the Get Together shirt they go!
"Wha- No! I demand that I be set free! Being close to this moron is a fate worse than death!"
GASP! "How could you say that, dear brother? I was about to say the same thing!"
"You two continue like this and you'll stay together for a lot longer." "Yes, mom."
"Yes, mother."
When it eventually gets out to the world that you're very dear to the turtles, you weren't surprised that an enemy of theirs would decide to use you as bait.
Thankfully, Big Mama was pleasantly fun to be around. When you told her about your boys, she instantly released you from her webs and beckoned you to come closer.
When the boys come bursting through the doors, they instantly crumble to the floor in horror. They were too late.
"Oh, hey sweeties!" You wave towards their tearful faces, your phone out and facing you and Big Mama, a picture of the four when they were younger and taking a bath was currently on display. It was only one of the many you had shown the spider Yokai who giggles at the cuteness.
"We're too late! We've failed!" Mikey sobs on the floor, clutching his face out of pure embarrassment.
"Please tell me you didn't show her-"
You cut off Donnie with a large grin, "The video of you guys pretending to be mermaids? I did."
"NO!"
This was not the first time those pictures and videos have been shown to someone, and it will not be the last. You make it your last mission to show off your boys to anyone and everyone.
688 notes · View notes
the-fiction-witch · 6 months
Text
Hysteria
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Media The Artful Dodger
Character Jack Dawkins
Couple Jack X Reader
Rating Smut
I stood kicking and punching my wooden door using every exploitive I know, 
"Father! This is ridiculous!" 
"You're staying in there y/n until the doctor gets here, this has gotten way out of hand"
"You called the doctor!" I yelled kicking the door again 
"See this is exactly why I called him, this is so out of hand y/n you're an emotional madhouse"
"Maybe I wouldn't be if you stopped treating me like a damn infant!"
"Ohh thank goodness your here Dr Dawkins" 
"Y-you called the surgeon!" I yelled
"I'm awfully sorry I know this isn't your area of expertise, but with the other doctor away I really didn't want to wait" 
"Absolutely, it's no problem Mr Y/L/n I'm sure I can do my best to help. Where is she then?"
"Locked in her room"
"I see"
"You keep that bloody butcher away from me!" I yelled 
The door opened and in came Dr Dawkins and my father in tow 
"Please sit down Miss Y/l/n"
"Fine" I pouted sitting on my bed 
"what seems to be the issue?"
Before I could even open my mouth my father spoke up
"Ohh she's been an utterly unruly doctor, shouting and screaming at me, sneaking out alone, causing all sorts of havoc."
"I see... have you been feeling any discomfort?" He asked me 
"other than being treated like a child and being locked in my room"
"Understandable" He nods checking me over a little doing all the usual tests
"I've been reading up on the symptoms I fear it might be... female hysteria" My father whispered almost afraid to say the very word
"Father!" I snapped "I do not have Hysteria!"
"Let the doctor be the judge of that y/n"
"He's not a doctor! He's a bloody butcher!"
"Do you mind giving me some time to examine the patient alone"
"Of course Doctor" 
My father quickly left and I just sat even more annoyed as he shut my bedroom door and continued doing little checks 
"I get the feeling, you don't particularly like me"
"I don't like doctors. nothing against you personally" 
"That's good then, I was worried I'd upset you" He smiled 
"No, I just don't like doctors"
"Any reason why?"
"Not so long ago doctors like you were throwing leaches around and saying girls should keep their legs shut so demons don't possess them through their vaginas. No Offence but I think most doctors are crackpots" 
"To be fair, most of us are" He chuckled "Miss Y/l/n. I'm a surgeon I chop limbs off for a living I'm not surprised people think I'm a crackpot"
"At least your honest about it, You don't really think there's anything wrong with me do you?"
"Well I have to bill your father for something, and he has a point about hysteria." 
"I don't have hysteria" 
"Do you even know what hysteria is?" 
"It's when girls are so emotional"
"No it's a bundle of anxiety and other such troubles that can really cause issues if not dealt with, people just like to yell hysteria because it sounds scary" he explained "Have you been having any headaches? issues sleeping?"
"A little actually"
"See, but it fine very easily fixed up," He says "Will you lie down for me?"
"Alright, but if you pull out a saw I'm kicking you in the crotch" I warn moving to lie on my bed 
"No saw, you just need a little massage that's all" he reassured 
"That does sound nice" I smiled 
"You ready?"
"I guess"
"Good, any discomfort let me know" he smiled setting his left hand on my stomach firmly but not pushing more settled there but firm enough to not move "knees up"
"Are you sure?" 
"Trust me"
"Alright..." I nervously did as he asked putting my knees up and setting my feet on my bed 
"Perfect, now just relax for me" he reassured his right hand touching my ankle and moving up my leg towards my
"Hey!" I said sitting up "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 
"It's a normal part of the procedure just stay relaxed okay" He reassured 
"I'm watching you Dr Dawkins" I glared
"I know, you're watching me" he laughed as his hand moved up and softly stroked the lips of my pussy immediately I gasped and glared at him but he merely continued I did my best to just stare up at the ceiling unsure how to feel exactly not being helped by the fact even looking at the ceiling I still saw him in my view loomed over me, as he slipped a finger inside of me it felt so nice his slender strong fingers moving to rub and push gently massaging me from the inside "Everything alright?" 
"Uhh yeah" I nodded sheepishly 
"Good, you have a lot of pressure built up" He says 
"I do?" 
"Yeah I'm gonna have to be a little more aggressive let me know if it's too much okay?" He says his massaging and rubbing now became much harder I did my best to bite my lip and not react to the feeling building between my legs the likes of which I had only really felt in small doses myself now feeling it building without hesitation or my own control, 
"It's fine" I gulped 
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah" I nodded
"It'll all be okay once we get this sorted," He says getting faster even slipping in another finger working them in tandem to send bubbles of pleasure through me by now I was really struggling almost drawing blood from my lip trying not to gasp too much or reveal to him just how much it was making me feel giggly. "Just a little more..." He says his fingers getting more intense 
I gripped my sheets in a death-like grip, my vision flooding with bubbles, my whole body shook, uncontrollably I squealed and even squirted on his hand and the bed as waves of pleasure washed from my curled toes to the very tips of my fingers
"There we go, perfect." he smiled taking his hand away and cleaning it off "That should clean up any potential hysteria but the key is preventative measures and up-to-date treatment" He explained 
"Uhhh okay" I gasped sitting up a little 
"Preventative, gets some sleep. Stay off the sugary treats. and maybe have a day where you loosen your corset a little"
"Okay" I nodded 
"And as far as treatment goes, weekly appointments should curve the hysteria." 
"Weekly?" 
"Yes weekly, I'll handle it till we know when the other doctor is coming back that alright?"
"Yeah that uhh that's fine, so I'll be seeing you every week?" 
"Every week, Pop into my office one day next week so long as that's okay with you?"
"That's fine Dr Dawkins" I blushed "I'll be happy to is uhh Thursday alright" I giggled 
"Thursday is perfect for me," 
"Good," I smiled nuzzling into his neck a little 
"uhh? You wanna get down?"
"Okay" I smiled 
"Alright, here we go" He smiled picking me up and helping me off the bed given my legs were utterly jelly "Now, I'll see you Thursday and I need to let your father know what we've done today"
"Ohh Uhh maybe don't tell my father" I blushed
"I have to bill him for something? Don't worry I'll keep your privacy" he reassured before taking his things "Good evening Miss Y/l/n"
"Good evening Dr Dawkins" I giggled before he left my room and I collapsed back on my bed "Whoa-" 
I smiled climbing into my hot steamy bathtub and letting it relax my body, but I didn't want to waste time grabbing my soap and scrubbing my skin within an inch of its life being a tad more aggressive than I likely needed to be but I wanted to make sure I was lovely and clean. I slowly climbed out and got dry doing my hair in a sweet beautiful style, getting into one of my prettiest day dresses and heading out.
I smiled as I waited patiently doing my best not to bite my lip or seem too excited.
"Ahh there you are Miss y/l/n" The doctor smiled as he came from his office cleaning his hands on a dirty rag "I was wondering when I'd see you" He chuckled "Shall we then?"
"Absolutely Dr Dawkins" I giggled happily following him into the office
"Here we are, up you go," he said tapping the table
"Yes doctor" I smiled climbing up onto the table
"Ohh before I forget," he said grabbing a pillow from his own office chair and giving it a plump before setting it on the table and tapping it invitingly
"Aww How kind of you" I smiled laying down and settling on the pillow
"Well this isn't my usual business so I want to make sure you're comfortable" he smiled "So? All ready?"
"All ready" I smiled
"You mind lifting your dress?"
"Of course sorry" I blushed moving my legs and my dress
"Perfect, It's such a lovely dress I don't want to damage it"
"That's very kind of you doctor" I smiled as I felt his hand moving up my skirt I did my best to bite my lip but not look too eager but the moment his hand made contact I struggled not to moan as his fingers found their way inside me 
"Ohh my, very tense today." He says "You been doing what I recommended?"
"Yes doctor"
"Alright, we'll see how it goes today we might have to give you a few extra appointments"
"More appointments?"
"we might have to."
"Well if you think so doctor" I blushed feeling the intense pleasure from his fingers until I bit my mouth hard gripping the table as I reached my orgasm 
"There we are" He smiled "All done"
"Thank you doctor" I smiled sitting up and doing my best not to turn red 
"Did you want a hand getting down?"
"Yes please" I nodded he happily picked me up letting me nuzzle into his neck as he helped me to my feet 
"There now get yourself home and I'll see you next week"
"Yes doctor" I nodded 
94 notes · View notes
jjkeverlast · 2 years
Note
17 + 37 + 41 from the smut prompts list with jungkook 👁👁
be good for me | jjk
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-> pairing fratboy!jk x female reader
-> genre smut, college au
-> summary you take a chance at showing up to one of the most popular frat parties, meeting no other than jeon jungkook, a fratboy who's famous amongst the women on campus. or is he?
-> word count 3.0k
-> warnings swearing, alcohol, masturbation, cum eating, finger sucking, fingering, handjob, lots of teasing, dirty talk, biting, protected sex!
-> author's note oop- got kinda carried away with this one, i'll try for future requests to keep it short, hope you enjoy either way love <333 (prompts are marked in bold!) be aware that i don't have taglists for requests! thank you <3
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Frat parties. More like, parties where every girl on campus gets a chance to get a taste of one of the Bangtan Boys. You? You’re not included, by choice, to be exact. So it’s a surprise to your friend Mena to see you stepping inside of the so-called frat party after you clearly told her ‘’It’s childish and stupid.’’ It is, although you finished your paper a little too soon, and you didn’t want to sulk alone in your dorm room for the rest of the night. And a small part of you was curious over just why these frat parties are popular. 
‘’Y/N! Am I dreaming? Are you really here?’’ Mena is shocked, of course she is. She’s never in her time of knowing you seen you enter a frat party by choice. 
‘’I’m here, don’t pinch me.’’ You notice how crowded the house is, almost no space to really wander around. Thankfully Mena knew her way around this house and guided you to the bar, which actually is the kitchen filled with alcohol. 
‘’Drink?’’ You hum a yes, tapping your fingers against the kitchen island, while Mena is pouring what seems to be a Vodka Red Bull. She finally hands you the red cup, leaning on the island while you let yourself taste the drink. 
‘’It’s good.’’ You compliment her ‘bartender’ skills, letting the vodka aftertaste rest on your tongue for now. 
‘’Well if it isn’t Y/N.’’ You hear from the corridor, which leads to the kitchen. You know that voice, the voice belonging to Jeon Jungkook. There isn’t a lot to say about him, besides that he’s most likely been in every girl’s pants on campus. At least that’s what the rumors say, but you aren’t really in on it. You know Jungkook from sharing the same course as him, Art Design. Seeing how he looks, it’s hard to think this man carries a creative mind, but he does! 
‘’Jeon Jungkook.’’ You smile and Mena’s mouth is hanging open over you knowing Jungkook. It’s not because it’s unlikely to know him, most who do have either 1) been dicked down by him or 2) friend zoned. You? You’re either, which is why Mena’s mouth is still hanging open over your interaction with Jeon Jungkook. 
‘’I’m gonna go say hi to Hoseok. Talk soon!’’ Mena squeezes your shoulder lightly, before stepping out of the kitchen leaving you alone with Jungkook. 
‘’I cannot believe you’re at my frat party.’’ 
‘’Shocker. I know.’’ You take another sip while Jungkook’s laugh erupts in the room. 
‘’Well, now that you’re here, let me show you around.’’ He takes your hand in his with no warning and drags you out of the kitchen. You take notice of his tattoos covering his hand and fingers but when you look up, all eyes are on you. Some girls are murmuring in the corner, subtly pointing their finger at you and Jungkook’s intertwined hands. People are getting the wrong idea and that makes you pull away from his grasp. Jungkook turns, seeing his hand is no longer getting warmed up by yours and his smile drops. 
‘’This is the patio.’’ You both step out, the outdoor couches and chairs occupied by multiple couples, one of them being Hoseok and Mena. Jungkook catches you looking at your friend grinding herself on the fratboy. 
‘’So this is what she meant by saying hi to him.’’ Jungkook’s lips turn into a thin line as he nods and guides you back inside. You’re stunned but happy for Mena getting some action tonight. She had complained for a while over how no one was that interesting to her. So to see her all hot and bothered for Hoseok? Brought a smile to your face. She deserves this. 
Jungkook takes you upstairs, showing you a room one by one. 
‘’This is Taehyung’s room.’’ He opens the door, revealing Taehyung’s head buried in between a girl’s legs sprawled in nothing but a bra on his bed. Both you and Jungkook’s eyes pop out of their sockets and he quickly shut the door again, letting Taehyung finish his job. 
‘’Sorry about that.’’ He apologizes on his friend’s behalf, although it was 100% the both of you’s fault to open the door with no warning. 
‘’And lastly, here’s mine.’’ The room is by luck not occupied by anyone. You take a look around, the wall decorated by Nirvana posters. Jungkook’s room is personal, which you admire. Your smile is on display as you walk around, catching a sight at his jewelry and cologne by his desk. 
You hear a lock being turned which makes you stop in your tracks. He doesn’t think you’re stupid does he? 
‘’What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?’’ You spit out, before Jungkook gets in over his head that you’d ever let him. 
‘’Is that what you think I’m trying to accomplish?’’ Your head turns, seeing Jungkook grow confused over your bitter question. Now you feel stupid, by the looks of Jungkook’s face you’ve gotten the wrong idea of him — reasons being the rumors you’ve heard all over campus. 
‘’Is it not?’’ 
‘’No.’’ He lets out a ‘this is unbelievable’ laugh and you feel downright dumb. 
‘’Oh.’’ You turn back around, strolling through his room as it grows quiet between you. You let your hand play with the bedside table lamp, not daring to look into Jungkook’s eyes. 
‘’Did you want it to be?’’ He breaks the silence, your hand stops and your heartbeat increases. Did you want him to? 
‘’N-no.’’ Fuck. Your stutter definitely gave it away. 
‘’Right.’’ Jungkook for once moves away from the locked door, sitting now on his bed, legs spread for your eyes. He looks mesmerizing. The long white sleeve rolled up, showcasing his sleeve and his baggy dark washed jeans making his thighs look inviting. You don’t know who’s speaking right now, you or the alcohol. But looking at Jungkook, with the golden yellow light from his lamp shining onto his face — makes you reconsider just what you want from him. 
‘’Funny you’re saying no, yet you’re staring.’’ 
‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about.’’ 
‘’You’re bluffing.’’ He calls you out and you mentally take note to become a better liar in the future. ‘’Maybe I am.’’ You take some courage to sit next to Jungkook on his bed, rather than play with whatever is on his bedside table. 
‘’Why can’t you just admit a part of you finds me attractive?’’ 
‘’Probably because I’ve heard one or two things about you on campus.’’ You’re honest, which surprises Jungkook hearing the reason behind you not being remotely brave with him. 
‘’So now you’re believing rumors?’’ 
‘’It’s hard not to!’’ You protect yourself, you’ve never really gotten to know Jungkook — only been followed by rumors coming from every girl on campus. 
‘’You know that most of the rumors are from girls I’ve rejected right?’’ Your mouth hangs open, not believing the rumors were made up. ‘’I didn’t.’’ Your fingers fidget with your denim skirt, the guilt seeping through your skin about you believing the rumors from the very beginning. 
‘’Well, now you do.’’ Jungkook lets his hand run through his hair, waiting for you to say something, anything. 
‘’I’m sorry.’’ It’s sincere, you looking at Jungkook showing him you’re truly sorry for letting your brain believe such gossip. 
‘’It’s fine, just really disappointed me to know the one girl I like, only thinks I want one thing from her.’’ Your heart drops at his words, does he mean you? Does Jeon Jungkook like you? 
‘’Are you saying—’’ You stop yourself, only for Jungkook to continue, ‘’yeah, thought it was pretty obvious when I took the same course as you.’’ You’re speechless, your mind not being able to comprehend that Jeon Jungkook chose the same course as you, reasons being he likes you. You were too quick to judge, if you really opened your eyes you’d probably be able to see that Jungkook was never after just a quick hookup. 
‘’I’m so stupid.’’ You mumble in your hands, your face dropping down on them. 
‘’Just a little.’’ He grins, his hand patting your back. It’s comforting, the warmth from his hand seeping through your blouse. ‘’I should’ve known you didn’t feel the same way. Yoongi warned me a long time ago.’’ 
‘’Stop.’’ You shush him, your finger lingering just over his lips. Jungkook’s adam's apple bops once, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips. ‘’Just stop.’’ You whisper, letting yourself relax for once. You drag your finger over his lips, Jungkook’s breath hitches from the contact. 
‘’I do want you, so just stop.’’ Your finger traces the shape of his lips, letting it pull at the bottom lip, revealing the inner part. You’re imagining how his lips would feel on your clit, his tongue circling around it. 
‘’Do you really?’’ Jungkook cuts off your dirty thoughts revolving his mouth and your finger stops in its tracks. ‘’Yes.’’ You let out, your lip getting tucked in between your teeth. 
‘’Prove it. Prove how much you want me.’’ It’s a challenge and you’re surprised by Jungkook gaining sudden confidence since he was shy not even a minute ago. 
You remove your hand from his face, placing your fingers by the entrance of your mouth. You pop a finger at the time, letting your tongue swirl around it, getting it nice and wet. Jungkook’s stunned, not expecting you to suck your fingers in his room, in front of him, at a frat party. It seems unbelievable. You maintain eye contact with Jungkook, his tongue poking at his lip piercing. Fuck, that’s hot. 
You guide your fingers towards your entrance, Jungkook having a view of your thong as you’ve lifted your denim skirt to tease him a bit. He’s patient, keeping his hands to himself, letting you control. 
You slip your wet fingers beneath the material, a whimper escaping your mouth as you let yourself feel just how wet you are for Jungkook. Meanwhile Jungkook is trying his best to remain calm, as he watches you grind yourself on your two fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, focusing more on the pleasure that erupts as you slowly push a finger at the time, letting yourself stretch. The end of your palm rubbing against your clit, making you bite back a sudden moan. 
Jungkook grows hard, seeing you touch yourself, his name almost escaping your lips as you pant. He’s curious how your lips would feel, how you taste and how you’d feel around him. He wants to know, he’s almost on his knees for the answer. ‘’Please let me taste you.’’ You smirk at his request, letting your eyes open, finally getting a glimpse of Jungkook. He’s biting his lip, hand firmly grasping on his lap, trying it’s best not to grab onto his cock hardening under his jeans. 
You stop moving your fingers, pulling them out and moving closer to Jungkook. ‘’Open.’’ He releases his bottom lip, his mouth falling open, you trace your fingers once again over his lips, teasing him with the taste of yourself resting on the end of your fingers. ‘’Suck on my fingers Koo.’’ His eyes light up over your demand, a small smirk appearing at the end of his lips before he fills his mouth with your coated fingers. His mouth feels warm, tongue circling around every inch of them. His eyes are squeezed shut, low moans exiting from his mouth. You’re in awe of the sight laid out in front of you. Jungkook bopping his head on your fingers, getting everything, not leaving any trace behind. He lets go of your fingers with a pop, his eyes back on yours. ‘’Shit, you taste amazi—’’ 
‘’Come here.’’ You pull him by the shirt, your lips molding with his. They’re soft, carrying the aftertaste of you but you don’t mind. You feel Jungkook smiling in the kiss and it resolves into you having butterflies swarming at the bottom of your stomach. 
‘’Mmm— can I fuck you?’’ Jungkook pulls away, his nose nuzzling against yours as you both pant to catch your breaths. You want nothing more than for Jungkook to be in between your legs, but seeing you have a lot of control over him, you want to play for a little longer. 
‘’Are you sure?’’ He nods and you grin, removing his hand gripping on his cock and guiding it towards your entrance. He’s careful when he pushes two inside of you, immediately filling you up. You hum in pleasure by the way his fingers curl nicely between your walls. 
‘’Are you sure it could fit? It’s not too tight is it?’’ You’re trying your best not to laugh but when Jungkook’s expression turns to offense, you’re bursting. You’re quick to shut up when Jungkook moves his fingers inside of you, making you gasp from the sudden movement.
‘’You’re such a tease. I’ll show you.’’ 
‘’Show me.’’ You pull him back for a kiss only he stops, hovering over you instead and peppering your neck with kisses, and light biting. His fingers still resting inside of you, keeping you filled until it’s finally exchanged with his cock. When he’s at last settled in between your legs, your hands go to grab his erection, only he stops you. 
‘’Be patient.’’ You roll your eyes at his act, but obeying either way. Your hand tracing patterns on his sleeve, looking down seeing how his fingers pump in and out of you. 
‘’I don’t know how long I can be—’’ You feel the smirk forming on Jungkook’s lips, as he runs his tongue over your exposed neck. The tables have turned, him now in total control over you and you being nothing but a mess under his touch. 
‘’Come on Y/N, be good for me.’’ He bites down on your earlobe and you fight every part of you to not give in and touch his cock that’s poking your inner thigh. Your grip tightens around Jungkook’s sleeve, impatience growing within you but you want to be good for Jungkook and show him how patient you can be for him. 
‘’Yeah, that’s it.’’ His praise helps you keep your hands away from him. To your luck Jungkook kisses you again, the aftertaste still lingering on his tongue. You’re quick to wrap your arms around his neck, letting your tongue play with his. He feels so soft and warm and you never want to stop touching him, feeling him up so close to you and the slight graze of his lip piercing in the corner of your mouth.
‘’Touch me.’’ He mumbles against your lips and you’re cheering internally, content over being able to touch him. You drag your hands across his chest and longer down to his abs, them finally reaching his zipper and getting under his briefs. Jungkook hisses from the contact of your hand finally dragging over his cock. You pump in a slow and tender pace, sending Jungkook on edge. Small pants escape his lips and a low moan when your thumb traces over his tip, smearing the pre-cum all over. 
‘’Fuck this.’’ Jungkook stops you, removing his fingers from inside of you, hiking your skirt up in a hurry and pushing your thong to the side. 
‘’Look who’s being patient now.’’ You tease as you spread your legs wider, wanting nothing more than to feel Jungkook fully in you. 
Your fingers are already tracing circles on your clit, growing desperate to reach an awaited orgasm. Jungkook’s never been faster in taking off his clothes, throwing them across the room one by one. 
‘’I’ve been waiting too long for this to be patient.’’ His hand grabs ahold of the handle to his night table, fishing for a condom. To his luck, he’s quick to find one and unwraps it with his bunny teeth. You feel nervous, not because of the act itself, no, it’s because it’s with Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook you’ve never imagined having a chance with, yet here you are, about to have sex with him after he admitted he likes you. 
He moves back down to you, his left hand cupping your cheek as he presses a kiss. As the kiss deepens, you feel him guide himself inside of you. The stretch is bigger than his fingers, pleasing and filling. When he’s nestled fully in, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. 
‘’It’s not too big is it?’’ He smirks, mocking your remark from earlier making you giggle slightly. You hum a no, leaving him grinning with you. You go back to attacking your lips with his, never growing tired of kissing him. He begins to rock his hips against you, the action making you gasp against his mouth, parting your lips as you let out breathless moans. You’re losing yourself completely in Koo’s embrace. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and as he picks up a strong pace an orgasm reaches your body slowly. You praise him, letting your teeth and mouth sink in his shoulder, to refrain yourself from moaning too loud and causing attention to the rest of campus. But fuck does he feel good.
Your back arches in response, when his tip grazes over your g-spot, your fingers almost growing numb from touching your clit. Jungkook takes notice, pressing his thumb on your clit to help you release all over him. You encourage him to continue, your pants increasing as he continues to slam his hips in a rhythmic pace.
The build up increases, your teeth biting harder down on his shoulder as you finally come undone, letting out small puffs. Jungkook feels you coating him, looking down seeing the condom smeared in your arousal. He’s so proud of himself to have you come undone beneath him and biting his shoulder to refrain from screaming too loud for others to hear. The sight of you being such a mess, sends Jungkook till his own, giving you a final thrust as he fills the condom up. You’re both a mess, panting to catch your breaths, a smile on display on the both of you. 
‘’Did I prove it?’’ 
‘’Mhm.’’ He captures your lips again, humming in satisfaction over finally having you. 
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© jjkeverlast 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.]
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1K notes · View notes
trtlebuns · 10 months
Text
OH YOU BETTER WORK!!
Synopsis: You “accidentally” send your clothes to your boyfriends address and demand a fashion show
Inspired by this video: 💋
Tags: Fluff, wholesome, comedy, and Soap
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Johnny (Soap) MacTavish
“babe” you hear Johnny say through the FaceTime call
“Hm?” You replied not looking at the phone while you paint your nails
“What is it” you ask again now looking at your phone since you didn’t hear Johnny reply
“I think you sent something to my address” Johnny said while showing the package in the camera
“Ooohh!!! I was wondering where that went, I thought they forgot to send it and was going to request a refund” You said while looking at the logo on the package
“Do you want me to drive over and give it to you?” Johnny put the package down and looked around for his keys
An idea popped into your head
“no no no” you frantically say as he pauses and waits for you to continue your sentence
“Try them on for me” you say
There was a pregnant pause
“I think those polish fumes are getting to your head darling” Johnny chuckled
“I’m deadass” you said as you put on your most serious face as you stare into the camera as Johnny stares back at you
“Babe I-“ Johnny was about to start before cut off by a
“AHHHH PLEASE PLEASE WITH A CHERRY ON TOP!! YOU WONT HAVE TO BUY ME LUNCH FOR THE WHOLE WEEK PLEASE I PROMISE I PROMISE JUST THIS ONE THING UGHHH” you screamed into the phone
Johnny knew you were lying about the lunch because he knows how you get when you’re hungry
Johnny rolled his eyes and told you to hush and you did
“Fine WOMAN! I will put the clothes on mkay” he said with a tight lip
You smiled “prop the camera up so I can get a full body image, it’ll help me image it on myself”
Johnny does what you ask and opens up the package
“Dear God woman, where and why did you even buy these clothes??” Johnny said confused and scared as he picked up a few articles of clothing
“I was just browsing and seeing what I might like to see myself in. Now enough questions, get on with the get down okay?” You said as you put yourself in cross cross apple sauce position and watched Johnny changed
As Johnny was about to lift his shirt he caught a glimpse of you looking like a mad woman in the camera
Eyes wide , staring deep into the camera, and breathing deeply
“Back up, damn. Creeping me the fuck out” Johnny said while letting go of his shirt and about to cover his camera
“ ILL CLOSE MY EYES” you said as you saw his hand
Johnny rolled his eyes
“You better” he said and went back to changing
“No promises tho…” you shut your eyes peeking a bit
“Huh???” Johnny said
“They’re closed” you said irritatedly, but nevertheless closed your eyes fully
In the midst of you eyes being closed and rocking your self side to side
You hear a bunch of “my gods” “would this even fit?” “my body would swallow this” “trashy” “ooo a wig” “why is my nipple on display?” “THONG?!”
“Hurry up” you said impatiently as you hear him grumble his complaints
“I’m almost done, hush! You can’t rush art” you hear him smack his lips
“Okay andddddddd done” you hear Johnny say out of breath
You open your eyes
“Good God” You say aloud and cover your mouth to stop the giggles from erupting from your body
“Speechless? I know babe” Johnny said as he bit his lips and rubbed his hands together
Visual: Johnny is wearing a pink crop top with some short shorts , with a white fur coat and a purple bob wig to match
As tears begin to fall down your eyes and the laughter managed to escape your mouth
Johnny gave you a full blown show
I’m talking twirling, strutting towards the camera, twerking a little bit
You even put on beez in the trap by Nicki Minaj to give him the all experience bad bitch vibe
“BITCHES AINT SHIT AND THEY AINT SAYING NOTHIN!!” You yelled out while you got up and starting dancing
“YOU BETTER EAT JOHNNY!! YOU BETTER WORK!!!” You yelled in the camera as Johnny started dancing along with the lyrics
As the music came to an end, you hear the door open from the Johnnys side of the phone
Immediately Johnny is frozen in his spot
“Could you pleas-“ you hear a familiar voice and automatically align it with Simon (Johnnys roommate)
There was a pause in his sentence, as he continues
“Playing a little bit of dress up?”
“Yeah…” Johnny replied
“good, good, It’s good to pretend” you hear Simon say
You cough awkwardly
“You look beautiful” Simon chuckles out
“Oh fuck off and get out” Johnny yelled out and went to close his door and lock it
“Please keep it down Princess” you heard Simon yell behind the door
You’re having a giggling fit as Johnny picked up his phone and looked at you
“Never again” Johnny says
“Okay okay, I promise” you replied with a smile
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cecilysass · 29 days
Text
Shine On (4/16)
Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic
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Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling
Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015
The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.
“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”
Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.
Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.
It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.
“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”
Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.
“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”
Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.
“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”
The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.
“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”
Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”
“You can move objects, too.”
Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”
“What else?”
“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”
Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”
“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”
“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”
“No,” Jackson says honestly.
“Why not?”
“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”
Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”
“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”
The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”
“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.
“Have you ever heard that name before?”
“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”
“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”
“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”
Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”
“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”
The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”
“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”
“I told you, eat as much as you want.”
Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.
“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”
Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”
“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”
Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.
There’s a pause.
“What clues?”
“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That’s a bunch of clues.”
Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.
He meets the man’s damp eyes.
“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”
Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.
“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”
Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.
***
After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”
“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”
“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”
“What’s that? A TV show?”
“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”
“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”
“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.
“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”
“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.
“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”
Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”
“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.
They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.
“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”
“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”
“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”
“No. Not like you.”
It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”
“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”
Your mother.
Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.
“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”
“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”
“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”
“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”
Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”
Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.
It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.
“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”
Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”
Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.
“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”
“Were you good at it, too?”
“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”
“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.
“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”
“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.
“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”
“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”
“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”
“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”
“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”
“You were raised religious?”
“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”
Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”
Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.
“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.
“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”
Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”
“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”
“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”
“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.
“Nah. Not going to happen.”
“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”
“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”
The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.
“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”
Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”
“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.
“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”
“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”
“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”
“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”
Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”
“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”
Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”
Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”
“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”
“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”
“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”
Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”
“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”
Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”
“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”
Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”
Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.
It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.
“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”
“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”
“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”
“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”
It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.
“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.
***
44 notes · View notes
buckets-and-trees · 1 year
Text
Consort
Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Namor x female!Reader Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: Diplomatic fraternization is never easy and situations can turn on a dime. When you accompany your father to negotiate future ties between your two underwater kingdoms, one mistake changes everything.
Content Warnings: SMUT, thigh riding
Additional Notes: Before this week it had never even as a WHIM come across my radar to write anything Namor. But two-almost-three-days ago @artsynellyyy shared a ridiculously gorgeous unfinished piece of art she was working on, asked for some input, and it spurred a plot concept that just GRIPPED my brain and had me feeling THINGS. I don’t think I will be writing a lot of Namor, but I do know there’s certainly a part two to this because…there’s more story for these two in my head. There’s a particular moment that exists for them that as this developed, I knew could not happen yet for them, it would’ve been too rushed. So… just… Happy fourth installment of the 2022 Holiday Extravaganza!
A/N 2: Be gentle! This is my first attempt at Namor. I did some canon diving and research, but I did not dive deep into the Namor fandom because I didn’t want to get too influenced about established patterns or too intimidated about what’s already out there. Honestly kind of terrified to publish this one, so just... jumping out of the airplane and pulling the parachute okay bye.
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“Let us speak without pretense,” the king of Talokan’s voice resonates powerfully through the throne room. “Tell me why you sought private audience with me today, Hamal.”
Standing at the right hand of your father, you observe the way he draws his shoulders up just a fraction more, the way his nostrils flare just before he speaks again. “Fine, I will speak plainly, Namor. Your recent dealings with the surface, particularly with the kingdom of Wakanda, is concerning to the kingdom of Fourchon.”
“Why should it concern you?” Namor patiently humors the conversation further, but you can read that the patience is wearing thin.
“King to king, I find it concerning because it calls into question whether we are moving into a state of volatility for all who dwell in the oceans, and I have no wish to see my people drawn into hostilities or war of any kind.”
“And you are here to ensure continued peace between our nations?”
“I am.”
Your heart isn’t racing, but the beats thrum more swiftly against your chest as you will this to go well.
“And what do you propose, Hamal? What does the kingdom of Fourchon possibly have to offer Talokan?”
There’s a moment of silence that hangs between the two rulers, then your father answers, “Her.”
Every muscle in your body seizes with dread, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes widen, but every bit of diplomatic rearing mercifully allows you to keep your mouth from dropping open in complete shock.
“My daughter.”
You cannot look at either king, looking straight ahead to keep your composure, but you register the sharp change in Namor’s voice. “Fourchon is neither enemy nor ally to Talokan, and yet you come to my court with the arrogance of demanding peace between our countries when for more than three hundred years there has been nary a quarrel. Indeed, your small kingdom has meant nothing to me, an inconsequential player amongst underwater realms. We have maintained social civility only because you were not worth any more or less to me.
He pauses, and you can feel the tension rolling in waves off your father.
“Your offer is horrible, but I will give you what you came here to bargain and secure today for the sake of your people, despite the prideful blunder of their king. Now leave.”
You are desperate to acquiesce to Namor’s command after the humiliation of being offered first as a trinket or some form of tribute and then receiving by association a political rebuke, and you turn immediately to depart with your father.
“Not you, Princess,” his voice halts you.
You watch your father leave; he doesn’t look back at you or Namor.
“Come here,” the king of Talokan says.
You turn back to face him, squaring your shoulders and looking straight at him as you approach. Your father had asked for a private audience, and you are grateful for that as no one else saw the disaster that just took place.
He regards you openly. You focus on breathing evenly when all you want to do is flee from this room and let your emotions rage. When his gaze meets yours again, he tilts his chin and narrows his eyes ever so slightly.
“Do you not kneel for your king?”
Heat rushes from your chest up to flood your cheeks, and your throat feels thick with anger, but you manage to speak. “You are not my king.”
“Did I not accept the terms offered?”
“An offer you called horrible,” you say as you sink to your knees and bow your head as is customary.
“The offer, not you.”
Your head snaps back up at these words.
“And the offer was horrible in relation to you, not me.”
Your brow furrows in question.
“When your father made the overtures for this meeting, I asked my ambassador to share with me his outlook on your kingdom and your court.”
“You said we were inconsequential.”
“But an element that still exists.”
He evaluated the full landscape. You were under no illusions that the kingdom of your birth was small in comparison to Talokan or Atlantis, but  he was a ruler who wasn’t fool enough discount the smaller players.
“My ambassador said,” he continues, “that your people love and respect you and that it is a loss to Fourchon that you were both second-born and a daughter of the throne instead of a son.”
Resentment spreads through your veins at these words. You’d fought the unrest of what you would not be able to do while also feeling confident in your brother’s ability to rule, that he’d proven himself worthy of his birthright.
“He said you were your father’s favorite.”
You had thought that, too. And yet… “How easily he would bargain me away would say otherwise.”
“It was clear you had no indication of his intent.”
A bitter laugh escapes your throat. “Truly. I thought he valued my presence, my counsel, even perhaps my help in diplomatic relations, but I was only a pawn.”
“No.”
You narrow your eyes and cock your head to the side.
“I think you are wrong. Stand, Princess.”
You rise slowly, with as much grace as you can.
He moves from the throne, stepping over the jaw that frames his seat of power, and moves down the steps toward you.
“In future you kneel for only me, no one else.”
You remain in your place as he slowly circles you.  
“I did lecture your father for his arrogance on an improper read on the state of affairs, assuming Talokan would turn on Fourchon. However, as a king, I do not fault him for caring for the welfare of his people, or for overestimating the value of his kingdom,” he states, his voice warming with this admission. He comes to a stop in front of you. “And to negotiate safety and peace for his people?” He raises his right hand and draws his fingers down reverently along your jaw. “He offers you, his greatest treasure. He insinuates you are worth more than an entire kingdom.”
You open then close your mouth, unsure how to respond to this interpretation. Your eyes search his, but all you can see there is a resoluteness that he truly means what he’s just said. It’s disarming, and with the way your world fell out from under you only minutes ago, you’re unsure of what to trust now.
Namor radiates confidence, it rolls easily off him in waves, but when he takes a step closer, you can feel the heat of him. His fingers move over your shoulder and down the length of your arm, and you shiver but keep holding his gaze. Your instincts tell you that every moment in this room has been significant, it’s determining your future, every movement, every word, every observation.
He takes half a step closer, only a whisper of space between you now, and you hold your ground. He almost smiles, then he turns away, seizing your hand and leading you up the stairs of the dais, and you quickly lift your skirts so you can ascend quickly behind him. Up close you can admire the artistry of the jaw that encases his throne. Like him, it’s charming, beautiful, and dangerous, each intricate designs carved into the bone, and the teeth replaced with jade stones.
“Your father was right to anticipate a shift in my rule.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been king of Talokan for centuries, but my dealings with Wakanda have me considering eventualities of the future.”
Namor takes steps over the jaw, then draws you carefully in with him, still holding your hand as you step over the mighty frame, before finally releasing it. He turns back to look out over the throne room and further the drop off to look out over the kingdom of Talokan, but angles himself slightly toward you as well, and you mirror him. It’s a breathtaking view, and you imagine it is an altogether different manner of beauty with the court or an audience of people called to convene. But like this, still and quiet, it’s ethereal.
“You will be my queen.”
“That’s a bold declaration.”
“You’ve been offered to me in exchange for a promise of peace for your people, would you renege?”
You close your eyes briefly but square your shoulders and shake your head.
“Now you can choose your course in this.”
“Enlighten me,” you can’t hold back, though you do manage to keep your voice even.
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but he’s speaking again before you can decipher it. “If I’m to have an heir, to secure the future, ensure stability for my people, I need a queen; but whether you merely bear my child or become my consort is something I cannot determine for you. I would prefer the latter.”
In the next second, he’s pulled you to his side and captured your lips in a kiss that is altogether slow and searing. His arm winds around your waist, bringing you flush against him, and your hands move of their own volition to rest on either side of his neck. Heat runs through your veins, and you know without question he could consume you.
You break off the kiss, but he respectfully retreats. He takes a seat on the throne, and you see he’s as breathless as you are.
But you broke off the kiss to ask the question that will haunt you if you don’t ask it.
“You’re truly ready to bind me to your side, just like that? You don’t even know me.”
“This is not a marriage of convenience. This is a marriage of opportunity.”
“I’m not–“
He holds up a hand to silence you, but it’s not in impatience, you can see that in his face, and he immediately says, “I will grant you that we do not know each other yet, but I know enough to know who you are. I have the trusted insight of my ambassador, but I also have accounts from people who have served and interacted with you here in my own kingdom these past two days, and biologically prolonged life or not, a king also doesn’t keep his crown or the respect of his people for as long as I have without being able to judge those around him well. You were taken by surprise today, but you are not naïve. You came to my court to be of counsel, serve, influence. Why should that not still be your fate?”
“A foreign princess?”
He shakes his head and holds his hand out to you. “A queen consort.”
You search his face again. This was the moment. You could not read any falseness, arrogance, or cruelty. Indeed, though he was surprising you with this swift and forthright proposition, your intuition doesn’t question him or his intentions.
You take the hand he presented, and he pulls you forward, placing his hands on your hips once you are close enough and guiding you to sit astride one of his powerful thighs, the rich fabric of your dress sliding up your legs. You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.
“I want your mind, your body, and your soul,” he says, sealing it with your name, not your title.
“I want the same,” you say.
“You’re sure?”
“I need the same.” Being this close to him is both invigorating and steadying. The way he is looking at you, the way he is holding you, it’s also intimate and heated, and those feelings are amplified as he pulls you just a little closer.
“Then take what you need,” he commands in a tone that makes your heart soar and desire bloom in your stomach. He flexes his thigh against your core, and it spurs you to lean in and kiss him again, hungry for more.
He matches your eagerness. When his tongue seeks entrance, you open your lips, moaning. He begins rocking your hips back and forth over his thigh, and you know he can feel the heat and the wetness of the desire he’s stoked within you seeping through the silk of your underwear. As you take control of moving against him, his hands travel up your sides until he reaches your breasts, and his thumbs brush over the tender flesh. You both moan, him in approval, and you with pleasure. You’re swept away completely in all the sensations, in his passion, your body singing for him. He is a powerful force, one you will have to be sure to meet with your own spirit and fire so you aren’t lost. This union is for fulfilment for you both, not to be destroyed, diminished, or tossed away.
As you speed up, he drops one hand down to anchor on your hips, helping you grind down on his thigh. He keeps flexing it against you, and you whimper, head falling back.
“Keep going,” he growls against the column of your throat, kissing his way down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. “I love the way your body is trembling; I can tell you’re so close.”
“Yes, Namor,” you keen.
“K’uk’ulkan,” he says, and your head snaps back up, eyes locking intensely with his.
“K’uk’ulkan,” you repeat – the invitation to use the more personal name drops the intimacy between you two to a deeper level.
You both move with a desperate frenzy now, you craving the release and him eager to give it to you, his lips searing every inch of the exposed skin available to him at your neck, collar bone, pulling at the neckline of your dress.
“So close,” you cry.
“Let go.”
And you do, tight coil of ecstasy peaking and releasing, you cling to him, and as your body begins to relax wish pleasure, you press your forehead to his, both of your eyes closed now, sealing the moment in your memory.
His hands are slowly running up and down your back. “Jach ma’alob,” he croons softly. “This is enough for now; there will be so much more, my queen.”
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Jach ma’alob = very good
PART TWO: COMPANION
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
If you enjoyed, reblog to help others find this story AND to normalize the fic-reblog culture. There are so many talented writers, and a reblog really fuels the muses of the soul more than you know - we all appreciate it whether we're big or little fish in this pond.
My askbox is always open. See you on the flipside for day four of AHE...
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huntedhauntedhunter · 5 months
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I have TADC agere headcanons...if anyone cares (prolly not haha)
Posting on art blog because I post my agere art here sometimes, so why not headcanons and writings too?
Will be tagged properly so you can blacklist it if you want.
Age regressors: Gangle and Pomni (FT. YOU)
Caretakers: Jax (yes and I will explain more later), Ragatha, and Zooble
Grandparent who spoils the agere and helps the caretakers: Kinger
I don't have...a spot/hc for Caine yet...sorry...feel free to tell me what you think he'd be good as though, and why/how!
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🎀Agere Gangle: Its kind of obvious and she's not oblivious to it or in denial. She loves agere and finds it comfty and safe. She loves to draw for hours and have playdates with Pomni (she actually convinces Pomni its ok and to do it.)
I HC her caretaker as Zooble, who can be romantic or platonic! I just think Zooble would be a good caretaker for her.
📐Caretaker Zooble: Zooble is...meh about it on the surface. They don't care and they don't think they need to be so public about it. But once in the headspace, they're kind of like...a cigerette mom? Where they're sarcastic about everything, and they question almost all of your choices with a specific type of judgementalness...but they really care and if anyone (Jax) fucks with their baby, it's gonna go down.
Having Gangle as their little really opens up a protective side they didn't know they had in them. Beating the shit outta Jax becomes a more common occurence.
🤹🏻‍♀️Agere Pomni: Pomni is def in denial, and it takes a LOT of convincing from Gangle (and gentle coaxing from Ragatha telling her it's ok) to really let themselves get into it. She is very shy and anxious about it. At first she was paranoid about others finding out (namely Jax), but one Jax finds out and she becomes accustomed to...him, she really gets into. I feel Ragatha would be the best caretaker, whether platonic or romantic (altho I personally lean towards romantic!)
🔪Caretaker Ragatha: (Knife emoji is for a few reasons haha) I've seen everyone under the sun HC Ragatha as a caretaker...and so they've pretty much already said everything and I agree! Gentle, loving, sweet, but also firm and no nonsense. Her and Jax get into a LOT of fights over the littles...like, a lot. It's like watching two parents at a sports event scuffle over whose kid is better.
♟Grandpa Kinger: I HC Kinger as a grandpa figure. He isn't really a caretaker, but he spoils the littles and plays along with everyone whether he actually knows whats going on or not. Def lets them hide in his pillow fortress, whether to play in, sleep in, or be naughty and hide from their caretakers in. Teaches them about insects...plays silly games with them...etc.
🐇Caretaker Jax: OK...this one is purely for me and I have a lot amusing scenarios with Jax in which I think he'd be a fun and unique type of caretaker...So hear me out...(Since I don't see him as a caretaker for anyone in the circus, section will be xreader, sorry! I made him a caretaker for me, but if anyone does read this and enjoys it...here you go.)
It'd start with him finding out about you being an agere. And in typical Jax fashion, he would mock, berate, and tease the hell out of you every single chance he got. He would def make you cry and be paranoid, because he would go through your room and nitpick anything and everything he found.
Slowly though, and I mean SO slowly you wouldn't even notice it was happening...he would insert himself as your caretaker. Like, I'm talking he would just find amusement in teasing you and playing the part, making you upset and then saying shit like "what, aren't I a good daddy?" when he "helps" you fix the problem he caused...or sushing you by sticking a paci in your mouth, or threatening to spank you if you annoy him just a tad.
He would eventually just. Go to the playdates and sit between Zooble and Ragatha and just...start pretending he's your parent. Behind your back. You wouldn't realize he's doing this or talking about you in this way for awhile. You'd only realize it one day, when you Pomni and Gangle are having a fun competition, and you hear Jax yell at the others about how "his kids the best and gonna win", or some sports dad shit.
You don't know how to confront him, TBH...I'll let you insert how you'd personally confront him.
He's super teasing, loves having excuses to "punish" you (usually puts you in a poorly made baby jail), and acts like a mix between a deadbeat dad who only intercepts when he feels like it, and a protective dad who feels like he has to fight everyone about you being better than all the other "brats".
(Sorry the Jax part is so long, I just have lots of feelings about it...and IK the fandom would see "caretaker Jax" and laugh at how absurd that is which is fair, it's meant to be absurd! That's part of the fun and why I enjoy the idea so much.)
Anyways...yeah...that's it...just need HCs for Caine and Bubble and I'll be set....Sorry for how long this is and if you for some reason decided to read it...wow.
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shuacore · 2 years
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[ 15:17 ] when the world stopped moving
even though you and mingyu had been separated for years, there was always a grey area in what your relationship really was. 
the people that caution against staying friends with your exes? you should’ve listened to them. 
you weren’t together anymore. you both were so immature when you were. mingyu was emotionally unavailable and clingy, and you were in a terrible place mentally. the two of you never fought, but his presence had started to make you feel ill and resentful which just made you feel worse.
so why, after all these years, does he still ignite a foolish spark of excitement in your stomach? why can you still imagine a future with him when you look at him? 
do his eyes pause on you a second too long or are you imagining it? sometimes, when mingyu hugs you his hands linger on your neck. you stand so close that your shoulders brush. he whispers things in your ear, and you blush feeling his breath on your ear.
but you’re not together. so you always pull yourself out of his grasp, offer him a sad smile, and walk away.
it’s so hard to watch you be happy. 
it seemed almost too easy for him to move on. 
year three post-break up. why does it still hurt? why does it still ache like an old wound?
looking at his life from a distance feels like someone is pulling stitches out from an old injury, sans anesthetic, sans warning. it’s supposed to be healed…so why are you still bleeding?
you could go months without seeing him and be perfectly fine. but one flash of that heart-breaking smile, one note of that warm raspy voice, and you go tumbling back to what you know.
he’s a famous photographer, backpacking around europe and asia and south america, traversing africa and the middle east, and you’re stuck in your old apartment—the same one he lived in—brushing the dust off memories of a bygone era.
it’s so hard to know that i’m not. 
you hear the click of the camera. the sun is warm on your skin, brushing the back of your eyelids in an orange glow. the fountain burbles quietly as water splashes into the pool.
santorini. late summer. 
without opening your eyes, you cast out your hand, fingers searching for mingyu’s. you know he’s somewhere near. you can hear him fumbling around with his camera. 
“stop filming me,” you murmur, squinting in the bright sun. your boyfriend is squatting on the concrete, his trusty 35 mm camera pointed at you. his left eye is pressed to the viewfinder, his fingers twiddling with different controls as he peers at you through the lens. you roll your eyes playfully as you toss your head back against the chair.
“then stop being my muse,” mingyu replies, shuffling closer. you let out a shriek of laughter as he tosses the camera onto a pile of towels, suddenly wrapping his arms around your torso. mingyu presses his mouth to any exposed skin he can find, on your shoulder, your arms, your hips, your knee, your stomach, your face. he smells like sunscreen and wet skin and mint.
you grasp mingyu's chin in your hand, pulling his mouth to yours, smiling against his sun-burned lips. he tastes like fresh peach and sparkling wine.
‘cause you know i love your brother and your mom like they were mine.
sometimes mingyu still calls you. his voice crackles over the speaker of your landline. 
you have one new message. 
“just wanted to say hi. it’s about 1 AM here. i hope i don’t wake you.
“i’m in venezuela right now, doing some commission work for nat geo...i know you said you always wanted to visit. it’s so beautiful here—sometimes the sky turns completely purple and red during the sunset, and you just see the sun peeking out from over the plateau. 
“my mom asks about you a lot. she misses you and she wants to know if you’re still studying art history.
“she’s always buying those snacks you like, saying i need to send them to you. i keep telling her no, it’s—it’s not like that anymore, but you know how she is. 
“anyway, wish you were here. 
“i miss you.”
end of message. 
love is more than words and i also hurt you. 
the worst part was that you didn’t even fall completely out of love. it hits you one night, in the dead of winter, during a conversation with mingyu. 
foolishly, you had agreed to catch up with him over dinner. 
“i’m sorry for how it ended,” you say in a quiet moment, swilling the wine in your glass around the bowl. mingyu doesn’t respond immediately. 
he’s quiet as he says, “no need to apologize.”
“mingyu—” you take a deep breath, willing your heart to still. “i don’t know if it’s just me, but is there still something here? the calls, the voicemails, your mother.” 
when you finally look at mingyu, he looks sad. 
“i still like you. and i want to try again.” you sound like you're pleading.
mingyu smiles, but the look is familiar— it’s the same apologetic smile you often give him. 
“i like you, too,” he says. but then he hesitates.
your heart lifts. do you even dare to hope? you miss mingyu so bad, it’s like part of you has been forgotten for eons, and when you’re around him it’s so easy to fall into old habits. the smiles and the laughter. the touching.
“—but i just don’t know what i want.” 
here come your dreams, crashing down around your ears. 
“let’s just stay friends for now."
you plaster an understanding smile on your face. your stomach is collapsing in on itself. 
you don’t know if you can go through life, pretending like you just want to be friends with mingyu. but the thought of cutting him out of your life is so much more devastating, so suffocating that you feel like your throat might close up. 
“yeah, no—yeah, of course. i get it,” you reply, and every word feels like a knife to the gut.
mingyu’s eyes are still sad. remorseful. he places his hand over yours, and his thumb skims over your skin. 
you really wish he wouldn’t do that. 
“who knows…,” mingyu begins, and by the soft rasp in his voice you know he’s going to break your heart, “if we’re both still available in a couple years…” 
years. 
the first tear falls.  
you’re back in limbo. 
when the world stopped, i just wanted you to hold me.
ot13 | masterlist
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