#the last of it is drying all over the place

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway. #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

[zyafics]

headspace | rafe cameron

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe hasn't seen you in twenty-four hours, he comes over to your house to check on you.

work count 1.0k

reader type academic weapon, burnout from studying (me), anxious, cries from being overwhelmed and pushes people away when busy

content fluff, suggestive tone near the end, rafe trying to be a good boyfriend, math (yuck!)

zya's notes was this purely self-indulgent? maybe. but it was a good writing break for me before i get back to linear algebra myself.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

"What are you doing here?" You accuse, opening your bedroom door to discover your boyfriend standing behind it.

"I'm here to see you." Rafe says, taking in your appearance. You're wearing a borrowed tee of his, the name of his fraternity plastered in Greek letters, with shorts that's barely seen under the long material. "I've been texting you all day."

"You have?" You ask, your voice softening from the sharp undertone of your accusation. You're just so tired. "My phone's been on DND."

"Why?" He lets out a dry chuckle. He doesn't like the fact that you’ve been ignoring him. "You fuckin' someone?"

That earns him a scowl and Rafe knows he messed up when you pull on the doorknob, closing the limited space that allows him to see and enter your bedroom. "I'm not in the mood, Rafe. How'd you get in?"

He swallows hard. "Your mom let me in."

"She's home?" Your brows furrow together. You've lost track of time. You've been so busy that you didn't even hear your parents coming back from work. "Shit, what time is it?"

You abandon your post at the entryway and search for your phone in the messy covers of your bed. When you check the time, your heart drops. It's nearing midnight.

Rafe quietly slips into your room with his hands in his pockets and searches the place. He admits the first signs he looked for was the presence of another man. That you, in the twenty-four hours since he last saw you, have decided that he wasn't enough and that you found someone else. Instead, what he uncovers is your textbooks sprawled all over the floor, crinkled up sheets of papers surrounding your trashcan and your laptop and tablet propped on your desk with mathematical symbols and equations on the screen.

You weren't out finding his replacement. You were studying.

Your heart is racing, trying to figure out what to do next. You didn't even realize Rafe slipped to your side till his hand catches your wrist and pulls your attention away from your darkened phone screen.

"Hey." Rafe whispers, noticing the panic on your features. "Have you been studying all day? When was the last time you ate?"

Momentarily drawn away from your thoughts, you search your brain for an answer only to recall a distant memory of some yogurt and granola. 

"I don't know." You admit. Your chest tightening at the look of concern that flashes across his face. "I can't think about that right now."

"You can't think about food?" He repeats, incredulous. "You're the one who's always trying to get me to try new places."

He was trying to make you laugh, relax, but all it does is set your lips into a flat line. He really is not living up to the role of good boyfriend right now.

"I have a huge exam coming up in two days and I still don't understand a single concept. And it's midnight." You explain, your breathing growing more rapidly as the realization dawns on you. "I shouldn't have gone out with you yesterday, I knew that, but I went when I should’ve stayed in—"

"Hey, hey." He shushes you, his hands sliding up to your shoulders. He knows you're about to descend into a spiral right now. He can't let it happen. "Look at me."

You do.

"It's going to be okay. You're a smart girl, you're going to figure it out."

You shake your head, not believing him, to the point that you're pushing away from his touch, reeling back as if you don't deserve his comfort. "No, Rafe, it's not. It's worth 20% of my grade and I can't recall a single thing. I've been studying all day and I feel like I'm about to go insane because I don't get it. I have never not gotten something this bad before."

You can't stop the tears from welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. First and foremost, you can't believe you're crying over math right now but the emotions are too strong to ignore—you feel like you're about to combust.

"Baby." Rafe begins softly, taking a step forward and pulling you back in. You try to resist but his grip is too strong and you like being in his embrace. Even if you don't deserve it. "Take a breath. Come on, let's take a break."

"I can't." Your voice cracks, a tear falling down your cheek and wetting his shirt. "I actually think I'm going to fail and it scares me."

Rafe knows you always cared about your academics. Way more than he does. But, it's one of the things he admires about you. That fact that you're so smart, that you manage to fall for a guy like him. He doesn't know of any way to help in that department, but fuck if he isn't going to try.

"Alright, how about this?" Rafe pulls apart, the loss of touch causes you to whimper, but his hand tucks under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his. "We're going to get somethin' to eat. Any place you want, I don't care how far, and I'll drive."

You open your mouth to counter but he cuts you off. "Then, we're going to come back here and I'll help you study. All night if I have to. We're going to figure this out together, okay?"

The plan sounds appealing but you're still hesitant. "You don't know anything about linear algebra."

"Fuck, baby, you can teach me." He states, causing a small smile to rise on your lips. That makes him proud. "Isn't that the best way to learn? When the student become the teacher?"

"Are you saying you're my teacher?" You tilt your head, teasing him. He loves that you're coming to yourself again.

He lowers himself to your level, stopping next to the shell of your ear. "I'm about to teach you a lesson if you don't get a move on." He murmurs, lightly slapping your ass and releasing you in one-go. You let out a little yelp, jumping back.

He tips his head to your closet. "Get change. We got shit to do."

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #rafe cameron x female reader #outer banks #rafe blurb #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fluff #obx fluff

[hijackalx]

A PROPOSITION +18

SUMMARY: You’ll need more than a pretty penny to change this corrupt magistrate’s mind.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, magistrate!astarion, dry humping, vaginal fingering, clothed sex, slight corruption kink, reader is implied inexperienced/astarion treats them that way, D/S, maybe dubcon but not really, power imbalance

Your heels clack through the hollow hall, every step quick and determined. However, your face holds a level of uncertainty to it.

Doors lace the walls, each one with a plaque beside it. You scan every little golden engraving, repeating the names you read under your breath. Meanwhile, the briefcase in your hands is secured to your chest tightly, as if you're afraid it'll disappear.

Your spine shoots upright as you make an abrupt stop. You linger outside one of the doors, swallowing as you stare at the title it holds— 'A. ANCUNIN' reads in big, bold letters, almost like it were manufactured to wrack your nerves. Your gaze shifts to the figure through the distorted glass. It's misshapen and hardly more than a silhouette, but it's enough to make your palms sweat.

You wipe your hands off on your skirt, then quickly push any stray hairs back into place. With a reassuring breath, you knock on the door.

"Come in," a voice calls out, flat and disinterested.

Only when the latch clicks behind you does he look up from the paperwork on his desk. He gives you a once-over, though it almost feels like an evaluation. Afterward, he sits up and folds his hands on the desktop. "Hello," he greets, his tone lacking the monotony it held a moment ago. "What can I do for you?"

Your words seem to get lost in your throat for a moment, allowing the silence between you to last a second too long. "M-may I?" You gesture to one of the chairs in front of his desk, to which he gives a smile you'd only describe as amused. You curse mentally at how you've already managed to make a fool of yourself.

"Of course, darling," he says as if he's pointing out the obvious. Above that soft grin of his, his eyes blink slowly, giving away how horribly you're failing at your first impression.

His subtle criticism only makes you more timid. After all, proposing a deal like this could cost you your job, and you hoped it wouldn't come to that if you could get him to like you.

Had the magistrate working your client's trial— your friend's trial— been anyone but Ancunin, you wouldn't doubt yourself over such a small crime. It's unlike you to lack confidence in your abilities, even more so to stoop as low as bribery. For you and your friend's sake, you hope the rumors about his corrupt ways are more than just rumors.

You take a seat, impossibly rigid. His eyes glance down, and you can't tell if he's taken interest in the briefcase on your lap or something lower. You bring your legs closer together as a precaution.

"Mr. Ancunin—" you cut yourself off to clear your throat, "—sir, I noticed that you'll be overseeing my client's case in a few days..." Your words die out, eyes darting around the room as if searching for the best way to introduce your proposal. Much to your dismay, you find that there isn't one. "I... I was hoping... we could discuss the terms of your… mercy."

It feels like you've just lit a bomb, and you're counting down the seconds until you lose everything. You almost want to shield your face and take cover.

His eyes squint slightly, withholding a response as he leans back in his chair. The wood creaks under his weight. Your heart pounds in your chest, leading a tremble to your fingers you're sure he must have noticed.

After a few moments, the silence is too suffocating for you to let it go on. "I know that sounds... rough. But I promise you it is worth your time—" the sounds of the briefcase snapping open interrupt your nervous speech.

"I don't want your gold."

You freeze, and all is quiet again. "... What?" You mutter, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of his reply.

"It's not enough."

You glance down at the object in your hands, realizing that he hasn't even seen the sum yet. "This should be more than enough for a minor offense." A small crease forms between your brows, a tinge of confusion to your voice.

He laughs at you, and something about the high-pitched sound makes your jaw clench. It seems to bring you back to reality, and you finally see him for what he is— a cocky, power-tripping bastard.

"Let's agree to disagree, dear. If you wish to sway me next time, try offering something a little more..." He trails off, appearing to browse his mind for the correct word. "... enticing." He briefly chews on the pen in his hand while looking you over once more. With a sigh, he waves it towards you dismissively and sits back up to focus on his paperwork. "Have a good day now."

Just like that, the negotiation is over, and a wave of shock crashes into you. If your friend wasn't getting the death sentence before, they surely are now. Desperation weighs on your limbs at the realization, anchoring you in place. You watch hopelessly as he continues to fill out the papers on his desk, any remnants of your interaction wiped clean from his features.

You've not only failed your friend, but you've made a mockery of yourself as well.

He finally looks up again, though he doesn't give you enough respect to fully lift his head. "Something wrong?"

Your lip bobs as you struggle to get your words together. There's a glassiness to your eyes, and you quickly try to blink it away. "I— what can I do?" Your voice cracks slightly, and he seems to liven up at the sound. "Please tell me."

You try to save yourself some dignity by not crying in front of him, but your attempts are futile as the first tear slips down your face. You quickly wipe it away, all for it to be followed by another. A soft whimper escapes your throat, and you realize you're falling apart faster than you anticipated.

When you meet his eyes again, you're almost stunned out of your state. His stare is heavy, and you notice how his nostrils flare just slightly to accommodate his elevated breaths. You'd almost guess that he's angry with your pathetic groveling, but something is... off.

He appears to snap out of his trance with a bob of his throat, his lean fingers digging into the collar of his shirt to loosen it. Your gaze follows as long strides carry him around his desk.

You're surprised when he squats down in front of you, bringing himself to your level. There's an upward pull to his brows, and a strangely sympathetic pout to his lips. "Oh, you poor, sweet little thing." He tilts his head as he studies your tearstained features.

His eyes hold a level of pity that almost makes you forget that he's the one responsible for your troubles. His stare is captivating, and you find yourself unable to look away.

"You know, I feel for you. I do," he sighs. "But, gold..." he looks off to the side and does a little shrug. "It just... doesn't quite do it for me these days. What, with my job being so stressful and time consuming, I'm hardly concerned with how much coin I can spend."

He laughs and places a hand on your knee, the warmth of his palm igniting the skin through your tights. You stare down at it, sporting an unsubtle fixation on how his long index finger sneaks beneath your skirt. It remains there as if inconspicuous— as if it's an innocent mistake.

His touch slips away, though only to reposition itself on your chin as he rises to his full height. He demands your attention as he looms over you, and you're shocked to notice how his features have darkened.

You peer up through your lashes as he runs his thumb over your wet cheek. The digit stills for a moment before slyly moving toward your bottom lip, smearing the moisture of your collected tear. "What I would trade for a bit of relief, though..." he mutters with a sense of being lost in thought.

Your heartbeat skips at the implications of his words, a searing heat blossoming throughout your body. Despite it being such a horrible and perverted thing to suggest, you can't help noticing the quickening of your breaths— each inhale tinged with excitement.

You're not quite sure how to voice your desires, so you simply allow your mouth to pop open. The intensity in his gaze grows as he watches you give him access, his thumb pushing past the barrier of your lips and meeting the warmth inside. He inhales sharply as you close your mouth around him, tasting your own salty tears.

Your hands anxiously wring the ends of your skirt, rubbing your thighs together for some kind of solace. The smallest moan leaves your throat, muffled by the barricade of his thumb.

He slides himself from your clasped lips and lets out a short, inquisitive hum. You sit patiently— obediently— waiting for his next move. You focus on how his fingers unbutton the sleeves of his shirt, how he rolls them up to his elbows and reveals his toned forearms.

As he walks around you to prop himself up on the desktop, the hard-on beneath his black dress pants grabs your attention, and you swallow deeply while trying to maintain composure.

"Well, my dear, I think you have a choice to make," he starts. His tone is lower than before, as if to avoid being heard. "You can either take your things and walk out that door—" he nods to the door, his eyes flitting to it once before meeting yours again. "—... or you can lock it."

He watches you like a hawk as you stand and awkwardly brush the wrinkles from your clothes. His ogling makes you feel weighted as you move towards the door, your unsteady palm landing on the handle. You hesitate for a moment, then ultimately seal the deal with a click.

Your body shakes with every hammer of your pulse, not to mention the anticipatory throbbing between your legs. You're not sure if this is a mistake— you're not sure if you even care. In fact, you're not sure of anything right now.

You slowly turn towards him, your gaze wide and seeking reassurance.

He notices and grins at you, though sly and wolfish it may be. "Very good," he offers his approval, sending a weakness to your knees.

His hand reaches out for you, palm open and inviting yours to fill it. You step his way, allowing him to pull you closer. He grips your wrist tight as he pulls you up into his lap, the motion swift and sudden.

Your face flushes with warmth at the vicinity, your body frozen as you straddle him. He feels how you hover, promptly grabbing your hips and forcing you down onto him. You gasp as his bulge makes contact with your clit, remaining paralyzed as if afraid of the sounds you'd make rubbing against it.

His gentle yet plotting gaze glances back and forth between your eyes and lips. "Have you ever done anything like this before?" he asks, almost distracting you from the feeling of him slowly unbuttoning your shirt. The intensity of which he stares at you only makes you more jittery, and your response catches in your throat.

"I, um—" you choke, watching his dextrous fingers reveal more of your skin by the second. Is he referencing sexual favors? Or just... sex? "I d-don't—"

He grins warmly, a small laugh humming behind his lips. "I'll take that as a no." There's a strange heaviness to his eyes that contrasts with his smile; it's almost daydreamy, as if he's fulfilling some fantasy of his. "Don't you worry your pretty little head then— I know what I'm doing, and that's good enough for the both of us."

Suddenly, you place your hand on his, stilling it. He's surprised at first, but after a glance at your doe-eyed face, he knows what you're thinking.

"Just follow my lead, darling." His freehand plays with the garters connected to your tights. "You can do that for me, can't you?" He asks so sweetly it almost makes your head spin.

You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly from the way he chuckles in response. With that, he grabs your chin, bringing your mouths together. He starts off slow, accommodating you— it seems he can tell you're as nervous as you are desperate to please.

His lips are soft and malleable, forgiving any mistakes you might make. You gain a bit of confidence in turn, and he takes that as a sign to pick up the pace. His brows furrow, and your mouths join with a bit more passion. He runs his tongue over your bottom lip, then takes it in with his teeth; he bites down slightly, resulting in a dull yet addicting pain.

Once his busy fingers reach the bottom of your blouse, he pulls the fabric open, letting the air embrace your torso. His hands invade your body with an impatient hunger, cool fingertips tracing your skin as if familiarizing himself with a new toy.

You catch yourself subconsciously grinding onto his lap, stimulating your clit with the tent in his pants. It sends wave after wave of pleasure through you, your hand catching the hair at the base of his neck. He eats up the small whimpers you release into his mouth like candy, deepening the kiss each time.

He pulls away to pepper wet kisses down your neck, and you readily lift your head to give him better access. A palm slides around your back, pulling you closer as he continues trailing along your collarbone, each remnant of saliva growing cold with his absence.

Your rubbing against him gets more needy, and you stabilize yourself by grabbing the collar of his shirt. With your free hand, you pull your skirt up to watch how his cock cards through your covered folds, noticing the ever-growing wet spot he's curated.

Your cunt tightens around nothing, a deep desire for him to be inside you festering beneath your surface. You've never felt so overwhelmed with want before; he's hijacked your body, and you're not sure you'd even recognize yourself right now— giving into temptation so freely, so shamelessly.

He looks down between your bodies, his cock twitching at the sight of you using him to get off. "Does that feel good?" He asks, a slight waver to his suave tone.

You nod with haste, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to find the perfect rhythm, but it's not enough. You need more— to feel his skin against yours. You don't care how dirty or uncouth it might be; your hand lands atop one of his, bringing it closer to the aching spot between your legs.

Although, your confidence seems to run dry as you hesitate, your hand stilling at the halfway-point. You glance at him through your lashes, desperate yet so unsure. He's more than smitten by your uncertainty, reveling in how he's made you yearn for his touch. "Don’t be coy,” he tuts playfully.

He moves his hand without the guidance of your own, watching you closely as he ventures deeper into your underwear. You inhale sharply at the feeling of him exploring your folds, not knowing whether to lean towards it or away. The hum he lets out tells you he's pleased with you so far, and the way that makes your heart race is pitiful.

He thoroughly lathers his digit with your essence, then begins playing with your clit. Your mouth falls open at the instant relief, brows coming together tightly. Your face drops into the crook of his neck, and within seconds your breaths become ragged, allowing the occasional mewl to slip out. You hear how he curses to himself, but you can't bring yourself to focus on what he's saying— you're too lost in his touch.

He consistently changes pace, putting you on the path to an orgasm just to purposely take it away; it's a cruel reminder of who's in control, and you grow increasingly sensitive as a result.

"P-please— please—" you babble, feeling your abdomen grow tenser by the second. He winds the coil inside you tighter and tighter, your pleasure entirely at his mercy. "Please don't stop," you manage to get out, your hand instinctually wrapping around his wrist to keep him there.

He lets out a breathy laugh, one you believe he intended to sound more condescending than it did. "I think you're forgetting the details of our arrangement, dear," he states, presumably anxious to get his own and tell you to leave. Although, his fingers don't still, and he doesn't refrain from encouraging you to cum for him through saccharine whispers.

"Almost there," he coaxes. "Relax. Don't fight it." His teeth drag along your ear, directing your attention as he speaks.

Your entire body goes taut as you feel something snap deep inside you. Your breaths heighten rapidly, face contorting into a half-hearted wince as you try to hold back your moans.

He watches your climax with a half-lidded gaze, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth— if you didn't know any better you'd think he was absolutely charmed by you.

As you come down from your high, he meets your dazed expression with a grin. "Cute," is all he says before pushing you off his lap. You're shocked— and a little hurt. It's not like you forgot what this was, but you hadn't quite prepared yourself to be discarded so soon.

Then, much to your surprise, he positions himself behind you and bends you over the desk. Your chest hits the surface with a thud, and your face settles onto the papers he was working on earlier. All of your muscles are so lax from your orgasm, your knees almost buckle from beneath you while he flips your skirt over your rear.

You hear the excited exhales leaving his nose as his hands run over the curve of your body, rough and impatient. He reaches the heart shape of your ass, giving the area a sadistic pinch and smack. You gasp, curling your toes at the sharp, throbbing feeling left behind.

The sound of his belt coming undone fills your ears. Your pulse accelerates, an uncontrollable heat racing to your dripping cunt. "Gods, this is so wrong," you mutter, though it leaves your lips heavy with desire.

In seconds, your panties are pulled down to your knees, and the cold, office air emphasizes your exposure. Instead of retreating like you thought you might, you find yourself arching your back for him, searching for his touch. He lets out a sort of half-moan as you spread your legs further, offering yourself to him without hesitation.

You inhale as you feel pressure against your entrance. He relishes in how your cunt repeatedly tightens in an attempt to pull him deeper— it feels like he teases forever, though in reality you know only a moment has passed. Every adrenaline-laced touch and pulse of his cock tells you he's strung thin as well, and his self-control is running low; that much is made obvious by how he suddenly plunges himself inside you with one, quick thrust.

A shrill gasp rips from your throat, your fingers crinkling the paperwork on his desk as you try to gather yourself from the unexpected movement. He balances by resting his hands on either side of your head, and you can't help but stare at how they strain and twitch with arousal.

He begins to move, each thrust building with intensity. You find yourself covering your mouth, praying that no one overhears the noises you try to stifle— that, and the lewd slapping and squelching of your shameful tryst. You screw your eyes shut, opting to scold yourself, but each thought is promptly overtaken by 'Astarion, Astarion, Astarion—'

Soon, pleasure completely overrides your senses; it's the only thing that matters. You writhe beneath him like a cat in heat, grinding and rutting against him as he uses your body to chase a climax.

He hits a spot that makes you yelp, your mouth involuntarily falling open in ecstasy. "T-there!" You hurry to speak. "Just like that!" A few needy whimpers slip past your guard, but they seem to aid your persuasion as he abides by your pleas.

One hand grabs you by your waist, fingers digging into the flesh beneath your skirt. His breaths become shallower, and a series of short moans are released by your ear. The sounds send a chill down your spine, and you're immediately hit with the realization that you're approaching a second orgasm.

His melody of pleasure becomes more vulnerable by the second, and his thrusts roughen. The added pressure sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you like an icy ocean wave. Your entire figure tenses beneath him, limbs contracting and sprawling as the feeling courses through you from fingertips to toes. It's more intense than the first, leaving you a malleable heap on the desktop.

He follows shortly after by pulling out and finishing into his hand. His quick removal makes your eyes widen for a split second, surprised by the feeling of emptiness he leaves behind.

You both remain in place for a moment, catching your breaths. Slowly, as your senses recalibrate, you become aware of what you've done. You're almost frightened by the person you just were, taken over by lust— at the hands of a man you hardly know, even.

Rising from the desk, you peel a document from the sweat of your flushed face. Turning his way, you watch as he tries to return his disheveled appearance to its original state— brushing the white curls from his forehead and tucking his shirt back into his pants— all the while carrying a weary, post-orgasm expression.

A man you hardly know, but a very handsome one at least.

He meets your eyes, and suddenly he's back to playing professional again. With a smile that reveals more than his workplace persona, he breaks the silence. "Consider your friend well and truly saved, my darling," he says while making sure you look presentable enough to leave. He buttons your shirt for you, then finishes by wiping away an ink stain on your cheek.

His haughty demeanor makes your blood boil, but you hold your tongue. You did what you needed to do— even if a minor detour was involved. No sense in undoing that by getting on his bad side already.

Grabbing your suitcase, you agree to put this past you. Although, as you grip the door handle, he calls out one last time, "Oh, and do let me know if there's ever anything else I can do for you."

#THROWS THIS AT YOU LIKE A GRENADE AND RUNS #some said it would never be done……… BUT HERE IT IS !!!!!!!! no its not a month late what are u talking about #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #x reader #astarion one shot #one shot

[bunnybubae]

(M)🚦Red Light: The Allure | Ch3 [JJK]

👉🏻[Series Masterpost]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (GymOwner!JK/MotoRacer!JK/Biker!JK-TattoArtist!OC)

Genre: S2L - Smut - Fluff - Angst

Summary: Jeon Jungkook never lets any distraction take him away from his motorcycle or his gym for more than one night. He just wants to speed around the track and feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the sex he gets thanks to his charm, is just a side dish to his life. A tough past brought him on that Ducati that he learned to love, a past  you’ll uncover, as you slowly seep in under his skin. It’s a hell of a ride, in all senses, as you try to escape your own hell in the meanwhile.  Where will this ride bring you? Will it be worth it in the end?

Chapter Warnings: mention of the toxic ex (again, unfortunately), still a lot of teasing and heavy flirting, JK in black CK undies yes, it is a warning, brief mention of weed,  alcohol consumption, brief thigh riding, rubbing in public environment, dry humping, oral sex (M/F receiving), praise kink, protected sex, one (1) slap on the ass, rough sex.

Wc: 11.7k

A/N: Hello there! I hope you guys still want to read this story, cause CH3 is finally out! As always, I'm sorry if there are some grammatical mistakes, english isn't my first language and I don't have a beta, so pls bear with me! 🫶🏻 Let me know what are your thoughts about the story, my box is always open! - Joy 🐰

December 8th, Friday

You're glad it didn't pour down all day.

The night sky is clear and the smell of rain permeates in the air. You look through the car window covered in droplets as Hani chats with the driver.

You're too busy looking at scattered puddles on the asphalt reflecting the surrounding lights to pay attention to whatever the uber driver is saying.

The only thing troubling your mind right now is the last message you received. You had already blocked Ray's number a long time ago, but no one else would ever dream of sending you a similar message. The scumbag must have changed it.

You check your phone screen once again, almost hopeful that the content of the message is now different or even better, gone.

Unknown Number:- Have fun tn.

You tighten the coat you're wearing around your figure, as if that would be enough to make you feel safe.

Three words were enough to disgust you to the core. Well done Ray.

His intent is clear: he hopes to ruin your evening with this message, he wants you to feel out of place and you know pretty well that behind those seemingly innocent words there is much more hidden. His passive aggressive stalking exudes from every pixel of the screen. 

You wonder how he knows your plans for the evening, you hoped he had finally stopped spying on you, but clearly, this dude is unweary.

A hand suddenly rests on your shoulder, drawing your attention and making you flinch at the unexpected contact. Your thoughts must have poisoned your features judging by Hani's tone of voice, gentle and concerned.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You mechanically put your phone back in your pocket and look at her with a hint of a smile, hoping that she doesn't notice the tornado of thoughts that swirl behind your eyes.

You don't want your worries to ruin your evening, that's exactly what that asshole would want.

Much less, you want Hani to decide it's best to take you home. It would be a defeat on all fronts.

You're going to go to this damn party and have fun. Ray has no power over you, not anymore. To let this message get under your skin would mean allowing him to manipulate you once again. You have to use it instead to do the exact opposite, to free yourself tonight and allow your wounded soul to dance.

Your face softens a little more as you manage to regain control of your thoughts.

"Yeah, it's all good. How long will it take to get there?"

Hani tells you that you'll arrive in a few minutes. She doesn't seem entirely convinced by your attempt to reassure her but you're glad she doesn't ask anything more when you start a barrage of questions about this kind of parties and the moto races.

Tae and Jungkook are waiting for you inside, she says, apparently they had to deal with some organizational issues related to tomorrow's qualifications, that's why they went earlier.

Hani is particularly thrilled, you can tell by the way she describes in as much detail as possible all the competitions and parties she's already attended. A little of her enthusiasm makes its way through you and you find yourself smiling genuinely as you listen to her.

A few minutes later, your driver parks next to the curb and once you get out of the car, you are amazed to notice the huge group of motorbikes parked in the lot next to the venue.

They're all well parked, resting under the light of the street lamps which highlights all their beautiful colors and shapes.

You reach the entrance guarded by a guy who looks like he could fold a motorbike in two. His menacing presence actually calms you further. You sigh without realizing it as your chest feels a little lighter.

Hani greets the big boy, who reciprocates, while maintaining a serious demeanor. He lets you in without even asking for documents or such, Hani is really well known by now.

The interior of the place has been well decorated for the occasion and the music is not excessively loud, the atmosphere is pleasant. You were expecting something more frenetic considering the adrenaline that motorcyclists are used to, everyone seems to be having fun but with ease instead. Which doesn't bother you at all.

Hani leads you to a small room filled with some sort of lockers to take off your coat before you could finally start your night.

It doesn't take long to find Tae, sitting at the bar, right next to the dance floor.

As you get closer, you notice that he's with a dark-haired guy and that they both seem deep in conversation.

"Here you are finally! Hoseok, Y/N, Y/N, Hoseok"

Tae gestures with his hands between you and the guy next to him. 

"You can call me Hobi!"

He says with a beautiful smile and holding out his hand.

The handshake was a bit embarrassing for you, you're no longer used to this type of introduction. Usually, the customers who come to the shop know you through Instagram or through friends, and it is easier to establish relationships which, in that circumstance, are limited to work.

"Nice to meet you, Hobi."

Tae offers everyone a round and the alcohol seems to loosen your nerves a little more.

Despite the initial awkwardness, the conversation between the four of you continues smoothly. You laugh out loud when Hobi tells an anecdote about Tae and Jungkook, you find him funny, both his way of storytelling and the emphasis he puts on details. He is definitely a sunny and extroverted guy who is able to drag anyone into conversation and put a smile on their face with his energetic ways.

Speaking of Jungkook,  you wonder where he could be, considering he was not here with them when you arrived.

Hobi continues his tell tales while Hani chuckles and Tae intervenes every now and then

"That guy over there," Hobi points behind you, "That one over there has been the champion for two years in a row!"

You turn to see where his finger is pointing only to realize that the champion he's talking about is Jungkook himself.

Tae laughs mockingly, determined to annoy you today as well, clearly. "Oh, they know each other very well!" and he exaggerates a wink.

Luckily enough, Hani seems to be on your side tonight. She elbows him on the side to shut him up but that only elicits a half-laugh from Tae.

"Yes, because I joined his gym." You respond casually, purposely ignoring Tae's innuendos.

Hobi starts waving his arm in the air trying to get Jungkook's attention from across the room.

Jungkook is talking to a couple of people, you look at him as he smiles and nods at something his interlocutors said, then he notices Hobi's attempts to call him.

He waves back and seems to want to return to the conversation with whoever is in front of him, when he notices you next to his friends.

A small smile forms on his face and his gaze remains fixed on you, almost as if he were challenging you to a staring contest. 

You decide to playfully stick your tongue out at him to which he, in response, reacts with a damn wink.

You turn around and try to douse the heat you feel by taking a large sip of your drink. The alcohol helps, but the warmth in your cheeks becomes noticeable.

Your friends continue to chat peacefully, you're relieved to see that no one has noticed this little exchange with Jungkook, with the exception of Hani of course, her smile speaks clearly.

You try to focus on Tae and Hobi's talk, but they're talking about some modifications their mechanics made to their bikes for the race, details too mechanical for your alcohol-clouded mind.

Hani's smile is different now when you look at her, and the tilt of her head confuses you further.

"Here he is, the champion graces us with his presence!"

Hobi says all of a sudden.

You realize that Hani was trying to let you know that Jungkook was on his way.

He stops next to you and it's strange to meet him in a context other than the gym. You felt more or less the same feeling when he gave you that lift that evening, but now you have the opportunity to see another aspect of his person and the way he is dressed is proof of that.

Jungkook seems like an outgoing and sociable guy when it comes to training his members at the gym. As you watch him now though, he seems slightly embarrassed, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his baggy jeans.

Tae takes Jungkook's arm as he responds to Hobi's statement "Technically, I'm not the champion yet."

“Will you let us win any races this year?” Tae asks in a teasing tone.

Jungkook tries to free himself from Tae's grip by pinching his side. "Ouch." Tae chuckles, placing a hand on the pinched spot, while Jungkook rearranges his hair, moving it away from his face.

"It's not my fault that Ducky is the fastest bike on the track."

"Ducky?"

You ask out of curiosity, before you even realize.

Tae and Hobi start giggling in the background as Jungkook's gaze falls on you. He appears surprised by the question, as if he thought you knew. Then, he seems to remember that he never spoke about his bike nor his races with you and his expression changes.

"My Ducati." he replies, playing with his piercing, a habit you think comes when he's pondering or embarrassed.

"Did you give your bike a name?"

Jungkook tells you that many people give their bikes a nickname, explaining that the reason he chose Ducky it's due to the similar sound with Ducati.

You smile in recognition that Jungkook definitely looks like an intimidating and strong guy, but that you became aware of a more thoughtful and playful part of him starting from the night he brought you home on his motorbike. Even this small detail about the moto's name fits perfectly with the Jungkook that you got to know till now.

An interesting mix that is also reflected in the ducati he rides.

“It's cute, I think it suits her!” You chuckle softly.

You notice something in Jungkook's eyes, but it doesn't last long due to Tae's comment.

"No please, don't tell me that you also think it's a suitable name for a motorbike!"

Tae babbles distraught, while Hobi laughs loudly, shaking his head.

"Look who's talkin, the one who called his bike Sonic!"

Jungkook huffs mockingly, rolling his eyes. 

The bickering that takes place in front of you makes you laugh lightly, Hani and Hobi join you as Tae fiercely retorts.

"At least it's related! And it's blue like Sonic! Your bike is not even yellow!"

“Wow bro, so original!”

Jungkook pretends to be overly impressed by his friend's explanation. Tae gulps down the last sip of beer while he wraps his arm around Hani.

"And by the way, have you ever seen a duck run? Those tiny little things are pretty fast!" Jungkook concludes.

At this, even Tae bursts out laughing, almost spitting out the beer from his nose. Everyone has seen at least once in their lifetime a video about little ducks chasing their mother or caregiver. Jungkook evidently emerges victorious from the argument, he chuckles along with all of you and the moment couldn't be more wholesome than this, you think.

The evening unfolds like this, next to the bar, with laughter and some small bickering between the three guys. You notice from time to time that Jungkook's eyes wander towards you while he speaks and he catches you looking at him sometimes as well.

The alcohol in your system definitely doesn't help make it any less evident.

"Another round? It's on me this time." Hobi shakes his empty beer, starting to move towards the bar when Jungkook stops him by placing a hand on his shoulder

"Just a coke for me, please."

Hobi nods as he appears to reply something like, "I know" before smiling tight-lipped at him.

You watch Jungkook's profile the entire time as he smiles back at Hobi before letting him walk towards the bar.

He looks like one of those smiles that takes over his lips when you catch his mind wandering, back at the gym.

A light smile that seems to hide something more.

When Jungkook turns back to bring his attention back to the conversation in progress, your eyes meet for the umpteenth time and his weak smile widens into a smirk.

He leans towards you slightly, while Tae and Hani continue to discuss something you don't quite listen to and his face gets dangerously close to yours.

“Are you going to keep looking at me all night?”

Jungkook speaks close to your ear, he doesn't whisper but he still makes sure you're the only one to hear him.

The sudden closeness of his body allows your nostrils to immediately capture his scent, the one you've had on you thanks to his motorcycle jacket and as the memory of that evening returns to your slightly alcohol-influenced mind, you smile mischievously.

“How can you say I'm looking at you all the time?”

Jungkook shifts his head slightly so he can look at you better as he says

"Because every time I look at you your eyes are already looking at me,"

You sigh, his voice far too calm to cause such turmoil within you. You try to ignore his usual attempt to make you blush, failing miserably when he continues, “You look like you want something.”

This man right here, damn. He knows, you know he knows the effect he has on you. It's clear.

You feel hotter but you manage to retort.

"And what about you? Why are you looking at me so often?"

The liquid courage you have in your body is enough to make you ask straight away, basking in the feeling of his body so close to yours.

Jungkook's eyes watch you intently and a gleam of amusement adorns his deep irises.

He moistens his lips and the movement of his tongue doesn't escape your gaze, but right as he is about to answer your question, Hobi returns, but empty-handed.

“Sorry guys,” Hobi interjects, his face darkened with worry compared to earlier. "Some problem came up with the registration documents and they asked me to help check." He says hastily as he apologizes once again.

Tae offers to go with him and solve the problem at hand but Hobi shakes his head,

"There is no need, I don't want you to ruin your night with bureaucratic bullshit. See you on the track tomorrow! It was nice meeting you Y/N!

"Pleasure is mine Hobi!"

You reply, giving him a smile.

As you watch him go, you realize that you have just met this boy, and yet you feel that you have made the acquaintance of a genuinely beautiful person.

It's so rare nowadays.

“So guys,” Hani exclaims loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"Tae and I are planning a relaxing ride next Sunday."

Jungkook nods.

"Where were you guys thinking of going?"

You watch your friends discuss the details of the itinerary and realize that you're actually considered part of the trip only when you notice that at the idea of the four of you going on a ride together, Jungkook seems relaxed, almost as if it were obvious to take you around on his beloved Ducky. Maybe your mind is wandering a little too much, but it makes you blush a little.

“It can be done, as long as Y/N agrees.”

The pronunciation of your name draws your attention, refocusing you on the group.

"Mh?

"I said if you feel like getting the necessary moto gear, we can go."

Jungkook repeats, Hani and Tae are looking at you as you try to seriously focus on organizing the aforementioned ride.

"Yes, no problem, but I don't know where to buy what I need."

"I'll take you to the store where I bought mine!"

Hani exclaims with a smile.

“I can get you some gloves but as far as helmet and jacket, make sure you get stuff that's the right size for you.”

You shake your head, saying that you will take care of getting everything you need with Hani.

"Oh, yeah I forgot how small your hands are, it's definitely better if you try them on at the store."

Jungkook evidently can never stop himself from teasing you.

His comment causes a mischievous smile on Tae's face and a very satisfied one on Jungkook's.

Hani purses her lips, trying to hold back a laugh, or whatever she was about to say.

Your eyes roll in mock annoyance as you playfully push Jungkook.

"Okay, it's decided then!"

States Hani, who sports a satisfied smile as she continues, “Oh, I forgot something in the car! Come on Tae.”

She grabs Tae's hand and before you can even point it out, he anticipates you by saying, "But you came in an Uber!"

Hani glares at him, "Just come."

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head at the obvious attempt to leave you two alone, while you watch them go in disbelief and slight embarrassment. You want to curse her, but you know it's what you really want too. You want time alone with him, you want to take advantage of the courage you feel inside this evening to understand a little more this tattooed and lip-pierced mystery.

The dance floor is full and you can no longer see the bartender behind the bar due to how many people are waiting to receive their drinks.

You don't even remember the last time you attended a party like this, the only thing that comes to mind when you think about it is Ray almost causing a fight with a guy who mistook you for his friend, the fight that came of it once you left the party and the tears you shed because of his sharp words, is the only memory of that last party you attended.

You return your gaze to Jungkook as anger and sadness from past events threaten to make their way onto your face.

There is no need to dwell on the past, past parties are in the past, Ray is not here and nothing stops you from enjoying the evening and putting off your worries about your ex and his passive aggressive messages until tomorrow.

Jungkook watches the dancing crowd, moving his head to the beat of the music as he's leaning against the wall.

You admire him so much, he always seems to have everything under control, no matter the shadow that darkens his face every now and then, he seems to always manage to return to reality and enjoy the little things.

"Want to dance?" You don't give your shyness time to reconsider the invitation that the words have already left your mouth. You hold out your hand as you invite him to join you. 

He looks at your hand briefly before replying with a soft smile, “Why not.” and join his hand to yours.

You clasp your hand around his and lead him through the crowd.

You feel boldness fill you, you hadn't even considered the possibility that he might refuse and happy that he didn't, you reach a spot that isn't too crowded, the volume of the music is louder here and you feel the effect on your skin as your heart follows its own rhythm.

Thanks to what you drank and the need to let yourself go at least for tonight, you let your body feel the music.

His movements are loose and yours adapt to his almost immediately. Jungkook watches you the entire time, paying attention to every movement of your body, as if he wants to imprint them in his mind for later.

When you look up and meet his gaze, this time you hold it, smiling mischievously before turning your back on him.

You continue to dance filled with a wave of audacity, your every movement is seductive for him, who can't take his eyes off of you.

The line of your back is far too attractive to keep at a distance so, all of a sudden, you feel Jungkook's body move closer to yours.

The closeness causes a leap in your chest, but what he says is the cause of the heightened blush on your face.

You feel like your cheeks are perpetually burning because of him.

"What happened to the super shy girl who showed up at the gym a while ago?"

His voice is almost a whisper as you feel his face close to your ear.

You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder before answering confidently.

"She has learned to dare more." and with that, you decide to lean against his body completely.

Fuck shyness, fuck fears and comfort zones. If tomorrow you have to deal with the consequences of Ray's reappearance, you want to enjoy this one night to the fullest.

You hear Jungkook chuckle softly as a tentative hand finds its place on your hip.

He caresses you flat and softly from your hip up, his palm just grazing the edge of your bra as you wonder what it might be like without your clothes in between.

"It's clear that you're not that shy tonight, either."

You retort as you roll your hips against his. You feel his hand get slightly heavier on your hip as he presses you gently until your body is completely attached to his.

His other hand reaches for your shoulder and brushes your hair away to reveal your neck.

The gesture causes heat in your lower abdomen, you swallow unconsciously at the unexpected reaction of your body. Maybe it's been too long since someone touched you like this or maybe it's the power that Jeon Jungkook has over your body now, but you feel that at this rate you run the risk of melting in his arms.

“What makes you say that, princess?”

His breath tickles you as he whispers the words directly into your skin. His lips don't even touch you once and you wish they would.

You push your hips against his a little more as you continue to move languidly. His fingers mindlessly caress the curve of your neck and you close your eyes as you enjoy the feeling.

“The way you're touching me now.”

You reply in a small voice as your hand reaches for the one resting on your hip,

you hold it as if it might disappear if you don't.

You shiver slightly when his hot breath teases the thin skin of your exposed neck again and the grip of his hand under yours grows more and more.

“I can do more and better, wouldn't you like that?”

You feel the effect of your movements directly against your butt and it gives you even more confidence.

You feel completely intoxicated by his touch, nothing to do with the alcohol that undoubtedly contributed to you finding yourself in this situation, everything you are feeling now is the work of his touch, of his body against yours and of his words.

You're dying to fuck him, to feel his hands all over your naked body as he whispers dirty things in your ear. But at the same time you don't want this to ruin your friendship, you don't want there to be misunderstandings between you. You can always enjoy the pleasures of sex without unnecessary feelings being involved, right?

You don't feel ready yet and you hope Jungkook is of the same opinion as you, that he also wants to have sex with you without strings attached.

You spin around and your hands rest on his broad shoulders. You look at him for a moment, his eyes dark and full of longing as you whisper in his ear, "As long as it's the only thing you want too."

When you look back at him to decipher his reaction, you notice that Jungkook initially seems surprised by your statement, then a pleased smile forms on his plump lips and his hands suddenly become bolder, moving down from your hips to the small of your back. You barely hold back a moan when you feel the hardness of his member and the firmness of his hands on you.

Jungkook holds you close and you don't know when exactly your bodies stopped following the rhythm of the music. He firmly squeezes one of your buttock while you caress the locks of his nape.

You watch him move closer to your neck once again and this time, you feel his wet lips brush against you just below your ear.

"Are you really the first girl I don't have to give the usual speech to? Am I dreaming?"

His deep voice reaches the parts of your body that you never thought would be affected by a simple voice.

"What speech?" You sigh when you feel his hands move up your back.

"The one that makes my intentions clear."

Jungkook looks back at you, as if wanting to make sure he hasn't misunderstood anything.

"It seems we want the same thing, then."

You state in a rush, feeling the places he touches completely on fire.

"Do we?"

Jungkook tilts his head slightly as he holds you impossibly tighter. You feel completely enveloped by the warmth of his body when his thigh slides and finds its place between your legs.

A soft moan escapes your lips and it seems to trigger something in him, you hear him breathe deeply before asking in a low voice.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

From the tone of his voice it is clear that he knows what you want, he simply wants you to confess it freely.

His thigh twitches between your legs, rubbing just right against the place you want it the most.

You follow its movements, completely enraptured by the sensations you are experiencing.

There is no room for shame right now in your mind clouded by the burning desire for him.

The only thing you can think about is his leg repeatedly teasing your clit and the caresses of his hands along your back.

Your hands tremble slightly with pleasure as they involuntarily grasp the strands falling at the nape of his neck.

Jungkook hisses through his teeth but doesn't resist, in fact he seems to like this little gesture from you.

You look at him for a moment and his adam's apple is so inviting that you can't resist the temptation.

You move his head to the side to get more access and lick the surface up to his jaw.

You would continue to enjoy this lewd moment as long as it lasted.

You thought you would tease each other for a while and then go back to your friends, but no.

Jungkook is just as involved as you are.

The groan that vibrates in his throat reached a part of your brain that is now completely short-circuited.

"I want to fuck you."

The words come out with frightening ease and are enough to make Jungkook look back at you through lidded eyes.

“And I don't want anything more than that.”

You know you're not ready to take that leap, but the uncertainty hidden in your voice reaches somewhere in your chest.

It hurts something when you watch him smile widely at your latest statement.

A fleeting pain, overtaken by the strong desire caused by the hardness of his member, throbbing against your thigh.

“Yeah, we definitely want the exact same thing.”

It was already quite clear, but hearing you say it is something else.

Jungkook moves away from you, leaving your body to the cold void his hands left. 

Then, he grabs your hand, leading you past the crowd and towards the other side of the place.

You look around, convinced he wants to take you to the bathrooms, but you realize that with every step you take, you are getting closer to the locker's room.

"Where are we going?"

You ask loudly, as Jungkook continues his zig zag through the people holding your hand.

"At my place." he answers.

“I thought you wanted to do it in the bathroom, haven't you been drinking?”

You know that driving under the influence of alcohol is a terrible idea.

Jungkook stops in his tracks for a moment noticing your hesitation in continuing and you hear him chuckle before answering.

"I shared a joint before," he looks into your eyes, as you inspect them, "And then, you saw me drinking a cola, I don't drink alcohol."

Jungkook continues to look at you, though his eyes avoid yours now, lingering on your lips.

You want to ask him more but before you can, he leans in close to you to whisper, making your legs tremble in anticipation.

“Besides, why would I take you to a public bathroom when I can make you scream in the comfort of my own bed?”

He knows all too well that he has the upper hand and is taking advantage of it.

Damn Jeon Jungkook and the effect he has on you.

The heat spreads again in your belly and when you look at him you just want to bite that plump lip, tease his piercing and let that mocking smile get lost in moans of pleasure.

“Or maybe you feel more comfortable doing it at yours?”

His tone of voice lacks malice this time, after all, you have now understood that Jungkook is a caring person and therefore he wants to avoid making you feel uncomfortable.

You nod and smile at his consideration.

"At mine."

Jungkook tightens his hand around yours again, smirking.

You quickly reach the exit after collecting your things from the lockers.

And there she is, Ducky.

You will climb on her for the second time, soon there will even be a third, you can't help but smile at the thought.

Strange how different reasons are leading you to get on a motorbike so often, not that this is a complaint, far from it.

You tremble at the thought of experiencing certain sensations once again, this time even, with the prospect of sleeping with Jungkook.

He invites you to wear his gear once again, but you strenuously refuse to deprive him of his jacket this time. Even though he was annoyed at first, Jungkook had to give in to your determination.

December cold is unforgiving.

In order to compromise, you wear his helmet, unable to argue with its importance.

You reach your apartment complex after a while, Jungkook was driving the entire time at a speed well under the legal limit, allowing you to hug his body to shield yourself from the cold as much as possible.

Once you reach the building's underground parking lot, you get off Ducky and take off the helmet to hand it to him. You smile brightly and hear Jungkook chuckle to himself as he shakes his head.

"You really like to ride, huh?"

You look at him while he's fixing his disheveled hair and it's a vision that you didn't think could affect you so much.

You think Jungkook would look sexy even wearing a battered potato sack, but seeing him in these clothes, you think, will always turn you on.

“Oh trust me, I love riding Ducky, but I can't wait to ride you.”

You haven't felt this lustful for someone in a while.

Surely the drinks you had before are not supporting you to keep certain thoughts to yourself.

Jungkook sighs visibly impressed by your bluntness and you could swear you heard him curse.

"Can't wait for you to show me."

Seeing Jungkook now, in the flesh, inside your apartment is something.

You watch as he places his helmet near the entrance door and places his jacket on top of it before taking off his shoes.

As you do the same, taking off your coat and shoes to put them away, he looks around, taking in the appearance of your apartment. 

The foyer is small but well arranged, with a large mirror and a shoe rack right beside it.

You lead the way to reach your couch in the living room and as you walk, his eyes land on some of your latest sketches scattered around on a counter, one of it appears to be a pair of boxing gloves and he finds himself chuckling like an idiot.

As you do the same, taking off your coat and shoes to put them away, he looks around, taking in the appearance of your apartment. 

The foyer is small but well arranged, with a large mirror and a shoe rack right beside it and the little hallway that connects your entrance to your living area is decorated with pictures, plants and some of your favorite sketches.

You lead the way to reach your couch in the living room and as he walks behind you, his eyes land on some of your latest sketches scattered around on the counter of your kitchen, one of it appears to be a pair of boxing gloves and he finds himself chuckling like an idiot.

"Why are you laughing?"

You're puzzled by his sudden reaction. 

"I like your apartment, it fits your vibe."

He answers quietly and you smile shyly in appreciation, suggesting him to make himself comfortable on the couch.

"Want something to drink?

 You ask him, walking behind the counter to reach your fridge.

"Just water, thanks." 

He replies as he sits comfortably. You get some fresh water and when you get back you offer him the glass.

Jungkook sips from it and you join him on the couch.

Your heart always beats so fast in his presence that by now you're almost getting used to the constant hustle and bustle in your chest.

"You really don't like alcohol."

You say lightheartedly as you gather your legs up on the couch and turn to face him.

You curse your damn mouth when you realize that your comment made Jungkook tense up.

You just wanted to make him feel comfortable but before you can think of something to recover, Jungkook takes another sip of water before replying in a low voice.

"Yeah. I prefer weed, even though I rarely smoke anymore."

His eyes look at you for a brief moment, dark as pitch or a moonless sky.

They then move to the coffee table in front of you to put the glass down.

"I'd say you don't need it anyway. You don't need it to boost your confidence, like me."

Something moves in his eyes when you say this. His hand on your thigh pulls your attention away.

You watch it as it lays on your thigh softly. 

The tone of his voice, his firm aversion to alcohol and his troubled eyes makes you ponder, but you can't formulate any sentence that doesn't risk making him even more gloomy.

Jungkook taught you many things in the gym, undoubtedly to throw good punches, but also to have courage in general, to dare and not to let fears stop you.

He was able to free that part of you that you have always adored, the one that made you achieve your most ambitious goals, despite having to sacrifice a healthy relationship with your family.

And he was able to get you there, easily, without even having to tell you openly what to do.

Despite his tacit support helped you regain a little confidence, you feel like he doesn't need the same. Like he needs you to voice your thoughts with him, even if it's not always as easy as after a few drinks on your system. 

You've always sensed that something keeps him anchored to a remote island in the back of his mind and you don't want him to take refuge there right now.

"You are right,"

Your voice is sweet, it matches his from earlier and with one movement you lift yourself, moving one leg to take it beyond his.

You sit on his thighs and place your hands gently on his shoulders.

Jungkook looks at you smugly and pleasantly surprised and you're happy to notice that island receding in the mirror of his eyes.

They slowly fill with lust for you, as they observe your body so close to his.

“Even though I drank a little, I'm sober enough to say that everything I did tonight, I've always wanted to do.”

Jungkook feels the weight of your body and the weight of your words right on his.

You're sitting directly on his growing member and his hands find their place on your hips as he pulls you closer.

“Wait until you see what I've always wanted to do to you.”

With that, his mouth takes over your neck.

He tastes your skin like he's finally testing a drop of water after a walk in the desert and you're the only source he wants to put his mouth on.

You moan as you tilt your head to let him taste you as he pleases.

Jungkook takes the opportunity to bite you a little, leaving a small blush on your skin and licking it to soothe the stinging spot.

You try to control yourself as his hands venture up your back.

“You have a condom on you?” You whisper all of a sudden.

Jungkook keeps kissing your neck, hesitantly moving one hand from your body only to pull a condom out of his back pocket.

He hands it to you and then grabs the hem of your sweater, stopping his assault to help you take it off. A shiver runs up your spine, realizing you're now in your bra in front of him, the cool air of the room brushes against your hot skin and his hands promptly return to your hips and back.

You squeeze the little silver package between your fingers as he pulls your body against him, your hips move almost automatically as you feel his member getting harder and harder. And in return you get wetter and wetter.

You're a complete mess in his arms as you buck your hips, panting slightly at every movement.

When his hands press you more against him, a loud moan leaves your lips and with it, the last bit of restraint you had.

You grab the hem of his sweatshirt, urgently undressing him.

"Someone is impatient." He chuckles breathlessly as he lets you undress him.

"Your fault." You reply as you move to undo his jeans.

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?"

The aroused expression on your face is something he hopes to keep in mind for as long as possible.

You drop down to help him take off his jeans completely and Jungkook remains in his black Calvin Klein briefs. The outline of his hard member held with difficulty in the confines of the fabric, making you salivate at its sight.

You stand up and take the opportunity to remove your pants in front of him, while his gaze is glued to you.

If his eyes could touch, you would feel their stroke everywhere right now, like a dry brush on a virgin canvas.

They eagerly study every single curve, every movement you do is carefully followed as you reveal your panties and legs to him.

“You're so hot Y/N…”

You hear him breathing heavily and only after adding your pants to the pile of clothes do you turn back to look him in the eyes.

He's touching himself through his underwear at the sight of your body and despite everything that already happened, you're still blushing.

You are engulfed in the flames of pleasure, yet the blush on your cheeks is caused by something deeper.

You ignore this thought immediately, setting aside that thing that tries to push to make itself some space and focus on the need that screams between your legs instead.

You climb on top of him again, leaning on his shoulders.

"Jungkook,"

You whisper in his ear, looking him in the eyes right now would mean exposing yourself too much, paradoxically.

What a strange contradiction though.

You're already almost completely naked in front of him, but the idea of letting him look you in the eyes while you say the next words makes you feel too vulnerable.

"If we do this, I want us to agree on a few things."

As you try to regain your courage, you lick his neck, moving down towards his collarbone to reach his pectorals.

"I'm listening."

He sighs as he lets his head go back, as if wanting to give you total access to him, basking in the feelings your tongue is giving.

Jungkook is completely engrossed, he seems to enjoy every little thing without thinking too much while you're struggling to let yourself go completely.

The friendship that has developed between you over these months is something you care about and you wouldn't want to ruin it for simple sex.

Even if you're dying to enjoy these moments you've been craving, you're afraid of ruining everything.

"We're just friends who are going to fuck, right?"

You ask tentatively as you continue to leave a trail of saliva with your tongue and lips across his toned chest.

"No awkwardness after."

You're not sure why you're saying this when you can't even look him in the eyes right now, but at the same time you're saying it precisely to not let your fear stop you.

Maybe you're just trying to convince yourself that nothing will change and that you can let yourself go, or just to make sure you both are still on the same page, but Jungkook doesn't seem to notice your inner conflict right now, too distracted by your ministrations probably.

"This is not going to ruin our friendship if that's what you're worried about."

He states between breaths as he wraps a hand in the middle of your hair.

“The fact that we both know what we want from each other and what we don't, won't cause any problems, don't you think?”

He pulls your hair slightly to expose your neck, and you close your eyes unconsciously when you feel his lips on your skin once again.

"No awkwardness after."

His whisper makes you shiver with pleasure and almost as if you needed to have this confirmation from him, you open your eyes and move to finally be able to lower his underwear.

His penis rises free from the confines and you are a little surprised at the size. He throbs in front of you with the tip red and moist as you observe the succulent veins adorning its surface.

"So we're gonna be ride buddies and friends who fucked once."

Jungkook holds his legs open as you get on your knees in front of him to pull his briefs completely off.

"Let's see if you still want it to be once after I fuck you just right."

You smile sensing Jungkook's usual way of doing things, his classic way of provoking you while he smiles with confidence.

"Bold are we?"

You snicker as you pump your little fist around his shaft a couple of times.

He hisses.

"You've got the lead for now, wait and see when it's my turn."

He says through gritted teeth as he clearly tries not to give in to your touch too shamefully.

"We'll see."

You move closer, gently placing your lips on the side of his cock as you continue to move your hand slowly.

The intense teasing served to make him super responsive.

Jungkook squirms a little when you carefully spread his precum on the sensitive tip.

You hear as he tries to limit his sounds.

You look up momentarily when your mouth finally settles around his moistened tip, only to see his reaction.

Jungkook instinctively brings his head back and his mouth opens in a silent moan of pleasure.

He sighs heavily as his hands grip the fabric of the couch he's sitting on.

The vision of his naked body exposed to your will causes a shiver down your spine and with your free hand you move down until you reach the most sensitive part of your body.

You give yourself pleasure as you move your mouth and hand finding a rhythm that could be pleasant for him.

You listen carefully for any reaction that might let you know that you are doing the right thing as you keep your eyes closed, completely letting yourself go to the small sounds he makes.

When you twist your wrist slightly and let go of his cock with a pop to catch your breath, Jungkook lets out a throaty moan and he is breathing noticeably faster now.

You're so wet now that you think he could fit inside you without too much effort, you continue to tease your clit while jerking him off at the same speed.

You leave a trail of little kisses along his member, from the tip to the balls.

You look at him again and unexpectedly meet his gaze.

You feel your confidence waver for the briefest of moments when you notice his eyes looking at you intently.

His pierced lip is caught between his teeth as he breathes deeply through his nose.

He's trying in every way possible to block any sound that might come from his mouth and it's almost annoying to notice the effort he puts into it.

"Let me hear."

You say softly between small kisses.

“I want to know if I'm doing well or not.”

You tickle with your wet tongue from bottom to top, once again reaching the sensitive tip.

His cock throbs in your hand and you smirk satisfied.

You don't need to hear his moans to know that he's completely into it, but you still want to hear them because of you, it's almost a visceral need at this point.

"You're doing great,"

He responds in a deep voice.

He moves the hair that has fallen in front of your eyes with a finger as he tries to steady his breathing.

A soft gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you keep your focus on your movements.

Your hands continue to move in unison as you moan, kissing and licking his cock. You purposely avoid taking him fully into your mouth, teasing him every now and then when you feel the sounds getting stuck in his throat.

You feel pervaded by the power that these circumstances can give.

Jungkook watches you the whole time as you work on him and yourself.

He evidently noticed the effect his words had on you, his little praise gave you more confidence, allowing you to let go a little more.

Jungkook suddenly stops you by placing a hand on your shoulder just when you thought he was enjoying it a lot, or at least it seemed like that from his persistent and muffled groaning.

“Y/N, let me taste you please..”

You hear the desperation in his voice and you can see it in his face when you lean up to look at him, a little bit of saliva wetting your chin.

His eyes are completely dark, full of the longing that you know he can see in your eyes too.

He moves to stand up, forcing you back onto your feet before picking you up.

You yelp at the sudden motion, holding onto his neck for support as he helps you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Where is your bedroom?”

Jungkook asks as he latches onto your already battered neck.

"Down the hallway, second door on the right."

In no time, Jungkook transports you following your directions. He pushes the door open with his foot before entering and letting you lie on your soft bed.

He watches you bounce once on it, then looks you up and down with an unreadable look.

Being in your apartment, on your bed, almost completely naked in front of him, definitely makes you bolder, feeling more comfortable.

You just realized how far you've gone with him, that you can't go back now.

Not that you want to, honestly.

You observe him, majestic in front of you, the faint glow of the moon that leaks into the room illuminates his skin deliciously, accentuating every muscle of his toned body.

Your eyes do their best to capture every detail and imprint it in your memory.

Jungkook bends over you, caging your legs with his powerful arms.

You remain propped up on your forearms as your breathing becomes increasingly labored.

His hands rest at your sides and with a firm but delicate movement, he pulls you towards him.

He bends down to let his tongue leave a wet trail across your belly, to the edge of your panties.

The passage of his mouth so close to your core, feeds the fire in your belly.

"Can I?"

He asks softly as his thumbs hook your panties on both sides.

He looks at you, patiently waiting for your permission.

Or your refusal.

You see a hint of hesitation in his gaze, as if he doesn't want to go any further against your will.

You can feel this small detail slowly infiltrating under your skin. You feel it brings to the light something that you would have preferred to remain in the dark, especially in this moment.

Ray.

Why did he always assumed he could take everything without ever asking?

Why doesn't Jungkook take without asking?

These are questions you can't answer. Deep down you know you don't want them, that answers would only cause you more pain.

You swallow, trying to shut off the bitter taste of the past.

"Please…"

You can't say anything else, you whisper this simple word that encompasses everything you're feeling right now.

Please do it.

Please make me forget all the bad things for tonight.

Please take me.

His eyes light up and his skilled hands easily remove the fabric that covered your most intimate part.

Only now you do realize how uncomfortable and annoying the wet fabric you were wearing was.

You feel the cool air hit the moist and hot skin of your pussy and you sigh when his hands return to you after leaving the newly removed garment somewhere on the floor.

He gently places his hands on your thighs, spreading them just enough so he can observe your dripping wet pussy.

Seeing the glisten of your juices makes his blood burn in his veins.

You gasp when his soft lips lay on your clit.

Jungkook is humming delightedly, then he starts to kiss it with delicacy, allowing you to adapt to the stimulus while he lets his tongue tease you slowly.

You close your eyes and try to relax your legs.

His lips are more insistent, until he ends up making out with your soft wet pussy.

You can't hold back your moans and you lie down completely on the bed as you let him eat you out.

Just as you had done earlier, he maintains a slow but precise pace, as if he wants to take revenge for all the teasing and savor your flavor at the same time.

Unlike his, your moans follow one another and you can't stop yourself.

They gradually become stronger and more intense as Jungkook continues to make out with your pussy.

He holds your hips, soothing the skin right beneath his thumbs with circular motions.

It's a sensation you've never felt before, you feel your orgasm building slowly, so slowly that you almost think you'll lose it at any moment, only to change your mind when with precise movements you feel the pleasure accumulating, like waves that add to each other. One after another, before reaching the coast in one large, powerful wave.

He moves his tongue with a constant rhythm and when with a faint voice you warn him that you are about to come, surprisingly enough, Jungkook maintains the same rhythm, he doesn't speed up, he doesn't press his tongue more forcefully against your already very sensitive clit.

With pleasant surprise, you notice that he keeps this pace and it is clear that he knows what he is doing.

He doesn't go crazy trying to catch it, when he already knows where and how to find it.

The only difference is the intensity with which he makes out with your pussy, kissing and licking it passionately, drunk on your juices.

You moan louder as your body tenses more and more like a violin string, until with a delicate but firm movement of his tongue, your orgasm hits you violently.

With his gentle and precise gestures, you didn't expect such an intense and violent orgasm, your body writhes in ecstasy while a string of profanities and panting breaths leave your lips.

Your legs try to close as they tremble from the stimulation, but Jungkook firmly separates them again, enjoying the taste of you for a little longer. You hear him groan and at a quick glance you notice his frowning expression.

You whine from the overstimulation and it's the only signal that seems to stop him.

He pulls off while still remaining in front of your throbbing and swollen pussy and his labored breathing tickles you gently.

“Sorry,” he states, licking his shiny lips for a moment. “You taste so sweet I couldn't stop.”

You look at him while you feel a constant pounding in your chest and your breathing doesn't want to calm down.

His hair is disheveled, his cheeks are flushed and his eyebrows are still a little furrowed.

You prop yourself up on your elbows again, one hand reaching for his hair, letting it sink into its messy locks, as if wanting to tidy them up a bit.

"I wanna ride you now."

You state decisively and perhaps a little too pretentious, you add,

"Can I?"

Jungkook looks at you as he stands up, offers you a hand while you observe him in all his beauty, naked and with his erect member that you can't wait to welcome inside you.

Tonight you got to immortalize every detail of his body in your memory.

His totally tattooed arm, his sculpted body and his face, at times so sweet that you couldn't believe it is capable of contorting into those expressions of pleasure that you saw earlier.

You accept his hand and let him pull you onto him while he says "How can I say no when you ask it so nicely."

You smile mischievously and take the opportunity to accompany him, pushing him by the shoulders onto your bed.

Jungkook takes place where you were laying, he sinks into your sheets as he settles in.

You reach him with your legs still shaking and climb up until you're almost sitting on his thighs.

You pick up the condom that you had previously abandoned on the bed next to you, but before you can open it to let him put it on, you can't resist the temptation to put your mouth back on his inviting cock.

You give a provocative lick, spreading your saliva all over the surface you trace and you understand how much he too wants to finally be able to feel you when his hips suddenly move upwards.

"Fuck-"

You continue to lick slowly for a few moments while you stimulate him a little with your hand.

When you look at him, he's already looking at you and it doesn't surprise you, his mouth is slightly open as he tries to regulate his breathing.

He looks so sexy right now, you can see in his expression the immense heat burning in his irises. The need he feels to possess you.

"Stop teasing me."

His voice is strained and his face speaks clearly: if you continue like this he won't resist much longer, he can't wait to see you jump on his cock.

The mere look in his eyes makes you clench your walls in anticipation and with a little effort you finally get him to wear the condom.

You move to finally be able to position yourself on his erect member and begin to lower yourself. A shiver runs through your limbs, the small tingling you feel as he penetrates you is almost immediately replaced by pleasure.

Jungkook is big, but you're so wet that he can slide inside you with ease.

You support yourself with your hands on his chest as you close your eyes to fully enjoy the sensations you're feeling. You continue to move down until you are completely seated on him. You feel full, his hands resting on your hips and squeezing you lightly.

When you reopen your eyes, you look at him and get lost for an infinite moment in front of what you see.

Jungkook looks at you through eyes half closed in pleasure, he's been looking at you the entire time, as if the scene in front of him is the key to understanding the entire movie.

If memory had any capacity, this moment would take up most of the space in Jungkook's mind for a long time to come.

After a few moments, you feel like you've gotten used to his girth and can finally move up and down.

Despite your legs still shaking from your previous orgasm, you manage to move at an increasing pace.

You moan without caring about the sounds you make, music to Jungkook's ears as he lets you do what you want with him, accompanying your movements with his hands.

You move messily as your legs start losing strength. You alternate your motions by rubbing your clit on him, moaning loudly when you feel your little sensitive nub stimulated like this and the squelching sound of your pussy fills the room. 

Jungkook hastily moves his hands behind your back, pulling at your bra to unclasp it. He doesn't take it off of you completely though, finding it more sexy the way he jumps up and down following your movements. 

"Fuck yes.."

He groans as he watches hypnotized your breasts bouncing out of your bra.

Then he tilts his head back onto your pillow as his arms flex with the motions of your body.

You bounce on his cock the best you can, tracing the side of his throat with your thumb, right above a little red spot you sucked on his skin.

The vision is enchanting.

The sounds he makes, addicting.

You're breathless, the muscles of your legs are burning from the effort but you keep bouncing and humping as you feel you're close to the second orgasm of the night.

"I-I'm clo-"

You're so close to the point of no return but suddenly, your legs are failing you and just like that, you tiredly collapse on his body.

Jungkook is quick to react, grabbing your hips tight enough to support you and adjust his position under you as he starts to thrust up.

Your moans are broken by every thrust as he diligently hammers your pussy up just right.

"You're so hot Y/N. So fucking hot."

He groans softly, pulling you impossibly closer.

You feel strange, like you're burning alive and flying at the same time.

You comfortably lay on his body as you let him lead you to the peak of your pleasure, licking and kissing his neck and ear lobe in the meantime.

"Fuck yes- yes!"

You moan his name as the fire explodes all of a sudden and the extreme pleasure you've built till now, crushes hard on you. And just like that, you feel your legs shake and your head light like a leaf blown by a gentle breeze.

Jungkook's thrusts slow down a little, milking your orgasm slowly till the very end. He only stops when you start whimpering, knowing you're probably super sensitive right now.

He pulls out and you whine to the feeling of emptiness, your walls slightly pulsing as you already miss the sensation of his cock deep inside of you.

"Are you ok?"

He asks you as he tries to stabilize his breathing.

Your body is still glued to his, your breathing is as ragged as his and you let the beating sound of his heart soothe you for a moment longer before you nod.

You slowly get up hissing a little and you look at him.

"Cum on me."

There's no longer space for filters and your brain is so fucked out that it doesn't even care how needy you sound right now. Even after your two orgasms. 

You're craving his touch, his sinful sounds, and you wanna know what it feels like to have his cum on your skin.

He smiles amused, chuckling a little.

"Yeah? And where do you want me to cum?"

His voice is husky and you feel your body reacting to that.

You buck your hips on his cock, blocking it between you and his stomach. 

Are you even sane right now? Did he fuck you out of your own brain?

"On my ass."

Yes, you're totally gone.

You're totally gone for this man.

You watch him as you keep moving on him, you see he swallows a moan as your wet pussy keeps rubbing on his member.

"Aren't you sensitive right now?"

He asks lowly.

"I can handle it."

You sit up, your battered pussy is still recovering from two orgasms but you know you can take it and you just want to show him how badly you still want him inside of you.

He laughs mischievously, looking at your fucked out beautiful face with pride.

"Lie on your belly for me, then."

You willingly obey, throwing your bra out of the way completely and resting your figure on your belly, just as he asked.

You can't see him from this position, you only feel his hand reach for your leg, bending it so that you're able to turn a little to the side.

He now has the possibility to keep looking at your body from this perspective. He has your ass, the side of your breast and your face at his mercy and he can't wait to enjoy your every expression from here.

"Stop me if it's too much."

You feel the weight of his firm body lay on you as he whispers, and when you turn your head to nod you meet his face, dangerously close to yours that you can feel his hot breath caressing you.

You're spread under him, fresh out from the two orgasms he just gave you and totally naked, yet there it is, the look you wanted to avoid earlier, the one you knew would make you feel really, really vulnerable. 

The mixture of his cares, his soft voice and his piercing dark eyes are sending danger signals to your brain as it feeds something deep in your chest.

You try to escape, diverting your eyes from the magnetism of his by nodding.

Jungkook pulls a little away, positioning himself right at your entrance.

You can hear him spit and the next thing you feel is his lubricated cock slowly pushing in.

You never felt like this, never had multiple orgasms and still wanted to fuck. The sensitivity is still there, you feel the heat spreading to your nerves as he slowly but surely bottoms up.

It's only when he starts moving that you feel a peak in your pleasure, like he is able to touch all the right spots at once.

He finds a rhythm, grabbing the flesh of your ass and pulling you to meet his hips.

Your breath is irregular, just like his, and you start pushing your palm on the sheets as every thrust is pushing you up the bed.

Jungkook has a better idea though.

He lets go of your ass completely as he swiftly grabs your arm and blocks it behind your back.

Feeling restrained like this by him causes a moan to escape your throat, followed by another one when he uses your arm as a grip instead of your ass to keep you in place.

"You like that huh"

He says through gritted teeth, the angle allows him to see the profile of your face as he fucks you hard and steady. 

Your sweet innocent face, contorted in pleasure is an ethereal vision to his eyes.

And the fact that it's him causing you to feel this good, makes him feral.

You say yes a couple of times between your moans and heavy breaths.

He speeds up his pace a little more, always cautious of your reactions, not wanting you to feel any discomfort.

But what he hears from you next is what makes his balls tighten dangerously.

"Slap my ass, please-"

Your voice is broken but firm as you say it and something about it makes him go completely insane.

Perhaps the "please" part, or the way in which you're voicing your desire right now, mixed with your sweet moans and submissiveness.

He slaps his free hand onto your buttock hard enough to sting, and listens to the smacking sound and the throaty moan you let out resonate in his ears.

"Oh fuck-"

He lets out, pure ecstasy laced in his raspy voice as he soothes your skin.

His thrusts are becoming sloppier, more erratic, and he's louder than before as he's chasing his own orgasm now.

You're addicted to the sounds he makes during sex, that's clear by now. Every time a throaty moan escapes his lips, you wish you could record it and use it when you'll be alone.

Suddenly, he frees your arm and pulls out. You assume he's taking off the condom as you try to regain some strength to push your hair away and look at him over your shoulder. 

You watch him pumping fast his cock as his free hand strokes the reddened skin of your ass.

His eyes are shut tightly and you keep watching him moan loudly as spurs of his hot cum land on your ass.

He keeps pumping till the last drop then he slaps his cock on your cum covered skin and you've never seen something hotter than what just happened.

When he comes down from his orgasm, he smirks at you, tired and satisfied.

You chuckle softly, covering your face with your arm without even noticing.

“Fuck, that was-”

"Amazing. Yes"

It was, it was indeed amazing.

He finishes your sentence in a small voice as he tries to steady his ragged breathing, still remaining where he is.

You feel his hot seed slowly dripping down your skin and when your breath is stable enough you move to the side of the bed to get up.

“I'm gonna take a quick shower, if you don't mind.”

you say, moving to get to your bathroom.

“Not at all, go ahead.”

When your shower is over and you feel refreshed and relaxed, you return to your room with only a robe covering you, your skin still a little damp under the fabric of the robe.

Surprisingly you find him fully dressed, you sure didn't expect him to stay longer but you at least wanted him to take a shower before leaving.

"Are you sure you don't wanna take a shower too?"

You ask him as you approach.

"Yeah don't worry." you watch him as he brushes his hair out of his face and fixes his clothes.

You remain silent after that, it feels strange and a little heavy.

Should you ask him to stay? 

Will it be awkward from now on? 

Was it a mistake from the beginning?

You don't want him to think you're kind of kicking him out. The unhealthy overthinking starts pestering you and you don't even notice you've walked with him to the door of your apartment.

He gathers his helmet and jacket from the floor and turns to you with a little smile.

"I better go. Don't want Ducky to get jealous."

It makes you laugh lightly and you can't keep yourself from playfully rolling your eyes at him.

It's still him, the Jungkook that loves to tease you and makes silly jokes.

You probably needed this to get back on earth and realize that you should stop overthinking.

"Oh! Of course we don't want that!"

You emphasize and your fake concern makes him chuckle. 

It won't be awkward from now on after all.

You open the door for him and when he comes out he zips up his jacket, ready to leave.

"Let me know when you're going to the shop to get your gear."

He smiles, one of those smiles that make the drums go crazy in your chest.

"I will. Drive safe."

And for a moment you smile at each other, probably knowing that from this exact moment, it won't be easy to keep your hands away from each other.

Tonight marked an important step for you, not only the boost of confidence that you sported, but you can tell with certainty that your past is still bothering you, from time to time, but it doesn't have your present in its claws.

The decisions you made tonight could bring you to another disappointment, to another loss. Especially when this sensation on your chest keeps going off almost as a reminder, telling you 'Hey, in case you didn't notice, I'm right here!'

It will probably pass if you just ignore it…

It will go away as fast as it came… Right?

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[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 10

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, fluff, angst. kissing, mention of possible abuse. 18+, MDNI

word count: 3.6k

a/n: HERE IT IS!!!! LAST CHAPTER!!!!!! PLOT!!!!!!! thank you all for the support, this has been such a fun series to write <3 xoxoxo

previous chapter | series masterlist

Both of you awake from your fatigue-induced nap a few hours later, the morning sun now bright in the sky. Adjusting in bed, the soreness of your body hits you and you groan in discomfort. The sound is enough to rouse the man next to you as he groggily rubs his eyes.

“Good morning, again,” he laughs softly, reaching down to rub your back.

As his fingertips knead into your skin you lean into his touch, wrapping a leg around his waist under the covers.

“Sore?” he asks, intuitively reading the way you melt under the gentle pressure of his palms against your tight muscles.

“Mhm,” you hum against his chest.

He places a kiss on the top of your head, warm against the heat of your body. “Let me get you cleaned up, yeah? How’s a nice hot shower sound?” he muses idly.

You nod softly in response, not wanting to leave the cocoon of sheets that covers you both but knowing you should eventually get your day started, and having Satoru with you makes the idea much more palatable.

He shifts his weight off the bed, hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back to pick you up and bridal carry you to the bathroom. He takes care of everything, gingerly rubbing shampoo into your scalp, attentively rinsing suds off your body, following the trail of water with his lips as he leaves kisses over every inch of you he can find.

When he’s sufficiently cleaned off the physical remnants of the sinful experiences you two shared over the past day, he grabs one of the towels hanging on the back of your door and wraps it around your shoulders.

His tenderness makes your heart swell, the way he so kindly and gently takes care of you without you even having to ask. He knows how to love you silently, how to show his calm adoration towards you in these acts.

The two of you make your way back out to your bed as you sit next to him, leaning against his bare shoulder. He shakes his head, sending droplets flying from his damp hair across the room and onto your face.

A giggle erupts from your lips, the sound bright like windchimes to his ears. “‘Toruuuu,” you whine jokingly as the cold water splashes your skin.

“Sorry,” he blushes, shaking out one more time as you scream through a laugh.

You huff, moving to sit behind him as you pull the towel from your shoulders and place it on his head. Your hands rub it against his hair, Satoru tilting his head back as his eyes flutter closed. Through the warm sun filtering in through the blinds, you silently dry his hair, smiling to yourself at the pure, innocent intimacy of the moment.

When you finish you place a kiss to his forehead, his eyelashes flickering as a grin forms across his face.

Suddenly, a pit forms in your stomach. You’ve been ignoring it, dreading it, running from it for the past day, not wanting to ruin the joy you’ve felt with Satoru. But now it’s here: you have to talk to him.

A sigh leaves your lips, sadness forming across your features. Your eyebrows furrow as your thoughts threaten to spiral.

You can’t lose him again, you can’t. Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him. Maybe you should lie, say you didn’t have feelings for him; but how could you hide it? Things were bad when he was gone, like a dark cloud shadowing everything in your life until he came back, and now you’re supposed to just throw that sunshine away?

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, sensing the shift in your demeanor.

Desperately blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes as you were lost in thought, you shake your head.

Satoru wraps his arms around you, pulling you next to him. “Hey, it’s okay, talk to me, pretty girl,” he hums.

“I…I can’t,” your voice waivers.

He places a kiss to your cheek, your skin hot in frustration and fear. “Can’t what?” he asks innocently, trying to piece together what could have you so distressed.

This morning had been perfect, he cherished every second he had spent with you back in his life. Had he somehow unknowingly done something wrong, something that hurt you? The idea pained him to think about, tightening his grasp around you as he tried to push it away.

“I can’t lose you again,” you whisper weakly.

“Sweetheart, you won’t-” he starts.

You cut him off before he can continue, knowing that if you don’t say it now you may never get your chance.

“Satoru, I still have feelings for you. You were all I could think about when we were apart, every morning felt heavier, every action more painful, I couldn’t do anything without you.” Tears start spilling over your lashes as you force your way through the words. “I want you back in my life, but…shit…I want it to be you. I want us to be together, and if you can’t do that, then I don’t think I can see you anymore.”

Pausing, you look up at him through glossy eyes, the sight of you making his heart nearly shatter all over again.

Fuck, how could he explain this to you? How could he tell you everything? More importantly, would you still want him if you knew?

His gaze shifts down to his hands in his lap, his knuckles had begun turning white as he clenched them together in stress.

The words he knows he needs to say echo in his mind as he struggles to will himself into saying them. Taking in an uneven breath, he starts, “I’m sorry, but you know that’s not how this works-”

“Bullshit,” you cut him off abruptly, the harshness of your tone making him flinch. “I know that’s what you said last time, but there’s no way you believe that.”

It can’t be true, right? He acts like he loves you, the way he takes care of you, the way he holds you, the way he glows when you’re around him, the way everything in him softens in your presence - that has to be love, right?

He sighs, shoving his hands together to hide the way they’re shaking.

Reaching over towards him, you place a hand on his cheek, tilting his head towards you. His eyes are low, unable to meet yours as they begin to cloud with sorrow.

“Please,” your voice waivers, “just tell me what’s going on. Tell me you love me, or that you don’t, I don’t care, I just need to know. Please, Satoru,” you plead, “please.”

His thoughts are fuzzy, conflicted with his responsibilities and his feelings. He knows you deserve clarity, answers, but is it worth the risk of losing everything? Losing you?

“Okay,” he whispers, unable to raise his voice any further. His gaze finally lifts to yours, his lashes blinking slowly over his glassy irises.

Nervousness builds in his chest as he struggles to find the words to begin.

“Um…I guess I should tell you about my family,” he begins.

–

Ever since Satoru Gojo was born he knew he was special.

His parents used to tell him he would inherit the world, that he can and will have everything he desires. He wanted a new toy? It was bought and delivered that night. A nanny upset him? She was gone the next day. He was hungry? A buffet was prepared with his favorites. Every person who worked at his estate learned to recognize the sounds of his shrill cries, any minor distress a sign that something must be done to please him.

Throughout his childhood all he did was learn, training for the day he would be allowed to take over the family business. Every day was spent with knowledge, his teachers allowing his self-directed nature to lead them through his studies. If he was curious about plants they would stroll through the gardens, showing him which ones were edible and which could be poisonous; if he saw a word he didn’t recognize they would read old texts, working through languages with ease; if he stayed up late enough he would inquire about the stars, learning the development of the universe and the physics of planetary motion.

By the time he was twelve, he fluently spoke ten languages, could easily solve graduate-level mathematics problems, and understood the human psyche in a way that afforded him incredible control of his, and other’s, emotions.

Yet, the one thing he couldn’t seem to shake was his empathy.

Growing up he was never allowed friends, always deemed a needless distraction by his parents. They needed him to be cruel, to take and take and take in order to get what was rightfully his; after all, that was how they had managed to get to where they were. Caring too much about what others thought or felt was an invitation for disaster, one that simply could not be permitted. Besides, there was no reason for Satoru to be near anyone who was so, undeniably, less than him.

But unfortunately, Satoru was kind.

One day, his parents observed him kneeling in the garden as he picked flowers for one of his many nannies, the thorns poking at his skin until small trails of blood ran down his fingers. He presented the bouquet to her with a smile on his face, knowing he had chosen her favorite colors.

The next morning he was called into their office, a room he was rarely allowed into. The high ceilings made the space feel cold, despite the fireplace crackling in the corner.

They told him he was foolish, stupid, for what he did: someone of his stature should never dare bend before anyone, nor present them with such an indecent show of affection. She had already been fired for her indiscretion, and they assured him that he would be punished more severely for the next infraction.

He wiped away the tears spilling down his cheeks, dirt still fresh under his fingernails, as he realized what he had done, that it was his fault.  He swore to be better, he promised it to them. However, no matter what they did, his parents could not seem to train him out of this awful habit of caring for people. So, they simply continued firing anyone he seemed to grow close to.

As time went on he grew increasingly forlorn, spending hours wandering through the massive estate alone. His sadness eventually began affecting his studies, so his parents reached a compromise: he could have one peer.

Suguru Geto was introduced to him the next day, the boy from a nearby school who similarly showed intellectual promise, and the pair immediately became close. Satoru had never had someone to be around like this, someone his age with his interests, and he cherished the new relationship they formed. Eventually, he learned to call the boy his friend.

Although Satoru spent most of his time continuing his education, every free moment he had he would spend with Suguru. They grew up together, sharing in the experience of boyhood, one Satoru had long since forgotten.

When he turned 18, his parents informed him that he needed to gain further experience before he would be allowed to inherit the company; after all, he had spent his entire life at the estate, and while he had learned immeasurable knowledge from the library full of texts, he had not yet had the opportunity to see how the world truly functioned.

So, Satoru and Suguru moved out, into their apartment together. Of course it was no problem as his family owned the building, and nearly every building in the city, in addition to the power companies, the car companies, the manufacturing plants, and effectively every other corporation in the area.

While nothing explicitly had their name on it, the Gojo family owned the majority of capital across the country, and they truthfully preferred it that way as it allowed them to work in secrecy. Other, more selfish groups tried to overtake them, but their pride always cut their time short in their desperation to be known, to be recognized. The Gojo family instead valued privacy, security, and trust.

It was for this reason that Satoru was never allowed to marry.

Not only because his family wouldn’t dare to fragment their wealth, but also because no single person could ever be deserving of the being that is Satoru Gojo.

In being born special, he was forced to sacrifice normalcy.

–

These thoughts, these ideals, were ones he had to accept from an early age. Every ounce of affection he felt for anyone was a weakness, a flaw, something that he should rid himself of. As a result, he lived a lonely life, despite the material pleasures he was afforded. The only person who could ever understand him was Suguru, yet even he struggled to connect with Satoru in the way he craved.

So, he chose to fill his life with pleasure anywhere else he could find, the most direct route often leading to sex. He could easily separate his emotions from the actions, never daring to let the cracks of his heart show. He walled up his feelings with rules, assuring himself that so long as he followed his self-imposed commandments he would be okay.

Yet, when he met you, it’s like the foundation started to crumble.

He swore he only spent time with women to fuck them, yet you two didn’t even hook up after your first dinner; he swore that there would be no second dates, yet your car broke down, so of course he had to help you; he swore he wouldn’t get attached, yet he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you every moment you were apart.

He swore to never let things get personal, yet here he is, in your bed, telling you everything.

–

“Satoru?” Your soft voice tethers him back to reality.

His skin feels hot as you wipe away the tears he didn’t even notice were spilling down his cheeks.

“Mhm?” he croaks, his voice hoarse after talking non-stop for what felt like hours as he recounted his life, his struggles, his feelings, to you.

Placing a gentle kiss to his temple, you continue stroking his hair out of his eyes from where it had fallen as he spoke to you. His gaze is still downturned towards his lap, the only place he had been looking as he couldn’t bring himself to face you as he bared his soul.

You reach a hand out to his, holding his shaking palms as your fingers intertwine. “Thank you,” you whisper, “thank you for telling me.”

He nods weakly, trying to stop himself from spiraling: you hate him, you think he’s evil, awful, untrustworthy, unlovable, you never want to see him again, fuck, should he just leave now and save you the trouble of saying it? He ruined it, he ruined everything-

“I love you,” you quietly blurt out.

For a moment, everything in his mind goes quiet.

You…love him?

His eyes flit to your face, meeting your gaze for the first time since he started sharing the story of his life. His lips are parted slightly as he takes in uneven breaths, his cheeks still damp with tears. The sight almost breaks your heart, how fragile he looks, how afraid. You want to throw your arms over his shoulders and hold him but you’re worried the action might cause him to shatter before your eyes.

“Really?” is all he can bring himself to mutter.

“Yes, Satoru,” you hum, the way you say his name so sweetly making his heart race. “I love you.”

And then, his lips are on yours. One of his hands goes to the side of your face, holding you as if to prevent you from slipping away as he kisses you tenderly. You feel the cool wetness of his cheeks against your skin, his lips warm as he leans into you.

“I love you too,” he whispers into your mouth, not daring to separate for even a moment.

He loves you. You love him. For right now, that’s all you need.

–

As your relationship continues to blossom over the next few months, you and Satoru become more and more comfortable with the situation. Of course there are a few growing pains - he stops paying you, obviously, but he still manages to treat you every time you go out. You’ve come to terms with the fact that his family will never know about you, but you’re not sure you’d want to meet them anyways given how they treated Satoru, the emotional turmoil they caused him.

Eventually the two of you move in together, in the same building as his old apartment he shared with Suguru so he doesn’t have to be too far from his best friend, and of course he gets the penthouse unit. As you carry in the boxes of your belongings, you can’t help but realize just how little you own compared to him, but you don’t mind, especially because Satoru spends the next few weeks taking you to new stores everyday, letting you pick out any furniture or decorations that make the space feel like yours. In the back of his mind, he remembers the house where he spent his childhood, one that always made him feel like a guest, and he never wants that for you.

For the first time in your life, things are easy.

Since Satoru’s family owns the building, you don’t have to worry about paying rent (an irony that is not lost on either of you given how you met in the first place). He’s also able to use his money on anything his family deems ‘necessary for his survival,’ and to him the only thing he needs to survive is you, so of course your every wish is taken care of - nice meals, travel, clothes, anything he could think of to spoil you with.

Finally, he feels like he’s using his past, his family, his wealth, for good. Every time he sees you smile he feels like he’s doing good.

But deep down, in the corners of his mind, he knows he can’t continue like this forever, the knowledge of his family one he can’t suppress. Eventually they’ll find out, they’ll cut him off, or worse, they’ll make him cut you off. He can’t go back, he can’t work for them after he’s seen the life he could have with you; so, he starts planning.

On the one year anniversary of the day you officially started dating, the day he confessed everything to you, the day you decided you still love him in spite of his past, he decides it’s time to tell you.

Satoru finds you in your shared bedroom, leaping onto the mattress next to you and wrapping his arms around your body.

“‘Toru,” you giggle, the nickname never failing to make him blush.

“I have a surprise for you, sweetheart,” he smiles, peppering your face with kisses.

When he’s covered every inch of your skin in soft pecks, he rolls off the bed and grabs something from the back of the closet.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his back turned towards you. Covering your eyes with your palms, you patiently wait as he rummages through your shared belongings.

“Aaaaaand open!” he proclaims.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he holds out a piece of paper, a toothy smile plastered across his face.

“It’s…” you trail off, leaning forward and squinting at the small print, “an email?”

Confusion is evident on your face as Satoru waltzes toward the bed, grin never faltering. “It is,” he confirms. “Read it.”

Holding the paper out to you, your eyes quickly scan over the words.

‘New Hire: Satoru Gojo’

‘Welcome to the school!’

‘high school teacher’

‘starting next Monday’

“Satoru…are you…are you going to be a teacher?” you ask quizzically.

“Mhm,” he hums excitedly, now kneeling next to you on the bed.

“I’m happy for you babe, but why?”

“Because…” he trails off, “if I have a job, then…then we don’t need my parent’s money.”

The realization sets in as your eyes meet his.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can, he continues. 

"You’re my everything, and every day I’ve gotten to spend with you has been better than the last. I want to keep loving you, keep being with you, everyday for the rest of our lives. You and I both know that’s not possible with the threat of my family looming over us, so I…I did this.”

His eyes scan your face, desperate to see your response, his heart beating so fast it feels like it might burst out of his chest.

Without you even realizing it, he had wiped the skies clean of the cloud that had been shrouding you for the past year. The threat of his family was like an invisible weight on you, always there, wherever you went. A part of you knew he had to go back, had to return to the evil that tried to ruin him, to make him just like them. But now, he doesn’t - he doesn’t owe them anything, he doesn’t have to be anything or do anything - he just has to be yours.

When you smile up at him, he swears he feels the warmth of the sun.

“I love you,” you murmur, reaching your arms up around his neck before pulling him into a kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers, “forever.”

previous chapter | series masterlist

#q writes #dripping in gold #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #satoru x reader #jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[crazylittlejester]

I don't know if you're still doing fic prompts, but if you are, could you write Warriors hurting his foot and being unable to walk? I just hurt mine and want to share the pain. 🥲 Thank you!

Oh no! I’m so sorry dude, I hope you feel better. I hope this is okay for your prompt (434 words):

Warriors cracked an eye open with a low groan. He wasn’t completely sure what had just happened, but his head and ankle were throbbing, and he felt a bit dizzy. He tried to get his arms underneath him to push himself up, but a gentle hand on his shoulder gently pulled him back down. He lifted his head a little to find that he was resting against Time.

“Just stay still,” his brother smiled down at him, clearly trying to fight to look calm. “You were hit over the head pretty hard.”

“Am I doing this right…?” Hyrule asked from down by Warriors’s boots, and he moved his head to get a clear view of the traveler and his own leg. A wave of nausea hit him when he saw the horrible angle his foot had been twisted at.

He groaned, letting his head fall back down into Time’s lap. His brother comfortingly ran a hand through his hair as Hyrule and Twilight struggled to get his boot off so they could attempt to snap his ankle back into place.

“Everyone else okay?” He rasped, grimacing at how dry his mouth felt.

“Yeah,” Time told him, “you just had to go in and take a club to the head for Legend.”

Warriors didn’t remember that at all. He remembered rolling his ankle mid battle, but it hadn’t felt this bad then, and it certainly hadn’t looked this twisted.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to remember, you did get whacked pretty good,” Legend grumbled from just last Time. “You’re a fucking idiot, I hope you know.”

Before Warriors could open his mouth to say something back, there was a flash of pain up his leg and an audible snap.

“Oh Hylia,” Hyrule gasped, looking up at Warriors’s face in concern. “Did I do it right??”

He winced, but nodded, and gratefully accepted the red potion handed to him by Twilight. All the lingering pain in his body disappeared and he slumped into the ground. “Perfect, thank you.”

Warriors knew his ankle would probably ache for the next day or so, but for right now, when he wasn’t putting any pressure on it, it was alright.

“The other four are setting up camp a little further up the hill,” Time told him as Warriors’s eyes started drifting closed. “I can carry you if you’re too tired to walk?”

“Jus… Just need five minutes….” He mumbled sleepily. “Five minutes.”

“I can carry you, it’s really no big issue,” Time rolled his eyes at him, and Warriors groaned in annoyance when Time awkwardly picked him up off the ground.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu time #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu legend #jes talks #jes ask #jes fic

[causeimhappinesss]

His baby mama, part 1 (Corey Cunningham x reader)

Plot: Corey Cunningham gets his girlfriend pregnant. But since he's too scared of his mom, he doesn't tell her and doesn't fully take his responsibilities. Because of this, the reader breaks up with him, but… Did he really forget about her?

Pairing: Corey Cunningham x reader

Warning: stalking bitch (Corey), pregnancy(?)

Disclaimer: English isn't my native language (I'm french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :) + it’s gonna be a short story, so don’t seek a full development as you would in a novel + read my author's notes at the end

---

“Are you sure? Maybe it’s a mistake, maybe the test isn’t working…”

“Corey, I took a blood test. I’m pregnant.”

Your boyfriend’s face decomposes before your eyes. Corey stands there, his shoulders hunched under the yellowish light of the bedside lamp. Fear and indecision disfigure his usually more serene face.

“It’s too soon for us to be parents,” he replies, his trembling voice betraying his dismay. “We’ve only been together a year, and my mother… If she finds out about this, she’ll kill me.”

You watch him, your throat tight and your heart beating wildly.

“I didn’t choose this, Corey. I’m under birth control, I’m taking all my pills, you know that. But now it’s done. Maybe… Maybe it was meant to be.”

Your hands instinctively rest on your belly, a natural protection against the uncertainty of the moment. You’ve just found out about your two-month pregnancy, only the day before. Why weren’t you worried before you missed your periods? For the simple reason that you’ve never had a regular cycle, due to the stress you’ve been under all your life.

He swallows loudly and drifts his eyes elsewhere to avoid your gaze. Obviously.

“What if… What if we thought about abortion? The money I earn will go to my engineering program…” he murmurs, almost ashamed. Yet you know very well I might not be accepted in any university, given his criminal record, even if it was an accident.

The room seems to shrink around you, the walls lined with old floral wallpaper absorbing every word like a secret to be buried. Actually, this conversation was draining all your energy and you felt like it was burying you alive.

“What about the accident with Jeremy? You think that’s just going to vanish from my life? This town… They hate me. And with a baby, they’ll target you when our relationship will be exposed.”

As his voice breaks, he remains unable to finish his sentence.

The air between you becomes electric, charged with unspoken words. Your fists clench to hold back the trembling of your hands, as do your jaws. Tears burn your eyes and fog your vision. Your heart beats painfully. His words feel like a stab in the chest.

“Then go away!”

The words spurt out, sharp and irrevocable. You breathe hard, your lungs struggling against the dense air of the room. He frowns, his eyes on you, in which a glimmer of distress gleams.

“If you can’t handle it, get out! Get out!” you insist in a sharp tone.

His eyes cloud over with tears and sparkle with pain, as if he’s looking for something on your face… Perhaps a retraction on your part? A final confirmation for him to leave without looking back? He seems to be looking for something in your face, a reason to stay or perhaps permission to leave. But he finds nothing, just a reflection of his own distress.

Corey takes one step, then another, moving slowly toward the door. Each movement is heavy, as if he’s carrying the full weight of his choices and fears on his shoulders. He places his hand on the handle, his white knuckles betraying the strength of his grip.

“I…” he begins, but his voice is lost in an inaudible whisper.

With one last look, a mixture of apology and regret, he opens the door. The creak of the hinges seems to underline the finality of the moment. You stand still, staring at the empty space he’s left behind. The door slams behind Corey, a dry, final sound, bringing in the smell of impending rain this October 2021.

If only he could stand up to his crazy mother Joan. If only he could gain confidence in himself! If only he could understand that he was betraying you! After all, right from the start, you’d always opened the door of your house to him so he wouldn’t have to go back to his mother and hear her screaming, belittling him, even slapping him at times. You were the only woman in all of Haddonfield who agreed to give him a chance after the accident, even though you knew about the child’s death. You never judged him. You gave him all the love he needed, building a relationship of trust and pure love. True love.

Yet he’s just proved to you that he’s not worthy. Like father, like son, after all, since his father abandoned his mother when she was pregnant with him.

And as long as he doesn’t rebel and become a real man, no longer a scared teenager, he won’t move on with his life, you were certain. You, however, couldn’t stay stuck at this dead end.

Alone in the silence that followed, you closed your eyes, finally allowing your suppressed emotions to rise to the surface. Silent tears roll down your cheeks, each a promise of struggle and resilience. You breathe deeply, smelling the familiar scent of your great aunt’s house, mingled with the fresher scent of the rain to come. Here, in this house that is now yours, you will find the strength to face what lies ahead. Alone, but free.

*

In the weeks that follow, Corey tries to get back to you with numerous messages and calls, which you reject every time, but also by coming to your house. You never open the door for him. And as soon as you spot him in the town, in the stores, you make sure you avoid him. Better still, you’ve changed garage for your car repairs. In any case, none of his messages or voicemails indicate that he will assume his paternity, oh no. He wants you to understand his point of view. Like a little boy, he’s terrified. He doesn’t want you to stay mad.

As the months go by, his texts become rarer and rarer, until you don’t receive them anymore. From time to time, however, you find a wad of $100 bills in your mailbox, in an envelope signed “C.C.”.

You face your pregnancy and the birth of your child alone, without a father. Yet your few friends are there for you, and when your parents can, they visit you in Haddonfield. When the baby is born, you hesitate, but decide to leave an envelope with the baby’s photo and her name in your mailbox, knowing full well that Corey will pick it up. Did you do this to make him take responsibility? Out of simple kindness so he knows your daughter’s name and what she looks like as a newborn? Perhaps.

Again, the months go by and your daughter is only a few months old. Thanks to a friend, you learn that Corey has found love again in the arms of... Allyson, Laurie Strode’s granddaughter. The news hurts and stabs you in the heart. Deep down, maybe you were hoping he’d come back and finally become a real dad, not just a biological father. Especially since the older your daughter gets, the more she looks like him, with her natural kind of pout, her silky brown curls with golden highlights. Sometimes, she even seems to have her father’s eyes.

What you don’t know is that Corey never completely abandoned you.

He spied on you.

Over and over again.

You became his obsession, despite your many rejections during your pregnancy.

*

The room is plunged into darkness, subdued by half-closed shutters. Only a trickle of light from the street sneaks in through the slits. You gently cradle your daughter, her cries gradually subsiding under the effect of your comforting caresses. Her steady, soothing breath calms you, as you lay her gently in bed. An exhausted sigh escapes your lips, then you let yourself fall onto your own bed, letting fatigue fall on you like a leaden screed. Your heavy eyelids barely lift to glance at the clock, which is blinking mercilessly: 3:30 a.m. How long has it been since you’ve had a decent night’s sleep? You don’t even remember, but the dark circles under your eyes testify to the many nights of sleep cut short and the incessant preoccupations flooding into your brain. Being a single mom was hard as hell.

As you drift off to sleep, reality suddenly catches up with you. You jerk open your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest like a panicked drum. A man stands over the cradle, frozen in the half-light like a shadow, a sleep paralysis demon. He wears blood-stained overalls, his face hidden behind a white mask devoid of human expression…

Michael Myers.

Your eyes widen. Your breath freezes in your throat. A shiver of fear runs down your spine. You panic, but you force yourself to remain calm so as not to wake your sleeping daughter a few yards away. Without taking time to think, you try to throw yourself on top of your daughter, whom you try to press to your chest. Faster than you, the man pushes you away and presses his body against yours, still on the bed. His hands slip around your neck, ready to strangle you… One of the serial killer’s habits, as everyone knows, when he’s not stabbing his victims with a kitchen knife.

You try to scream, to fight against his relentless grip. Your throat tightens, unable to produce the slightest sound. Panic takes hold of you, a burning sensation that consumes every part of your being. Gradually, your strength leaves you. Suddenly, a wave of familiarity washes over you, a fragrance that takes you back to distant memories, forgotten moments of happiness. The sweetness of this reminiscence is swept away by the implacable terror of the present situation.

You try to gather your thoughts, to find a way to free yourself from the grip of this stranger who holds you prisoner in your own bed. Before you can articulate a single word, a brutal shock hits the back of your skull, a blinding explosion of pain that overwhelms you and engulfs you in darkness. Then, it’s pitch black.

“We are finally reunited…” whispers the husky male voice.

[Author’s notes]

Should I write another part? If yes, what do you want to happen next?

Sorry if it’s not developed enough. I would totally do it if I was writing one of my novels… But this story is mainly to satisfy myself lol

My Ko-fi: betrayedwriter

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

My Instagram: carolinemertz_

Want to read my novel if you know some french? Find them in my bio 😉

#Corey Cunningham #corey Cunningham x reader #Corey Cunningham x you #Corey Cunningham imagine #halloween 2018 #halloween kills #halloween ends #Halloween 2022 #corey cunningham headcanons #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher imagine #slasher headcanons

[comatosebunny09]

what’s done is done (and done again) | leon k.

summary: somehow, you figure you've been here before. and, somewhere far off, he knows you've been here before, too. genre(s): romance, drama, angst, modern au warning(s): female anatomy described, mentions of bodily fluids, dry humping, profanity, praise kink, implied character death, mentions of decay and blood notes: it's a fuckin’ time loop. based off this post i made a little while ago. inspired by the time traveler's wife and happy death day. thank you for reading, darling! now playing: if you let me - alina baraz

You’re in the briefing room, fighting for your life. 

Almost face-plant into your notebook a few times. Doesn’t help that it’s warm and dim, and you haven’t had your coffee. 

Your supervisor decided it would be an excellent time to bore you all half to death as if you weren’t already constantly putting your lives on the line. Something about Operational Security violations running rampant throughout your organization. 

Blah, blah, blah.

Of everything you’ve faced thus far, death by PowerPoint would be such a way to go.

“Long night?” bleeds in a voice from your right. Your savior. 

You look at Leon, all wild-eyed, like you’ve been caught doing something nefarious. He smiles in reply, all boyish and unguarded. Watches you like you’ve said something funny or like he could just eat you up. Whatever the context, you enjoy the attention. You always do when it comes from your partner. 

Your face begins to tingle with warmth. But you mask your embarrassment with a half-smile and an elbow to his rib. 

“You would know,” you mouth back, careful not to alert your supervisor. 

Leon smiles a little wider. Chuckles low and abrasive, leaning back in his chair with folded arms. Gives you a nice little view of the veins that live there and the muscle lurking beneath the cuffed sleeves of his shirt. 

He catches you staring in his peripheral, and the smugness he radiates is palpable. No one’s the wiser when he grazes your leg with his under the table. Sets little goose pimples alight on your skin when he pitches himself forward to grip your quad.

You take to messing with some frayed edges of your notebook, tucking your goofy, lopsided smile within its pages. Mind suddenly colors with memories of last night. Labored breaths, sweat, heat, and your tongue coiled around his name. 

Your body hums, and you pinch your thighs together to ward off the pleasant rush of endorphins between. He squeezes and winks, smile lines bracketing his mouth as he returns his attention to the mindless dribble of your boss.

What a long night, indeed.

“Dinner?” Leon simply asks over the blue light of your monitor. 

It feels like more of a statement than a request. Like he knows you’d never deny him as he presses the lid of your laptop closed with a definitive click!

You sit back in an easy slouch in your rolling chair. Cross your arms, looking every bit of smug-read-annoyed, and you eye him warily. 

“Only dinner?”

That grin is back. All dimpled and crinkly-eyed as he props himself against the oakwood of your desk. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the setting sun bleeding into your window, he laughs something guttural. You’re the cheekiest little shit when you wanna be.

“No promises,” he admits with a shrug. Exudes sex even without trying. 

You regard him for a moment. Keep him on edge, though both of you already know the answer. Doesn’t mean you can’t make him squirm with the prospect of your potential rejection. 

You clear your throat after a brief stare down. Feign indifference as you smooth out your sleeves and trousers. 

“Your place or mine?”

Like you’d ever say no.

Your place.

It’s always your place, but you can’t complain. You live on the quieter side of town, tucked away from the cacophony of the city and your nosy-as-all-hell coworkers.

Besides, it’s all cozy inside. Decked out with mood lights and earth tones and enough fauna to rival a greenhouse. 

Leon likes it this way. How it distracts him from the bleakness of your jobs. The ever-looming premise of death and decay and corruption. So, you never bother to change it. It’s his little piece of heaven. 

You’re his little piece of heaven. 

Speaking of which—

“Stop it!” you half squeal, half giggle, spatula in one hand, a fistful of soft blonde in the other. 

The sound of your collective merriment carries from the kitchen. Sepia-toned with smooth jazz leaking from the soundbar. 

Leon’s chuckle vibrates your skin. Hands are a searing hot and homely pressure, perched on your waist. Lips blister kisses down the slope of your shoulder, and his hair tickles your neck. 

“Can’t help myself. ‘sides, you had a little sauce on your neck. Had to—” Kiss. “—clean it up for you.” Suck.

“Bullshit.”

“Mmmm, honest,” Leon drawls in a way that makes your knees shake, and you feel the sound of it pooling in your loins. 

He proceeds to do terribly distracting things with his mouth on your neck whilst his hands embark on a journey down your thighs. They bunch up the lace of your dress on their excursion, making way for his fingers to tiptoe between your legs, gripping meaty thigh until your flesh craters between. 

“Leon.” 

You huff out something between a laugh and a pleasured sigh. An eager hand instinctively curls around his nape, and you find yourself mindlessly grinding against him. Eyes shutter closed, head falls back into the pocket of his shoulder. Around a smile, you breathe, 

“I worked really hard on this. You don’t let me finish, I’ll kick your ass.”

That doesn’t deter him. Not in the slightest. Never does, and he snickers something sinister. Eases his grip on your thighs northward until the knuckles of his thumbs graze the seat of your panties. You shiver. Almost say, fuck dinner.

“Thought you were on the menu.”

You snort, gripping the counter’s edge for leverage and shoving back. Leon stumbles a few steps away, all blown wide pupils and a peachy color dusting his cheeks. Looks at you like a kicked puppy. That wobbly lip nearly does it for you.

“Later,” you promise.

Leon has a sweet tooth. You always give him dessert. 

It’s a mire of sounds.

Your voice, high and light. Leon’s, deep and abrasive. Your collective laughter and pleasured sighs intermingle in your bedroom whilst music croons in the background.

He’s got you where he wants you. Straddling his lap on your bed like a good girl, swathed in the subtle moon glow of the room. Has his lips latched onto your throat and his hands eagerly mapping out the contours of your body.

Your dress is bunched around your hips. Straps spilling down your arms, head thrown back, lids shuttered. He has this way of whittling you down to incoherencies like no one ever has. 

Who would’ve thought your goofy little Leon could be such a sex symbol?

He grips your waist, encouraging you to grind against him. Hard and heavy, and he radiates heat through the confines of his slacks. He feels so good and big, and you might just cum from the sensation alone. From the proximity. From the dangerous gravel of his voice as he murmurs every level of filth into your ear.

So good for me. 

Already wet, and I haven’t even taken your panties off. 

Naughty baby. 

You might cum before I even get it inside.

You would fully surrender yourself to him—to his palms kneading your breasts and the calluses of his thumbs scraping pleasantly over your nipples—if not for a series of buzzing sounds emanating from your nightstand. 

Again.

“God dammit,” you sigh, trying to catch your breath.

“Fuck that,” Leon husks, licking up the column of your throat. Desperation wades beneath the surface of his tone. Possessiveness. Desire. “Fuck the phone. I want you. Need you.”

It’s hard to argue when he gazes at you like that, with hooded eyes and furled lashes. And he’s drunk off the feel of you. Begging. Dipping his head down to close his lips around your pebbled nipple, and it’s like you’ve been struck by white lightning. 

“Fuh-huck.”

He groans against your tit, matching the undulation of your hips with a roll of his own. You cling to him for dear life, your pussy leaking and swollen against the seam of his trousers, mouth parted, and lips shining with spit. 

Try as you might to ignore it, the insistent humming of your phone leaks through the static of your brain.

“Fuck, Leon, I gotta…I gotta take this,” you gasp, scrambling for the nightstand. Whoever’s calling doesn’t know the meaning of peace. 

Leon doesn’t relent. Has a mouthful of tit, flittering his tongue over your nip and eyeing you wantonly and fucking groaning like you’re the tastiest morsel to ever grace his tongue. 

A familiar voice bleeds through the receiver as you bite your lips against a whine. 

“Hey!” trills your coworker, all shrill and uncomfortably cheery despite the hour. Cheryl from HR. You should’ve known. 

Play it cool. Though it’s exceedingly difficult with the object of your desires fucking you through your clothes. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Girl, I think I left my purse in your car.” 

You blanch. 

You picked her up for lunch. Of course, she left it. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Think my ID’s in there. Can’t get into the office in the morning without it. You know they’re tired of me losing that thing.” Sigh.

A groan swells in your chest. You’re at odds with yourself. Slap a hand over your forehead, cursing whatever higher being decided to bless and punish you tonight. 

Fitfully, you wrestle yourself free from Leon’s arms. Giggle as you stumble off the bed, and Leon lunges for you. You easily dodge, tiptoeing towards the entrance. Give him a placating smile halfway through the threshold, silently promising to finish what you’ve started once you’re done.

Hurry back, he mouths around a pout. The furrow of his brows almost makes you clamber back onto his lap. But you’re a Good Samaritan. Sometimes. And you’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t find Cheryl’s purse.

Soundlessly, you whisk through your home towards the garage. Ease into the driver seat of your car, the door slamming shut behind. You locate her purse on the passenger side floor with laser precision. Hard not to see it when it’s gaudy and pink like that. 

You rummage through it, mindful of its contents. Find her ID soon after, turning over the cool plastic in your hand to confirm. 

“It’s in here.”

She releases a weighted sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I can meet you at the front gate in the morning to give it to you.”

“Girl, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

You tamp down a smile. Tuck your bashfulness into your shoulder. Cheryl’s infectiously chipper. A nice change of pace to the depressing humdrum of your profession. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you in the morning.”

“See ya!”

When she hangs up, you ease her purse into your glove box. Nestle it between pistol mags and your badge for safekeeping. 

You glance at your phone. Squint against its brilliance, and it’s a quarter to midnight. Fuck. Another sleepless night.

A quiet smile crests over your lips when you catch sight of your Home Screen. Of course, it would be Leon. With an adorably cheesy dog filter, and he’s all baggy-eyed and uncharacteristically happy on the screen. You’ve gotta get back to him. Left him all hard and leaking in your bed. 

You reach for the crisp door handle, mind abuzz with thoughts of Leon, Leon, Leon.

But then there’s an explosion of colors. Yellow and orange seeping into red. A sound that’s deafening and robs you of all thought. White hot pain wading over your skin. And then…

Well, then, there is nothing.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x fem reader

[8-rae-rae-8]

CW Abuse, queerphobia, neglect, religion, attempts of cleansing via religious practices, minor Agere

Johnny was pushed to leave his house as an older teen. Each straw snapped in half as his parents picked at his brain. Seventeen with nowhere to go. A fresh mohawk on his head, eyeliner traced around his bright blue eyes. All he had were the clothes on his back, he didn't have time to get anything else. Not between his mother's shouting and his father being home soon. All he could do was get out his window with a protein bar, wallet, and a half empty bottle of water.

Where was he supposed to go looking like this? With no one close enough to run to, no family that dared to bring him in. They would tell his mother or the cops anyway.

He had enough money in a bank account he could withdraw from, a bus ticket to get past the boarder couldn't be too expensive. If he could just get there and find somewhere cheap to stay, where no one would look for him, he'd make it eventually. Make it where, he didn’t know.

A job was out of the question for now, no proof of residency. The ticket over the boarder was already expensive enough, a hotel was out of the question.

“You’re not the son I raised.”

“God, I fear the adult you’ll grow into.”

The way his mother spoke to herself, bled herself dry pleading to a god that would never reach his hand from the heavens and ‘save her from her son’s madness’.

The way she screamed as he locked his door and opened his window.

“You’re dead set on ruining everything and everyone!!”

She had hissed. She pleaded for him to straighten out, be normal. But no, he dressed in patches, spikes raised on his shoulders, a rainbow painted on his back pocket. Faded and dulled over the years of his parents painting over it with black paint to simply ruin it. Ruin his identity, ruin his image.

“Save the son I disciplined and praised.. For the one who disobeyed me.”

His mother sat on her knees, hands folded in prayer. In pleas. His father joined every so often, muttering prayers at her side. Sycned words, as if they knew what the other would say.

“There’d be time to rectify him.”

Time to fix him.

Time to break him apart and mend him in their image.

That’s how he knew he needed to go. His last straw snapped in half. He needed far away. Across the boarder, safe somewhere else. Somewhere the cops wouldn’t be looking. Somewhere he could slip in.

His first night is spent mapping out the city. Mud stained boots washed by puddles and rain, revealing their old rose design on the side. The yellow stitching stained brown long ago. Walking till his heels bled and his lungs no longer filled with air. The best place to sleep was some shitty motel that was suspiciously cheap. Thirty pounds a night.

Good enough for him.

With the amount of money from his card now transferred to cash, he broke the debit card up and threw it out before he got his place in the motel. Some dull town near Newcastle. Good enough for a sleep now he knew the area. He walked long enough to know that no one was coming for him.

They never did. Not friends, not family. Not even the people that could make a good buck off him, like employers.

In the cold of the motel, he was alone. He shed his drenched clothes to dry on a towel rack. There were no bandages to clean up his heels, just scratchy towels. But home didn’t offer that comfort either. That forsaken house was freezing, colder than any unfamiliar place could be.

Johnny couldn’t recall the many things that made it that way. It had just been so cold for the longest time. He could point out feelings and sensations, but never a full event, like his mind forced him not to remember what all happened. Just in the last week, he could remember the way his skin crawled as his pastor touched his shoulder and pulled him in for a chat. Never was he allowed to stay home, not since he started showing signs of being ‘impure’.

Impurity. That’s why he screams to be seen. As more than a mess, as much than an infection for people to hide their children from. Impurity, rectification… A disease to be healed.

At thirteen, he was first called a devil’s spawn. An evil creation. A faggot over something so simple as art. A piece to study anatomy leading to him losing all access to the outside. His parents even faked his sick days to pull him to church daily until he was deemed cleansed.

His mother’s scolding stuck in his head, no more than words and a tone that conveyed his apparent betrayal.

“You can throw your life away, just not at my expense.”

Over art. Like he was throwing everything away over pencil and paper. His parents surely saw it like that. Constant reminders that he was being watched by an unseen god and angels felt so completely stupid to him, but had him checking corners and his closet every night like habit.

Even still, he checked the motel’s closets and bathrooms. Like he swore he needed, or they would find and watch him. Even so far away from their church.

The sheets scratched at his skin. Maybe he should have thought about his comfort, but that wasn’t exactly something he was sure he could even get. Comfort, far from anything even semi-familiar. So, so very far from everything he knew. In a new town, with bloodied heels and a broken mind. Pieces chipped off every second, he was sure.

What else could be that hazy feeling behind his eyes?

What else could be forcing him to get comfortable, dispite the horrendous sheets?

His eyes shot around the room. Door locked, bathroom light on, closet shut. Then his eyes closed, nearly as if forced by exhaustion and something creeping around in his head. So very alone, but something trying to warm him. It was gentle, like the hum of a lullaby.

Johnny tugged the fabric of his tanktop into his mouth, suckling at the fabric. Each movement helped him relax into the cheap bed, his body heat warming the blankets with ease. He ran hot dispite the chill of the air around him.

He could get himself far enough, he could run till he couldn’t move. But he dreamed of someone coming to save him. Someone like him, someone who would love him unconditionally. Someone turned to two, then three and four. People who would love him with every ounce of their beings.

#john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #cod mwii #call of duty #cod agere #abuse #queerphobia #homophobia #religious abuse

[lemoncrushh]

The Entertainer II - Track 01 - It's Good to See You

Summary: What if it wasn't the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky's story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

STORY PAGE

Track 01 Word Count: 4.1k+

Read The Entertainer

November 25, 1981

“Ooh the wheel in the sky keeps on turning I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow”

I felt my heart race as I turned my focus back to Steve Perry singing on the stage. My mouth suddenly felt dry, my palms clammy.

It can’t be him, I thought to myself. No. No, it’s not. Just someone who sort of looks like…

I hadn’t seen him in five years. Sure, I’d seen his face - on the television, in all the rock magazines I bought, on the back cover of all three of Wildfire’s albums...and sometimes in my dreams. But I hadn’t seen him in person since that day at the airport when I’d hugged him goodbye and wished him well.

When I’d told him I loved him.

I tried to pay attention to the band in front of me, the one I’d come to see. Journey’s newest album Escape was my current favorite, so when I received a raise at my job, I rewarded myself with a concert ticket to their fourth sold-out show at The Forum, the night before Thanksgiving. Halo had been disappointed she couldn’t make it, but she’d already promised her family she’d visit them for the entire week, so I was attending alone.

I wished Halo was with me right then however, so she could be an extra set of eyes and let me know if that cute guy a couple of sections over was who I thought it was. Instead, I snuck another peek of my own. It was dark in the arena, so I couldn’t get a good look, but his hair and profile fit the memory I had in my head.

Who was I kidding? It couldn’t be him. He was probably overseas in London or some exotic place I’d never heard of. I’d learned that Wildfire broke up earlier that year, so most likely he was resting somewhere - anywhere but Los Angeles. Still…

One more sneaky look out of the corner of my eye, but someone was blocking my view. With a sigh, I listened to Steve finish the song before the band gave their fake goodbyes, and I waited with the rest of the crowd for their encore.

The audience went wild during Journey’s last two songs, and their enthusiasm returned my focus to the reason I’d come. By the time the lights came on in the arena, I’d just about forgotten about him, or whomever the mystery man had been.

That is, until I turned the corner in the hallway after leaving the restroom.

“Sky?”

The sound of my nickname in a crowd full of strangers was odd enough, but the familiar voice threw me for a loop and back in time five years. Turning slowly, I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me again, but when his handsome face came into view, my thoughts were confirmed.

It was him. And he was standing right in front of me.

“Harry,” I barely breathed.

His chest rose and fell with his own breath as his lips grew into a smile.

“It is you,” he declared with what sounded like relief. “I thought it was and...it is.”

I shrugged shyly. “It’s me.”

Those two seconds were enough to make me forget about the commotion around us, but when someone nearly knocked me into Harry, with barely an “excuse me”, he suggested we step to the side.

“You look wonderful,” he remarked when I took my place against the wall, his gaze leaving my eyes momentarily to shift down my body and back up again.

“Thanks. So do you.”

And he did. He hadn’t changed at all. Maybe...a tiny bit. His hair was still long, if only an inch or so shorter than before. The chocolate curls still brushed his shoulders the way they had five years ago, though they appeared a bit fuller. His jaw lines seemed to be a little more defined, the sharp edges peeking from behind his stubble. The only real difference was probably his choice of clothing, though it didn’t stray too far from the style I’d known him to wear. His long legs were clad in jeans, and boots adorned his feet like before, but he wore a more conservative tan v-neck sweater underneath a brown leather bomber jacket, both of which I decided were very sexy on him. I caught sight of the familiar cross that lay in the center of his chest just before my eyes locked with his once again.

He seemed to stare at me for a few seconds, his dimples slowly disappearing from his cheeks as his lips relaxed until he finally opened his arms and stepped forward, surprising me with an embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” I heard him murmur in my hair.

“You, too,” I replied, his old, familiar scent suddenly overwhelming my senses. I bit my lip to keep the emotions at bay.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, stepping back to look at me again, his hands still grazing my elbows.

“Not bad, I-” I began when I finally noticed the man standing a few feet behind him. He was leaning against a post, probably trying to look inconspicuous, but I figured quickly that he must have been security. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Harry Styles had been a successful front man for the last several years. He was practically a household name.

“Did you come alone?” I heard him ask before I could finish my previous answer.

“Sorry?” I blinked, catching his gaze again.

“To the show? Are you here alone...or did Halo come with?”

“Oh,” I grinned, pleased that he remembered my best friend’s name as well. “No, I’m flying solo tonight.”

A gentle smile spread across his face again, and I thought he was about to ask me something else when I heard a loud gasp behind me.

“Oh my God. You’re Harry Styles!” a woman’s voice squealed.

“Yes, I am,” he nodded.

A tall, slim figure with fiery red hair and the tightest Jordache jeans I’d ever seen walked around me and stood between us as though I wasn’t even there. 

“I have to get your autograph!” she exclaimed.

As she rummaged through her small, yet obviously filled pocketbook, Harry eyed me over her head.

“Don’t leave yet, okay?” he mouthed.

With a nod, I felt my insides flip. He wanted me to stay. While my heart was bursting with the joy of seeing him again, it was all so sudden; I hadn’t really had a chance to process it yet. I caught the twinkle in Harry’s eye as he shrugged at me while he waited for the woman to retrieve a pen from her purse.

“Sorry, honey, I know I have some paper in here somewhere,” she announced

“Take your time,” Harry said genuinely.

I wondered how he could remain so calm and patient. I was already keen on dumping out the contents of her bag onto the dirty floor, and it had barely been twenty seconds.

“Aha!” she called, holding up a mini notepad with a kitten on the front. “Here it is!”

Giving her another winning smile, Harry took the pen and pad from her.

“What’s your name, love?” he asked her, and immediately I saw her beam at him as she jutted her tits out.

Damn him. Why did he have to be so charming?

“Kitty,” the woman replied. I nearly choked.

“Seriously?” Harry chuckled.

“Mmhm,” nodded the redhead. “Like a kitty cat. Meow.”

I covered my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater to keep from laughing as I watched Harry sign Kitty’s little kitten notebook, his eyebrows raised to the ceiling and a goofy look on his face.

“What are you doing after this?” I heard Kitty inquire. “Maybe we could grab a drink or something.”

Although I thought I might vomit, Harry didn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry love, can’t tonight. I’m headed out after this.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Kitty pouted.

“Here you go,” Harry offered, returning the woman’s pen and notebook. “Nice to meet you, Kitty. Have a lovely evening.”

I had to hand it to him. He was definitely a pro at this.

“You too, handsome,” Kitty winked before strutting off with a wave. “Bye bye.”

I noticed the man behind Harry stood up straight from the post he’d been leaning on to watch Ms. Tight Jeans walk away, though it was unclear if it was for security or personal reasons. Before I could ask, Harry stepped closer to me.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It happens from time to time.”

“I’m sure it does,” I grinned.

Just then, the man tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Harry, sorry man, but we gotta get goin’.”

“Shit,” Harry groaned. “Just...a gimme a sec, Stu, she’s...an old friend. And I got sidetracked by a fan.”

Stu narrowed his eyes before he nodded and held up two fingers like he was giving a peace sign. “Two minutes.”

Harry grimaced as he turned back to me. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered.

“No, it’s not,” he replied hurriedly. “I didn’t expect to run into you, and...I wasn’t thinking straight, and now I’ve got two bloody minutes to talk to you after…”

“The ginger catwoman?” I offered.

Harry giggled, adorable crinkles forming next to his eyes. “Yeah.”

With a feeling of warmth inside down to my toes, I smiled. “How are you, Harry?”

“I’m...doing well, thanks. How about you?”

“You already asked me. It’s your turn. With probably closer to a minute left now.”

With a sigh, Harry tilted his head. “I’ve missed you. You might not believe it, but I have.”

I wasn’t exactly sure if I believed it; he had millions of adoring fans, girls flocking to him at any given moment. He probably hadn’t given me much of a thought. But it was still nice to hear.

“Hey, what am I thinking?” Harry shook his head. “I’m in town for a few weeks. Let’s get together and catch up!”

“Oh. Okay,” I replied, the butterflies resuming their dance in my tummy.

“Do you still live in the same place?”

I chuckled. Five years might not have been an extremely long stretch of time, but a lot had happened. Remembering that apartment I’d shared with Halo felt like eons ago.

“No,” I shook my head. “Halo and I each have our own apartments now. In fact, we’ve both moved a couple of times since then.”

“Oh,” Harry grinned as he scratched his head. “Yeah, I reckon it has been a while.”

“I’ll give you my new number,” I said.

Unfortunately, unlike Kitty, I didn’t carry around my own notepad. But I did have a pen and my ticket stub. Gesturing for Harry to turn around, I used his back for a surface to write on. When I handed him the stub, he glared at me questioningly.

“You could have just written it on my hand,” he smirked. “You might wanna keep this.”

I shrugged, both of us beginning to laugh as we noticed the song that had begun to play in the hallway.

“Call me, on the line Call me, call me any, anytime”

“That’s so funny,” I giggled.

“It’s like it was meant to be,” Harry agreed, his smile sending shivers down my spine.

Stu returned sternly then, his hand slapping Harry’s shoulder and ending our reunion as sharply as the breaking of a mirror.

“Gotta go, buddy,” he said.

“I’ll call you, Sky,” Harry promised. “We definitely need to catch up.”

“Okay,” I nodded, grasping the strap of my shoulder bag, unable to think of anything else to say.

Just as he was about to turn to leave with Stu, Harry stopped and looked at me for a split second. Then erasing the space between us, he pulled me into another hug. And just as quickly, he let go and was gone.

“Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any day...”

Locking the door behind me and hooking the latch, I shrugged out of my jacket with a sigh, dropping it across the back of a chair. It had been a long, fulfilling Thanksgiving with my parents, but I was glad to be home. Turning on the radio, I made my way to the bathroom where I prepared a much-needed bubble bath for myself. Stepping into the suds, I sang along to Smokey Robinson.

“You’re gonna fly away, glad you’re goin’ my way I love it when we’re cruisin’ together”

Shutting my eyes, I let the melody, Smokey’s voice and the aroma of the bubble bath soothe me into complete bliss. The sudden abrasive ringing of the telephone startled me, however, and I sat up in the tub, wondering if I had enough time to get up and answer it. But I was so comfortable where I was, and I figured the caller would just call again if it was urgent. When the rings stopped after number four, I sat back and shut my eyes again.

“Let the music take your mind…”

My mind wandered to the night before when I’d run into Harry. I wondered if it had been him calling, and for a second I felt disappointed. But I told myself it probably wasn’t him. He’d said he’d call, but I hadn’t expected him to call me so soon. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really expect to hear from him at all.

I only hoped I would.

After listening to a couple more songs, I washed up and drained the tub. Quickly drying off, I headed for my bedroom, grabbed my robe from behind the closet door and slipped into it. Rick Springfield began to serenade me then, confessing his desire to have Jessie’s Girl as I padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. The phone rang again as I swallowed, the liquid suddenly feeling like a rock going down my throat. What if it was him? I stared at the receiver hanging on the wall as it rang a second time, and I slowly set my glass on the counter and reached for the radio knob, lowering the volume. Finally answering on the third ring, I felt fourteen-year-old jitters, like a girl getting her first phone call from a boy.

“Hello?” It came out more like a squeak than I’d wanted it to.

“Hi.” Only one, short word was spoken for his greeting, but it didn’t matter. I knew who it was.

“Hi,” I echoed as I slowly sat down in the kitchen chair.

“Sorry it’s so late. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “I just got home a little while ago. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Happy Thanksgiving.”

I giggled, grateful for the good wishes of an American holiday. “Thanks. Did you do anything today?”

“I did, actually,” Harry replied. “Had a lovely dinner with the Azoffs. Turkey and everything.”

“Oh, Mr. Irving!” I exclaimed. “I miss him. How is he?”

“He’s great,” Harry chuckled. “Same ol’ Irving. What about you? How was your day?”

“Good,” I sighed. “Dinner with my parents as usual. Ate too much. As usual.”

“Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is for though?”

“I suppose so,” I grinned. “Especially if it includes my mom’s sweet potatoes.”

“Ah, with the marshmallows on top?”

“You bet.”

Harry laughed again, and I felt that familiar tingle on my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“So, I promised I’d ring you…”

“And you did,” I finished.

“Are you surprised?”

“A little.”

“Why’s that?”

Letting a breath out of my nose, I let the phone cord wrap around my finger. “Well...Harry...it’s been five years. It’s not like we’ve been in touch the whole time, or even at all. Not…” I swallowed hard, “not even one phone call.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“It’s not that I expected you to keep in touch, you know,” I continued. “When you left, I knew it was probably forever. I wanted you to go be whoever you wanted to be. And you did, and...I’m still very proud of you.”

“I appreciate that, Sky. But I do apologize for not keeping in touch. It’s been...a crazy ride.”

“I understand,” I said, though I didn’t really. “But enough about that. You said you wanted to catch up, so…”

“Yeah, I definitely do,” remarked Harry. “There’s a lot to talk about, though, and I don’t wanna keep you up.”

“It’s okay. I’m off tomorrow and I have no plans but to sleep in. So where should we start? I heard about the band. Are you...doing okay?”

I didn’t know the details of the break up, so I didn’t want to pry too much.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine,” said Harry. “Great even.”

“Are you guys still talking, or is there some animosity?”

“There wasn’t a big fight or anything,” Harry replied. “But yeah, maybe a little bit of tension. We just decided to go our separate ways. Deacon moved back to London. Lee’s girlfriend is having a baby and they’re getting married. So it’s basically just Mitch and me now. He’s with family for the holidays, and I’m just hanging out in L.A. for a bit. Irving and I are talking about a solo project.”

“Solo? Wow, Harry, that’s exciting! Will Mitch still be in your band?”

“I dunno for sure yet, but probably. I haven’t had much of a chance to discuss it with him. It’s still in the beginning stages, so I can’t say too much about it yet.”

“Of course, I understand,” I acknowledged. “Well, whatever you do, I know it will be fantastic.”

“Thanks, Sky,” he said with a grin in his voice.

I chuckled. “It’s so funny to hear you call me that.”

“Why? Are you not Sky anymore?”

“Only to Halo,” I replied. “No one else calls me Sky nowadays.”

“Oh. So you reclaimed Mary Lou, did you?”

“Nope. Just Mary to most people. That’s what I go by at work anyway. Only my mom calls me Mary Lou when she thinks she’s scolding me.”

Harry’s laugh rang through the phone, the sound making me feel nostalgic and lonely at the same time. I’d missed him more that I’d been willing to admit.

“Well, am I allowed to call you Sky?” he asked.

“Sure. If you want to.”

“Yeah. You’ll always be Sky to me. ‘Like the colour of the sky just before the rain.’”

My throat made an involuntary gulping sound as I realized I was holding back emotions. “I...can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I do, love. I remember a lot of things.”

Trying my best to push down the feelings rising in my chest, I gave a short chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like...the Joni Mitchell song you sang for me. Sleeping on your sofa. The night at the Holiday Inn.”

Goosebumps erupted all over my skin, even on my scalp, and I felt like I was floating. He remembered. Which meant...he’d probably thought about me before.

“And there’s my guitar, of course,” he added. “The acoustic Martin that I play sometimes. You were with me when I bought it.”

“I’m so glad you still have it,” I smiled.

“Well, it’s a great guitar,” Harry declared with a laugh. Then I heard him sigh before he spoke again. “So tell me about you, Sky. What has...Mary Jones been doing the last five years?”

I bit my lip as I rose from my chair, deciding to make a cup of cocoa. The radio still played low, like the background soundtrack from a movie scene. As if on cue, I heard the beginning chords of a familiar song, one from Wildfire’s second album. It had been one of my favorites and one of their biggest hits. I felt a ping of disappointment that I hadn’t been in touch with Harry at that time, and a bit of regret that I hadn’t made a point to see him on tour when he’d come to L.A. that year. But I just couldn’t. I hadn’t really known why, and despite Halo telling me I wasn’t over him yet, I’d sworn that I was.

But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was afraid that he wouldn’t want to talk to me, the way he was talking to me now. Or worse, that he wouldn’t remember me at all.

“I um...I work for an insurance company,” I explained, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “In an office. Nothing fancy or exciting.”

“Well, that’s great. And you have your own place?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing fancy either, but it’s mine.”

“Wonderful. Do you still play guitar and sing?”

“I do,” I replied. “But not as much as I’d like to. Work gets in the way, you know? Life.”

Harry chuckled low. “That’s too bad. I really hope you stick with it. You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, grateful that he couldn’t see the red on my face.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

His question rang in my ears for several seconds as I waited for the water to boil. I thought fleetingly of Bill, a man one of my co-workers, Donna, had set me up with the weekend before last. While he’d been nice enough, there’d been no chemistry. That had seemed to be the normal pattern for most of my dating history. With the exception of Alan, whom I’d seen for a few months in 1980, I hadn’t had any serious relationships.

“No,” I finally replied, pouring the water into the mug.

“Oh. Well good, I reckoned I’d make sure before I asked you to dinner tomorrow night.”

I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. “You were gonna ask me out?”

“Yeah, well...if you want to. I know it’s getting late and...I’d really like to see you again. I still have loads to tell you, but I’d like to do it in person. We could catch up some more. And I’d love to see your place...if that’s okay.”

“I think...that’s more than okay,” I managed to say, somewhat surprising myself.

I actually heard him sigh like he was relieved before he said, “Great.”

After giving him my address, we chatted lightly until saying our goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow, Sky. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Me too. Goodnight, Harry.”

My cheeks felt pinched from smiling, my face warm as I returned the phone to the wall. Time was a funny thing, I thought. It had taken me a long time to get over Harry Styles. Even when I’d thought I was, the memory of him had always lingered. Not hate or bitterness, just...longing. And then out of the blue, seeing and talking to him again...it was as though time had erased everything in between. The feelings I’d had for him all those years ago had returned in just a short telephone conversation.

I heard a slow song begin to play on the radio, and I turned up the volume as I grabbed my mug and sat back down at the table. The words hit me hard like a thunderclap through my chest.

“Hello again, hello Just called to say hello…”

Staring at the wall, every single memory of Harry replayed in my mind as tears streamed down my face. I remembered everything he’d mentioned earlier and more. I remembered dancing in my room to the old Buddy Holly record, and the way his lips felt when he’d first kissed me. I remembered the way my heart broke in two when I’d thought he was in his room with Pippa, and the way his green eyes silently spoke to me when we’d made love. I recalled the way his arms felt around me, the sound of his voice saying my real name, his laugh when I’d said something funny, the look on his face when I’d told him I loved him. I remembered the way he owned the stage in that honky tonk in Chula Vista, the way he’d cried the night he told me about Simon, his ecstatic voice when he’d called me to tell me Wildfire’s album had gone gold, and the photos that I hadn’t realized until later he’d taken of me with my camera - the same ones that still laid in the bottom of my nightstand. I hadn’t actually forgotten any of it. I’d only stored it all in the back of my brain for safe keeping.

“And I know it’s late But I couldn’t wait...hello”

By the end of the song, my cocoa was cold, and I cursed Neil Diamond for making me bawl. But it was what I’d needed. I hadn’t cried over Harry in years.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered to no one.

Then rising from the table, I poured the cold cocoa down the drain and turned off the radio. Perhaps tomorrow I could tell him in person.

Songs mentioned:

Journey - Wheel in the Sky

Blondie - Call Me

Smokey Robinson - Cruisin'

Rick Springfield - Jessie's Girl

Neil Diamond - Hello Again

How did you like this little reunion? Let's chat!

As always, feedback and reblogs are appreciated :).

tagging: @daphnesutton, @fkinavocado

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles series #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry fanfiction #harry fan fiction #harry fanfic #harry fic #harry series #harry x oc #harry au #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #lhh fic #80s #80s!harry #rockstar!harry #70s!harry #70s #lhh

[cccotard]

purple ish saras

#y she urple #ok i know i just said that ill keep posting consistently in my last post #and then left yall high and dry for 2 weeks #IM SORRRYYYY 😭😭😭 #theres a shortage of my medication where im at rn so my brains been all over the place😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #stupid baka life amirite #angways i must prevail #and post some fuckass fanart #yttd #kimi ga shine #your turn to die #kgs #yttd fanart #sara chidouin #yttd sara

[puppyeared]

man

#maybe im being pessimistic abt this. im not saying u should wear a mask every waking moment of your life god knows i cant #but also. hell no i dont trust u if anything i distrust u ppl even more after how things played out for the past 3 years #like there are situations where it might be inevitable catching covid. most of my family members are nurses and in constant contact #but there are also a ton of ways to make that risk low as possible like masking and wearing a face shield and having sanitizer #for me its not enough to just say oh we're in a small group and we're all vaccinated #motherfucker your kid is sick from preschool EVERY TIME WE VISIT. of course ill be wearing a mask she gave me covid last year #also no the fuck it isnt seasonal the cases go up because lack of caution makes the virus spread and mutate especially around times when #ppl gather. add that with virus transmission in cold weather and its a matter of different factors increasing the risk of spread #im also tired of ppl not understanding that i wont be their responsibility if i do get sick. maybe they can help me recover #but at the end of the day the risk of death and long term health is all on me. i cant change that #the govt barely gives me accommodations what makes u think theyll do anything for every individual case of long covid or worse #im so tired. im so tired #i dont even know if its possible to want this to be over anymore i just wish we didnt have to deal with this in the first place #ALSO COUGH INTO YOUR SLEEVE SERIOUSLY HOW IS THIS SO HARD TO REMEMBER #oh its just a cold/dry throat its not like i have covid or anything. no!! its basic hygiene!!! how is this so hard to understand!!!!!!!!!! #and no this isnt abt whether people have the means to protect themselves this is me bitching abt my relatives not taking me seriously #vent #my art #myart #doodles #covid 19

[b4kuch1n]

done with the current dip pen comm queue (just in time for another Nib Accident too lol. I’m learning how to take care of the tools as well) so uh! it’ll take me two days to get a replacement and get some other stuff done. which means slots will be available again this saturday!

#bakuspeech #thank you my first pen nib (in all manners that count really). you've served me extremely well #especially for how I treated you lmao #you know what. gonna pin it to my corkboard later. it deserves a place on there #I think it's specifically because I'm using a pretty thick non-water-based ink I got a Long time ago #for brush inking when I was doing that. and boy oh boy does it dry Thicque #and it dries really fast. so by the time I get to wiping my pen it's already caked there lol #so I might have to try using other inks as well. knowledge! learning! #I'm thinking opening for comm at noon instead of night like last time? so folks with different schedules can see it lmao #but yeah. I'll take my time! I'll mess around with it. its been real #I wanna start drafting the comic proper and stuff... Im so glad I'm still so excited about doing this after over a week lol #really kinda what I needed after the March Madness (adhd induced nonsense depression) #hope folks who've got a comm from me so far enjoyed what I drew!!

[titsthedamnseason]

my roommate cut my hair for me tonight and at first i was (secretly) sad because it is wayyyyy too short but then i realized. i literally just got the 1989 chop. like this was all meant to happen this way

#nooo bc like 😭 it is NOT her fault. it is entirely my fault #i have curly hair (maybe i should start straightening it just to fully live out the aesthetic lmao) and i made the rookie mistake of showing #her where i wanted it to fall when it was DRY #and on top of that obviously when it comes to hair cutting everyone is always doing too much #but my friend is soooo cautious and gets anxious about these things so i honestly thought she wouldn’t do enough #and would kind of ask me while doing it in increments #like last time when i had my roommate cut my hair i couldn’t even tell that she did ANYTHING #but anyway yeah she definitely went shorter than where i pointed which already was faulty in the first place because i forgot how much it #would curl up #i mean i’m actually happy because it’s been frustrating me how absolutely tangled it’s been getting so that’s a relief #but i’m mostly sad because it’s about to be halloween #and i wanted my dead ends GONE for halloween because i am being barbie. who has notoriously perfect hair! #and they definitely are but i also lost all my length #like i’m trying to tell myself it’ll grow back soon but the last time my hair was this short was maybe like two years ago #and i’ve missed my long hair so bad it was finally starting to come back #but now it’s gone again and i have to start all over ☹️ and my barbie hairstyle options are severely limited #i will probably do braided pigtails #mine

[ringneckedpheasant]

had the second worst great clips visit of my life today but thank fucking gd my hair turned out Okay despite the other horrors

#there are 2 in relatively close proximity to me & the one I like more had like 90 minute wait times #as opposed to 15 at the other place #and I knew it would be awkward & bad bc it always is at that location no matter who the stylist is #And Then It Was #stylist repeatedly misgendered me to her coworker who was giving some other guy almost an identical haircut to mine #said coworker did too despite me checking With My Name Which Is Marcus #& then she accidentally nicked my ear w the clippers #& I think she was worried abt doing it to the other ear so I had to trim around it a little when I got home #very stilted conversation which was mostly my fault and isn’t a crime #but she kept telling me I should try a specific style after she’d already started #& I was just like oh haha maybe next time. like three times over the course of 20 minutes or w/e it was #and ALSO sometimes the great clips employees do not really help you get cleaned off #I was spoiled last time the stylist gave me a dry washcloth to get all the little Bits off my face #but todays stylist just sent me out into the world after using the blow dryer for about 10 seconds #got out to my car. hair all over my face. itchy. nothing to wipe it off with. #anyway. worst time was when someone gave me an extremely incorrect haircut bc of a language barrier & I wasn’t really mad about it #but I did cry in my car after bc I felt So ugly & dysphoric #also last complaint abt this poor person #she seemed to have Very little confidence in her choice of tool and changed the guard on her clippers and what clippers she was holding #like 3x more than was necessary & I know this because I get basically the same haircut every time w very little variation #& it just made me anxious that it was going to look bad bc her behavior was #making me feel like she wasn’t very experienced w the kind of haircut I was asking for #marc.txt #last last complaint for real not abt her #her coworker who was also misgendering me cut my hair last time I was there 😔

[seawitchkaraoke]

Okay but how do you actually food prep? Like. Ppl keep saying it’s great and you should do it but??? What, do y’all actually cook all the meals for the week ahead of time and then just stick them in the microwave? That sounds great but idk how long things actually last in the fridge, like what actually lasts a whole week??

#food #food prep #adhd #tagging this adhd bc this is a 'help i have adhd and i am bad at feeding myself' question #not a 'how do i make super fancy food' question #yeah idk how long things last i grew up with two brothers and we all got really tall #aka had huge growth spurts #aka were all constantly hungry #if leftovers survived more than two days that meant they were disgusting to our teenage palates #and mom probably made this food specifically so she could have some leftovers for once #i am much better at feeding myself whenever i visit my parents tbh #bc! they just have all kinds of food! there! and have a huge freezer! #they don't need to worry about things going bad bc it's a three person household and someone's gonna eat it #i rarely even buy cheese bc i don't hugely like cheese and worry about not eating it quickly enough #love potatoes but man eating them all before they get bad is a struggle in the summer #'store them cool and dry' lmao yeah sure i'll do that in this humid af place #anyway rant in the tags over #i just wanna eat good food! i am decent ish at cooking even! #but it's exhausting and doing the dishes is exhausting and making sure nothing goes bad is exhausting #man i wanna go visit my parents again #where we have a dishwasher #and enough adults that someone is gonna cook even if it's not me #and a big enough freezer to put a frozen pizza or two in for the days where no one wants to