#night time is beginning and I'm feeling emotions

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝✯

chris x black earthy/boho!reader

IN WHICH…Y/n finds a peace of mind with her lover, and his two brothers.

WARNINGS: nothing besides smoking.

5 a.m.

It was 5 a.m on a Sunday and Y/n couldn't sleep, her mind racing intangible thoughts. With a sigh she carefully sits up, attempting to not wake up her sleeping boyfriend. She successfully does so and begins moving around the room, gathering the items she would need.

She exits the room once she gathers everything, and walks down the hallway, peaking into the guest room to check on Nick and Matt. They decided to come over with Chris and ended up spending the night. She didn't have a problem with it, always hating being alone.

She found their company relieving.

Seeing that the two are still sound asleep, she continues her trek through the big house. She arrives in the kitchen where she grabs a bottle of kombucha out of the fridge, making her way outside barefoot.

She shudders as the crisp california air nips at her skin, not use to the cold that comes in the early morning, and leaves before it even hits 12 p.m. She takes a seat on her poolside couch and sets up her camera, pressing record before rolling up.

"It's currently 5 a.m. and I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come outside and journal while the sun rises." She speaks to the camera softly, her eyes trained on the grinded-up plant in front of her. "The boys spent the night and are currently still sleeping. It was nice having them over, not having to be alone." She lights the joint and inhales the smoke, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling.

"I'm not sure why I hate being alone so much, I think it's because I came from a big family and I'm not used to quiet...Granted it's never quiet considering my thoughts are always loud but I digress." She stops talking and flips open to an empty page, starting to write all of her thoughts and feelings down. She leaves the camera rolling, figuring she would just make it a time-lapse with some copyright-free neo-soul music playing over it.

She wasn't a typical YouTuber, never doing big fancy things and showing off. She was a more peaceful and serene one, her videos consisting of her lifestyle and talking about her feelings.

Her videos that have done well so far are her lifestyle vlogs, the main points being her smoking, painting, cooking, and shopping for crystals. It seems as if the viewers also love her monthly vinyl reviews, finding the way she expressed her love for music interesting.

That's how Chris found her.

He was looking for a YouTube video to watch before bed and he saw a thumbnail of hers. She was smoking in the thumbnail, a wall of vinyl's behind her as the title read, "fav vinyls this month".

He won't lie, he clicked on it because she was pretty, but he stayed for her personality and the raw emotions she expressed as she talked about the Fugees.

To say the least he went down a rabbit hole and watched all her videos that night, adding some of her favorite songs to a playlist.

Speaking of the boy...

She turned around hearing the patio door open, a soft smile gracing her face seeing her half-asleep boyfriend making his way towards her. "Why the hell are you up so early? And why did you leave me?" He questions plopping down next to her. "Couldn't sleep and I didn't want to bother you with my tossing and turning...Why are you up so early?"

"You know I can't sleep without you." He fixes her legs so he can lay in between them, sighing out as his head meets her soft and plush thighs. She smiles softly and runs her nails along his scalp, caressing his face at the same time. "What were you thinking about?" He mumbles when he notices the journal and pen.

She shrugs, "I'm not sure... My mind was just loud." He opens his eyes and looks up at her in worry. She notices and shakes her head, "Nothing bad, don't worry baby." He nods and relaxes back against her body.

The two lay on the couch in comfortable silence as they experience the twilight, listening to the birds chirp as they awaken from their peaceful slumber. The pool rumbles softly as it begins to clean itself, the water rippling due to the vibrations.

"This is nice," she looks down hearing Chris's groggy voice. "Hm?''

"I said this is nice... Laying here and watching the sunrise with you, not having to worry about what the day brings." She hums in agreement and watches as the skies turn from dark blue to hues of pink, purple, and orange.

The sunrise reflects off of the rippling water of the pool, casting a warm glow on the two bodies. Y/n tilts her head back as she basks in the warm rays. It seems as if her thoughts finally quieted down, giving her a chance to be calm.

Chris stares at his girlfriend, his heart swelling in admiration seeing her in her natural habitat. He truly believed she wasn't meant to be in LA. She was meant to be somewhere that had a bunch of greenery, somewhere that had a waterfall right under the sun so she could bask in it like a cat. Somewhere where she could be free and at peace.

"I can feel you staring at me," she looks down at Chris whose face has a hue of red. "Just admiring you. I can't admire my girlfriend now?" She giggles and motions for him to sit up. She pulls him into a soft kiss, enjoying the warmth of his lips.

"It's six thirty and you two are already being gross." The couple pulls away and looks at a half-awake Nick, and a sluggish Matt. The two make their way over and sit on the ground in front of the couch. "Shut up, I was enjoying time alone with my girlfriend since you two decided to crash last night." Y/n watches as Chris and Nick go back and forth, their banter not making sense since they are both still tired.

"Can both of you shut the hell up? It's early and you two are bitching for no reason." Matt grunts. Chris huffs before settling back down against Y/n, burying his face in her stomach. He kisses the brown skin before fiddling with her waist beads.

The quad dives into a conversation, not talking about anything important per say but just talking. They soon fall into silence, enjoying the peace before they have to go back to their busy lives. Not long after, Y/n's brown cat Janelle, joins them causing Matt to gasp in excitement.

As he plays with her, Y/n rolls another blunt. "I wish I could do this every day. Your house just makes me feel at home." Nick breathes out.

"That's funny considering I only find it to be homey when you guys are here." She grabs her lighter and sparks the pink wrap, inhaling it before handing it to Chris. She watches as the smoke cascades in the sun, creating shapes of different sizes.

"Wouldn't it be crazy if we all just lived with each other?" Matt voices, his tone light as he plays with the cat.

"I wouldn't be opposed to it...We are always with each other anyway." Nick adds.

"I would like that honestly," Chris eyes Y/n as she speaks, his heart racing at her words. He knows it's too soon, the two of them have only been with each other for 7 months. However he knows she's the one, his family loves her, his friends love her, he loves her. She came into his life and watered him like a plant, helping him bloom into something more.

"Fuck it, let's do it!" Everyone turns to Chris in surprise.

"Huh?"

Chris sits up and turns his body towards Y/n, "Let's move in with each other...I mean you hate living alone and we are always over anyway. Let's move in with each other."

"Are you sure Chris?" Y/n wants to scream and dance in excitement at the thought of her best friends and boyfriend living with her, but the sensible part of her isn't sure. Granted they have been friends for a year but she and Chris have only been dating for 7 months. "Yeah, I don't have a problem living with you, I think it would be great... I want this relationship to go somewhere...I think you're the one for me."

Y/n feels her eyes burning as the salty tears form, slowly descending down her face. Chris chuckles and pulls the girl into him, holding her tightly.

They all sit in silence, letting Y/n get her emotions out.

After a few minutes, Y/n sniffles and pulls away from Chris.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"I'm in... I want you guys to move in with m-" Before she can finish her last word, she's dogpiled by the three boys, all of them laughing and shouting in excitment.

"Yes! This is so exciting! I'm going to love having a fully decorated house!"

"I get to see Janelle every day!"

"And I get to love on you every day!" Chris pulls her into a deep kiss, ignoring the groans of Nick and Matt.

The two brothers stand up and walk back into the house, leaving the couple alone once again.

They pull away from the kiss, their foreheads touching as they look each other in the eyes, both of their bodies full of love and tranquility.

"I love you," Chris whispers, his voice holding nothing but affection.

"I love you too"

The two lean in once again, their lips touching softly and tenderly.

The sun shines directly in front of them, the camera only able to see the silhouettes of the lovers.

i was in a fluffly mood so i hope yall like it💕

TAGLIST 🍑

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#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #fluff #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff #Spotify

[livingformintyoongi]

BTS fic recs

I wanted to do this a while ago, but felt like I hadn't read enough, until I checked my likes and got a shock to the face lol. I wanted to give some recommendations of some fics (and a series) that I quite enjoyed reading, plus leave a small review because I feel like it's very underrated to comment on what you like something (people, comment more, I swear it makes a writer feel so much better than a like). There's the occasional spoiler in the reviews, so I recommend you read it carefully or just skip the comment ^^.

Dawning by @wintaerbaer JJK

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new. warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal. I really loved this fic. For a moment I thought it was some kind of two shot or something, but it only has this one part. Still, I felt the author captured the emotions very well. It felt so realistic that even I was worried when Y/N disappeared lol.

Bottle up old love by @wintaerbaer KTH

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep. warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming. This fic made me remember why I love the exes to lovers trope. I loved seeing Jungkook as a tattoo artist, it's like, I don't know, so him, anyway, I loved it. I just found this account yesterday in the wee hours of the morning and I'm already loving it <3.

Cat-astrophe & Cat-enaries by @dumpywrites MYG

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem.  I fell in love with this Yoongi like you have no idea. When I just read the first part I was so eager to keep reading, seriously, I loved it, it deserves so much love.

Two Days by @dumpywrites JJK

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not? I live for Jungkook being simp of the reader, I feel it's so real lol. This fic made me feel so warm inside, it was too cute to read. It's kind of like my comfort fic.

S'more than friends by @borathae MYG

Warnings: subby!Yoongi, switchy!Reader, consumption of beer, so much awkward tension, jealousy, sex in a tent, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, making out aye, Yoongi loves her boobs and she loves his butt it’s a win-win, sex while other people are sleeping, public sex, she has a thing for his hands (but what’s new lmao), fluffy post-orgasm talks because I’m soft. I read it a while ago now, but I remember when I did I felt so soft. This Yoongi is just too cute.

Please don't go by @httpjungkookcom JJK

Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you. Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line.  Spiderkook, is more needed to read this fic? It was the first one I read about this au and I was WONDERED. God, you can't imagine how much I loved it. I thought it was so cute the way Jk approached reader being in his suit….

Accidental roommates by @jjkeverlast JJK

summary: moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate. warnings: second hand embarrassment | jungkook's abs | annoying antics | suppressed feelings | both of them are stubborn and petty (it's gets tiring lmfao) | mentions of past relationships | a lot of time stamps | sexual tension | ft. namjoon 👀 | !constant change of perspective between reader and jungkook. I have a tremendous weakness with dilf, no matter who it is, I just love them. I think this was the first one I read by Jungkook. It was so fun and easy to read that the 14.7k words flew by for me.

Silk & Stones by @taegularities KTH

Summary: “Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.” Kim Taehyung knows his way around words – they cast a spell on your heart and mind, leave you gasping dangerously fast. Until the mystery behind his persona unveils and his touch, along with his words, becomes a vivid memory. warnings: writer + violinist tae 🥺 who’s a gentleman in the 19th century, brief mention of injuries/a mental institution, misunderstandings, heartbreak, secrets, grief, much poetry (and my attempt at writing a poem, pls spot), much disgoosting fluff, flirting and lots of sexual tension; explicit sexual content: 2 sex(y) scenes, fingering on a boat, choking, teasing, begging, praising, soft dom!tae, big dick!tae, tiddie fondling/sucking, some manhandling, dirty talk, they’re just so cute :((, oral (f. and m. receiving), some masturbation, oc is into neck kisses, some biting, fingering, hair pulling, asking for permission :(, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it’s the 19th century...), aftercare; there’s quite some angst ok; lmk if i forgot smth !! This was a work of art for me. I felt so immersed in the story, so confused by the time changes and everything surrounding Taehyung, but I loved it, one of the best stories I've read of Taehyung since I joined tumblr.

17 going on 27 by @hansolmates JJK

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england. I love adaptations, especially ones that add their own touch, and the writer did it so well. She made me hate Jungkook, and then love him, and then hate him again, in the end I ended up resenting him, I wanted reader to stay with Jin lol, but I still loved it. Definitely my favorite part was having Jimin as a best friend, I loved watching him take on Jungkook in the car. We all need a friend like him.

Hot Bot by @httpjeon JJK/PJM/KTH/JHS

JJK: You order a sex robot online after getting a coupon for half off. however, there’s something strange about yours. PJM: Fear is primal and causes one to make stupid decisions. KTH: Your parents have a gift for you, however, there’s been a mistake. JHS: As a product tester, you have one of the most sought after temporary positions in Hot Bot Inc. This is a series that has smut, I think the name gives it away. It's rather sad that the writer is on hiatus, but he left the gems of his works open to the public. The series is pretty good, I fell in love with Jungkook (and Yoongi kskjdsksjds). Highly recommended.

The proposal by @hansolmates JJK

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always. I was looking for an adaptation of this movie for so long that when I found this one I almost cried with emotion. I LOVED the movie and the concept it had, and I was so happy to read this fic that captures that very romcom essence that the movie has. I loved it.

Marshmallows and report cards by @untaemedqueen KTH

Warnings: Impreg Kink, Marking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Birthday Sex, Spitting, Begging, Praise, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Tae, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, Possessive!Tae, Cock Warming, Creampie. I already confessed, this kind of fics get to me. I remember reading it and melting with the ending. I read it a long time ago, so I can't give a longer opinion, but I do remember that I loved it and came out internally squealing after I finished it.

Orange tulips by @kainks JJK

Summary: You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time. Genre: Angst. Fluff. Light Smut. The anxiety and helplessness I felt reading this fic are on another level. This scarred me, I read it once and I was never the same person again. It was wonderful, I felt so many things and I was so nervous during the whole reading that I almost didn't even realize when it was over. It is a very enjoyable fic.

What if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime

Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself. Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood. This fic left me feeling bad, it even made me question some future decisions regarding my relationship with my future partner and the necessary communication that must be had in a relationship from the beginning, especially if there is a child in the middle. It was something I really enjoyed reading, and even though I had my internal dilemmas with Jungkook, the drabbles in the story helped me a lot to let go of my grudge (I swear I have nothing personal with him sksjkajskajsj).

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #fanfic #bts imagine #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #fiction #bts x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jimin x female reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin x oc #hoseok x reader

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 9 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your call with Jesse is dramatic on his part to say the least but looks like there's a new guy in town and he's got his sights set on you. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k~ Warnings: Explicit and suggestive language but barely lmao a/n: Sorry this one is a little shorter guys but I figured this was a good stopping point so I hope you enjoy it 🥰 p.s. barely edited as always lol Start from the beginning

"Hello?" I say, my voice ridden with exhaustion since I was woken up out of a sound sleep from my phone ringing on full blast. 

"Hello? That's all you have to say to me? Girl I've been texting you since last night and you never responded" Jesse scolds through the phone and when I look at my messages I have over 50 from him alone. 

"I'm sorry Jess I was busy with Jungkook all day yesterday and I just ended up taking a shower and going to sleep. I guess I forgot to tell you how it went" I apologize, rubbing the sleep from my eye. "Tell me everything I don't care if you're all over the place I just need to live vicariously though you" he says, his excitement palpable even though the phone.

"Well we went to the modiste and found my dress an-" "No no I don't care about the boring stuff. Tell me about what happened between you and Jungkook. Did you guys share glances? Did he touch you? Did he hold your hand? You know the juicy stuff. Well, I guess as juicy as you could get with an etiquette teacher" he spouts off, trying to keep me on track.

"I thought you said you wanted to live vicariously through me? So I was taking you through my day step by step" I say, smiling at his impatience. "I meant the good stuff" he groans and I laugh at his playful frustration before having mercy on him and telling him everything.

"I found out that we like the same music and like similar foods and that he really is a nice guy. Under all of that commanding and strict nature he truly is a great guy" I admit, morning thoughts now full of him giving me a fuzzy feeling in my chest.

"You're falling for him aren't you?" Jesse asks, amused once he hears how I've changed my toon so quickly from one day to the next. "I wouldn't say I'm falling for him but there are some, stirrings" I say, confused and still half asleep, not being able to fully express my emotions properly. 

"Stirrings?" Jesse laughs, knowing what I'm meaning to say without actually having to say it but still pushing me to say more "Yes stirrings and let's leave it at that for now" I say, sitting up and stretching before getting out of bed. 

"Whatever you say" he sings leaving me rolling my eyes as walk to the bathroom and start to pull out the various things I need to get ready. "He also kinda sorta kissed me" I mumble and immediately pull my phone away from my ear, knowing how loud he's going to get about me hiding this from him for so long. 

"HE KISSED YOU? LIKE FOR REAL THIS TIME?" he asks, repeating his reaction from last time but needing to clarify right away since things have been interesting between us to say the least. 

"Well it wasn't full on but it was more than last time" I smirk, knowing that Jesse's way more excited about this than I am. "What's that supposed to mean" he asks quickly, dying to know since this is probably the most important piece of the puzzle he had been waiting for.

"Well I walked him out to his car after he dropped me off to say goodbye, and well he..." "Y/n I swear if you don't just spit it out I'm going to come over there and strangle it out of you" he growls and I laugh, always loving the feeling of torturing him. 

"Alright alright. So when I walked him out he said goodnight to me but when he said it, he said it against my lips. Like he brushed his lips against mine and just left me there and drove off like nothing happened" I say and the silence on the other side of the phone worries me. 

"Jesse?" I ask and then I hear what sounds like him punching his pillow or something. "Jesse are you alright?" I laugh and soon he takes in a deep breath and yell out "HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE LIVING MY DREAM?!?!?!" and I bust out laughing while he scolds me on the other end of the phone. 

"What are you doing?!?!?! You're literally wasting precious time that you could be using to let him fuck your brains out all because he just likes playing games with you. He wants you so bad so just go for it! If not for your own sake then for mine" he whines and I just continue to laugh, trying not to take him seriously because if I do I don't know if I'll be able to act like I don't want him too. 

"When's the ball?" Jesse asks after I had been tuning him out for a second or two. "Next Saturday" I answer and he hums, thinking about if he can squeeze me in for something or other. "Why?" I ask, his silence peaking my interest. 

"Well I wanted to see if you'd let me come and help you get ready for the ball? You know, hair, makeup, nails the whole nine yards" he says and I groan thinking about all of that stuff thrown together in one day. 

"My guess is that my mom is gonna either have someone come over to get me ready or that she'll send me to some sort of shop. If you want you could come with? Maybe get a manicure to while we're at it?" I offer and I can just tell how excited he is about it already.

"Yes yes a thousand times yes! I swear every time I've asked you to do anything that is remotely girly you've always said no so there's no way I'm passing up on this one!" he says and I can't help but smile. "Well I'm glad that I'll have someone by my side to help me endure this torture" I groan and he brushes me off, my claims sounding absolutely ridiculous to him. 

"Anyways I've gotta get ready for class so I'll see you then alright?" I say, checking the clock, thankfully seeing that I have more than enough time to do so. "Alright well hurry up so we can grab some coffee or something beforehand because I'm exhausted" I scoff at his words, since he was the one that woke me up two hours before my alarm was supposed to go off. 

"Why the hell would you be tired? You're the one that woke me up!" and he scoffs right back at me. "I was getting impatient alright! And rightfully so! How could you not tell me he kissed you?" he whines and I know this is my cue to wrap up the call. 

"He didn't kiss me alright. If he does you'll be the first to know, I promise. Unless someone sees of course" I say and he sighs dramatically, impatient with how slowly this whole thing is playing out. 

"Yeah yeah whatever, I'll see you soon. Should I just grab you something and meet you at our table?" he asks and I hum before responding. "Please and thank you" I say, dragging out the last word and soon end the call.

Classes go off without a hitch with Jesse bugging me every other second about Jungkook so I guess it was a pretty normal day to say the least. "Tell me if anything happens at your lessons today alright? No more late updates! I'm honestly still mad at you" he groans before picking up his stuff to go. 

"Yeah yeah whatever. See you later loser" I say, rolling my eyes and he rolls his right back at me even more dramatically. "Bye bitch" he says over his shoulder, giving me one last wave before walking to his last class while I make my way to mine. 

Walking into class I'm greeted by the murmurings of almost all the girls in class all aimed at one guy in particular that I'd never seen before. Granted I don't really pay attention to anyone in this class besides the professor anyways but seeing that there's a big enough reaction, my interest can't help but be peaked. 

As I make my way over to my usual spot in the lecture hall I begin to notice that he's sat right across the aisle from me.

I try to keep to myself and quietly go to my seat and pray he doesn't notice me because the last thing I need is a some guy trying to distract me in class. 

Don't get me wrong I'm not saying that I don't like helping people but, no actually I guess I really don't like helping people now that I think about it. That's besides the point though. All I need to worry about is getting through this lecture and getting out of here so I can make it to my lessons on time with Jungkook. 

As the professor finally makes his way into the classroom and starts to set up I hear someone trying to get my attention. 

"Psst" I hear and know exactly who it is, making me cringe but deciding to acknowledge him nonetheless. I look up at him and realize why those girls had been whispering about him since he, putting it as plainly as I can, is a very attractive human being. 

"What?" I respond and he grants me a smile that would make any other girl swoon, I however am not that girl. 

"Do you have a pencil I could borrow?" he asks, giving me the lamest excuse in the book to get a girl's attention. I summon all the strength I have in my body to resist rolling my eyes and decide to just reach into my bag and grab him one, hoping to be done with this conversation as soon as possible so I can focus on the lecture. 

I hand him the pencil and feel him purposefully brush his hand against mine and I pull my hand back, making him drop it and gaining the attention of the professor. 

"Is there a problem Mr. Foster?" the professor says to the freeloader next to me. "No sir, no problem at all" he says smoothly, trying to charm is way out of the scolding. "See that there isn't" the professor says, raising an eyebrow at him while the boy apologizes making the lecture resume after that. 

~~~~

"Hey" the guy calls out after me as I make my way out of the classroom. I stop and look at him, only planning on giving him seconds to say his piece before leaving, knowing that I'll get an earful from Jungkook if I'm late again. I raise a brow at him as he smiles down at me and doesn't make moves to say anything first. 

"Can I help you?" I say, finally breaking the ice and wanting to get to the point. "Actually you already did. I just wanted to give you your pencil back" he says holding it out to me with a bright smile. "Keep it" I say and turn my back to go and unfortunately he follow after me.

"What's your name?" he asks after squeezing through the students in the halls so he can walk next to me. "None of your business" I grumble and try to walk faster but he follows all the same. 

"That's a curious name" he chuckles, refusing to take the hint to the fact that I don't want to talk to him. "Can't you just leave me alone?" I question, stopping in my tracks, trying my hand at this method rather than just trying to outrun him which seems futile at this point based off of how long his legs are compared to mine. 

"I just wanted to thank my savior since I would've fallen even further behind in class if I wasn't able to take any notes today" he says and I cross my arms, knowing for a fact that half the time he was just looking at me since I could feel his eyes on me every time he looked my way.

"The best way to thank me is to leave me alone. I've got things to do and I don't have time to waste on you Foster" I say, using his last name since that's all I know so far. "It's Daniel" he chuckles at my effort to push him off (figuratively of course, thankfully he has manners enough to maintain personal space).

"I prefer Foster" I say sarcastically and he laughs as if I've said the funniest thing in the world. "Foster it is then" he agrees and I groan, walking off to my car and luckily this time he doesn't follow me, watching me from where we had been standing until I'm out of his sight. 

'Just when I thought my day was going well I've some how created a tail. Why me? Why not all the other girls in class that were obviously fawning all over him?' I shake my head and open my car door, slumping down into it and take a deep breath before putting on my seatbelt and putting my keys in the ignition. 

Hopefully I'll be able to get rid of this sour mood by the time I see Jungkook because otherwise our lessons aren't gonna be the prettiest today and we don't have time for anything but pretty. Time is running out and I need to remain focused if I want to do this and do it right. 

I want to leave a good impression on everyone for James' sake, but more than anything I want to make Jungkook proud of me...   

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[live-laugh-lenney]

Hello! Can you write a story where George or Arthur messes up and they like totally grovel over the reader? I feel like they would beg for forgiveness 😆

ohh, god lord. can you imagine the amount of grovelling?

arthur didn't mean to forget.

he was never a forgetful person; if he knew his plans were going to overrun or if he knew he'd double-booked himself, he would always make it his problem to deal with and sort out.

but with multiple video shoots happening that week that kept him busy, from a sidemen shoot to a podcast recording and then back to his own channel before he partook in a reacts video for someone else on their channel, the planned dinner with her parents had just slipped his mind.

when he walked through the front door of their flat, he was greeted with the laughter and the chatter of company. and it's in that given moment, when he sees her mum's handbag hanging on a coat hook beside her dad's coat, that he knows what he had forgotten. that he knows he messed up... big time.

rounding the corner and stepping foot in the open-plan living space of their flat, he was greeted with the biggest smile from her mum and a welcoming handshake from her dad... lessening the guilt in his belly until he was met with a fake smile and darkened eyes from yn. and the guilt only bubbled more viciously because he knew he couldn't dig himself out of this one easily.

"yn said you'd gotten stuck in a meeting with your work team, lovely. that's such a shame," her mum coos softly and she pulls arthur in for a loving hug that was tight and secure, his own arms enveloping her in a warm hug, "i know you insisted we had this dinner without you but it didn't feel the same."

he swallows back the lump in his throat and the guilt felt even worse. she lied on his behalf and made it out to be an unfortunate accident when, truly, it had simply slipped his mind. the smile on her mum's lips made him want the ground to swallow him whole. his eyes dart over to yn who occupied herself in clearing away the dirtied dessert plates from the tabletop - and he remembered her telling him that morning, before he left, how she was baking a coffee and walnut cake for them all to enjoy that night.

"we'll have to organise another one, i'm so sorry," arthur apologises before helping clean up the table, collecting the empty glasses and the cutlery that yn had left behind, "i'll cook next time since yn did this. it smells delightful."

"we had your favourite dinner, kiddo," her dad informs him and arthur looks at yn as she tries her hardest not to let her emotions get the better of her, "she's a good'un, our yn. even baked us a cake."

"she's the best," arthur smiles at her.

and he was hoping for a slight smile back in his direction to know he was off the hook and they'd talk about the whole evening later on... except he doesn't and all he sees is her jaw clench and tighten, her eyes rolling discreetly, head staying low as she piles everything up on the counter beside the sink.

they said goodbye to her parents soon after with kisses, hugs and handshakes being exchanged as well as a promise of taking an entire day off so he didn't have to miss another meal planned with them. except, deep down, he felt the guilt beginning to eat away at his insides and he knew he was minutes away from being made to feel even worse.

the door closed and before he could get his apology out, she was first to break the silence.

"don't speak to me for the night."

"yn-"

"what did i just say to you?" she sneers at him and he stares at her with sorrow in his eyes, hoping that she would come round and give him the chance to explain everything; from how he felt overworked from a week of non-stop work to how he got confused with the dates to how he wanted to make it up to her for being a forgetful muppet. "don't talk to me. i don't want to talk to you tonight."

"if you let me explain then-"

"it'll just be excuse after excuse coming out of your mouth, arthur."

he follows her around the flat like a lost puppy, scared to lose her but also wanting to plea for his forgiveness and to explain, not with the hopes of being forgiven right away but with the hopes of being understood, because he really and truly never meant to miss out on the evening with her parents. stands beside her as she washes up the dishes in the sink, watching her as if he was waiting for her orders on what she wanted him to do, mind racing as he tried to come up with the most calmest way to explain everything.

"the shoot overran. the taxi for the way home got stuck in the rush-hour traffic on its way to pick us up and we were miles from a tube station," he tries to take the plate from her hand so he could dry it and put it away but she refuses his help, placing it down on the side and swatting his hand away when he tried to pick it up, "by the time it arrived, we'd been waiting an hour for it at the site."

"doesn't help me in understanding why you never showed up. not even a text. i had to lie, arthur. to my parents!"

"i know and i'm sorry you had to do that," he places a hand on the base of her back and uses his thumb to rub gentle circles into the tee on her back, "truthfully, i did forget. okay? i forgot but-"

"i know you forgot," she huffs heavily and moves from his touch, his hand still lingering where it was once placed on her back, "please, just don't come near me. don't touch me. don't talk to me. i'm angry with you so please let me be angry with you."

"i don't want you to be," he frowns.

"then you should have thought of that before you skipped on dinner," she retorts back to him and his shoulders slump in defeat, "i'm just so upset with you."

the whole night was spent apart.

and, truth be told, they hated it.

yn hated how she still wanted to be close to him, even though he had made her feel anger. hiding in the bedroom with her laptop opposed to the television because he had taken refuge on the sofa and chosen a documentary she didn't want to intrude upon. she understood how hectic his schedule could be at times and she understood that, sometimes, he was tired and he needed reminding of things... it was a minor mistake but it had upset her and she needed her feelings to be validated and she wanted him to understand how hurt she felt.

arthur hated how he had made the mistake that lead them to being apart. sleeping on the sofa so she had all the time in the world to feel better and feel angry without him being there to add fuel to the fire. it was forgivable, what he did, but it wasn't forgettable and he knew she'd be upset for a while with the situation.

the next morning, he was awake early.

he ran to the corner shop to grab her some flowers, to grab her a card, to grab ingredients for breakfast so he could surprise her and a little goody-bag of her favourite snacks to show her just how sorry he was for what had happened. deciding on breakfast pancakes, with her favourite fruits and syrup, writing a long-winded message in the card that could explain better than he could if she was looking at him whilst he spoke it verbally.

and when she rose from her slumber, ready to forgive him, he was prepared with a table full of a surprises.

"good morning," he smiles sheepishly and she lets her eyes wander over the pile of pancakes in the middle of the table beside bowls of fruit and bottles of maple-syrup, "i made breakfast."

"you made a feast," she giggles softly, stepping towards the dining table and reaching for the card that he'd leant against a jar of nutella, "what's this?"

"it's my apology. i figured i could write it better than i could say it so," he walks towards her and sets his hands on the back of a chair, pulling it out from under the table and letting her sit down, tucking her underneath before he sat beside her, "i really am so sorry for forgetting our plans."

"it's okay," she pulls the card from the envelope and lets her eyes scan over the paragraph of his writing, her mouth soundless speaking every word he had written on the piece of paper, "i figured you were just stressed and tired. i was never going to stay angry at you."

she squeezes his knee softly and looks at him.

"i made reservations at that new london restaurant you wanted to go to, too. figured we could go with your parents," he informs her and she smiles widely, "it's on me, of course."

"arthur," she hums softly, "you need to fuck up more often."

he rolls his eyes and she giggles softly.

"i don't think so. one time, you might actually leave me and i don't know if i could cope with that," he leans over and presses a kiss to her lips, "i love you and i'm truly sorry."

"i love you too, you muppet." xx

#arthurtv #arthurtv blurbs #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv headcannons #arthurtv fics #arthur frederick #arthur frederick blurbs #arthur frederick imagines #arthur frederick fics #arthur frederick headcannons

[fallingintoyourlilaceyes]

Mi estrella (Valentino x reader)

synopsis: Valentino and you have a fight. Nothing unusual about that. Only this time the resolution is a bit different and definitely more up his alley.

warnings: my 9 year unpracticed spanish lol, Valentino being a teasing son of a b should be a warning on his own, smut, p in v sex, orgasm denial, forced orgasms, dumbification (if you squint), afab reader

word count: 2.2k

taglist:@velvette-creations

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to my beautiful tumblr friends for encouraging me to write this! This is for y´all. And also thank you @zaldritzosrose for helping me by bouncing ideas. Love you guys!💜

Dividers by @saradika

Mi estrella = my star

Mi amor = my love

Tesoro = (my) treasure

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Val!” You scream, flipping him off as you storm out of the studio.

The large doors fall closed behind you and you are immediately met with a wall of rain. Cursing under your breath, you press yourself against the wall to stay under the little awning and light a cigarette. Your hands are shaking still from the boiling emotions that had been unloading between Valentino and you seconds ago. Of course, the moth demon couldn´t even give you the moment of rest it took to smoke that much needed cigarette.

A few deep drags in, you feel his breath billow over the side of your neck and a hand sneak under your chin to lay on the opposite cheek. Meanwhile, two others lay on your lower back, to pull you closer to him. You can´t help but to stumble closer, but instead of giving in to him like usually, you turn your head away from Valentino even more. He should be the one struggling with having to apologize for once.

“You can hug me as close as you want. I´m still mad at you, Val.” I say in a sharp tone.

There is a small break, the silence filled with a low, confident chuckle from Valentino and the sight of pink smoke wafting around you.

“That´s fine, mi estrella. I know you still love me.” He purrs in that teasing tone, leaning in even closer. “I know you can´t resist my touch.”

You suck on your teeth and bite your tongue in response. He wasn´t wrong. No one´s touch had ever made you feel as good as his did and even though he knew that, giving in now would be equal to letting him win just another fight.

“Come on… You can't possibly pretend to be mad for much longer.” Valentino´s voice is sweet and thick as honey, which makes it hard to not at least turn around any longer. “There we go. I know you can't resist me for long.”

“Oh yeah? Are you sure about that?” You tease back with an equally provoking smile and arched eyebrows.

“Oh yes. In fact, I bet you can't hold out for five minutes after I start kissing you.” Valentino smirks and gently taps your chin to make you look up just a bit more, thus bringing your lips only inches apart.

The challenge certainly catches your interest.

“Hm, let's make this more interesting. I bet I can make it without a single touch from you until we leave the studio.” You raise the stakes.

“Oh oh, you are so confident, lovebug. Alright. I'm up for the challenge.” Valentino lets go of your face, takes a deep breath and smirks. “But if you fail… my hands have free reign to roam wherever they please.”

“You say that as if they don´t already do that day and night.” You shoot back. “Alright, I accept the stakes.” You throw the filter between your fingers onto the streets and with a perhaps too confident sway of the hips the two of you head back inside.

It was easy enough to stay away from him in the beginning, as you were both focused on work, but the hours dragged by more than anything. Hours in which you watched Val´s lips wrapped around the cigarette holder in his hands, giving directions in that deep voice that could melt ice cubes in seconds. And after only that short time your confidence begins to waver, wondering if you could really hold out without his touch under these conditions.

Watching the actors perform, ignited a burn in your body. A longing for Val to treat you like the actors were treating each other in the scene. The way they go at each other in such a primal way, with such intensity, made you yearn to receive the same treatment and hearing Valentino´s voice direct them to act in such a way made it only harder to resist.

However, you are able to take a deep breath and pull through until Valentino begins to play unfair.

He began to accentuate every little thing that made you go wild. And after an especially intense scene, when he blows a heart shaped cloud your way…

You are overcome by your shallow breath and a wildly beating heart.

“Well well well, that didn't take very long now, did it love?” His cerise eyes shine with the knowledge of how easily he had won.

“Only because you were playing unfair…” You grumble under your breath as your nails rake over his chest.

He turns his head and leans close as if to kiss you at that but stops at the last moment. “How needy are you for my touch?”

“So much… Need you more than anything right now.” From behind him you nuzzle your face in his neck to show him your need in the most desperate kisses. “Can we go somewhere else now?”

Valentino laughs at your desperation, purring at the attention you lay on him. One of his hands takes yours to lead you onto his lap. You looked stunning as your lips quivered and chest heaved.

“Only if you ask nicely. Tell me what I want to hear, tesoro.”

You sigh, but can't resist the seductive, low rumble of Valentino’s voice. “You were right. I can't go without your touch. Please, Big V. Please take me upstairs and fucking help me put out the fire you ignited in my veins.”

“Such a good girl.” He leaned forward and put the tips of two fingers to your lips and immediately you know what to do.

With an accelerating heartbeat and burning cheeks, your tongue begins to swirl around the long digits. A muffled whimper escapes your lips, when you feel Val rub the fingers along the wet muscle, pressing down on it ever so slightly.

All too soon he pulls his fingers back out with a wet pop, gently taking your chin between them. “I think you earned yourself a reward.”

A tingling feeling of giddiness runs through your body from the top of your head to the soles of your feet.

Pushing you along behind Valentino, who leads the way to the lounge area above the studio, with fast steps. You don't even realize the way the actors and crew are looking at you. All your focus is on him.

The heavy door hasn't even fallen close when Valentino sweeps you up in his arms and sits the two of you down on one of the large sofas, with you comfortably straddling his lap.

The upper pair of his arms each hold either your chin in a controlling grip or a cigarette between his fingers, while the lower ones rest on your hips, to guide them into a steady rhythm when you start to grind against him. The motions your own body produces are far to desperate and have you whining like a puppy, yet you haven´t got enough restraint left to control it yourself. Seeing it brought a dark chuckle from Valentinos lungs. Your hands wander restlessly up and down his slender body, pawing at his belt.

“My my, you really must have missed me. How long has it been, huh? One hour? Two?” The demon playfully taunts, pulling your face closer by the chin and letting his long tongue caress the shell of your ear.

The question only earns him an impatient whimper from you. “Please, mi amor. No more teasing. I already admitted you were right.”

“And yet it sounds better and better every time you say it. Let me hear it again…” The demand rumbles in your ear in a velvety voice, at the same time he stops your hips from moving even the slightest bit.

“You were right. I need your touch. It feels like I´m literally burning up with need right now.” Your eyebrows furrow and the words get broken up by a sob. That look he gave you already told you that you wouldn´t come for another while, but my, was hope a nice thing.

“See? Doesn´t that sound good? And doesn´t it feel even better to be able to admit to your deepest need?” Val closes some of the distance between your faces. With the widest grin on his lips. “Why don´t you say it one more time, hm?”

“You were right, Val. You were right. You were right, I love your touch and I need it more than anything.” Tears begin to prick in your eyes, however before they can slip down your burning cheeks, they get swept away by a wet tongue.

Without a warning Valentino pulls your face down to bridge the last few inches, to connect your lips for the first time after what feels like forever. With a sigh of relief your hands move up, to run through the soft fur around his neck, which in turn made Val slip his tongue into your mouth.

The long muscle traces over your own tongue and teeth, before you entangle them in a dance that very much perfectly mirrors the passion and neediness between the two of you. And with your colliding lips keeping you just calm enough, you finally manage to open the heart shaped belt buckle, pulling your lovers white dress pants down just far enough to free his cock. Equally hasty your panties get pulled to the side and you sink down on his hardness. Val revels in the moan that leaves your lungs upon it, growling as the sweet, hot, tightness that is your cunt wraps around his length.

“P-please, mi amor. Please, let me come… Can´t take anymore.” There is a thick cloud of pink smoke not only filling the room, but also your brain. Since he had bottomed out in you, Valentino had brought you to the edge countless times and filled you with the thick ropes of his seed half as often. Your begging has become more of a mindless babble at this point and your needy hole aches for relief. Relief that you have spent the past, you don´t even know how long, begging for.

“Awww, baby.” The taunting coo reaches your ear, though you barely understand the words meaning anymore. “Where has your mind gone, huh? Have I fucked you stupid already? And you haven´t even come once yet…”

“Please… Need it. Need to come.” You sputter, weakly fucking yourself on your lover’s cock.

In truth your legs had wanted to give out about the same time that your brain did, but Val had refused to help you and so there was nothing left to do but to follow the one coherent thought left and continue to slide up and down the hard, twitching length.

“Not yet, baby. I know you can keep going longer. I know I can fuck your brain out just a bit more.” The smug smile on his face practically backs to be wiped off, but you have no mind for it. You have to concentrate on getting yourself close to another orgasm that would never come.

Despite the way your legs give out underneath you and your wet eyes are barely staying open on their own, you get yourself up to that cliff again. Even daring to look over the edge as Valentino warns you not to come, but when he pinches your clit, it is over.

Your legs give out and you plop down in Valentino´s lap, mouth open in a weak, high pitched squeak, as the painful release washes over you, shaking your entire body along with it. Once you feel a bit more stable again, you place little kisses to Valentino´s neck again. This time to apologize for having disobeyed his orders.

“´m sorry, Val. I´m so so sorry. Just couldn´t take it anymore. Was too much.” You mumble against his lavender skin.

But all the frantically murmured apologies in the world couldn´t save you from your punishment.

“That´s okay, mi estrella.” The moth demon reassures you eerily calmly, one of his hands tracing soothing circles into your back. “You really needed that orgasm really bad, huh? And you couldn´t think right anymore…”

You nod along with what he is saying, having been so far gone before that the release couldn´t entirely bring back your mind.

“Hm, sadly you still disobeyed me and you know what that means. I´ll have to punish you.” Before you can even think about protesting or begging for mercy, Valentinos four arms hold you close to his lean body as he shifts the two of you until your back is on the red cushions and he leans over you. “Since you wanted to come so badly that you even disregard my words, now you won´t stop coming until I say so.” He grins, wiping away some of the tears and the sweat that were sticking to your skin.

Your back arches and you cry out when Val first starts to slowly thrust into you all over again, but you are also smarter than to try to protest. So all that´s left to do now is to mentally ready yourself as much as possible for however extensively he thought you needed to be punished.

#valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #valentino x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fic

[cuteskunkz]

╭──────────.★..─╮

One Night With You

~ Part 3 ~

╰─..★.──────────╯

(Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Summary~ The night starts to heat up between you and Mike after a few shots. 1.7k word count

Read part 1 & part 2 for context <3

Tags~ SMUTTT, pet names, olderbf! Mike (you're 20, he's 28), fem reader, public-ish sex, dominant Mike, submissive reader, creampie, drinking

Note~ I wrote this is a day!!???!!! Big shout out to my coworker Malachi who helped me with the direction of this fic! Heads up, I did minimal proofreading on this hoe bc it's deadass 3am and I have to be up in 5 hours for work (send help). I'm debating if I want to continue with this story so if you want me to update lemme know :33

⊱✿⊰

You furrow your brows with determination, "Fine! Don't expect me to drag you home when you black out though!"

"You actually think 3 shots are gonna fuck me up that bad? You're hilarious" he chuckles as he tilts his glass towards you. You take the shots in unison and glare at each other, scanning for any reactions to the alcohol.

Mike hiccups finally giving you the opportunity to pester him. "Aww is it too much for you? Should we slow down?" you assert in a sarcastic and flirtatious voice.

He flutters his eyes trying his best to adjust to the intoxication, "You won't be laughing when I say that to you later tonight..." Mike says while holding back a laugh

You punch him in the arm and giggle, "Oh yeah?" You gulp back your third shot, immediately feeling the sense of relaxation hit. It's like all your problems and worries fade away into nothingness when you drink. You meet Mike's gaze, wanting to hear more about him. "So... what's up with you lately? If you're going to take me out, the least you can do is tell me a few of your secrets."

"I mean, life's been rough lately but... when isn't it, Y'know? It's one always one thing after another." You can hear the frustration in his voice as he swirls around his glass, avoiding eye contact. Mike looks around the bar and then down at your hands.

"Yeah... I know. My fucking job blows and all I want to do is just- start fresh... no more late nights working my ass off just to miss rent again." The drunken state you're in is allowing your emotions to spill out with no hesitation.

"Believe me I'm in the same boat. I mean..." he sighs and rubs his temples. "I work as security for an abandoned pizzeria like....it's fucking abandoned! What am I actually securing dude!" Mike buries his face in his hands, feeling insane for working such a dead end job. "There's people my age with degrees and real accomplishments under their belt and what am I doing? Wasting my life days at a time for shit hours and pay."

You grab his hand and hold it tight. "Mike... I'm literally a stripper... I'm in no place to judge" you say in an attempt to lighten the mood and smile at him. "We do what we do for a reason, right? To keep a roof over our heads... and to go out drinking!" He chuckles at your words and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah...." Mike grips your hand tighter and wets his lips before speaking, "You wanna take a walk?"

"Sure! Fresh air won't hurt." He holds your hand to help you out of the booth and guides you to the parking lot. With it being a small town it, isn't so crowded out. Cars occasionally pass by as the warm breeze cools you both down. You look up at the night sky, amazed by the twinkling stars. Mike stares at you longingly and smirks. He can't think back to the last time a girl made him feel the way he does right now

"Isn't it so beautiful, Mike?" you say while gazing at the stars.

"Yeah.... definitely" he responds still taking in your features. His chest tightens and thoughts begin to race in his head. Mike didn't want to ruin the moment by taking things too fast but god did you look breathtaking right now. "So beautiful..."

You peer down at him and notice he hadn't looked up once and was fully referring to you. This causes a pink color to rush across your cheeks and you move closer to him. He caresses your cheek and plays with a strand of your hair. "Y-you... you don't have a boyfriend, right?"

You seductively respond back at him, "You want to change that, sir?" Mike swiftly wraps his hand around the back of your neck to bring you in to meet his lips. His kiss is hungry for more, clearly desperate for your embrace. He's completely given up on taking it slow.

You pull away and look up at him, your eyes glassy from the drinks. The lip gloss you wore transferred onto his lips. "You sure about this? I know we were drinking and I don't want-"

"Mike..." you roll your eyes at him, wanting him to take control.

"I just don't want to be too rough on you... or ruin my chance with you." he says in a low voice.

"All that flirting earlier and you're backing out now? Don't you want to..." you pout at him playfully, "teach me a lesson for going out with strangers?" A little giggle escapes you when suddenly you're grabbed by the wrist and dragged to the alley next to the bar.

"Do you want this? Yes or no. No bullshit, tell me now." he exclaims as you're backed up against the wall, him towering over you.

"Y-yes sir I do..."

He reaches his hand up your skirt and feels up and down your lacy panties. "You wore these for me, hm?"

"Y-yeah I did... Do you like them?"

"Of course I do sweetheart. Very kind of you to do that for me" He starts pulling them to the side, eager to feel your arousal. He slips his finger in to rub small circles with your wetness. "All that from some kisses? What an eager little girl, so adorable"

"I really like you- that's all!" You're not sure why Mike is making you feel this shy and bashful. You'd like to think you're very dominating towards men due to your profession but he's proving this to be false very quickly.

He grabs you by your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes and speaks. "Promise me that if at any point you feel uncomfortable or want to stop, you'll tell me...okay?"

You mumble this promise over and over again while feeling up on him through his jeans, your excitement for what's to come literally dripping out of you.

"That's a good girl. You're an amazing listener, do you know that? Keep it up, kiddo" he teases. He turns you around to face the brick wall and pushes your skirt up. "You ready for me?"

You nod your head quickly, overcome with passion.

"Use your words, pretty girl. You can do it."

"Yes... I'm ready, I promise!"

"Yes, who?" Mike says in a commanding manner.

"Yes, sir..." Your legs tremble uncontrollably and your breath accelerates, something about the thrill of possibly being caught is turning up the heat.

He slowly pushes into you, letting you adjust to his cock. "Theeere we go... How does that feel, babygirl?" He bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix ever so slightly.

"It's g-good sir... feels good" The euphoria from the shots and his length are sure to collaborate with each other in your body.

Mike starts to thrust slowly, using your hips as leverage. Small whimpers and moans slip out of you. "I bet it does... You're so tight around me... I seriously don't know how you're not taken already... A pretty girl with a tight pussy like this should be fuckin' married by now."

He pounds into your cunt harder almost as if he's mad at you for being single. The sound of skin on skin fills the dark alley. Your eyes roll backwards when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, pushing you closer to the edge of breaking. "Sir p-please... can't go for much longer... S'too much" you beg.

"You can take more, I know you can. Hang in there for me, okay? He says this in such a genuine way, it's only making you fall for him more. You're really hoping this isn't a one night stand situation.

He grunts and moves his hands around your neck, putting you into pretty much a headlock. His cock throbs violently in you, threatening to release soon. "Fuuckk I needed this..." You arch your back against him allowing for your g-spot to be avoided as to not cum quickly.

He instantly noticed this shift and pulls you back up, "You wanted this, don't run now..." There's a hint of condescension in his words. You moan loudly when he juts harshly into your poor pussy, leaking with fervor.

"Can you stay quiet for me baby? Just a little longer, okay? We can't have people finding us out here, right?"

"B-but sir-"

"No buts princess... That's a direction. What happened to my good little listener?"

You pout and bite your lip to hold in the moans begging to topple out of you. Only small whimpers and whines allowed you remind yourself mentally as he continues on. He purposely rubs on your spot with his thick cock and sneaks a hand down to toy with your swollen clit, guaranteeing to make you cum any second.

"M'gonna... gonna cum... Mike please!!!"

"Cum on my cock like a good girl, baby. You deserve it after all..." You quiver and whimper as you reach your limit, your pussy clenching down onto his member. You squirt from the stimulation, dripping down on your legs and leaving a wet spot on his jeans. Mike's thrusts get sloppier and his moans get heavier simultaneously.

"Y-you're on the pill, r-right?" You nod aggressively with his hand over your mouth to block your screams of pleasure. "G-good... gonna ffuckin' cum inside- shit... fucccckk...." He pumps all his cum into you, whining into your ear. He keeps his cock stuffed inside your hole so he can catch his breath.

"You did very very well baby.... I'm proud of you" he says while stroking your hair. When he pulls out, little drips of cum leak down your thighs. Mike pulls your panties back into place and pats you on the head. "Ready to head home, little one?"

You turn around to face him and smile from being fully fucked out and cockdrunk. "Cooould I... come home with you maybe?"

⊱✿⊰

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mike schimdt fanfic #mike schmidt x you #fnaf movie #josh futturman #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #peeta mellark #jhutch #burn 2019 #billy burn #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #the beekeeper #fnaf movie smut #fnaf movie fanfic #fanfic #fnaf #Spotify

[starlit1daydream]

THOUGHTS ON MARBLE HORNETS CLASSPECTS REAL QUICK THAT I'M GONNA EXPAND ON LATER PROBABLY

Jay is definitely a Light player, constantly motivated by a search for the truth and largely kept alive by his own dumb luck and fortune; plus there's the whole 'bringing attention to everyone involved by posting everything on fucking YouTube' thing.

Tim is a Heart player, which seems pretty obvious given his alter-ego of Masky. A great deal of his angst comes from his lack of self-control and his fear of what he does when he dons the mask; the crux of Tim's arc is rejecting his other personality and trying to get a solid grasp on his own emotions.

Alex? He's a harder one to pin down, but I'm gonna say Void. He does begin his arc as fairly Light-focused (a pretentious college film student who wants to put himself out there into the spotlight) but when you consider his primary role in the narrative? Alex is the one desperately trying to spread obscurity and obfuscation because he believes the mere knowledge of the Operator is dangerous - he's motivated to create secrecy and destroy truth & relevance in the name of covering up the cognitohazard that is the Operator.

Brian is really fucking with my head right now. I feel like he's also somewhere on the Light-Void dichotomy? He operates in shadow & secrecy but at the same time he's obsessed with spreading the truth of everything and taunting Alex with the knowledge he holds. His constant tendency for mind-gaming also makes me wonder about Mind? (Which would work quite nicely alongside Tim being a Heart player to place both them and Jay/Alex as opposites.) Also arguably more tied to knowledge than Light, and I did just mention he's fucking with my head.

No strong thoughts on Jessica yet either, but my gut tells me Breath? I'm not too sure, but I guess there's an argument to make that her arc is about freedom from the Operator and disconnection from everything else going on around her.

Experimenting with new formatting here so my posts are more uniform (as opposed to being some late-night stream of consciousness). also pretty colours

#marble hornets #homestuck #jay merrick #tim wright #alex kralie #brian thomas #jessica locke #totheark #hoody mh #masky mh #light aspect #void aspect #heart aspect #mind aspect #breath aspect

[sternenmeerkind]

Oof, it's that time again

#didn't have this for quite a while now #it's 11pm and I'm feeling.... #Too Much™ #am I lonely? #am I sad? #am I tired? #am I anxious? #idk but I'm feeling so much that it makes me numb #and I don't even know why #it's been happening for the third time in a row now #night time is beginning and I'm feeling emotions #is it bc of summer? #who tf knows #it feels like those emotions aren't really mine #is this melancholy? #anyways I don't know what to do with myself #so I'm listening to emotional music and trying to write #personal #mine

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

“Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

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

[ferrstappen]

SLUT! l MV1 imagine

a/n: hey! I’m alive, I hope some of you are alive as well and willing to read something 💘 this is short and just a random idea I had before diving into writing some longer pieces with more plot, but I really hope you like it and as you know, feedback is very very welcome!!! Also I’m sorry if it’s weird or any mistakes bc I wrote this on my phone 💘

Summary: this isn’t your first time being a WAG, but people don’t seem to like the idea of you ending your relationship with Joe Burrow and falling in love with Max.

Looking around, you could tell that this wasn't an ordinary place. The sound of engines revving, the vivid colors of various vehicles, and the hustle and bustle of multiple teams, engineers, sponsors, drivers, and fans walking around the paddock all added to the excitement. It was a truly remarkable sight to behold. The energy was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe taking it all in.

In your previous relationship, your boyfriend would make grand entrances at the stadium, sporting his fancy Cartier sunglasses and jamming to his favorite tunes. He wouldn't pay much attention to the photographers snapping away as he strolled past them, and you'd catch a glimpse of him from afar in a lavish suite. That was quite a contrast to your current situation, which you're still adjusting to.

You were greeted by a well-dressed individual who was sporting the logos of Red Bull, Oracle, and Honda all over their outfit. They handed you a VIP all-access paddock pass which had your name and headshot printed on it, along with details of whose guest you were. To top it off, they also put a Red Bull credential on your wrist. The assistant then guided you towards the power station, where you were hopping to finally catch Max after weeks of not seeing each other.

You never meant to be in this position. You were in a happy, stable, loving relationship, truly. But last year one night in Las Vegas, your boyfriend, Joe, was invited to the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and of course, you both attended, curious and excited about the event. Neither of you knew it would be the beginning of the end.

Your first meeting with Max was captured on camera.

Max and Joe, the reigning Formula 1 champion and the Cincinnati Bengals quarterback together was gold content for the Red Bull socials, and there you were in the back, knowing your place smiling at the interaction, but when you were least expecting it, the champion stretched his hand and introduced himself, catching you and your boyfriend off guard.

As soon as he spoke, I noticed his friendly yet polite tone. "Hi, I'm Max," he introduced himself with a warm smile. His simple gesture of introducing himself made him instantly likable and set him apart from the others in the crowd.

“Hi Max, I’m (y/n). Thanks for the invitation,” you shook the hand that wasn’t holding a can of Red Bull.

“Right. Max, this is my girlfriend. She’s the happiest here because she’s a Red Bull addict,” Joe added, earning a soft laugh from you and a smile from Max.

“Then you came to the right place, (y/n). The mini fridges are all yours, and I’m pretty sure the ones on the second floor have limited editions,”

You thought that was all you were going to see of him, barely catching him after his win to congratulate him, but oh were you wrong, seeing him with a warm gray pull-up hoodie and styled blond hair, sipping gin and tonic and waving his hand as people chanted his name to the tune of a song.

Tu Tu Du Du, Max Verstappen

Or something along those lines.

The moment he recognized you, a sudden rush of excitement and anticipation sent a buzz through your stomach that was impossible to ignore. You felt a mixture of nervousness and elation as he leaned in for a short cheek kiss, the scent of gin lingering on your nose as you briefly noticed the small mole on his upper lip. Despite the presence of your boyfriend standing behind you, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of emotions inside.

“I heard you ransacked the energy station,” A drunk Max Verstappen told you.

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and at the same time you felt Joe’s arms tight around your waist.

“There weren't any Red Bulls left on the building after you left, maybe I'll have to send a PR package your way,” Max slurred, taking a new sip from his gin and tonic glass.

You couldn’t answer because Joe was faster: “we’ll sure enjoy that, thank you. Wanna go mingle, babe?”

That was almost five months ago as you made your way in sunny Melbourne, doing your best to avoid prying eyes who were aware of the events that took place last November and how you left Joe Burrow the quarterback for Max Verstappen the racing driver.

But it’s not like you wanted to.

After the first box full of sugar free Red Bull arrived with a note, you left a message on his Instagram before posting a story, tagging him and the team.

The he started sending silly memes, followed by the description of the Red Bull ingredients written in Arabic while on Abu Dhabi.

In February, things had reached a point where it was impossible to ignore any longer. You knew it was time to end things with Joe, and when you did, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Suddenly, you were free to do as you pleased, to go where you wanted to go. And so, when Max invited you to go to Bahrain for testing, you jumped at the opportunity.

It was on this trip that you experienced your first date with Max. You both had such a great time together, laughing until your stomachs hurt. You tried your best to hold back your wandering eyes, but you couldn't help noticing the adorable mole on his lip. And then, when the night sky had blanketed the Middle East, he leaned in and kissed you, sending shivers down your spine. It was a magical moment that you would never forget.

But the next day, your first day on the track, a random person recognized you and rumors went crazy, name-calling, attacks, fans carrying signs “What happened with #9”, grown men calling you a bitch, a whore, a gold digger, jumping from one dick to another. It was so much that Max decided to send you to his home in Monaco, not even caring if you were there for the first Grand Prix of the season, he just needed you to be okay.

As you walked towards the energy station, the ground beneath your feet felt firm, yet your steps were hesitant and shy. You were not alone, though, as someone from the team was following your every move, as per Max's orders. The team wanted to ensure that you were safe and secure as you made your way towards the Red Bull hospitality. Once you arrived, a collective sigh of relief was released, and you waited patiently for Max to arrive. The anticipation in the air was palpable as everyone eagerly awaited his arrival.

You vividly remember that moment when he finally arrived at the paddock, dressed in his Red Bull shirt, shorts, and cap, looking so handsome and sporty. You couldn't help but rush towards him, feeling a surge of excitement and joy. As you hugged him tightly, he smiled and hummed softly, clearly enjoying your touch and warmth. You noticed that he was trying to register your scent, perhaps to make the moment even more intimate and memorable.

You knew he was about to lean in for a cheek kiss, but something inside you urged you to do something bolder and more passionate. So, without hesitating, you turned around, making sure his larger frame was facing the outside, away from prying eyes. Then, you carefully grabbed his face with both hands, feeling his strong jawline and stubble under your fingers. You looked deeply into his eyes, savoring the moment, before leaning in and kissing his full lips.

The kiss was electrifying and unexpected, taking him by surprise, but he quickly responded with equal passion and tenderness. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, as you lost yourself in the blissful moment. It was a moment of pure connection and love, one that you would always treasure in your heart.

Despite being called all sorts of names by people, you refused to let it get to you. You were determined to continue showing your deep admiration and affection for Max, no matter what others thought or said. You believed that your feelings were genuine and authentic, and you were not going to let anyone else's opinion sway you. Despite the challenges and obstacles you faced, your love for Max remained unwavering and waiting to grow bigger.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen au #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fics #f1 fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x you

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #1: Angel

I'd like to preface this by saying I'm incorporating tropes I've seen in other posts.

~~~

Jason has been a lot happier recently. His Pit Rage has been getting less and less frequent, he's cooking and coming over to the manor a lot more, and he even let Dick hug him last week without threatening bodily harm!

The rest of the batfam, while happy for him, are curious about the change. So one night at dinner they ask him what's up with him and why he's so happy recently. Surprisingly, instead of taking it the wrong way and getting mad Jason is eager to share.

Apparently, Jason has a boyfriend now. Yay!

He goes on and on about this civilian he met after stoping a cult who was trying to summon a deity and how he is this nerdy college kid who really likes space and how their civilian identies shared the same Gen Ed course so he made an effort to become friends. Turns out that nerdy space guy had caused the initial improvement in mood and his offer to go on a date to an incredibly diverse and well-stocked library had been the cherry on top.

The only thing is that Jason didn't want them stalking the guy and refered to him around the family exclusively as "Angel". Everyone thinks that's just a cute pet name he gave the guy as a way to both reference and distract the civilian from the cult ritual he was probably rescued from. Little do they know that it's actually because "Angel" was not a victim of the cult ritual but the summonee, that appeared in the form of a biblically accurate angel.

One day some supernatural entity decideds to attack Gotham and everyone is calling whoever they can think of for back-up. Batman calls Constantine, Nightwing calls Zatana, Red Robin and Robin are contacting the Justice League, and even Red Hood seems to call someone.

The situation is getting desperate. The JL is here but at most the can just slow the supernatural being down. Constantine and Zatana are still 20 minutes out and things are looking bad when another Eldritch Being spawns and seems to take down the threat in one move.

Everyone stands stunned as the being turns to them and in a booming voice exclaims "DON'T BE AFRAID. I WAS CALLED TO HELP". They all go through several emotions upon hearing those words. Where did this being come from? Is this a biblically accurate angel? Who called it here to help? Was it Zatana or maybe Constantine? Are they here yet? Upon looking around it is found that Zatana and Constantine are not here yet and the heroes get ready to engage this being carefully when a voice calls out

"Angel!"

Everyone whips their heads around to see Jason climbing over debris towards the Eldritch Being in front of them. The Batfam feels faint with a creeping realization and Superman swears he heard Batman's heart skip a beat for a second. Before anyone can ask Jason what he's doing the being shapeshifts into the much smaller form of a young fae-like creature with pointed ears, fangs, stark white hair, and vibrant green eyes floating in the air. He flys over to Jason before a flash of bright light leaves a young man deep black hair and frosty blue eyes in Jason's arms.

Jason turns to introduce his boyfriend to his family and the League only to find that Batman has fainted, a panicking JL, and a gobsmacked Zatana and Constantine have who've arrived in time to see the transformation. As Zatana and Constantine begin to freak out and prepare defensive magic Batman comes to and levels a scowl at Jason.

"Hood, I think you have some explaining to do."

#dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dc universe #danny phantom #danny fenton #batfamily #batfam #batman #red hood #jason todd #the justice league #john constantine #zatanna #dead on main #danny x jason #dp x dc #Strega’s dc x dp prompt

[jaykaysthicthighs]

Kiss Me Better | JJK

excerpt | jungkook said some really mean things to you when you started coming home so late. when he realizes how horrible he was, he tried making it up to you.

genre | angst, fluff, hurt /comfort

pairing | jeon jungkook x fem!reader

warnings | strong language, unintentional manhandle, jk being a jerk in the beginning, reader puts him in his place, lots of crying, hating oneself

wc | 4k+

notes | i tried my best to make something emotional, and i'm hoping it turned out well :)

It was around ten at night and you still weren't home. This has been going on for about a week now, and Jungkook is tired of it. He wanted answers as to why you were always late.

He was sitting in the living room with his legs bouncing, waiting for you to come home. He was anxious to thrust this issue onto you, but he felt like you were neglecting him; that maybe you might be cheating. Jungkook was never one to judge your faithfulness, but ever since you started coming home late every possible idea started popping up in his head. And when he tried talking to you about it, you would wave him off saying that you're tired.

Jungkook heard the familiar car beep. He got up instantly and trudged his way near the end of the entryway. He saw the doorknob twist open to reveal the fatigued woman he called "his". He watched you take off your shoes and place them on the shoe rack, throwing your work purse on the entryway table. It wasn't until you were steps away that you noticed your lover at the end of the hall.

Your body perked up at the sight of your boyfriend. You dragged your feet to Jungkook and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Hey, baby." But before Jungkook had time to greet you back, you were already sprawled out on the couch. Jungkook made a face of disdain to himself; how could you treat him like this. He felt hurt by your action. He took a minute to compose himself; he didn't want to confront you with rage coursing through his body.

Once he was calm, Jungkook made a beeline to you. He saw that your eyes were already closed; you looked very exhausted. He wanted to leave you alone, that he will have this conversation with you some other time, but he thought against it. Jungkook cleared his throat, making you open your eyes. You did a light stretch on the couch. "What is it, babe?" Jungkook took a shape inhale, "I want to talk to you."

You instantly sat up. In your four years of dating, Jungkook rarely says the words "I want to talk to you.", every time they get spoken, they would usually lead to arguments. Your attention was wide awake; you were getting nervous about what this conversation might lead to. "What is it, Jungkook?"

Jungkook clenched his jaw, tightening his facial muscles. With gritted teeth, Jungkook seethed, "I want to know why you've been coming home so late now?" You were shocked, to say the least. You knew that coming home so late would bring suspicion to your boyfriend, but you didn't think that he would be this angry.

"Umm... I..." You didn't know what to say to him. You wanted to tell him the reason, but you didn't want to ruin the surprise. Jungkook didn't like the fact that you were hesitating. You were always honest with him, never afraid to be blunt. "Why the hell are you hesitating, ____? You're fucking some other man, aren't you?" he yelled.

Your body jolted at his interrogation. His words were harsh, sending goosebumps through your body. You didn't like his assumption of you cheating. You stood up and questioned, "You think I'm cheating on you?" Your voice was laced with warning; warning that if he thought that way of you, you wouldn't be afraid to stand your ground.

One thing that Jungkook would never admit, is that every time you gave him this certain type of tone, he feels like being buried six feet under. Jungkook gulped down some spit that he didn't know was being harbored. "I don't know. You could be." You scoffed at his words, "Fuck you. I don't have time for this. I'm going to bed." You turned your body in the direction of the bedroom.

As you started walking, you heard Jungkook hysterically laughing. He growled, "Fuck me? No, fuck you, ____!" Before you halted your movement, Jungkook stomped his way to you and tightly latched his hand to your wrist, pulling you towards him. You yelped at the sudden action, pain taking hold of your arm. Jungkook immediately lets go. He was about to apologize, but you beat the gun.

You pushed him to the carpeted floor, holding your wrist to your heart. Tears started welling up. Never in a million years did you think Jungkook would say those things to you. The physical pain could not compare to the pain you were feeling emotionally. You cried out to him, "You wanna know why I've been coming home so late? You wanna know why I'm always so tired?" At this point, your tears were freely flowing. Jungkook was on the floor, not moving an inch, but he so badly wanted to wipe your tears away.

You bellowed, "It's not because I'm fucking some other man, Jungkook! It's because I took in overtime at work! I took in some extra hours to earn more money for our trip!" Jungkook was stunned at your confession. Shame taking its place in his heart. How could he accuse you of cheating? How could he say those hurtful things to you?

You softly added, "Do you remember two weeks ago, when we were talking about our parents? You had missed yours so badly because you hadn't seen them in months. You wanted to go visit them, but we didn't have the money." Jungkook started crying; he was starting to realize your reason. You faced the other way, not wanting to see Jungkook cry. You knew if you did, you would fall prey to him. He hurt you, and you didn't want to fall so easily.

Jungkook cried harder, and hearing him, so did you. You tried containing any sound leaving your mouth, coming out muffled. You sniffled, "I wanted to surprise you this Sunday. I was going to buy the tickets and book the hotel room tomorrow. I didn't want to tell you this way." Jungkook was biting his lips so hard when you were talking; he almost drew blood. When he felt your presence fading, he shot up and gently looped his arms around your torso.

He cried to you, tears falling on your shoulders, making your shirt damp. "Baby, I'm so-" You intervened, "Stop." You unhooked his arms apart. "Just stop, Jungkook. I'm tired." Jungkook shook his head vigorously. He wanted you to know how shameful he feels; apologize until you're tired of hearing it. "____, please. I'm so sorry."

You whipped your body around, facing him. You demanded, "Shut up, Jungkook! I said I'm tired, okay? We'll talk about this later." And after your ending sentence, you marched your way to the bedroom, not giving Jungkook a second to respond.

You plopped yourself on the shared bed, taking off your clothing, only leaving you in your underwear. You would've loved to have Jungkook wrap his arms around you while you went to sleep, but right now you just wanted to be alone. It only took a few minutes for your tears to start flowing again, and this time you didn't stop them. You let the tears, the darkness, and the warmth of the blanket lull you to sleep.

Jungkook on the other hand, was sitting on the couch pondering about his actions - his words. He hated himself for what he did. The way he talked to you, the way he gripped your wrist with so much force, the way he doubted your faithfulness; accused you of cheating. You are everything to him. He would move hell and heaven if you demanded it. You could say the vilest insult to him, throw your hardest punch and he'll still run back to you. He would do anything and everything just for you, but at the moment he didn't deserve you. You were the light of his life, but he knew that tonight he had dimmed you.

You woke up with the biggest headache. You haven't felt like this in years, so emotionally drained. The last time was when you had officially cut off ties with your mother. She never really approved of Jungkook, always calling him a bad influence. She was the type of person to judge the exterior before knowing what was on the inside. Hating Jungkook is an understatement, she loathed him.

You love your mother, but all the things she said about Jungkook stirred you away from appreciating her presence. He didn't want you to cut communications with her, but it was not only for him but for your sanity. The longer you kept in contact, the more you'll start going crazy about her foolish assumptions about your boyfriend. It was hard cutting her off, but it was definitely needed.

You rolled off of the bed, not caring that you were basically nude. You stumbled your way to the door, wanting to go to the bathroom. When you opened the door, you found Jungkook laying right against the beige wall. His appearance was rugged. His hair sticking up from every angle, and the faint smell of beer, he was still wearing the same clothes from last night.

Your heart tingled at the feeling that Jungkook must have stayed out here for you, wanting to be close to you, but also giving you your space. But then the reoccurring memory from last night punched its way through your brain. You slammed the door, stirring Jungkook awake. For a split second, Jungkook thought lighting came striking down to their house. His body jumped from the sudden bang, hitting his head against the wall in the process. He rubbed the sore area, hoping the action would ease the pain.

He didn't know what happened. He looked around the area for anything that might have caused the loud sound. But then he heard shuffling on the other side of the door. Jungkook got up without a second thought and was about to knock. His fist hovered the wooden entrance. He wanted to knock, but he was scared. After everything that he had done, he was worried that you wouldn't want to see him again.

Moments go by until Jungkook finally knocked on the door. "Baby?" he softly said. "Baby, can I come in?" He waited for your response, but all that answered him was silence. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Jungkook has never felt this nervous. He took a deep breath, "I'm gonna come in, ____. Okay?" He tapped his fingers against his thigh a few times, trying to calm the bundle of nerves. With one more deep breath, Jungkook carefully opened the bedroom door.

In his line of sight, Jungkook saw you curled up in the bed, the blanket hugging your body for security. He saw the throw pillows along with your clothes scattered across the floor; the whole atmosphere was messy. You were always the clean one in the relationship, so the fact that you couldn't care for the unkempt room made Jungkook more nervous than he already was.

Jungkook tried navigating his way to you, but he still wound up stepping on your clothes. When he got to you, he sat on the edge of the bed next to you silently. None of you guys peeped a word; the air was tense. You wanted to speak to him first, to yell at him for his absurdity, but you're also stubborn. So, you waited for Jungkook to talk first. Jungkook knew how you were; he knew that you were itching to say something first, but you were headstrong on finishing last.

He took it in himself to speak first. "____, I want to tell you how incredibly sorry I am, and that I regret everything that I had said." He looked at your covered figure with much sorrow. He wanted to see your beautiful face, even if you were to give him the most angered look. "Baby, can you please look at me?" You meekly spoke, "No."

A few tears threatened to escape his eyes. Jungkook took a deep breath and brought out his hand to cup your face. He slowly turned your head to face him, and you made no retaliation to his actions. Your face showed no emotion, but Jungkook saw the pain swimming in your eyes. He hurt you deeply, and he hurt you hard. "Please, know how sorry I am."

You took his hand away from your face. You rolled your eyes; you were tired of hearing it. "I know how sorry you are, Jungkook. I can see from your body language, your facial expression. I can hear it in your voice, okay? I know... So, please stop saying it." He nodded his head, understanding what you were saying. "I'm sor-"

"Jungkook!" you warned. "If all you're going to do is say sorry, then leave me alone." You went back to your previous position, trying to ignore your boyfriend's presence. He definitely knows how to push your buttons. Jungkook didn't want to leave this situation alone like this; he wanted to make it better. So, he said the first thing that came to mind, "Tell me where I hurt you, and I'll kiss it better."

You jested his words, "Kiss it better? Seriously?" Jungkook couldn't see your face, but by the tone of your words, he knew that the idea was stupid. But stupid or not Jungkook wanted to make you feel better. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Yeah. It can be a start, right?" You took a minute to reel in the idea. It could maybe be a start.

You clicked your tongue and brought your wrist to his face. Without facing Jungkook, you demanded, "It didn't bruise, but you really hurt me here. So... kiss it." Jungkook gave a tiny smile; he was happy that you were open to his idea. He carefully grabbed your arm, making sure to not touch the area he has hurt you. Jungkook's soft touch sent small currents through your body. He brought your pained wrist to his lips and placed small but mellow kisses on them. Afterward, Jungkook rubbed the area with his thumb, hoping that it would soothe the pain.

He docile his voice, "Where else?" You were thinking of a place where he should kiss next, and during that time you positioned your body forward. Jungkook watched you readjust your body; you had looked so cute to him.

You looked at Jungkook with a stern expression, and said, "My ears, from hearing you talk shit to me." Jungkook invisibly flinched at your words, but a slight hint of grimace surfaced. He bent down to you and positioned his lips to your ear. He gave you a kiss, and the small smack of the contact rang. With his lips pressed against your ear, Jungkook quietly spoke, "Tell me more, baby. Where else are you hurt?" His breath shadowed your skin, leaving you dumb.

When you stayed quiet, Jungkook got a little concerned. He lifted his head up, his face inches away from yours. "Baby?" You saw the worriedness etched into his face, creating crease lines on his skin. He placed his forehead on yours and stared deeply into your eyes. He could still see that you were angry, but slowly he saw a bit of softness take place. You didn't want to admit that your boyfriend's idea was proving right, but his gentle kisses were so hard to ignore. It's like Jungkook has this magic spell where you could never say no.

You gulped down some spit, you didn't want to choke when you talked. "My eyes. You made them painstakingly teary." You had closed your eyes for Jungkook to kiss. He took a second to stare at them. Even with your eyes closed, you could still make out the redness around them. The more he looked, the more Jungkook hated himself for your pain. With each kiss of your eyelids, Jungkook had closed his, projecting his pain to himself.

When it was done, Jungkook remorsefully uttered, "____ - baby... I'm so sorry. Ev-" You interjected, "I have one more place that I want you to kiss better." Jungkook replied, "Of course. I'll kiss wherever you want." You slightly sat up; your upper back pressed against the headboard of your guy's bed. You choked, "Kiss my heart. Out of all the places you have hurt me, my heart hurts the most." You didn't want to sound choked, but you couldn't help it. "Please, kiss me better, Jungkook." you cried.

Jungkook's heart panged harshly at your pained confession. He started crying; his heart broke into a million pieces. The one place where he vowed to not hurt at the start of your guy's relationship, he did. You tried watching your boyfriend intensely, but your tears were blurring your vision.

Jungkook moved his hand to the blanket that was still covering you. It slid down and your breast was fully seen. Usually, Jungkook would be surprised at your nudity when he wasn't expecting it, but right now, all that Jungkook could see - could focus on was the area that your heart resided in. He looped one arm around your bare torso, gently pulling you towards him, and the other rested along your back.

He kissed your heart with so much tenderness. He cried while doing so, his tears falling on your bare skin. You couldn't stop the waterworks once his soft lips landed on you. Jungkook kept kissing you, hoping that each kiss took away the pain he had caused, but the more he did the more you cried. He had hurt you too much that even the kisses couldn't heal you.

Jungkook moved his head away from your chest and fully grabbed you. He hugged you tightly, just letting you cry your pain out to him. He didn't know what to say, all he could really do was comfort you. Jungkook placed one of his hands on your nape, while the other did long comforting strokes on your back. You heard Jungkook trying to shush you, not in a mean way, but to relax you, but it didn't work.

What felt like hours were only minutes, you had finally calmed down. You pulled away from Jungkook. You spotted a big wet mark on his shirt. You apologized profusely for making his shirt dirty. Jungkook only laughed; he didn't care that your snot and tears - possibly your saliva were on his shirt, hell, he wouldn't care if you even threw up on him. All that he cared about right now was how you were feeling.

You were about to wipe your face on your arm, but you didn't have a shirt on. "I'm sorry, I look horrible right now." Jungkook shook his head at your words. "You don't have to be sorry. You don't look horrible right now. To me, you look beautifully messy." You blushed at his compliment. "Yeah, but I still have snot and tears all over my face."

Jungkook sarcastically rolled his eyes. He jumped off of the bed and stood in front of you. He bundled his shirt up to his chest and carefully pulled you towards him. You were confused at first, but then you realized he was going to wipe your face with his shirt - like a mother. When he did, Jungkook shrugged, "It's already dirty, so, don't worry about it. Plus, nothing like a few more bodily fluids, right?" You felt like laughing at his rhetorical question, but all you could feel was the guilt for ruining your boyfriend's shirt.

Jungkook chucked his dirty shirt on the messy floor and climbed into bed with you. He hesitated on pulling you close to him; he didn't want to push any boundaries you might have set on him. "Is it okay if I hold you?" Instead of answering his question, you pulled him towards you. You buried your face in his chest. You wanted Jungkook to hold but he wasn't. You murmured against his skin, "Why aren't you holding me?"

"I didn't know if I was supposed to." You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend's build. "Well, I want you to hold me." And like so, Jungkook held you close. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. If Jungkook were to die right now, he would die a happy man; being in your arms, breathing you in is all he could ever ask for.

Before speaking Jungkook licked his lips, "____, I want to tell - shit! Babe, ow!" You had kicked Jungkook to further stop his sentence. "Like I said before, if you're going to keep apologizing then please leave. Because honestly, babe, I'm really tired of hearing you say that." Jungkook chuckled at your annoyance. "I wasn't going to apologize if that makes you happy. I was going to say how regretful I am to accuse you of cheating. How regretful I am of gripping you hard on the wrist. Cursing and yelling at you. I regret everything that happened last night."

You held Jungkook tighter to you. In situations similar to this, Jungkook was always the one comforting you; you were the stubborn one in the relationship. It was kind of hard being on the opposite side. You tried your best of comforting Jungkook, but you couldn't really do it physically, that spectrum resides for Jungkook.

So, you did what you do best, you comforted him verbally. "I know I can't ask you to feel a certain way, but know this, Jungkook," You lifted your head up to him, and expressed, "Everything that happened last night could never erase my four years of love for you. What you did to me definitely hurt me, but you cannot shoulder all of this guilt. I also was at fault."

Jungkook pulled away slightly. He couldn't believe what he heard. He denied, "No! You did nothing wrong." You furrowed your brows. "But I did, Jungkook! If I hadn't kept this a secret... if I had just told you my reason for being out so long, we wouldn't be in this predicament. I should have told you, and for that, I'm sorry." Jungkook wanted to argue your statement, but the look on your face was pleading with him to forgive you.

Jungkook shimmied his way down to you, eyes meeting at the same level. He pushed some of your hair away from your face, tucking them behind your ear. Your beauty was something to treasure. Jungkook smiled, "You're so beautiful, baby. If you want me to forgive you, I need you to forgive me as well."

You lifted your pointer finger up when an idea came to mind. "One last request," Jungkook smirked, wondering what trick you have up your sleeve. You continued on, "Kiss me on the lips and I'll forgive you."

You didn't have to tell him twice. Jungkook smashed his lips on yours, taking you all in. He cupped your jaw in between his hands, holding you tightly. Your small moans drowning in your lover's mouth. Your wondering hands feel the toned muscles beneath your fingertips. Somewhere along the way, you climbed on top of Jungkook. The slight grinding you were doing on his lap made him jolt. He softly gripped your arms and pushed you away.

"Baby, I think we should stop, because if we continue this, I don't think I'll have the urge to control my craving." You jumped on his lap, taunting him. Jungkook wasn't having it, so, he switched your positions; you were laying underneath him, while he trapped you between his arms. "Didn't I say you should stop?" he growled.

All you did was grin like a kid who won a stuffed animal at a carnival. You wrapped your arms around Jungkook's - somewhat sweaty neck. God only knows how much you love this man. If a home was a person, he would be yours. You proclaimed, "I love you so much, Jungkook." Jungkook saw the love swirling in your irises; his heart swarmed with adoration for you. As a response, he said, "I love you, ___. I could never love anybody as much as I love you."

You guys kissed one more time before going back to cuddling. In the middle of basking in each other's presence, you blurted, "Oh god, we have to buy the tickets today. Not only that, but we also hav-" Jungkook placed his rough hand on top of your mouth. “Shhh... It's cuddle time, babe." You pushed his hand away and giggled. You wished there was a word more than love, maybe devotion, but you really love Jungkook.

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x female reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fanfction #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #imagine #kpop fanfic #angst #kpop imagines #kpop angst #kpop fluff

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right? #my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

[pseudowho]

Post-ShibuyaAU! Grey Nanami Kento Headcanons, Part 2

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

As an accompaniment to my story, Grey (link here); an AU where Nanami survives Shibuya exploration because I'm never going to be over his loss.

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Christmas Greynami Headcanons, link here

Warnings: Severe injury (burns, eye loss), PTSD, alcohol use, depression, light smut, angst, AU headcanons

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Before he met you:

AU!Nanami Kento who takes up smoking again, a habit he had while working as a salaryman. His voice becomes rougher, more gravelly, irritated by the tobacco.

AU!Nanami Kento whose parents weep and stroke his healed burned face the first time they see him post-Shibuya, devastated by the suffering their little boy has experienced.

AU!Nanami Kento who sees that pain in his mothers' eyes every time he visits her. She can't help it. She's just heartbroken she couldn't keep her baby safe.

AU!Nanami Kento who begins to screen his parents' calls, not visit for dinner like he used to, and sends birthday gifts in the post instead of in person. Causing them distress by exposing them to his brutal injuries is a stress he's too fragile to cope with.

AU!Nanami Kento who listens to his fathers' long voicemails every night after a few drinks.

AU!Nanami Kento who often doesn't go home between missions, sleeping against walls in old buildings instead, a cold uncomfortable sleep preferable to a deep sleep with nightmares.

AU!Nanami Kento who alters his wardrobe after his tie, which he was unusually fond of, was destroyed by Jogo's flames. He can't find the tie for sale anymore. His beige suits just don't feel the same without it.

AU!Nanami Kento gives the last vestiges of his emotional energy to Yuuji, knowing he needs support, not wanting Yuuji to know he's struggling, not wanting to add more to Yuuji's already full plate.

AU!Nanami Kento who used to daydream about being a father one day, but now, being loved and giving love in return feels so remote and unlikely

After he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who tries to hide his trauma at first, afraid it will be too much baggage for you.

AU!Nanami Kento who is grateful to the very depths of his soul when you make it clear that he could never be too traumatised to be loved; you are each others' therapist, confidant, and sexy best friend.

AU!Nanami Kento, who struggles through reducing his alcohol and cigarette intake, with your steadfast support.

AU!Nanami Kento whose home screen photo is one of you asleep, snuggled into his chest, drooling; you hate it, he absolutely refuses to change it.

AU!Nanami Kento who confesses to you on one snowy evening walk; he tells you the moon looks beautiful tonight and you're on tiptoes kissing him before he can even finish his sentence.

AU!Nanami Kento who takes up baking bread overnight if he can't sleep, the process cathartic and soothing. You know he's had a bad night when you wake up to warm bakery smells.

AU!Nanami Kento and you, whose home becomes a refuge for all the kids who know where the spare key is hidden.

AU!Nanami Kento who has made up the spare room for Yuuta, Inumaki and Nobara at separate points in just one week.

AU!Nanami Kento, who makes sure you buy extra bottles of burn ointment, and delivers them to Maki when he gets the chance.

AU!Nanami Kento, stood at the bathroom counter which you sit on, facing him, your legs wrapped around his hips, as you gently shave around his scars. Kento rests his hands on your waist, slipping his fingers under your shirt, just to feel your skin.

AU!Nanami Kento, whose towel comes loose and drops to the floor, staring into your eyes in challenge. You last a few seconds before your eyes flick down, drinking in the beautiful nudity of him.

AU!Nanami Kento who immediately throws you over his shoulder, and carries you to your bedroom while you squeal and laugh, being promptly de-clothed by him.

AU!Nanami Kento who behaves the second time you sit on the counter, to finish the job you started; he looks at you with a naughty glint in his eye.

AU!Nanami Kento who, with your support and continuous company on his missions, finds his power grows rapidly; he manages five black flashes in a row, and feels he may be nearing domain establishment.

AU!Nanami Kento who, after a rocky start with Higuruma Hiromi, becomes his firm friend, forming an intensely unstoppable duo. Ino is only a little bit jealous.

AU!Nanami Kento who finally calls his parents with your encouragement. He can't help but tell them about you immediately. They're thrilled, and want you round for dinner as soon as possible.

AU!Nanami Kento who is mortified as you and his mother coo over his baby photos.

AU!Nanami Kento who is stunned into silence when, in the car on the way home, you wonder out loud if your babies will look more like you or him.

AU!Nanami Kento who throws you into bed the moment you get home, face between your legs and drunk on the taste and sounds of you, until you're begging him to come closer; he graciously complies, his mind full of your future home, tiny footsteps and laughter as you cling to him in bliss.

AU!Nanami Kento who goes looking for rings on his days off; it's a huge decision, and one he ponders over for months, so in the meantime, he buys you a watch which perfectly matches his own.

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More love for Greynami. I'll do some bigger stories at some point too.

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons link here

Thanks as always to @silkspunweb for being my muse and fellow unhinged friend.

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk fluff #nanami headcanons #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you

[se4son-of-the-witch]

falling down - matt sturniolo

in which you and matt get into a heated argument

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Another night spent alone in bed. The fourth night alone this week. Matt was out at a party with his brothers, socializing and having fun, leaving you by yourself. You couldn't even understand why you were still together. He often left you alone, but you just couldn't find it in you to leave him. You were so happy with him. 

The front door shut from downstairs, making you sit up in your bed. You heard Matt slip off his shoes and shuffle up the stairs. He pushed open your bedroom door, making you smile to yourself. Instead of acknowledging you, he made his way to your bathroom, locking the door behind him. A shaky sigh left your mouth as you turned over in bed, pulling the blanket over your body. 

After a minute, he came out, making his way toward the bed. He laid down, his back resting against the headboard. He slid his phone out of his pocket, fixing his attention on the screen. For some reason this caused tears to form in your eyes. They sat at the brim of your eyes, threatening to fall. You hated being ignored and Matt knew that. 

"So, how was the party?" you asked, your voice slightly trembling. 

"It was good," he replied, his eyes not leaving his phone once. 

That was the final straw. The short, boring answer mixed with him not even looking at you was enough to make the tears fall from your eyes. As they fell, you let out a sniffle, making you bring your hand up to wipe your nose. Just as a quiet sob left your lips, you pushed yourself out of bed. You walked towards the balcony doors that were connected to your room. You slipped outside, closing the door behind you.

You leaned against the railing, looking out at the night sky. A light rain was falling, making you clutch to your skin. You began to sob as the rain fell, letting all of your emotions out. What a terrible feeling. You felt your heart shatter as you continued to cry, gasping for air. 

After what felt like an eternity, the balcony door opened. You quickly wiped your tears, taking a deep breath. You felt Matt's presence behind you, making your body stiff. "What are you doing out here in the rain?"

"Just clearing my head," you said quietly. 

"Are you not cold?" He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his body. Although it wasn't right, a smile formed on your face as his body heat warmed you up. He turned you around, so you were face-to-face with him. His eyes scanned over your face, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Were you crying?"

You looked away from him, "No, I'm fine." You pressed your lips together, trying not to show too much emotion. He grabbed your jaw, turning your face so he could look at you. You bit down on your lip, letting your eyes meet his. He saw the tear stains on your cheek making him softly huff.

"You don't wanna talk to me about it? You'd rather sit and cry in the rain?"

You let out a soft laugh. "That's all I've been trying to do, Matt. You just never give me the time of day anymore." You looked away from him, feeling your eyes beginning to well with tears once again. His soft expression turned into something different, almost like a look of frustration.

"That's unfair," he muttered, making you whip your head to look at him. 

"Unfair?" You let out a scoff. "You won't talk to me anymore, let alone look at me." Your voice started to shake as you continued to talk. "You don't care until it gets like this. Until I run away, crying to myself." By now the tears were pouring down your face, clouding your vision. 

"You don't come to me anymore." His words cut you like a knife, making you pull away from his grip. You ran your fingers through your hair, taking a seat on a chair that sat on the balcony. You were now full-on crying, fidgeting with your fingers as he looked at you. 

"Because I can't!" He took a step back, your harsh tone surprising him. "You've left me by myself four times this week! And when you finally do come home, you can't even acknowledge the fact that I'm there!" You were now full-on yelling at him, voice laced with anger, the tears beginning to dry on your cheeks. 

"You have to understand I have a life, Y/n." 

"What, like I don't?" you asked with a dry laugh. "Like I don't have a life outside of you?" You leaned forward in your seat, glaring at him. "I'm asking you to be my boyfriend, not my father. Jesus, Matt." You sat back in your seat, too upset to even lay your eyes on him. 

"I hate that you're being like this." He rolled his eyes, making your anger even worse.

"So leave," you said blankly. His eyes widened, taken back by your words. You were even surprised by what you said. 

"You serious?" Although you knew you weren't, you still nodded your head. He stood for a moment before heading towards the door. It slammed shut behind him, making you flinch from the loud noise. 

When the realization started to set in, you couldn't help but cry. You couldn't stand when Matt acted like that. Like you were asking for the moon and the stars. You just wanted him. All of him. Not half-assed love, but all that he had to offer.

┊ ✫ ┊ ┊ ☾⋆ ┊ ⊹ ┊ ✯ ⋆ ┊

a/n: i love writing angsty shit like this ☠️

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo