#*falls to my hands and knees* I MISS THIS SERIES SO MUCH

[sturnioloszn]

ICE BOUND (3) - M.S

summary; while sneaking around with the team captain, you both lose track of time and get caught in the very act you tried so hard to keep a secret.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex (pls wrap the willy), semi-blowjob?, dirty talk, praising, arguing, getting caught.

a/n; this is gonna be kinda long, but it is the last part of this "mini series", idek if this counts as a series lmfao, it's just multiple oneshots from the same storyline? idk, either way; i hope you enjoy it. 💙

P1, P2

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

Matt and I have been together for just over 4 months, and it's been everything and more. He's insanely thoughtful and caring, which is hard to believe considering the reputation hockey guys get.

Apart from the fact that Matt literally worships the ground I step on, he always makes sure I feel loved in ALL departments. If I was sad, dick. If I was angry, dick. If I was horny, dick. And I have to admit, he must be magic because it works every. single. time.

A notification pings on my phone, snapping me out of my daydreams; I know exactly who the text is from. I quickly unlocked my phone to reply to Matt's message.

He was driving over to my house right now even though he had practice. He made up some shitty excuse to my dad about how he "caught a cold" and therefore couldn't make it, but it was all a lie just to see me. It was sweet that he'd skip practice to be with me, but I wish he still went, I know how much hockey means to him.

A few moments later, I heard a knock at my front door, I catapulted myself down the stairs to go open it. I'm met with Matt's sweet smile, and it leaves me in awe. I throw myself into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, and he pulls me into him tighter.

He rests his chin on top of my head, sinking into the hug. He was wearing a black, 'ransom' hoodie and sweats, which contrasted with his pale skin and eyes.

I'm sure he wasn't impressed with my outift, I was in one of his hoodies and plaid pyjama pants; but I wouldn't be wearing anything in a few minutes, so it didn't really matter.

He breaks away from the hug, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. "How's my pretty girl?" He asks, letting the nickname he made for me roll off his tongue.

"Good, missed you, though," I reply, letting him into the house and shutting the door behind us. We move up to my bedroom, and we both pretend like we don't know what's about to happen.

"So what'd 'coach' say about you missing practice," I ask, falling back onto my bed and pulling him on with me; he climbs between my legs so that we are face to face.

"He told me to get better soon, said he couldn't practice without his 'star player'," he smirks, leaning down to invite me into a warm kiss. His lips moving against mine is the personification of heaven, and it makes my heart flutter each time they touch.

He continues to softly abuse my lips, licking and biting at them while soft whimpers involuntarily escape my lips. He then moves away from my lips and dips his head down to the crook of my neck, where he continues his work.

I tilt my head backwards into the mattress to grant him more access as I reach down between our bodies and gently grab hold of his bulge, which has formed in his sweats. A low groan flees his lips when I start palming him softly through the material.

"You feel that, baby? It's all yours," He breathes out, struggling to continue the work on my neck. I smile and bring him back to my lips so that I can keep feeling him, but it's not long before he breaks our contact again to speak, "I need your lips wrapped around me so bad,"

"Yeah?" I taunt, sitting up, causing him to also sit up. I slide off the bed and land on my knees in front of him while he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. I look up at him through my lashes as I grab hold of the waistband of his sweats.

He places his hands over mine and helps push them down to his mid-thigh. I examine the view in front of me, his large cock straining against his boxers, so much that there's a little wet patch on his boxers.

"Do I make you wet, baby?" I tease, grabbing hold of his cock still in his underwear. He leans his head back, giving me a view of his adam apple as he thickly swallows.

"You make me so wet," he agrees, his voice so low that by breathing too hard, you'd miss it. I finally pull his boxers down to where his sweats are and his cock springs free.

I spit into my hand before wrapping it around his base and slowly pumping it a few times until beads of pre-cum form at his tip. I lean down and lick him clean before bringing his tip into my mouth completely. I suck on his swollen head, releasing it only to swirl my tongue around it.

"Fuck- just like that," he mutters, tangling one of his calloused hands into my hair. Just as I'm about to place his dick back into my mouth, my bedroom door flings open.

"DAD?!" I shriek, quickly pulling away from Matt, jumping to my feet. Matt hurriedly pulls his boxers and sweats up, also jumping to his feet.

The door semi-closes after he realises what is going on, but he still stands behind it. "WHAT THE FUCK!" He yells. He's obviously livid. At this point, my face is painted red, and Matt also has blush covering his cheeks and nose.

"ARE YOU DECENT?!" He continues to yell. Oh God. How did I not even hear the front door open? And why is he back already? Did practice already finish?

"Yes," we both mutter in unison, lowering our gaze as he walks back in. I fiddle with a loose thread on my hoodie, trying to ignore the glares being thrown at us.

"Does anyone care to explain what is going on?" He asks more calmly but still very furious. I don't bother looking up, indicating Matt to speak.

"I'm sorry, coach," Matt apologises, his eyes glued to the ground. You could almost hear Matt's heart beating out from his chest, except that mine was much louder.

"I'm sorry? That's all you have to say to say after lying to me so that you could skip practice and sneak around with my daughter?!" He says, becoming more angry again, his voice bouncing off the walls.

We stood there in silence as my father's gaze tore us apart. I've never felt so humiliated in my entire life.

"Matthew, get out of my house, and you are never to see each other again, understood?" He speaks firmly.

"Dad, that's not fair!" I argue back, finally meeting his gaze. He couldn't decide who I could and couldn't see.

"I'm not arguing with you. He is leaving immediately and not coming back. He should count himself lucky he isn't already kicked from the team," He says, looking over at Matt.

Matt swallows, "I'm sorry, coach, bye y/n," he says, walking out of my room. Now that he is gone, the air is much denser, and the silence grew louder. My dad stood in front of me, not uttering a sound because the look on his face was speaking a million words.

"I'm so disappointed in you. You're going to stay in your room and think about your actions," he says, moving to also leave my room. As he grabs the door handle to close it, he mutters, "and you are to stay away from him," before closing the door shut.

The second the door closes, I hunt for my phone to shoot Matt a text. I tell him not to worry and that I'll try to explain the situation later, but he says that it won't change anything.

I feel horrible for dragging him into this mess. I single-handedly ruined hockey for him now, or at least hockey with my father.

A few hours have passed now, and my phone receives a notification. I open it to see a message from Matt. I don't have time to even read what it says before I hear a knock at my window.

I jump from the unexpected noise, and I look to see Matt crouched outside my window. I quickly go open the window to let him in.

"What are you doing here?!" I shout whispered at him, not wanting my father downstairs to hear me speaking to someone.

"Did y'really think I was gonna stay away from my pretty girl? Especially with blue balls," he laughs, bringing me into a quick kiss. I smile into the kiss, finding this all too amusing. Our kiss very quickly becomes deeper and more passionate with his hands raking up and down my body.

"Do you want to?" He asks, clearly referring to sex. I nod at his question, and he walks me backwards into my bed, making me fall onto it. While moving his lips deliberately against mine, he slips both of us out of our clothes until we're left in just our underwear.

He places gentle kisses all over my body, his hands gripping my hips, keeping me firmly in place as I squirm.

"Is the door locked this time?" He asks, looking up towards my bedroom door, I shake my head.

"Go close it, sweetheart," he encourages, pulling away from me. I stand up and go lock my bedroom door, trying to be gentle so that my father doesn't hear a thing. As I spin back around, I see Matt leaning against the headboard with his boxers pulled down and his hands firmly stroking his cock.

I timidly walk back to him and stand at his side, "c'mere, baby," he hushes, patting his thighs. I pull my shorts and soaked panties down at the same time before climbing over him to place my legs on either side of him. He rests both of his hands on my hips as I now comfortably straddle him.

He moves his middle finger to play with my folds, "shit, you're so wet. Is this all for me, hm?" he asks, slowly collecting the wetness that had formed. I nod my head and rut my hips on his hand, seeking even more treasure. "You're so impatient," he chuckles before removing his hand and bringing his finger to my lips so that I could suck it clean.

He then roughly grabs hold of me with one hand and uses the other to line his cock up with my entrance. He gives me a small tap to indicate that he's ready when I am, and I slowly sink down into his cock.

"Fuck, Matt," I moan, taking him fully, and he's already so deep. His head is slung backwards, resting against the headboard as I begin to rock my hips; I grab onto his shoulders for the minimal support they offer.

My movements become rougher and more ragged, causing the bed to creak slightly under our movements. He grabs onto my hips tighter, forcing me to move slower even though I wanted the opposite.

"Shhh, we have to be quiet, baby. Can't let your dad hear you riding me so good," he groans, his eyebrows furrowing but nevertheless fighting to keep eye contact with me.

I moan as a response and start bouncing on him instead. He notices my tits bouncing up and down in my top and lifts it up to get a better look. He brings both hands up to squeeze and play with them as I keep moving up and down but this only brings me closer to the edge.

"Matt...I'm gonna...come," I say, my movements becoming much more unsteady. My legs are becoming weaker, and I'm unable to keep up the pace. I then feel him move his hands back to my hips.

"Let me finish the job, pretty girl, you've done so good," he praises, gripping my hips intensely, forcing me to still but instantly replacing my movement by thrusting his hips up. He continuously rams into me, abusing my g-spot. I feel the heat in my lower stomach become unbearable, and I can't control it anymore.

"Fuck-I'm coming...fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant throwing my head back and grinding my hips to fuck him back. I feel his cock twitch, indicating that he's also close. I clench my pussy around him, encouraging him to shoot his cum deep into me.

"OH FUCK- baby, yes, just like that, you feel so good," he babbles, slowing his thrusts, fucking his cum into me. I collapse onto his chest, moulding our sweaty bodies into one. I'm panting heavily, trying to slow my breathing, and I feel Matt's heart beating roughly against my skin.

I finally have the strength to disconnect our bodies and look at him, "thank you, that was amazing," I smile.

"Thank YOU, you have no idea how much pain I was in," he smiles back. I give him a small peck on his lips before sliding off from him and onto my mattress. "Let me clean you up, pretty girl," he says, walking to get some tissue to clean his cum that is dripping out of my pussy and the remains of it from his dick.

He then laid back in bed with me but told me he had to leave soon because he didn't want to risk being caught by my dad again. I understood and didn't blame him; it was incredibly embarrassing the first time. We did not need a repeat.

Before I knew it, Matt was climbing back out of my window to leave. It made me sad that he couldn't stay longer, but I knew it was for the better right now.

As the night went on, I became more infuriated with the fact that my dad thinks he can control who I can see, well he can't. I finally reached breaking point, and I stormed downstairs to give him a piece of my mind.

"Why did you kick Matt out before?" I ask, trying to keep my cool. I stare at my dad, whose eyesight doesn't even wander from the hockey match playing on the tv in front of him.

"Because," he answered shortly. What kind of answer was that?? He can't just say 'because', who does he think he is?

"Because what?" I push further.

"Because he's on my hockey team, and I don't even know why you have boys in your room anyway. You're not allowed," he says, his eyes never leaving the tv.

"I'm nineteen, I'm not a little girl anymore," I say, already becoming upset with his answer. He can't treat me like a baby forever.

"You are a little girl. You don't understand boys and what they really want," he says, keeping his eyes firm on the tv. I can't believe this right now. How gullible and stupid does he think I am? I feel myself becoming more worked up over this than I probably should.

"I do understand because I'm not stupid, and I'm old enough to make my own decisions," I speak, becoming louder.

"No, you don't. Boys only want one thing, and that's to get in your pants," he says, his eyes finally meeting mine.

"Not Matt, he doesn't care about that. He cares about me," I say, swallowing harshly.

"Is that really what you think? God, you have a lot to learn," he scoffs.

"Yes, I do think that because Matt and I have been dating for over 4 months, and he's shown nothing but love for me. I'm sorry you and mom didn't work out, but that's not my fault. I'm gonna build my own relationships, and you can't do anything about it because they aren't your decisions to make. And if it bothers you that much, I'll move out!" I yell without thinking.

My mini rant made him fall silent, with nothing left to say he's just staring at me. Regret starts to seep into my thoughts. I shouldn't have brought up mom or threatened to move out.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow," he says calmly, getting up from the couch and turning the tv off. I'm left frozen in place as I watch him walk to his room. I messed up.

I eventually find the willpower to walk back up to my room, and I can't help but let tears fall. I was curled up on my bed, thinking about everything. I wondered how my relationship with Matt was going to change and how Matt's relationship with his coach was going to change, and for some reason I even thought of mom, even though I hadn't seen her in years.

I let these thoughts infiltrate my mind until I feel my puffy eyelids become heavy. I wipe the remaining tears from my cheeks and pull the blanket closer. I fell asleep to the thought of Matt holding me closer, comforting me.

-

I'm woken by the sun beating down on my face through my gap in my curtains. I slowly sit up, rubbing my eyes so that they can adjust to the sunlight in the room.

As I walk downstairs, I see someone sitting at the kitchen table. Walking closer, I see that it's...Matt?

Before I have the chance to question him, my dad walks over. All three of us now in the kitchen.

"Y/n sit down," my dad says, reading my very confused expression. I pull out the chair next to Matt, giving him a small smile, which he reciprocates.

"I've been thinking, and you're right. You are old enough to make your own decisions, and I'm sorry for the way I reacted," he speaks, his voice laced with sincerity. "But you'll always be my little girl," he adds, his eyes watering slightly.

By now, my own tears are falling. "I'm sorry too," I sob, standing from my seat and going to hug him; he embraces me warmly.

As we break away from the hug, we turn to look at Matt, who is still sitting down, now smiling.

"I can't stop you guys from being together, but I'm not ready for grandkids yet, so please just-" he pleads, being cut off by Matt.

"Neither are we, sir, don't worry," Matt chuckles. My dad gives him a nod, walking out of the room; I walk over to Matt, wrapping my arms around him.

He tries to bring my lips to his, but I quickly pull away, "nope, I still have morning breath," I laugh.

He shakes his head and roughly pulls me to him, connecting our lips. I give him a quick kiss before pulling away again.

"I love you," I whisper, looking into his eyes, scared that I'd drown in them and never be found again.

"I love you more," he says, matching my tone.

We stood there for what felt like an eternity, being lost in each other's eyes. And I pondered on the thought 'what would have happened if I never accompanied my dad to that practice session?'

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; that's a wrappp. i hope you guys enjoyed this, and thank you so much for all the support on my posts. 1.2k notes on JEALOUS and 300 followers??? that's insane, but I'm so so thankful for all everything. i love you all <33.

Taglist; @idrk2292 @aalixsturns @aalicats87 @045696 @forgottxen @mattsturniolover @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut

[jaredthebc]

Sorry for reblogging Skylanders stuff in the year 2024 like it’s still an active series. It will happen again

[marvelouslizzie]

Not Lonely Anymore

summary: You hear your roommate Bucky Barnes moan your name while masturbating and it changes everything between you two.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

word count: 3K

warnings: 18+, dry jumping (brief), unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, choking, teasing, dirty talk, no mention of y/n.

A/N: Hello hello! I present you the last part of my Lonely Night series. I am so grateful for your interest in the first two parts. I tried to keep my motivation up and give these two perverts a satisfying ending. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did. Your feedback would be much appreciated.

You don't have to read the first two parts to understand what's going on but if you want to, please check my blog/masterlist for A Lonely Night and Same Lonely Night.

Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Daddy kink and choking is for you ✌️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Read more tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

You can’t take your eyes off Bucky while you're processing what has just happened. Your eyes roam around his face and bare chest before falling on his shorts. His erection is pressed against the waistband, carefully hidden away from you but the wetness forming on the fabric betrays Bucky’s intentions. You can’t contain your smile, but Bucky doesn’t see it. He’s too lost in his own thoughts, and when your eyes meet, you realize he is worried and embarrassed. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something in order to end this awkward silence, but you beat him to it.

“Did you just say my name?” It comes out so calm, you even surprise yourself.

You know he did. You heard it with your own ears loud and clear. That’s why you dropped your glass after all. But it was that shocking to you. That unbelievable! So you just want him to confirm it. To make it real and assure you that really happened. Maybe then you will be able to believe it.

“I- I can explain.” You notice the cold sweat forming on his forehead.

He seems like a scared kid who got caught doing something he shouldn’t do. And it’s probably because he thinks he might lose you. You would feel the same way if he was the one who caught you masturbating just an hour ago. God, that would be mortifying, but now that you are on the other side of the equation, all you feel is excitement.

The realization eventually sinks in: he wants you. He actually wants you. That gives you a level of confidence you never had before.

You take a step forward and close the distance. Your lips are on his before he can react. You wanted to do this for a long time, but you had been unsure if he would have wanted it or not. You have a clear answer now, so there’s no need to hold yourself back. It takes him a second to respond to you, but you don’t hesitate. You just keep kissing him and it wakes him up like he has been hibernating for a long time.

His hands wrap around your torso and he pulls you closer. His fingers are digging into your hips like he’s trying to convince himself this is real, and he tilts his head just enough to deepen the kiss. His tongue gently slides into your mouth and that makes you moan for the first time. His lips, his tongue… He tastes so sweet. You just can’t get enough of it. It makes you crave him even more, and you don’t know how that is even possible.

Suddenly you push him, hoping to get him back inside his bedroom, but he doesn’t move an inch. He just gives you a dazed look, trying to understand why you did that.

“Work with me. Just move back.” You sound impatient, and he finally understands what you are trying to do.

“Fine.” He raises both of his hands like he’s surrendering, with a smile on his face, then he takes a step back and lets you push him further inside the room. You continue until the back of his knees hits the bed and he falls onto it after one final push.

“Is that what you wanted?” He sounds amused.

“Yeah.” You straddle him without missing a beat, getting comfortable on his lap while he pulls you in for another kiss.

This time it feels a little different. His hands are on your cheeks, holding you still while his tongue explores your mouth. It is the most passionate kiss you have ever had in your life. His erection is standing right there, between your legs and you can’t help yourself… You can’t stop that urge that’s slowly building up and why would you? You’re on his lap, finally doing this. There’s no need to stop yourself from doing what you want. So while he tastes you however he wants, you start to move your hips. After a couple of tries, you find the perfect spot and both of you moan nearly at the same.

He stops kissing you for a second just to take a breath, but he still holds your cheeks with his big hands and looks into your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid you might disappear. You have no plans of disappearing or stopping, though. You keep moving your hips and watching his eyes flutter every time you rub the right spot. It feels good even with the fabric between you two. Yet it’s not enough.

“We should get rid of your shorts.”

“And your panties.”

You raise yourself on your knees, just enough for him to push his shorts down, but you don't give him enough space to take them off completely.

“I don’t wanna use any protection. Do we have to?”

“Well, we don’t have to, but we might need to.” He’s not sure how fertile he is. It’s not like he tried it before, so it’s quite risky. All he knows is he has a lot more come than an average man and that’s a problem when it comes to using condoms. They are practically useless.

“I’m on the pill.” You quickly clarify. You only asked the question to see if he was comfortable with the idea or not.

“Then we definitely don’t need to.” Oh, he’s definitely comfortable. The way he just said it is enough.

He grabs his cock while you pull your panties aside without wasting any time, and you lower yourself onto him while balancing yourself with one arm on his shoulder.

“That impatient?” He taunts you, but he chokes on his words as soon as he feels your wetness. The head of his cock rests between your folds while you answer him:

“Are you not?” You sound relatively normal. Then you keep talking while taking him inch by inch. “Would you rather fuck your fist and fantasize about me?”

He wants to answer you. He wants to say something, but being balls deep inside you makes it harder to do so. He just lets out a low groan while grabbing your ass to ground himself.

You’re not so different from him. The way he stretches you pulls a pornographic moan out of you. You sit still for a second, trying to get used to this feeling. You can’t remember the last time you felt this full. It makes you shiver even without moving. You take your time and he just waits, patiently until you get used to the sensation. After a couple of seconds, you feel confident enough to move.

“Ready?”

“Yes.” There’s a bit of hesitation in his voice, but you don’t notice it because you are lost in the feeling of finally being so full. All of your senses are overwhelmed by it.

You aren’t sure if it’s going to hurt because he’s definitely the biggest you have ever had. So you move your hips slowly and test the waters. There’s something there. Some kind of discomfort. You can’t say you feel uncomfortable, you just need to get used to his size. So you keep moving because there’s this promise of pleasure hidden behind that discomfort. You can nearly taste it and it keeps you going. While trying to figure out the best way to move, you don’t realize Bucky is watching you, carefully. He’s trying to read your expression and see if you are okay. He’s ready to take up the reins or just stop if that’s what you need. His hands gently roam your body, discovering little details about your skin. Like how many moles you actually have.

“No rush. Take your time.” He sounds more like himself, much more confident than before.

You moan because of his words. His voice is deeper and it makes your blood rush. You start to move a little faster and notice how the discomfort slowly fades away. He notices that, too while grabbing your tits with both of his hands. One is colder than the other, and the contrast is dizzying. You lean into him, just to feel him a little bit more, and his grip on your tits tightens.

“God, so fucking pretty!”

Before you can say anything, his mouth is on your right nipple. You feel his tongue flicking over and over again while his other hand rests on the other breast. Then he sucks your nipple into his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it. You grunt because of the mixed sensations. Just when you are about to protest, he lets out your nipple and moves on to the other one. He gives it the same treatment. A mix of licking, sucking, and biting until you can’t contain your movements. Your hips start to move so much faster, making both of you moan loudly.

“God, I wanted to do this for ages!” The words spill out from your lips without much of a thought.

“You did?” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah.” There’s no point in hiding it anymore, is there?

“Does this mean I am the daddy?”

His question catches you off guard, and you just freeze in the middle of the action.

“You… heard me.” It comes out more like a question rather than a statement.

“Why do you think I was masturbating?”

It takes you a couple of seconds to process what he's just said. He actually heard you. You never used his name, but it doesn’t change the fact that he witnessed something so private. Something you really wanted to hide from him, yet the idea of him hearing you also sets you on fire. Instead of submitting to the urge to get all shy, you decide to ask him what you actually want to know.

“You heard me and instead of making a move, you decided to fuck your fist?”

“What was I supposed to do? Knock on your door and ask if I can replace your dildo?”

“Yeah. Sounds great to me.” You keep moving your hips fast while talking. “Or maybe you are too shy to take what you really want.”

“Shy?” He blinks a couple of times.

“You don’t seem shy but maybe you are. Maybe you are a submissive little boy who wants to just lay here and take whatever I give you.”

You watch his expression change into something so different. It’s not particularly dark, but it feels like it. Before you can say anything else, he just flips you over. Your mouth falls open when your back touches the bed. Instinctively, you try to wrap your legs around his torso, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he pushes your knees back to your chest.

“What are you doing?” Your amazement is evident in your voice.

“Taking what I really want.” It takes a lot of effort to hide your smile. You can’t believe your taunting worked that quickly. “Tell me if it gets too much and I will stop.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

He waits for you to finish talking and then he starts to move. Your mouth falls open once again but this time, it’s not because you are surprised. It’s because you can’t believe how good it feels. It’s completely different than how it felt when you were on his lap. He reaches deeper inside you in this position, and his hands are still on your legs, pushing you further into the bed. You let out another sinful moan.

“Way better than I imagined.”

“Is it?” A smile lingers on his lips. “Feel free to be as loud as you want.”

“Do you want us to get kicked out of this apartment?” It takes every ounce of strength in you to form this sentence without stuttering. It’s so hard to talk like you aren’t getting railed.

“No, I just wanna hear you call me daddy.”

You can’t help but moan. Shit, he really heard everything. You feel so exposed, but somehow it doesn’t bother you. Is he actually into this? Who could’ve guessed?

“If you want that, you gotta work harder than this.”

“Ask for it.”

“Harder, please.” He waits for daddy to come out of your mouth, but it doesn’t. You really meant what you just said, he needs to earn it.

So that’s exactly what he does. He starts to pound you, just the way you fantasized. He manages to touch every part inside you and fills up in a way that makes you wanna cry. Your moans get louder with each thrust.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Your ears start to buzz. You can feel that your orgasm is close.

“Talk to me, doll.”

He wants to hear you, and you don’t feel like holding back anymore.

“I’m-I’m so close, Bucky.”

“What do you need?” His question is instant. You feel that he’s ready to do whatever you want.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” You take a deep breath just to be able to keep talking. “Just keep going. Please…” Your voice comes out so pathetic, but you can’t brush off the urge to beg him. He would like that, wouldn’t he? You did it while masturbating and he got a hard-on just because of you. “Please, please, please.”

Your words make him groan like he is struggling to contain his excitement.

“I really need it, daddy, please…”

“Fuck, baby.” You feel him losing control. His thrusts are sloppier but he notices that, too. His metal arm moves on your chest and rests there. You don’t know if he’s trying to keep you still or ground himself. Then he looks directly into your eyes, trying to see if that makes you uncomfortable or not. It definitely doesn’t. Quite the opposite, you need his hand on your neck, and you gently grab his metal hand and move it on your neck without breaking eye contact. You watch his eyes widen with the realization.

“Are you sure?” You nod in response, but it’s not good enough for him. “Words, baby. I need actual words.”

“Please.”

That does it. His fingers tighten around your neck, pressing right against your veins, careful not to crush your windpipe.

“Yess.” Your head is thrown back. This is exactly what you wanted.

The way he’s choking you snaps something inside you. It intensifies everything you are feeling at that moment. Your whole body suddenly starts to shake, and it surprises you. You have never reached an orgasm this quickly before.

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh god, yes!” Your voice comes out hoarser than usual.

“Look at you.” He taps his fingers on your neck while he keeps moving. “My pretty baby. So good for me.”

You only moan in response, already too lost in the waves of your orgasm. It’s running through your whole body like electricity.

“Look at me! Look into my eyes.” He sounds so commanding and you listen to him even though it’s so hard to do it. He looks like he’s about to lose it, too.

“Come with me. P-please.”

“You want me to come, baby?” He asks in a way that makes you wanna cry out even more. Like he won’t come if that’s what you want. He will keep holding back until you say so but you don’t want that. You want him to enjoy this as much as you do.

“Please, daddy. Come with me.” He groans in response. You clearly see how your words affect him, especially calling him daddy. You can’t believe how much he’s into it.

He stops holding back and starts to move in a way that makes you scream. So you do that. You can’t contain the noises you make when he moves like this. You grip on his sheets, letting him ruin you for any other man.

“Fuck! Such pretty sounds… You like it that much, baby?”

“Yes, yes. So good, daddy.” You slur at the last part. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything when he makes you feel like this.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” You can actually hear that he’s close. “I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck.”

“Yess!” You have been waiting for this. You want it so badly. You wanna see him come. You want him to feel good, all because of you. You want to witness a part of him that he hides away from everyone else. It feels like owning a part of him. So private and primitive, but you don’t care. You need this.

He lets out the most guttural moan right before starting to come inside you. He doesn’t stop, just keeps the same pace, emptying himself inside you.

“Take it, baby. Take it! It’s all yours.” You know what he’s talking about. His come is already dripping out, yet he’s not done coming.

It looks like he lost his damn mind, but it’s the hottest thing you have ever witnessed in your life. You are so fascinated by him even though you are still coming yourself. That's why you force yourself to keep your eyes open and watch him while your high slowly fades away. Yet he keeps going. His hands are gripping on your tights, pulling you into him every time he moves. His come is dripping on your ass, to the sheets. It’s so messy but feels out of this world.

After a couple more thrusts, he collapses on top of you. His head rests on the crook of your neck, and you feel his heavy breathing on your skin. You don’t mind it, though. He doesn’t let his whole weight crush you. Always so thoughtful….

Your hands go to his hair, gently stroking it. That makes him move his head and look at you.

“We should’ve done this before.” That makes you wanna laugh, but instead, you just give him a huge smile.

“Yes, we should have. It was amazing.”

Suddenly he moves away from you, leaving you completely empty. It makes you whine instantly. You miss the fullness and the warmth of his cock already.

“Where are you going?” You give him a confused look while raising yourself on the bed. “Come back here.”

“Not was.” He kneels right next to the bed, in between your legs, and moves his head closer to your dripping core. “I’m not done with you, baby.”

[minswriting]

West Coast - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: The team is in L.A, investigating a case where an unsub is killing couples involving an older man and a younger woman outside of clubs. You and Aaron end up undercover at a club, dancing together. What was an undercover investigation quickly becomes something of a different nature when a certain tension gets involved. And after the unsub gets caught and everything is settled, you get a visit from Aaron at your hotel room.

Warnings: NSFW Content, Minors Do Not Interact, regular criminal minds topics and violence, sexual tension, grinding, unprotected sex, p in v, lana del rey coded fr.

Word Count: 2,500 Words

Down on the West Coast they got a sayin'

"If you're not drinkin' then you're not playin'"

But you've got the music, you've got the music

In you, don't you?

Your hips moved graciously to the music as you danced sensually against Aaron. His hands gripped your hips, holding them close to you while his breath hit your neck. The moment was hot to say the least, literally and metaphorically. The club lights were blue and dimmed, the dance floor filled with fog and sweaty bodies. The club scene in Los Angeles was artistic, edgy. Perhaps you would’ve enjoyed it had the circumstances been different.

The BAU was in L.A, investigating a series of murders that involved couples outside of nightclubs. The couples were always with an older man and a younger woman. And after days of no luck in catching the guy, it had been agreed upon that Hotch and you go undercover. So here you were, grinding against your boss with your coworkers in the room, scattered around.

Down on the West coast, I get this feeling like

It all could happen, that's why I'm leaving

You for the moment, you for the moment

Boy Blue, yeah, you

As you swayed your hips to the music, your ass grazed Aaron’s crotch. You’d love to say it was accidental but you knew yourself. The heat of the moment was getting to you. You heard the shaky breath that escaped the lips that were right near your ear, his bulge pressing against you. The heat of the moment was getting to him too.

To say you had always had an attraction to your boss would be a bit of an understatement. Aaron was a constant presence in your fantasies ever since you had joined the team. With his authoritative presence and the way he took control, you often found yourself wondering if he were the same in the bedroom. And now that you’ve gotten yourself in this situation, those thoughts are skyrocketing.

“Keep dancing. There’s a man looking at the two of you on the other side of the room,” came Morgan’s voice in the ear piece that you were wearing. “Reid, are you able to get a clear view?”

“Affirmative,” said the genius over the ear piece.

Maybe you should be more concerned. You are in fact working. You’re supposed to be catching this unsub. But when Aaron grips you tighter and his lips are to the shell of your ear, your brain could hardly comprehend the rest of what’s going on around you. “Can you feel what you did to me?” He murmured into your ear, pressing himself closer to you. “Perhaps I should take you home later.”

It’s all just an act. You’re both professionals, putting on a facade to catch the bad guy. And yet it felt so real. With the obvious hard-on that Aaron was sporting, the obvious shakiness in his breath, the weakness you felt in your knees from his voice. It was all so much. And yet, it was all an act.

You're falling hard, I push away, I'm feeling hot to the touch

You say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much

But something keeps me really quiet, I'm alive, I'm a lush

Your love, your love, my love

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

I'm in love (I'm in love)

I'm in love (I'm in love)

That night, after the successful catching of the unsub, you had gotten back to your hotel room absolutely beat. Usually, after catching the bad guy, you guys are on the jet, going back to Virginia. But Aaron had requested that you all leave in the morning, exclaiming that you all deserved a night of genuine rest before traveling. So you had gotten back to your hotel room, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and were now sitting on the bed, reading when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

You frowned, checking the time. Who would be knocking at your hotel door at one in the morning? You got up from the bed, walking over to the door. You checked the peep hole, seeing Aaron standing out there still dressed in the outfit he wore at the club. You unlocked the hotel door, opening it. “Sir?” You said, looking confused at your boss. “Is everything alright?”

Aaron looked at you, eyeing you up and down for a moment as he took in your form. You were dressed in a tank top and shorts, revealing much more of your skin than he had seen before. You couldn’t help but feel a bit self conscious under his stare and yet you did nothing to move. Because you secretly loved it. After a moment of silence, Aaron cleared his throat, looking at your eyes. “I wanted to see how you’re holding up after tonight,” he said, his voice a bit rough.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bit your lip. “I’m good,” you said softly. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good too,” he replied, nodding his head.

It was silent between the two of you. The tension was obvious at that point. Or maybe you were just tense. Who really knew? Nothing was said or done as you both just looked at each other. Until a few moments later.

You don’t really know who made the first move. All you knew was that your lips crashed with Aaron’s and he pushed the both of you into the hotel room, closing the door behind himself without his lips leaving yours. Clothes flew across the room, soft noises escaped your mouth as Aaron kissed you harshly and passionately. It had most definitely been pent up.

Down on the West coast, they got their icons

Their silver starlets, their Queens of Saigons

And you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

Down on the West coast, they love their movies

Their golden gods and Rock 'n' Roll groupies

And you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

You push it hard, I pull away, I'm feeling hotter than fire

I guess that no one ever really made me feel that much higher

Te deseo, cariño, boy, it's you I desire

Your love, your love, my love

The back of your legs hit the mattress as Aaron gently pushed you towards it. The both of you were naked, kissing passionately. The tension from the whole night just building up inside the both of you. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to let me know,” he whispered against your lips.

“Please don’t stop,” you whispered back, your hand trailing down his chest.

Aaron let out a shaky breath. “I want you so bad,” he said.

“Then have me.”

A statement that held so much power. It was all the consent that Aaron needed. “Sit down,” he commanded softly, gesturing to the edge of the bed. And of course you obeyed with no questions asked, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

It felt surreal to say the least. Your fantasies of your boss were becoming a reality. It had certainly been the energy from the club that really caused so much tension. Part of you was nervous about what would happen afterward. Sleeping with your boss is never a good idea. But whatever happened on the West Coast, stayed on the West Coast.

Aaron dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with his beautiful brown eyes. He trailed his fingers from your ankle to your thighs, leaning down to press a small kiss on your right thigh before kissing the left thigh. He slowly pulled your legs apart, revealing your cunt to him. It was glistening, wet from nothing but just kissing him. And he adored it. “You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured.

“Only for you,” you murmured back.

“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a small smirk. “Good girl.” And without any hesitation, he dived in, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole and then back to your clit. You gasped and moaned, reaching to grip Aaron’s hair. When you say you had never gotten your pussy eaten this good, you truly mean it. Aaron was eating you out in ways you’d never felt before, diving into it as though he were a starving man who had just gotten food for the first time.

His nose was against your clit, rubbing it as he tongued your hole, lapping around your pussy. He let out his own soft noises, gripping your thighs so that you couldn’t move. And you? You most certainly were moaning like a whore.

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

Your first orgasm was absolutely gorgeous. Aaron had made you cum on his tongue in less than five minutes. You had clenched your thighs so hard around Aaron’s head that he thought for just a split second that he would pass out in between your thighs. And honestly, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. You tasted heavenly, like nectar blessed by the Gods above.

“Aaron,” you moaned after your orgasm, desperately needing his cock inside of you. “Need you so bad,” you said, looking down at your handsome boss.

He looked up at you, face glistening with your juices as he slowly stood up. You couldn’t help but look at his cock, wanting it so badly. Aaron certainly wasn’t below average. His cock was about seven inches but my god was it girthy. It will stretch you out so nicely, in a way that you desperately craved. Your hole clenched at that very thought, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Aaron.

“You need my cock, pretty girl?” He asked softly, reaching down to grip his cock, pumping it slowly.

You nodded your head, giving a sultry pout as you looked up at Aaron. “Need your cock so bad, sir,” you exclaimed.

Aaron let out a soft moan at your words, especially to you saying ‘sir’. It sent a rush down to his cock. Your sultry and whiny voice, begging for him to take you. You calling him “sir” just was the cherry on top. You were perfect and he adored it. He adored you. “I’ll give you my cock, baby,” he exclaimed, moving so he could align himself to your pussy. He slowly eased himself inside of you, careful to not hurt you while also letting out a low moan.

You let out a loud moan, gripping the sheets below you as you clenched around his cock. The stretch certainly hurt though that was expected. You truthfully hadn’t had sex in quite awhile and Aaron was bigger than most people you’ve been with. Regardless, you were just glad to be filled. You craved it. As Aaron bottomed out, he stayed still for a few minutes, waiting for you to adjust to his size. You took a few minutes to get used to it, allowing your body time to relax. And soon, you were ready for him to move. “You can move,” you licked your lips, looking up at your boss.

Aaron took a moment to look at you, admiring your beauty. He couldn’t help it. You were just so beautiful. However, without any further hesitation, he began thrusting his hips slowly inside of you, making you both groan in pleasure. To say Aaron craved this was an understatement. He had wanted you since the day you had joined the team. It had taken everything in his power to make sure your relationship stayed strictly professional. And perhaps it will remain so when you guys get back to the East Coast. But tonight? Tonight was the night for indulging. Because the desire was simply just too much.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned underneath Aaron, closing your eyes in pleasure as his hips began moving faster. His cock thrusted in and out of you, stretching you so good and hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “Feels so good,” you whimpered in pleasure.

“God, you’re so tight,” Aaron let out a choked moan. Your pussy was clenching his cock, adding to his pleasure. “And so wet.” Your cunt was perfect, clenching him as though it were made for his cock and his cock only.

Aaron’s thrusts were hard and fast as he fucked you. The room was filled with the loud moans of the both of you while skin hit skin. The squelching of your pussy was echoing in the room. You could feel that heat building in your abdomen as Aaron’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh my god!” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Aaron could feel the pleasure building inside of him, ready to erupt inside of you at any given moment. “I’m so close, baby,” he groaned, looking down at you as he fucked you. Your tits were bouncing, your cheeks were flushed while your eyes were closed. You were moaning his name as a mantra just as he moaned yours. And soon, you were cumming around his cock with your back arching and your toes curling. Aaron followed suit, letting out a long “fuuuck,” as he came. His cum shot inside of you, rope after rope as he filled you.

When you both came down from your highs, Aaron pulled out of you slowly before collapsing onto the bed right next to you. You looked up at the ceiling, finally comprehending the fact that you fucked your boss and now the unknowns of what will happen afterwards were integrating your mind. But as Aaron took you into his arms, those thoughts slowly crawled away. It doesn’t need to be so complicated.

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

I'm in love

I'm in love

What happens in the West Coast stays in the West Coast.

[joelsdagger]

devil’s advocate || joel miller x f!reader

happy belated birthday to the man himself :3

pairing: daddy dom!joel x f!reader rating: 18+ explicit minors dni  summary: joel misses you while he’s away at work. warnings: [no-outbreak], established relationship, age gap [reader is 20’s, joel is late 50’s], dd/lg dynamics, daddy kink, sending nudes, m!masturbation, possessive language, pet names [little bug, baby angel], mentions of reader wearing a collar, references to: smut, tummy bulge, and creampies, joel’s pov. word count: 2.3k 

a/n: let’s pretend this isn’t my second fic of joel having a wank lmao. anyways! this is another little snippet of life with daddy joel. however, it can be read as a standalone, but if you would like some context of how this all started, i recommend reading intermission first. a gazillion thank you’s to @pedrospatch for beta’ing this for me, for all the reassurance, and not letting me get cold feet and to @dinandwhiskey for yapping about these two with me endlessly from day one, this silly little concept wouldn’t exist without you <33

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | playlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel’s in his office looking at blueprints when his phone buzzes against his leg. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, eyes squinting as the bright screen lights up his dim office. His heart pinches in his chest when he sees your name across his screen. 

do you like this one daddy?

Attachment: 1 image

He taps on the notification. His mouth hangs open, throat dry, dumbfounded as he takes in the picture. You, on your knees in the bedroom, wearing a white slip nightgown. The sleeves cut off at your shoulders; there’s a lace trimming along the neckline — too high for his liking — that it almost meets the heart-shaped charm dangling from your collar; angel, it reads; he smiles to himself when he sees it. The lace continues down your front and stops at your middle, where a matching white belt cinches in your waist, accentuating your figure. The silk material cuts at your knees. 

Jesus Christ. There’s a tightness in his stomach, and somewhere else. He knows what you’re doing, knows this is a game you play very well. You know you don’t need his opinion or permission. Everything you wear, everything you do drives him fucking crazy. You drive him crazy. 

Whatever you like, angel, he types out. His thumb hovers over the too small blue arrow when another text with a different photo attached comes through. 

or how about this one?

This time the slinky nightgown is baby pink, lace running across the deep neckline. The material clings to your breasts so well, he can tell your nipples are peaked beneath it. There’s matching lace at the bottom of the skirt, cuts high up your left thigh, and a tiny bow sits atop the slit, identical to the one in between your breasts. 

The stiffness in his jeans starts to throb. You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little finger, so much you’ve conditioned him to get hard anytime he sees– thinks of you. 

He’s so damn hard. Rock solid, and he can’t wait any longer. He pops open his jeans, and drags the zipper down too quick; it snags on denim. He doesn’t even hesitate to unzip the metal teeth of his fly entirely, he’s too desperate. Joel shucks his cotton boxers down enough to clumsily pull his already leaking cock out. He spits in his hand, groans lowly as he curls it around his heavy length, and starts pumping. 

Joel’s head falls back, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he fucks his fist. He was half-hard all day, All your fault, he thinks. Trotting into the kitchen in one of your pretty little dresses while he cooked up your breakfast, your head bopping along to the record he’d put on as you rounded the kitchen island to take your seat at the table, plate full of eggs and bacon in hand to start your morning. Hips swaying, frilly fabric swishing, barely covering the plump curve of your ass, but just enough to tease him. Something you’re always doing.  

His mind wanders. Imagines what the material you’re wearing in the photo feels like in his hands. You both favor the frilly dresses, tiny and soft against your skin. He’s always careful not to rip the delicate fabric; he likes the sight of fucking you in them more than ripping them into pieces. But he likes the silk ones too; likes running his roughened fingertips along the lace trimming, tracing it over your breasts, following the line down your body until his fingers meet your bare thighs. His hands always dipping beneath the hem, seeking more, as if it’s second nature to him. Fingers finding your sex — always dripping with arousal — then his palms move to the swell of your ass, gripping and digging into your plush flesh, pulling you closer into his chest and both of you moaning in unison. 

He groans, bites his bottom lip to stifle it. He can’t be too loud, not with his crew on the other side of the door. You make him feel like a damn teenager. Making him so hard that he has to jack his cock in the quiet dark of his office, willing himself not to make a sound because he’s too impatient to wait until he returns to you. That’s what you do to him. 

Joel can never get through a full workday without thinking of you. You…simply living and breathing is all that manages to take up his mind. All he ever thinks about is you, consumes his very being. All of this is nothing. Serves as nothing but a distraction for him until he can get back to you. Never not checking every damn clock or a crew members' watch at every turn on every job site, nearly begging for the day....everyday to be over, wants nothing more than to take you into his bed or take you right there on the couch or the kitchen if that’s where you are when he gets home. Wants to spread you out and split you open on his cock, burying himself in until he meets resistance and elicits that soft gasp from your lips, the one that makes him forget about the world for a moment or two. Wants to grab your hand and cup his shape through your tummy and tell you, Feel me right there, baby? Daddy’s always right there, ain’t he? 

He hears your moan echoing in his ears, and the quick tugs of his fist increase almost unconsciously. He used to think the sounds you made were his favorite. Your giggles when he pulls at your ankles to bring you closer. Your whimpers when he teases his cock over your panties (in retaliation for teasing him). Your body writhing beneath the broad weight of him when he finally slips it in; daddy, pouring from your lips as he plays with you.

Now, he reckons it’s more than that.

It’s how you taste on his tongue — warm and sweet when he glides it through your drooling folds. It’s how you feel around him — your little wet cunt sucking him in, made just right for him. Your skin, soft and delicate, waiting to be marked black and blue. Your body putty and pliant, curling and melting into him on the couch or in his bed after a long day. It’s how you trust him completely — without hesitation as he does what he pleases with you. It's how you look at him — gorgeous wide eyes sparkling and a sleepy smile on your face beaming up at him in the soft morning glow when you wake up beside him. It’s the first thing he sees every morning and his heart fucking flutters.

It’s everything. All of it and more. 

His fist tightens around his cock, thumb sweeping over his wide tip — leaking and an angry shade of purple. Angry because his fist isn’t enough; it’ll never be enough–

His phone buzzes as a third photo with a message pops into the text thread, his head snaps down and his eyes meet the photo in a nanosecond.  

is it too short daddy? 

He inhales sharply through his nose as he studies the photo; you’re wearing the same outfit, only now you’re bent at the waist, your hands flat on the mattress, and leaning forward on the balls of your feet — ruffled white socks sitting low on your ankles. The lace hem of your skirt has ridden up just enough to reveal yourself to him. You. On full display — only for him to see — and yet–

Not short enough, he wants to respond. 

He sets his phone down on his denim-clad thigh, thumb tapping on the photo before his fingers pinch outward, zooming in.  

Christ. There they are. Taunting him beneath the thin pink cherry speckled panties that barely cover your holes, just waiting for him — waiting to be filled until you’re sore and leaking and so full of him he has to work his cum back into your spent hole. 

Hole. 

He hasn’t delivered on his promise to fill the other one. Not in the way you’ve been asking. 

Baby angel, we oughta do it right. We oughta go slow. 

He’s been training you for the last little while; he knows he’s too big to take all at once. One day he’ll make good on his promise. Daddy always keeps his promises, don’t he little bug? 

His phone buzzes once more, cutting through his reverie. You sent him a fourth photo with–

miss you daddy :( 

The skirt of your nightgown is bunched around your hips, your thighs spread and fingers skimming beneath the band of your panties, his eyes trail down, following the line of your small fingers, and then he sees it–

The wet stain of your slick on the front of your baby pink panties; your cute little clit, soft and puffy against the sheer material — peeking out — almost like it’s calling out for him.  

Fuck. Poor baby. Daddy’s comin’. Just a little longer. 

Joel’s jaw clenches, and the tension pulls taut in his stomach. He should be there. Needs to be there. Push the head of his cock past your puffy folds — returning home — repenting for being away for so long, for leaving you at all. Warm velvet walls pulsing around him as he thrusts in, in, in. 

Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and into his temples, pencil slipping from behind his ear and clattering on the wooden floor as he lets his head roll back on his neck, hitting the back of the chair, his eyes slip closed. Lets himself think of sinking into you, the warmth of your skin against his, your velvet cunt snug around him — soft and swollen and wet — fluttering around him, squeezing him until he comes.

His hips falter, breath now shaky and weak, muscles in his belly tightening as the coil deep within him threatens to snap. Joel retracts his left hand from his phone and lifts it to cup the weight of his balls, kneading gently at the stretchy flesh. His office chair squeaks as his back arches, canting his hips upwards, rutting into his own fist — desperate — like a fucking puppy.  His left hand squeezes around his balls tighter, right arm tenses as his wrist pumps faster — still not enough. 

He hears you then — all whiny and meek — Daddy. Please. Daddy, fill me up, need it inside please. 

And it’s all he needs. 

“Ohh baby,” he breathes, mouth falling open, filthy groans clawing through the walls of his throat, echoing against the ceiling and the four walls of his office, as the tidal waves crash over him and take him under. 

His head snaps down in time to watch his release, cock pulsing and twitching as thick, hot ropes of cum spurting from his tip coat the distressed wood of his desk, landing within a hair's breadth of the blueprints. Shouldn’t be there. He thinks of painting your insides with him, filling you up with his spend and making you his, over and over and over. 

Fuck, that’s it — Fuck, he groans. 

He’s in a trance, and it’s almost like he’s coming again. His thighs tremble as his thumb glides across his tip, and he imagines the curved head nudging against that special place inside you while your nails scrape across the nape of his neck, marking him as yours. He lets his eyes close slowly, and then he sees you, his eyes dancing across your face, watching as it twists up in pleasure as his thick head prods at his favorite place again and again. Until your eyes water and you’re gushing around him, dripping cunt clutching him until you milk him of everything he has to offer, sanctifying himself with every last drop.

His guttural groans settle into tired sighs, and his wrist slows as he nears the end of his orgasm, but he doesn’t stop, not until he’s certain he’s milked himself completely, just as he would if he were nestled inside you. When the last of his release dribbles down onto his fist, body still shaking and pulsating from his climax, he thinks he’s never come this hard by his own hand. 

His hand comes to a stop, and his breath begins to steady, chest rising and falling as his lungs fill with air. His left hand finds his phone again, props it up while his right still clutches his softening cock, hissing as his fist meets the swollen cockhead — dripping and covered with cum. He snaps a picture, shaky fingers backspace his previous message, and instead types out, Naughty little girl. Look what you made Daddy do. And taps the small arrow without another thought, sending it on its way to you. And he blames it on the blood pumping and surge of energy rushing through him in the wake of his intense orgasm — and you for making him feel alive. 

He doesn’t wait for a response before he sends another message.

It’s perfect, angel. Keep it on till I get home. Got a surprise for you.  

You reply seconds later: 

yes daddy 🩷

He smirks. Attagirl. 

Joel clicks his phone off, runs a hand down the scruff of his beard before leaning over his desk with a grunt, careful as to not sully his shirt with his release. He fumbles around his junk drawer for a small pack of pink heart-themed tissues, dabs at droplets of sweat on his forehead before wiping up his spend on his fist and desk. He tucks his soft cock back beneath his black boxers, and takes a moment to unsnag his fly, zipping up his jeans. His aching knees regain function, and he stands, heavy legs dragging him through his office and stalking towards the door. When his weak fist meets cold steel, he makes a mental note to stop by the store to pick up the butterfly charms he promised you.

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[rafesfavgirl]

the palm of your freezing hand — r. cameron

part 1. part 2. this could technically be part 2 or 3, depending on how much of this little series you've read (or if you’re not into reading smut). either way, thank you for coming along for the ride. i hope you like it :)

❝ oh, goddamn my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand ❞

pairing: friend!rafe x pogue!reader

context: it's been three weeks since you found out jj cheated on you, and a week since you hooked up with rafe.

words: 1.4k+

warnings: fwb situationship, mean!jj (just for the sake of the story, we all know he’s BABY), bitchy!kie (again, just for the story—i adore her), jealous!jj, slut shaming, a little bit of angst, a little bit of blood and violence, fluff. rafe being a menace too, lowkey

you sat on a log at a party in the boneyard—one that you let john b and pope convince you to go to (you felt bad for icing them out for almost three weeks now when they weren't the ones who screwed you over)—staring out towards the ocean in a red bikini top and a pair of jean shorts, sipping on some beer that john b had brought over to you in a red cup.

he was now occupied talking to some blonde touron, sitting up in a tree, while pope talked to some other girl by the keg, and jj and kie chilled with a few other pogues, his arm slung around her shoulder.

so much for claiming to love you—he was just on his knees begging you to forgive him last week. and now, he was here with your best friend—former best friend, anyway. the two of them really had no shame.

pulling your phone out of your pocket, you begin to text rafe.

you: please tell me you're on your way.

rafe: miss me already?

you roll your eyes at his response. last weekend, after your break up with jj, you made the somewhat idiotic decision to hook up with rafe at a kook party on figure eight. you're still not exactly sure how it happened, but the sex was good, so you've kinda formed a sort of friendship with him in a way—with benefits, of course.

the three dots appear again, signaling that he was typing something else, and you wait for the message to come through.

rafe: turn around.

you furrow your brow at the text, but do as you're told and turn around, only to find a smiling rafe standing over you—dressed in a ralph lauren, short-sleeve, white collared shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

"hey pretty girl," he greets you as you stand.

little did you know, jj was watching from afar, his eyes focused on the way you throw your arms around rafe's neck in a hug, while his hands trailed around your waist to press your body against him.

"what the fuck?" jj mutters beside kie, who snaps her head towards him.

"what's up?" she asked.

"what is he doing here?" jj felt heat rise in his chest, his eyes narrowing at you and rafe.

kie furrowed her brows at him in confusion before following his line of sight to you and rafe a good distance away, you playfully pushing against his chest with a giggle.

"shit," kie says. "i didn't see that coming."

"yeah that makes two of us," jj slams his empty cup down on the ground and stands up without another word, beelining straight for you and rafe.

"so this is why you wanted to break up," you hear jj's familiar voice fill your ears, but it wasn't sweet and sarcastic as usual—it was bitter.

you shift your eyes towards him, causing rafe to turn too, to see what or who had just pulled your attention from him.

"excuse me?" you asked.

"rafe cameron, y/n?" he snarled. "seriously? i thought you knew better than that."

"clearly i don't, considering i trusted you," you spat, causing a scowl to fall over his sharp features. "and by the way, we didn't break up because i wanted to be with rafe. we broke up because you cheated on me."

that makes rafe snap his head towards you—he knew that your relationship didn’t end on good terms, but you never really told him why. "he cheated on you?" 

"with kiara."

a scoff mixed with a snicker leaves rafe's mouth as he looks at jj. "you're an even bigger idiot than i thought."

"look, shut the fuck up, man, a'ight?" jj motions a hand at him. "this isn't about you. this is about you." he turns to you again. "you're really slutting yourself up for this asshole?"

"better than slutting myself up for a cheater," you retort. "and in case you haven't noticed jj, we're broken up. what's it to you if i'm hooking up with someone else?"

"and she is, by the way," rafe throws jj a wink and smirk. "you really fucked up. i mean, really fucked up. the way she feels bro? i don’t know how you coul—"

"shut up, man," jj was getting riled up now, a hand coming up to push rafe back, a deep chuckle falling from rafe's lips as he used both his hands to push jj back.

that's enough to push your ex-boyfriend to the edge as he comes at rafe, causing him to trip over a skinny log as both of them tumble onto the sand. the noise from the tussling only pulls attention from everyone else, john b and pope immediately running over to break the two hot-headed blonds apart.

you really had a type, huh?

"what did you do?" kie comes up beside you, along with a few pogues, kooks, and tourons—who had now formed a makeshift half-circle around the scene.

you look at her, more pissed off at her accusation than rafe and jj fighting. "what makes you think i did anything?"

"you usually always do," she says.

you cross your arms and scoff. "you're one to talk."

"and what's that suppose to mean?"

"it means you were supposed to be my best friend, kiara," you tell her. “and not only did you screw our friendship over, but you did it by fucking my boyfriend. no wonder sarah cameron dropped your ass.”

she purses her lips at you, upset by your mentioning of sarah’s name. “don’t act as if this is just all on me,” she argued. “you were the one who weaseled your way in, and stole him from me.”

“stole him?” you asked, taken aback. she was the one who set you up with him in the first place. “you’ve clearly reached different levels of delusional.”

“you think i'm delusional?" she spat, crossing her arms. "you're hooking up with rafe cameron. do you really think you'll get him to fall for a pogue like you?"

before you could even answer, rafe separates the two of you, bumping into you both as jj pushes him back, and you reach out to steady him.

"you think i'm scared of you, man?" jj shouts at him, john b holding him back.

rafe chuckles and wipes at the little bit of blood beside his now busted lip with his thumb. "i think you should be."

"get your fucking boyfriend, y/n!" jj yells, his eyes shifting from rafe to you.

"you got it," you nod at him with a smile, just to piss him off more—rafe wasn't your boyfriend, but he didn't have to know that. "you wanna get out of here?" you tilt your head up at rafe, who turns his head towards you and smiles. 

"lead the way, doll."

you do as he says, giving kie a small smirk as you walk past her and the makeshift crowd that had formed, everyone's eyes on the two of you.

"so… your boyfriend, huh?" rafe swings an arm around you and squeezes you to his side.

"chill, cameron," you laugh, pushing him away from you playfully. "i only said that to piss him off."

"so i'm just a toy to you then, is that what this is?" he asked, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as you both stop by his truck.

"that depends…" you trail off and turn to face him, your back resting against the passenger door of his truck. "am i just a toy to you?"

"i'm not sure yet," he shrugs, honestly. "i wouldn't have just taken a bloody lip and sand stains on my polo for anyone though."

you giggle and bring your thumb up to swipe at the beige-colored stain on his white shirt. "yeah, sorry 'bout that."

"no worries," he shakes his head, his eyes locking with yours. "i can think of one or two ways you could make it up to me."

"oh, is that so?" you kink a brow at him. "because i can tell you right now i don't have a hundred dollars to spare for a brand new ralph lauren polo shirt."

he leans a hand against his truck, beside your head, and closes the distance between you. "and who said that's what i wanted?"

you tilt your head to the side, an amused smile on your face. "then what did you have in mind?"

"let me take you out on date," he says. "a real one."

part 4.

writing rafe being soft for the reader is literally my favorite thing ever.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

click here to be added to my tag list!!

tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @immyowndefender @chiaraanatra

[jamminvroomvroom]

ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

-

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

-

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.” he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

-

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn��t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

-

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

-

i feel so warm inside hehe

-

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[6esiree]

Why Alastor Wanted To Adopt Your Daughter Pt.2

“Mmm.”

“Yes, yes, that’s it! Mmm, and then ama.”

“Mm… aa… dada?”

“Yes—wait, no! It’s mm…ama!”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry, but did she just call you… dada? Like, daddy?” Lucifer inquired over a glass of whiskey from the bar, inebriated enough to tolerate the idea of holding a conversation with Alastor. “You, her dad—or a dad in general? That’s… ha!” He continued, a toothy grin overtaking his features as he watched the man’s ears fall back against his head. “That’s hilarious, honestly.”

The sound of your sweet, little 10-month-old daughter calling the Radio Demon her dad between a series of babbles was just… comical, to say the least. Alastor wasn’t her father, and as far as Lucifer could remember, he wasn’t your partner. While he noticed the way the two of you would gaze at each other from across the room when either of you weren’t looking, your eyes full of longing and an unspoken desire to unite as a blended family since he started looking after your baby, you still remained a single mother with a child without a paternal figure.

“My, my, has my memory failed me?” Alastor hummed from the parlor, his knees digging into the plush carpet as he sat in front of your daughter, holding an open canister of baby puffs in his clawed-hand. “Because I don’t recall asking for anybody’s opinion, better yet yours.”

“Mm…dada?” There it was, that term Alastor had come to dread out of guilt; but he couldn’t stay mad at your daughter, his sharp features softening as she scooted closer to him on her bum, her chubby little hands making grabbing motions at the sweet treats in his grasp.

The sight surely made Lucifer’s drunken heart flutter, but he also despised Alastor. He despised him so much that he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he congratulated him for your child’s first words, and how… interesting it would be if you just so happened to step into the room at the same time. That sardonic smile he reserved for him and him only would probably twist, turn, and contort into all of the unique ways he could smile to communicate how he felt before the corners of his lips ultimately fell as you gasped in shock—or worse… horror.

And almost as if Alastor knew that, his head snapped over his shoulder with a dangerous glint behind those red eyes of his that promised to make the fallen angel’s life a living Hell—or more like a living purgatory—so long as he decided to linger in the Hazbin Hotel. He was trying to make things right, fully comprehending the weight of your daughter’s words and how it could hurt you after she brought back a memory nestled in the deepest, darkest crevices of his mind. A memory of the person he cherished the most and missed oh-so terribly: his beloved mother.

The memory was so fleeting, and yet the way her gentle voice echoed in the back of his mind as he walked away from Cannibal Town and down the streets of Hell, your daughter clinging onto the lapels of his coat like a lifeline, had his stomach churning with guilt. He vividly recalled how much it had meant to his mother that his first word as a baby had been mama, especially after life had treated her so unjustly. So, it only made sense that he believed that you’d feel a similar way as a single mother.

“Here, little one, for being able to pronounce the ‘M’ in mama,” Alastor affectionately hummed to your daughter as he gingerly placed a puff in her palm, trying to ignore the ache in his heart. “Now, unless you have something of use to provide me,” He continued, refusing to look at Lucifer, “I suggest that you resume your ritual display of drunken mediocrity and leave me in peace.”

“Excuse me? Oh, you piece of—look, even if you teach her how to say mama,” Lucifer scoffed before bringing the glass of whiskey back to his lips, savoring the sensation of the thick, warm liquid slowly trickling down his throat, “The moment that precious little girl sees you, she’s going to call you…” and he purposely emphasized each vowel with that forked tongue of his, “…da-da.”

Oh, Alastor had had enough, and he made that known as his tendrils materialized underneath Lucifer’s barstool and traveled up and up and up, till they wrapped around the man’s limbs, twisting and turning on the length of his arm and constricting his muscles much like a snake would before forcing his hand closed just enough to shatter the glass in his grip, whiskey trickling down the counter and staining his pristine white pants. That certainly made Alastor feel a bit better. Just a bit. Although the way his eyes squinted in amusement said otherwise.

“I was going to offer you some help, but now that you’ve stained my favorite pants—“

“Oh, you wear those pants all the time! They were due for a good washing.”

“That’s not true! I have others like—you know what? Fuck you!”

“Ha-Ha! I’m beginning to think that’s exactly what you want to do.”

“Oh, I’d apologize to Adam for taking both of his wives first—which I don’t regret at all—before even entertaining the thought of touching you.”

“Every word that’s seeped past those wretched lips of yours have been completely and utterly useless—come now, little one. Let’s get going.”

“Well, what did you expect? I don’t like you, but—hey, hey! You can’t leave! What if her mom hears that she called you dad—“

“Wait, what?”

Your voice suddenly penetrated the room, the silence that immediately settled between the two squabbling men almost deafening, but at least the sound of your daughter munching on her baby puffs made the tension in the room more… palpable. More palpable than the truth both Lucifer and Alastor thought would be difficult to digest, that the life you had created dared to utter the word ‘dada’ instead of ‘mama’ as her first word; and while you had to admit that you were slightly disappointed, it had more to do with the fact that you hadn’t been able to witness such a huge milestone in your daughter’s life.

“Why didn’t you tell me she said her first word?” You asked Alastor as Lucifer practically scampered out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. In his defense, he had to clean himself up, even though he could easily do that with a mere snap of his fingers. “And that it was—“

“Dada!” Your daughter interrupted you, offering the man carrying her a puff. He accepted the puff, but he didn’t eat it because why would he?

He had you standing right there before him, confusion etched onto those soft features of yours that made his stomach churn with something he couldn’t quite put his claw on. And the way you stared up at him in anticipation only exacerbated that foreign feeling, his heart-rate picking up, his adam’s apple bobbing underneath his collar, and his palms turning sweaty. It was all so strange—everything he was feeling at that very moment, to be exact. Perhaps some sort of illness had spontaneously befallen him?

“I hope you are not upset, darling. I allowed her to call me so out of… well, I’m not quite sure why I allowed it, admittedly,” Alastor stiffly spoke, readjusting your daughter on his hip, feeling her slip from his sweaty grip. “But I can assure you that I tried to fix my mistake, the little one is just rather stubborn—“

As Alastor uncharacteristically rambled on about his initial shock over your daughter calling him dada, you couldn’t find it in you to be upset at anybody in the room, not even if you wanted to. Your baby was… well, just a baby, and the man unconsciously bouncing on his heels in front of you as he slowly dissolved into a nervous mess? He obviously cared for her, and if she regarded him as a paternal figure… well, that was just alright with you. And you made that unequivocally clear by bringing him in for an embrace, your daughter squealing in delight.

You rested your cheek on his chest, your hands splayed across his back as you held both of your favorite people in Hell close to you. With your ear right above his heart, you could hear it beating rapidly against his ribcage, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as his body relaxed in your embrace… but not his heart-rate. ‘Babies do what they want, Al,’ You spoke, moving your head up to look at him, his stare already fixated on you, but the best part was when his pupils dilated. ‘I’m not upset… just, tell me next time, okay?’ Of course he nodded, but he still wondered if—

“Oh, and if she calls you daddy, it’s alright with me,” You hummed, balancing yourself on your toes, your plush lips pressing against his chin in a fleeting kiss that had his tail wagging underneath his coat. Fortunately, you couldn’t see. “Her biological father is a deadbeat, anyway.”

“Duly noted,” Alastor chuckled, finally returning the embrace; and despite how much he enjoyed your kiss, it was the way you and your daughter fit so perfectly in his arms that had that foreign feeling in his stomach—that supposed illness—threatening to consume him entirely.

Want to read part 1? Here it is —> 🤍

[muniimyg]

what happens if I ask for more bbydaddy jk? 🍼🍪

⋆����₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (3) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

one thing that you've always liked about jungkook is that he never got in your way.

from the beginning, he has always been supportive and more than willing to compromise (aka accept the short end of the stick) if it was about your happiness. besides, he has always offered and insisted... and it's not a selfish thing to want more for yourself, right? so, you can't help but take it. you're grateful and beyond relieved that the father of your child is such a loving man. you know it. you believe it.

so, it baffles you he finally does it.

jungkook stands in your way.

"hey! what are you—w-what? jungkook, get up."

but it's too late. jungkook falls to his knees, keeping his chin up. he looks at you, glossy-eyed and utterly heartbroken. he has a bouquet of flowers in one hand while the other is placed on top of his heart.

"i'll be miserable if you do this to me."

"but this isn't about you—"

"make it about me."

a moment passes and his pleading eyes speak beyond his four words. you see it. you see how weak he is and how much of his heart he's laying out for you.

jungkook then takes the silence as a sign to continue his confession. "i'm begging you to fucking choose me right now. please, ___. you can be mad at me forever but d-don't—"

"okay, okay," you yield, bending down and cupping his face with your hands. jungkook can smell the perfume on your wrist and remember how you always wore it on date nights.

he sighs heavily, holding back his tears.

"jungkook, i'm not mad at you. what are you talking about?"

truth be told... he doesn't know either.

all he knows is that he isn't ready for this. he can't live with himself knowing that you chose someone else (you haven't and you didn't). it's a fear that plagues jungkook's mind, body, and soul. it's what drives him crazy and what keeps him sane.

he needs to get you back.

"what's going on, honey? talk to me.." you insist, moving your hands to his hair. you push the strands that cover his eyes away and smile at him gently. "come on, jungkook. it's just me."

"i love you," he says ever so sincerely. "i can't... i d-don't think i'm ready for this."

"for what?"

shrugging, he pushes the flowers in between you two. "you want flowers? you want to go on dates? you want to be loved right? god, ___... i can do it. you know i can—"

"jungkook, i know you can—"

"i can be here seven days a week. i can be more than zion's dad. i love it—i love him, really! but i also love his mom and i'm so fucking tired of acting like the past 8 months of our separation is working for me... because it's not. i miss you all the time and i h-hate... i hate that you're trying to move on."

your eyes widen and your heart breaks.

he's right.

the past 8 months have been such a difficult adjustment. you wish you had more time to confide in him, but you don't. life doesn't stop and it's so draining to wait for people to catch up to you.

"i hate this too," you admit. "a-and if you think i'm trying to move on... you're stupid."

he pouts. "if you're not trying to move on, then why are you going on this date? with nam joon at that... seriously? he's the most boring person in your firm."

you laugh.

"my colleagues said they would stop pushing us to be together if i went out on one date with him. do you know how much time they take away from my cases? all they do is gossip about him and i. you know i hate that—"

jungkook glares at you. "then just tell them we're back together."

"you want me to lie?"

"be honest with me," jungkook tugs you close. "one of us is a liar and it's not me."

you gulp.

"it's not that easy—"

"what do you want, honey?" he asks you. his gaze drops to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i can give it to you."

"jungkook..."

he tightens his lips and places his hand on the back of your neck. gently, he inches you closer to him.

"fuck it. to hell with what you want.”

then, he crashes his lips onto yours.

he kisses you like he's missed you his entire life. he places his hands on your waist as you two make your way inside your apartment. he shuts the door with the back of his foot and guides you to the bedroom you both once shared.

there, he sets you on the bed and begins to undress you. he kisses your waist, easing your mind, and earns pretty moans from you. it boosts his ego. it makes his dick so fucking hard.

god, you fuck him up so bad so fast.

once you’re naked, he takes a second to look at you. he deeply inhales and throws his head back. when he looks at you, you roll your eyes and he winces at you.

“my woman is so beautiful. you are so fucking divine, honey. i’m—goddamn. i’m so favoured.”

you stick your tongue out and toss a pillow at him. he dodges it and laughs.

as you relax, he then begins to strip. you watch, hungrily and more than ready for what's to come next. once he's bare, he towers over you. just as he kisses you and slides his fingers between your wet folds, your phone starts to buzz.

you and jungkook turn your attention to the corner of your nightstand. he groans in annoyance as the buzzing continues. reaching over, he checks the notification.

[5:57pm] 7 missed calls: atty. kim nam joon [now] incoming call: atty. kim nam joon

jungkook hisses.

then, he turns to you and smirks. cheekily, he says; "your vibrator still broken? we can use this instead."

[hoseoksluna]

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy. 

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world. 

White wine. 

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks. 

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him. 

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now. 

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight. 

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you. 

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too. 

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently. 

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion. 

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy. 

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before. 

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room. 

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.” 

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away. 

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard. 

“Taste it for me first.” 

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too. 

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.” 

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp. 

“More.” 

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?” 

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum. 

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it. 

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good. 

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name. 

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree. 

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain. 

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts. 

“You’re gonna take control of me?” 

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face. 

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.” 

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?” 

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.” 

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way. 

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?” 

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.” 

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?” 

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.” 

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up. 

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession. 

“No, not from her. Please, from you.” 

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger. 

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper. 

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.” 

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants. 

“Boxers, too?” 

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.” 

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp. 

And he lets you. In the name of love. 

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home. 

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him. 

How sweet. 

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?” 

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch. 

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view. 

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain. 

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?” 

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth. 

You knew it. 

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.” 

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him. 

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan. 

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?” 

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you. 

“Vinny.” 

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable. 

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?” 

“Please.” 

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger. 

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether. 

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness. 

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him. 

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.” 

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.” 

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.” 

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is. 

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”  

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?” 

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths. 

Then, Jungkook glares at you. 

“I’m gonna destroy you.” 

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.” 

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his. 

And he proves you right. 

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” 

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid. 

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.” 

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it. 

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does. 

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did. 

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.” 

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?” 

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings. 

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it. 

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him. 

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine. 

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come. 

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?” 

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.” 

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow. 

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again. 

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless. 

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.” 

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?” 

“And your snores.” 

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him. 

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time. 

You shake your head. “I messed up.” 

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock. 

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.” 

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.” 

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?” 

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?” 

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.” 

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.” 

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks. 

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down. 

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand. 

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets. 

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.” 

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.” 

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back. 

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.” 

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.” 

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering. 

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there. 

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.” 

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?” 

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.” 

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?” 

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole. 

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue. 

“Sit up. Ride my face.” 

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake. 

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take. 

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come. 

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew. 

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him. 

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.” 

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest. 

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.” 

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars. 

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease. 

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.” 

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit. 

And then he gets up. 

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back. 

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you. 

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.” 

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them. 

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth. 

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves. 

“I love you, Ggukie.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips. 

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.” 

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can. 

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart. 

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[guiltyasdave]

hold on to this lullaby

chapter 4 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, nightmares, implied death of a character, the angst is once again angsting, reader's thoughts have suicidal undertones sometimes

a/n: girlie is once again going through it. i know that we're moving at a very slow pace but the chemistry is growing, slowly but steadily :)

shoutout to @toomanytookas who left the most thoughtful analysis on the last chapter, and noticed how the doors being open or closed works as a metaphor for the state of their relationship. looking back, that is very true, but truth be told, it wasn't a conscious writing choice on my part lol. i love it so much though and am now using it very purposefully, so thank you for bringing that to my attention and just for being so incredibly kind <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You’re running through the woods, running, running. Searching for something, someone, that you know you won’t find. 

Keep them safe. Promise me. We’ll be there soon. 

No one’s safe. No one’s coming. No one’s there. Your hands are wet, dripping with red, leaving a trail behind you. You trip, falling down to your knees, hands sinking into the earth. There’s nowhere to go, nothing to find. 

Still, you have to keep running. Running running running, searching searching searching. Keep them safe. Promise me. 

You’re used to it. 

Eyes flying open to suffocating, disorienting darkness, gasping for breath in the stale air of your room, the blanket much too heavy on your body. The images that your subconscious conjured up, still playing behind your eyelids. Your heart racing, your mind struggling to find its way back to reality. Lying alone in the darkness, only gradually able to discern your dream from your real life, the horrors blending into one another too intricately, too smilar to be separated. 

You’re still gasping, tears burning hot in your eyes and leaving wet tracks on your face. But it’s not dark, this time. And you’re not alone. The blurry shape of Joel slowly comes into focus, illuminated by the soft glow from the lamp on your nightstand. The weight of his hand is still resting on your shoulder, anchoring you to the present, and you realize that he must have shaken you awake. That you must have been loud.

You’ve wondered before, if you’re making noises, if the sobs that wrack through your body in your dreams follow you into reality. There’s never been a way to find out, before, but now it seems like they do, loud enough to travel through the closed door and wake Joel up. 

Heat blooms on your face, fueled by shame and guilt, both for disturbing his sleep and for your behavior earlier.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice stumbling over the words, thick with sleep and more tears. 

“Hey, no,” he replies softly, soothingly, his voice a deep rumble, his touch still firm on your shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

You shrug, too exhausted to argue. His other arm twitches at his side, reaching towards you before he stops himself, sitting back on his haunches, groaning quietly at the movement. 

“You wanna–” he clears his throat, shifting slightly, “you wanna talk about it? Or is there anything else I can do?” 

You quickly shake your head, eyes trained on your hands that are clasped in your lap. He waits for another beat, before he hums, his knees creaking as he stands back up. 

You miss the feeling of his hand on you as soon as it disappears, but you can’t possibly bring yourself to ask for that, so you swallow against the lump in your throat, watching his retreating silhouette in your doorway.

“Joel?” Your hushed voice travels through the dimly lit room. He halts at once, turning back around to face you, the lines on his face somehow softer than you know them. “Could you— keep the door open? Just a little?” 

You’re awake for a long time after he leaves, at first listening to the fall of his quiet footsteps retreating to the other room, the faint rustle of his sheets as he gets back into bed, Ellie’s hushed voice and his responding grumble, but you can’t make out the words. When it’s quiet again, you retreat into the swirling mess inside your head. Unable to turn the light off, unable to close your eyes, terrified of the darkness and the images it might bring back.

You’ve tried not to think about it too hard, afraid of jinxing yourself, but you’ve noticed that you’ve slept better since Ellie and Joel have arrived. It’s like their presence, the change they’ve brought to your life, is enough to keep your mind occupied, like a safety blanket has been draped over you, keeping the worst of it away from you. But yesterday’s events must have ripped holes into it, must have brought the past and its pain to the forefront again. 

You drift back off eventually, nothingness engulfing your tired mind and pulling you into a dreamless sleep that you’re thankful for. 

You’re roused by the sounds from outside the door, the movements of someone being up filtering through the gap that Joel left open last night. It takes a while until you get your bearings, until the memories all come back to you. The familiar fear, the panic. The unfamiliar presence of someone beside you, of a touch on your shoulder.

Following the sounds, you find Joel in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, something that you usually do. You watch him for a second, taking in his messy morning hair, the specks of gray, the furrow of concentration in his brow as he’s stirring oatmeal. The steaming cup in his other hand, almost dwarfed by his large fingers, that you know must contain coffee. 

His eyes widen for a second when he notices you leaning against the doorframe, scrutinizing your face, gauging the state you’re in. You try a tentative smile, taking a step towards him, nodding towards the pot on the stove. 

“Thought breakfast was my job.” You’re pleased with how normal your voice sounds, nothing like the mess from last night. 

Joel shrugs, the expression on his face just a smidge too innocent, too casual. 

“You’re doing more than enough for us. Thought I’d let you sleep in.” 

You don’t have it in you to start a discussion about it, and you wouldn’t know how to explain this to him anyway. How you don’t want him to do things for you, don’t want to know what it’s like to have someone else care for you. Don’t want to feel how nice it is, even in such small doses. How you’re overly conscious of the fact that it will get taken away again before you know it, that you’d do well not to get used to it. How you’re not sure if you’ll be able to survive having something nice ripped away from you yet again. 

So you smile, mutter a thank you, Joel, and when he suggests that you take a shower, that he’ll be finished by the time you’re ready, you agree. Suddenly, you’re aware of the night’s sweat that has dried on your skin, clinging to you and making you feel sticky. Suddenly, you’re desperate to wash it off your skin, to leave the last night behind you and not look back.

With the stream of warm water raining down on you, the stiffness in your neck eases a bit and your breath’s coming more freely again, pieces of the tension that’s been coursing through you since last night slowly melting away. Still, you keep shivering, no matter how much you’re trying to open your body up to the warmth surrounding you, to let it drive out the coldness that’s emanating from your chest. 

Move on, your own voice echoes in your head. Keep living. The promise you’ve made to yourself, that you’re trying to keep, even though some days, you’re not sure why. 

Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself when you enter the living area again. You’ve pulled on one of your warmest sweaters, one that you’ve knitted yourself, over the course of several long, lonely days, with nothing else to keep your hands and mind occupied. Still, you feel cold. 

Ellie is up now, sitting on the couch, a bowl of oatmeal all but forgotten in her lap and her nose buried in one of the comics you gave her, the artwork on the cover all too familiar to you. She jumps when she sees you, hastily stuffing the book in between her thigh and the cushion beside her, a guilty expression in her eyes as she looks at you. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles before you can say anything, her hands clasped in her lap. It breaks your heart to see her like this, to know that she heard you last night too. How much your behavior must have scared her. That she probably feels responsible, even though your mind was already in a bad state long before you’ve even met her. 

It does hurt, seeing those drawings of galactic adventures that you’ve seen a million times before, with another pair of eyes glued to the pages. Another child excitedly recounting the stories to you over and over, until you basically knew them by heart and listened to them time and time again anyway, because his happiness made you happy. 

The pain of it weighs heavy on you, but not as heavy as the urge to protect her from being hurt, to wipe that guilt off her face. 

“The pages are gonna crumple like that,” you say, softly, hoping to convey with your eyes what you don’t have the words for. 

She slowly pulls it back out, shooting you careful glances. “Are you sure?” She sounds so young right now, so unsure of herself, and yet she’s trying to look out for you, trying not to hurt you, when she really shouldn’t have to. 

You’re nodding, convincing the both of you, that it’s fine, that you’re fine. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “That one’s good, enjoy it.”

You duck into the kitchen, mumbling about urgently needing a cup of coffee. You’re certain that Joel has heard your conversation, and that he sees how glassy your eyes are, but he doesn’t comment on it, just quietly hands you a cup, his fingertips faintly grazing yours.

It’s a subdued kind of day. Both Ellie and Joel are trying hard to act casual around you, but you feel the lingering glances, notice the looks exchanged behind your back, the cloud of worry that’s surrounding both of them. It makes you nervous, weirdly conscious of your every movement. And you’re still cold.

You end up watching another cheap action movie that evening, Ellie curled up on the armchair while you and Joel are occupying the couch. Your chin is resting on your knees, arms wrapped around your legs, eyes fixed on the small TV. But your mind is wandering, barely taking in the scenes playing out on the screen.

Your thoughts keep going back to how Joel touched you last night, how his hand had rested on your shoulder. How good it had felt, how you have the inexplicable need to feel it happening again. How warm his hand had been. You wonder if his touch might be able to finally stop you from feeling like you’re slowly freezing from the inside.

Another involuntary shiver runs through you. Joel’s gaze slides from the screen to you beside him. He doesn’t ask if you’re cold, being familiar enough with you by now to know that you’d deny it. Even as another wave of coldness passes through you, causing your shoulders to tremble slightly.

His brow is creased with worry as he wordlessly leans over to you, spreading the blanket that had been folded over the armrest that he’s leaning against over your shoulders. Your lips tip up in a grateful smile, the long lost feeling of someone caring for you engulfing you in more warmth than the blanket could ever provide. You allow yourself to get lost in it, just for a little while. 

The blanket faintly smells like him, you realize as you pull it tighter around yourself and up to your chin, inhaling deeply. A different kind of warmth is creeping up your cheeks and you turn your face towards the TV once more, oblivious to the way Joel keeps watching you from the corner of his eye. 

When you go to bed later that evening, you leave your bedroom door ajar once again.

thank you for reading <3 comments, reblogs and asks are love and make my day every single time!

[marknee]

bts fanfics i personally think shakespeare would lose his job over in the 1500’s.

chapter i. ✷ chapter ii.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — poor sod is on the floor. perhaps it’s shock?

( ♬ ) — he’s jealous he didn’t write this himself. well, it sucks to suck, mate.

( ✎ ) — currently handing him a tissue. give him a second.

( ♛ ) — both him and i lost our jobs. her majesty is ruthless.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: without further ado, this are the fanfics that i think would cause shakespeare to lose his job: the first of many essays. let’s bring the guy to his knees. metaphorically.

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( ♛ ) THE BODYGUARD — by @rmnamjoons

!! bodyguard!namjoon x reader | 62.9k !!

bodyguard au, romance, smut, fake dating, slight angst if you squint, lil bit of violence.

firstly, we’re starting off strong. i present to you, the mother of all namjoon fanfics. and she’s a bad bitch. tbh, i feel like this fic needs a moment of silence just to relish in her glory. soak it all up. it’s essential.

this fic genuinely had me gobsmacked at how incredibly written it is. it delves into every detail and no aspect of the story is left dry. you can tell the author put their everything into creating this world you just submerge into. and it shows.

the world building is amazing, the characters are so thought out, and it feels like you’re just on this adventure with them and discovering their story as it plots out.

also, the build up to the smut? out of this world. that’s one thing i love about this fic: it doesn’t feel rushed. everything is very spaced out and takes it’s sweet time, so when you get to the chocolately nut of the ferrero rocher, it’s like gold and well earned. and you can enjoy it.

honestly, it’s been months since i read this and i think about it every day. i did do some research (for my own peace of mind) and this fic is longer than the perks of being a wallflower. and is it better? yes. sorry not sorry.

this work of art deserves to be read and loved. and i rest my case, your honour.

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( ✎ ) UNTIL THE LAST STAR FALLS — by @minniepetals

!! underworld lords!bts x shield!reader | 44.4k !!

reincarnation!au, poly!au, gods!au, unrequited love, minor character death, car accidents.

quick question — for science — how does one happen to lose all their memories without any sustaining any internal or external injuries? because the things i would do to read this again for the first time. and i do not use those words lightly.

this was my first ever ‘longer’ written fic. and if i’m being honest, i never really liked to read them because i have the attention span of a goat. but this fic lures you in from the very start and time slips away like smoke. to say, it definitely left its mark on me.

it’s so brilliantly written and you feel connected to the characters both mind and soul. you want the best for them, you want to save them, you actually want to crawl into the pages (or screen) and fucking help them out. and that sold it to me, i think. just the sheer love for these characters.

i balled when i read the last few sentences. i didn’t want it to end. i think i finished it at three in the morning and sent a voice note of me crying to my friend. tmi? well, now on my christmas list is 7 hot boys in the underworld who would risk their everything for me. and i, them.

worth every single second. trust.

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( ♬ ) WARM THIS WINTER — by @jamaisjoons

!! seokjin x reader ft. ex-boyfriend jungkook | 51.6k !!

christmas!au, vacation!au, angst, fluff, smut (18+).

one thing about solaris, is she never misses. if i could, i think i’d recommend every fanfic she ever put out, but that’s too much effort for me when you could simply click her masterlist. so, i’ll wait here for you to do that. make sure you come back though.

love. sure, there are hundreds- perhaps, thousands of fics on this app about it. so what makes this one different? well, that’s just it. the sorrowful honesty of love. knowing when it’s over, and when it’s blooming in the midst.

i’ve never been in love, but frankly, this fic really spelt it out for me. the pain, the joy, the lingering memories after everything is said and done. it’s all there. and it really settles in your heart as you near the end.

this work pulled on every single heartstring of mine, stamped on them, and then proceeded to sew anew for the future to bring its own miseries. and i enjoyed it more than i can say (or type).

give this a read if you need just that bit of spark in your life. and that bit of sadness, too.

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( ✮ ) STRIKE A CHORD — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x reader | 15.8k !!

smut (18+), pianist!yoongi.

i don’t know what it is about this fic, but i come back to it whenever it pops up in my mind during my day. i’ll immediately unlock my phone and open this app, knowing i’ll feel better when the last word is read. and i feel content.

the atmosphere in this fic, if i may, feels as though you’re trapped in a warm, safe bubble with hazed music in the distance and soft light spilling through the thin layer of the bubble— not too dark, but enough to make you feel drowsy and peaceful. perhaps that’s why i return to it so often. i like how it makes me feel.

yoongi as an artist is already enough to make a person swoon, but as a pianist? i need a lie down. a cold towel to the head. just the whole characterisation of him in this fic needs a whole separate essay in itself, but you’ll understand my point when you read it.

forever a comfort fic, i think. and forever a comfort person. double whammy. case closed.

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( ✎ ) THE END — by @jimlingss

!! seokjin x reader | 31k !!

fifty percent fluff, fifty percent angst, loosely inspired by to all the boys i’ve loved before.

i say this with my whole chest: i have never underestimated the amount of emotions you can experience during a fanfic, until i read the end— both literally and metaphorically. shock horror.

this fanfic takes you through the adventure of the reader learning of what her future would commence if she were to marry either one of the six members. best part? she’s led through this rollercoaster journey by the ghost of kim seokjin.

first impression to such an offer? sign me the fuck up. i mean, what more could you ask for? however my final impression went a bit more on the lines of what the fuck just happened. very different ends of the spectrum, if you ask me.

i decided to hand both shakespeare and i a tissue after this great piece of art was finished because not only was i sobbing, he was on the floor knowing his romance play of pericles could never live up to such an incredible story.

this fic was a rollercoaster i would be delighted to get onto for another ride.

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( ✎ ) A UNIVERSE TO YOU — by @readyplayerhobi

!! soulmate!hoseok x reader | 41k !!

fluff, angst, smut (18+), soulmates!au.

shakespeare once said (according to google), “it is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves,” and if this fic wasn’t a soulmate!au, i think i would’ve agreed in some sorts. but as it is, in fact, a soulmate!au, i’m obliged to disagree. it was destiny i read this fic, hand on heart.

i was not expecting this fic to hit me in the feels as hard as it did. as you can tell by the other works listed in this essay of recommendations, soulmate!au’s come up a lot. and with a lot of the same plots flying around on this app, it’s hard to make one stand out. but this author definitely has a gift.

everything was so richly created it made you feel full. of wonder, of love, and of want. it made you crave it for yourself. and that’s what i love about this fic. it just makes you feel… good. and with the unfortunates of life currently, it’s one to get your head stuck in for some temporary relief.

dream soulmate? he’s right here, people. just enjoy the story and all the feels that float around your body. go on.

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( ✮ ) BUNNY — by @btssmutgalore

!! jungkook x fem!reader | 46.5k !!

non-idol!au, camboy!jk, friends to lovers, smut, angst.

let’s start here: never judge a book by its cover. a quote by george eliot going all the way back to the 19th century, and one i would use to describe this series as a whole, and my first impressions towards it.

this series, although unfinished (i think), has exceeded my expectations of a good smut outlined by a good plot. the best of both worlds, if you might. i came out of this series deeply in awe of the writing and the clear imagery the author manages to create within your own mind.

additionally, bunny was the beginning for me in learning about the world of camboys and camgirls(?), but i was greatly surprised. often, people are unkind to the new and stick to what they’re accustomed to, afraid of what the unknown might bring — me, included.

but, i’m glad i took the risk because i received three great things in return: a beautiful fanfic, knowledge of something that was foreign to me, and an author whose work i admire and shall be returning to in the future.

perhaps what i’m getting at is this could be a lesson to all. take a risk of something unknown because who knows? maybe something great will come out of it, and you’ll learn something. i did.

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( ♬ ) SEOUL UNDERGROUND — by @hunniejimins (ao3)

!! namjoon x jungkook x f!reader | 300k !!

mafia!au, enemies to lovers, violence, slow burn, love triangles, mob boss!namjoon, smut, heavy angst.

it’s ironic really. i found this work by someone else’s recommendation, and now i’m passing on the favour and recommending it to you, dear reader. it’s funny how the world works.

this work is the perfect balance of fantasy and reality and i love it. you’re hit with the beauty and clouded haze of love before being smacked back into the world at the realisation the very person you’re in love with, is a mafia mob boss and his killer mate. a real fun-sponge, i tell ‘ya.

nevertheless, this book kept me up early morning and late evening reading. it keeps you hooked, wanting, and hungry for more.

it’s nothing less of a masterpiece.

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( ✎ ) CREAM AND SUGA — by @snackhobi

!! yoongi x barista f!reader | 14.8k !!

coffee shop!au, barista!au, fluff, nfsw (18+).

@snackhobi is mentioned twice on this list. though, can you blame me? it’s just a good thing shakespeare and this author don’t exist in the same century. it would be absolute carnage but nobody is ready for that conversation.

this author has a talent of portraying yoongi in the most irresistible way possible. i swear, i fall in love with him all over again reading. i wish you understood.

the whole misunderstanding section made me laugh because haven’t we all been there? the crushing pain and overwhelming guilt of having a crush on someone you can’t have. it’s all too real, seriously. been there, done that (unfortunately).

especially having the holidays just past, this is a perfect fic for a warm evening in, while the coldness of winter storms past outside. such a cute fic. love, love, love!

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( ♛ ) LOST AND FOUND — by @taleasnewastime

!! seokjin x reader | 21.2k !!

strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, sfw.

everyone says they have a fanfic that changed them, whether they’re being hyperbolic or brutally honest. and in my case, it’s a matter of both latter and former.

a couple months ago, i reached what i thought was rock bottom regarding my mental state and i took to my imagination to save me from the daily hell of my own mind. and this book was one i never really forgot about.

everything this author wrote within this fic was honest, heartfelt and very, very real. from the way you don’t just go up after going through something, but fall occasionally and sometimes feel as though you’re back at square one, to the way that there definitely is hope in the dark moments, and a light at the end of the tunnel. albeit a very faint one.

it comforted me in a way and reminded me of what i thought to be lost. fruitless, even. but sometimes, it’s books like these that open our eyes to things we’ve forgotten during times of turmoil: the simple goodness of life. and of people.

“if you’re going through hell, keep going.” winston churchill.

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( ✮ ) CANDYLAND — by @honeymoonjin

!! seokjin x reader ft. elf!jk | 13k !!

thriller, angst, fantasy, husband!jin, some cursing.

my mother is the biggest thriller fan. not that you needed to know that, but she is. and she’s not ashamed of it either. she’ll let you know if she’s reading a really good thriller in the moment. trust me, you’ll know.

me? not so much. i’m more of a sappy, hopeless romance, happy ending kind-of-sod — if you haven’t already guessed from this list. but there’s a reason this fic is on the list, too.

this fic genuinely kept me on the edge of my seat- uh, bed. the secrets of what darkness lingered behind the happy exterior of this adventure trip gripped my eyes to the screen, and lord, was it worth it.

throw a bit of husband!seokjin in there too? what more could you want! and written by @honeymoonjin? what a win.

let’s just say after this fic i added a few other thrillers to my basket. and happily reported to my mum i was a changed woman. okay, i’m exaggerating, but you get my point. it was incredible.

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( ✎ ) LILY LUCK — by @gguksgalaxy

!! yoongi x reader | 10.7k !!

soulmates!au, angst, fluff if u squint, very slight implicit sexual content, anxiety.

although this fic may be the shortest on the list, do not underestimate its power. it is still as mighty as the others— perhaps, even more so.

i think the main emotion i want to hone into concerning this fanfic is compassion. it sinks into your bones and surrounds your entire being like a unwanted hug. and you can’t even stop it.

the author does a good job of making you feel intense compassion for the reader — who so desperately wants to meet her soulmate. which makes the ending that much more satisfying.

this is for those who’re lonely, need a pick up, or those who’re hopeless romantics and believe in love belonging to fate, such as myself.

“expectation is the root of all heartache.” william shakespeare. talking of the devil, he would definitely cry over this fic. either of bubbling emotions, or the fact he didn’t write it himself. sucks really. for him, not for me.

© marknee, 2023. all rights reserved.

[thetriumphantpanda]

Baby Love | Joel Miller

A Trial & Error One Shot

Summary | It's coming to the end of lambing season, but there's one sheep left to give birth. Noticing she's struggling, you spend the night trying to soothe her, reflecting on your own experiences in her position.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Warnings | Joel & Pretty Girl are still as horny as ever for each other so this is explicit. Mentions of ranching, sheep and animals giving birth. Mentions of human childbirth and pregnancy (I have never had my own children so please go easy on me), also mentions of how dirty it is when a sheep gives birth (blood/guts ect). Explicit smut including oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV smut IN THE BARN, creampie, Joel being a menace, PRETTY GIRL ALSO BEING A MENACE. No use of Y/N, no-outbreak AU.

Authors Note | It has been such a joy to write Pretty Girl again, I've missed her something terrible, and I'm so happy that the dynamic between her and Joel is still going strong, even if I have abandoned them for a while. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and if there are any aspects of this families lives that you'd like to see, feel free to request it in my ask box!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Lambing season is coming to an end - something you’re eternally grateful for. It’s been a busy few weeks - early mornings and late nights for both Joel and Tommy, leaving you with the twins, Joshua and Ellie to keep entertained. Not that you’d have it any other way - your dysfunctional little family makes you happy every day.

With Joshua at school and the twins with Joel as he took Ellie into town for an appointment, you’re out in the fields with Tommy, making sure the remaining sheep yet to give birth are doing alright. You don’t profess to being an expert, but you’d like to think that your motherly instincts can go beyond humans, knowing when certain sheep are due and when some of them are starting to struggle.

It’s been an easy lambing season this year - most of the girls are seasoned professionals by now, needing only a light touch and a refill of their water more than anything, but there’s one sheep you are worried about. She was from lambing season a few years ago and this will be her first time. When you head into the barn, she’s stood in the corner of one of the pens, moving very little but bleating every once in a while. You know it’ll happen soon, but you’re worried about her.

“Don’t worry your head, sugar,” Tommy soothes, running a hand down the back of your head when it’s time to leave, “It’s nature, she’ll know what to do.”

But, led in bed that night, there’s something that you can’t push from the back of your mind. This worry that takes over you. She’ll be on her own in there, being one of the very last to give birth, and what if she’s scared? What if something goes wrong? You remember how scared you’d been when it came to having Joshua.

So you sigh, push back the sheets, and get dressed. You leave Tommy a note in case he wakes in the night and worries about where you are. You can’t say the horses in the small stable next to the house are enthused about having a torched shined at them in the middle of the night, but thankfully yours doesn’t put up much fuss when you saddle it and make the journey through the dark fields to the barn.

Flicking on the lights, you’re immediately glad you came. The sheep in question is led on her side, breathing laboured and fast. As you walk towards her, she kicks her legs a little and lets out a pained bleat.

“I know baby,” You coo, making sure the gate is shut behind you, “Hurts, doesn’t it?��

You fall to your knees in the soft hay a little way from her, hoping not to spook her, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence. She’s led down near the wall, so you crawl over a little and lean your back against it, stretching your legs out, just to be near her if she needs you.

The sheep lets out another pained bleat but she moves a little, up from her side and onto her feet. She walks closer to you, leaning down to prod your hand with her nose. You let out a little chuckle, letting your hand run down her head. The ranch dog likes when you scratch behind his ears, so you do the same here, which has her settling back down onto her side with her head on your thigh.

“It’s one of the most wonderful things,” You speak to her softly, continuing to pet at her head, “Having babies, but they always forget to mention how much it fucking hurts.”

She lets out another soft bleat, moving her body a little to get comfortable, or as comfortable as is possible when you’re in labour.

Watching her, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to your experience in her position. The first twinges of pain, low in your back that turned into pain everywhere. There wasn't a single position that was comfortable, no way to sit or lie or stand that could take the pain away. Then there was the exhaustion - after hours of waiting and more time pushing and pushing, there were moments when you didn’t think you could do it anymore, that you’d just close your eyes, drift off and wake up with a lovely, healthy baby perched in your arms.

But then, there’s that moment of relief, when the midwife had told you it’s okay honey, one more push and it’ll be done and it was and you could hear him crying and then he was on your chest and you were crying and so was Tommy. No-one ever mentions that bit either - how within seconds you could look down at a baby, your baby, and be completely and utterly in love with him. That’s what made it all worth it. That’s what made you want to do it again. It’s what makes you think you’d do it for the rest of your life if you could, just to have that one moment where that baby is in your arms for the first time.

“It’s worth it though,” You speak down to the sheep, “All this pain will be worth it in the end when we’ve got your beautiful little lamb with us.”

And it is. It’s all a bit dramatic in the end. The lamb gets stuck and you need to offer a helping hand to get it out, but almost immediately the mother sheep is doing exactly what she should, cleaning it off as you do the thing you’ve seen Joel do to help clear it’s airways, sticking a little bit of hay up one of it’s nostrils.

“Look mama,” You coo at the older sheep, a hand on her head as she works to get her little lamb clean, “Look what you did, you clever girl.”

Joel doesn’t know what he was expecting when he walked into the barn that morning, but it certainly wasn’t to see you on your knees in the hay, rubbing a newborn lamb with straw. He can see from this angle that your clothes are filthy, covered in blood and God knows what else. Did you…? Have you….?

“Pretty girl,” He speaks softly, not sure you know he’s there, “What are you doing?”

You turn to him and it’s clear to see you’ve done exactly what he thinks you have and helped this sheep give birth, the gunk all over your clothes is also wiped across your cheek and forehead.

“She-” You trail off, “The sheep, she was struggling and I didn’t want her to be on her own.”

He opens the gate to the pen, walking in to fall beside you on his knees, “Have you been here all night?” He asks, letting his hands give the small lamb the once over.

“Pretty much,” You nod, “We had a lovely talk, didn’t we?” You ask to the mother sheep who is standing a few steps away, carefully observing Joel as he looks at her lamb.

“Did she do okay?”

“I had to get in there at the end,” You explain to him, “I think it was stuck, so I just gave her a little helping hand.”

Once he’s satisfied that the lamb is okay he shuffles back a little, watching as you do the same, letting the mother sheep have some time with her baby, “You did a good job,” He praises, letting his hand run down the back of you head, “Proud of you, pretty girl.”

He helps you to you feet, bends a little to brush as much stray hay from your jeans as he can before he steps back and really takes you in. It’s unconventional, but there’s something about the fact that you’ve got your hands dirty, spent your night here on your own to help one of his sheep, and the fact that you’re covered in dirt and hay, something about it all makes his jeans go a little tighter, something that he’s not quick enough to hide.

“Are you hard, cowboy?” He hears you tease before you’re stepping forward, “Does the sight of me covered in blood and guts turn you on?”

He rolls his eyes and turns his back on you, leaving the pen now he’s satisfied the sheep will be okay, but he can hear your feet following him and then your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

“You’ve not gone all shy on me, have you?” You speak softly, gently moving him so he turns a little.

“Have I ever been shy, pretty girl?”

“Then tell me,” You shrug, smirk plastered across your face, “Does this,” He watches as you drag a hand over the mess that is your clothes, “Turn you on?”

“You wanna know the truth?” He asks, voice low, “I wanna bend you over and get you to shut the hell up.”

Joel can’t help but let his own smirk show when your eyebrows raise, but it’s a fleeting later in your guise, because you’re turning around, showing him your back as you walk towards the stacked bales of hay in the corner. He can hear the clinking of your belt buckle and the telltale sound of you unzipping your jeans.

He’s stuck to the ground as he watches you pull down your jeans and your underwear, baring your backside to him. You pull them all the way down, letting them pool at your ankles as you spread your legs a little wider, bending yourself over the hay in the exact position he had in his head.

“Come on then cowboy,” You say, head turned over your shoulder to speak to him, “Come and shut me the hell up.”

It’s been an automatic response of his for years now, that when you present yourself to him, in any way, he falls to his knees like someone praying to an altar, and today is no different. He’s on his knees behind you, at just the right height to grip his palms to your ass, spread you open wide for him.

He wastes no time, he rarely does anymore, letting his mouth close over the hole of your pussy, somehow already weeping for him. He lets his tongue dip inside, lapping at your slick. It’s been years and he still doesn’t think he’ll get over how good you taste, how it lingers on his tongue for hours whilst he goes about his day.

Whilst he’s lapping up your slick, he lets one of his hands reach around, thumb searching out your clit, little circles rubbed across the little bud. He listens, feeling his cock throb in his jeans when you let out a gasp and a little moan.

“Not so talkative now, are we, pretty girl?” He mumbles, barely pulling off your pussy to speak, before he’s switching his hand and his mouth, leaning just enough so his tongue can flick against your clit, one of his fingers slipping inside you easily.

He chuckles against you when you moan at the curling of his fingers inside you - he loves when he can reduce you to a whimpering mess in seconds. It doesn’t take him long to feel the telltale signs that he’s going to make you come either. He can feel you start to fluttering around the two fingers he now has buried inside you, can feel the way you try and tighten your thighs around his face, so he carries on exactly how he is - suckling at your clit and moving his fingers in and out of your cunt until you’re coming for him, a high-pitched moan of his name from your mouth.

Joel doesn’t wait, he can’t wait. He stands, making quick work of pushing his own jeans and underwear from his body, finally freeing his aching cock from the tight confines of his trousers. He spits obscenely into his palm, running a tight fist up and down his length a few times before he’s dipping his knees, rubbing the head of his cock against the slick hole of your cunt, listening as he pushes himself inside you, giving you every inch of him as slowly as he possibly can, until he’s sheathed inside your tight heat.

He leans forward, covering your body with his own, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as he gets used to the feeling of you clenching and fluttering around him. He can feel you wiggling a little under him, trying to get him to move, so he brings one of his hands to the nape of your neck, squeezing a little, stopping your movements altogether.

“Keep still,” He warns, “You need to keep still a minute, baby.”

There’s never going to be a time where he doesn’t need to do this. The soft, wet heat of your cunt and those first movements inside you that make him feel like he’s eighteen again, ready to come with a few thrusts.

He gives himself another minute before he starts pulling his cock out of you, slowly dragging through your slick until just the tip is left inside you, then he’s slamming himself back into you, setting a bruising pace.

The sound is obscene - there’s the wet squelch he can hear whenever he pushes his cock back into you, the slapping of his skin against yours and the way you both sound when you’re moaning each others names. He’s not going to last long, he knows it. All of this combined with the fact that anyone could wander in and see you has a thrill settling across his spine.

Joel leans forward again, letting his teeth bite down gently on the skin of your neck. He can feel the way your cunt is clenching, if he can just hold on, just a little longer, he can get another one from you, he knows it.

“Tell me,” He chokes out into your ear, “Tell me how to get you there.”

You let out a loud moan, turning your face to his, kissing him, all teeth and tongue and clumsy, “Bite me again.”

So he does, he lets his teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking gently, sure to leave a mark, his hand slinking underneath your belly and down to your pussy, soaked bud of nerves exposed just right for him to use his fingers to swirl across it a few times.

“Oh my God-” He can hear you moaning, “Joel, fuck, please, don’t stop, just like that.”

Within seconds, he can feel you coming on his cock - cunt pulled tight, sucking him in. He feels the gush of slick from your pussy too, cock angled just right to have you squirting for him, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. It’s the tightening of your walls around him that sets his own orgasm off - that flush of pleasure across his body that blooms even more as he empties himself inside you. He can feel everything, the way your pussy clenches every time he gives you more, sucking his spend in as deep as possible.

He pushes himself up off you a little, hands on your hips, frantically sucking in air. He groans a little as he pulls himself from your cunt, standing back to admire how his cum drips from you. He doesn’t linger long, bending down to pull your clothes back up, gentle kiss pressed to the swell of your bottom as he does. He lets you zip yourself up whilst he puts himself right.

“Well, that was a great start to the morning.” You muse, pressing up on your tiptoes, gripping at his flannel shirt.

He’s about to speak when there’s a bleating from the sheep in the pen behind you, you both laugh, “Someone else agrees.”

He dips down, kisses your mouth slowly, gently, “Go and get clean,” He speaks against your lips, turning you around and giving you a tap on your ass as he does, “You’re filthy.”

“Still turns you on though.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

[ma1dita]

pushover

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: usually you’re the one stitching Luke up but the one time he gets to do it for you, he knows you’re milking it. no trouble!verse tags, can be standalone -> she’s an ACTRESS okay? who tf wouldn’t want luke to kiss a booboo; this was a forgotten draft for my partners in crime series feel free to read

wc: 1.2k

“OWWWW!”

The sun shines again on Camp Half-Blood peeking through Luke’s dark curls as he towers over you, laughing from his position above. Your knee is scraped after cushioning your fall, or perhaps your attack, after Luke thought it’d be funny to push you again as he walked past.

Well, today’s been kind of boring, so might as well make the most of it right? 

As a daughter of Dionysus, you do love to put on a good show.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in your eye as you do your best to convince him that he’s maimed you but as his eyes fall to the slightly aggravated skin, Luke sighs at the way you look like a kicked puppy, lower lip jutting out as you squint up at him.

“Stop being so overdramatic. It wasn’t that serious.”

“YOU SHOVED ME INTO A BUSH!” 

The howl that leaves your throat catches the attention of other campers, who are familiar with your dramatics and your penchant for picking a fight with the son of Hermes. Luke sighs and runs his hands through his hair, groaning in embarrassment. 

Gods forbid he look like the bad guy.

“Seriously, trouble— you're acting like I pushed you off a cliff,” he grumbles finally crouching down to reach for your leg to check how serious it is. 

It’s not.

“You're a barbarian. Just because you think it's funny to push me around doesn't mean it actually is! Luke.... I can't walk! It feels like my bone is coming through. And I have so much work to do today, and now I'm gonna have to walk super slow…” you groan, still on the ground. Luke rolls his eyes and once he's checked the injury (the whole menacing palm-sized scrape) his expression softens the tiniest bit. He’s still kinda pissed off at you for being a drama queen though.

“Alright, it's not life-threatening so you're going to be fine. Look, I can carry you if I have to.”

Batting his hand away you roll your eyes, “Like I'd let you. You'd probably toss me into the lake again.” 

Luke smirks, “Probably, but I swear to the gods that I wouldn't do anything to maim you. Not on purpose at least.” It’s almost criminal how easy it is to get on your nerves—he thinks you’ve finally shut your trap until he watches you fake crawl away to get a reaction out of him. Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing to everyone watching so he scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing. Luke chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tightly around your squirming frame so you won't fall as he begins walking.

“So difficult. I swear…”

“Me? Never!” you groan, flopping in his arms like a dead body. Your dead weight makes his arms strain a little but his muscles are fun to look at from any angle, so… 

You miss it when he starts speaking again, “You're too much, you know that?” A smirk grows upon your face, “And you can't get enough. The infirmary is the other way, Castellan....” Luke huffs as he turns 180 towards the infirmary, sighing softly at the way you are sprawled in his arms. But he keeps quiet because he knows how to pick and choose his battles. Something about the realization that he’d only do this for you makes him bite his lip in thought. But you think he’s trying to not laugh at you.

“What? You maim me and then you make fun of me? Haven't you done enough?” The words slip by as you peek at him through one open eye, his cheeks flushed and rosy. Hopefully, his brawn won’t expire on the short trek to the infirmary.

“You're lucky I don't drop you right now,” Luke jostles you with a lopsided grin he can’t hide anymore and it steadily gets bigger at the sound of your surprise.

“Don't you DARE, Luke Castellan!” 

Grabbing onto his mop of curls, the boy winces as his nose brushes against your wrist, and the shockwaves it sends through your system are enough to send you reeling. Maybe it’s the way you almost sway with each step he takes, smooth and steady like a sailboat even when he’s carrying you like this.

He ends up having to carry you inside the infirmary and the Apollo kids on shift stop and stare at their two best counselors in the doorway. Luke tries to ignore them, setting you down on an empty cot and getting the medical supplies he needs to treat your wound. He looks at you propped on the bed like a little princess, cross-legged and fluttering eyelashes waiting for him to clean you up. It's not serious enough for ambrosia, he thinks, so he grabs an alcohol wipe instead.

Luke looks like he's trying his hardest not to smirk as he grabs your leg and begins carefully cleaning the scrape.

“Ow! Gentle! When I patch you up after you spar I don't do it maliciously!”

“I am being gentle, stop wriggling!” Luke grits his teeth as he continues to wipe the drying blood away. He's trying to be careful, but he's clearly irritated that you're not making this easy for him.

Tossing your knee over his lap and getting closer, suddenly you go quiet at the proximity. There’s something intimate about being tended to so delicately in a room filled with people. A quiet in the chaos reserved for only the two of you.

“So what, you think I'm too good for ambrosia? Sending me off to heal like a mortal— what type of nurse are you?”

“You drunk on ambrosia for a scrape would definitely make your dad thrilled and have the both of us cleaning the stables for the rest of the week,” Luke lets out a brief snicker as he meets your gaze, rolling your eyes as you lean against the wall. His hand unconsciously rubs circles into the skin above your knee, featherlight yet firm at the same time. You try to ignore the goosebumps that rise in its wake.

Luke doesn't say anything about it while he continues to look at you. He realizes that you look quite pretty even with windswept hair and dirt on your cheek, but he can't let you see that he's noticed. Something shifts in the air of the infirmary, more overpowering than the smell of antiseptic and it bubbles in both of your chests, overflowing and seeping into the small space between you.

Not bad for a boring day, you suppose. You make him piggyback you for the rest of the day in an attempt to guilt-trip him. But the huge smile on his face has all of your campers thinking otherwise.

—

The next day, he sees you walking perfectly fine. In fact, with the way you’re rushing to scold a Hephaestus kid for almost setting the armory on fire, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you move that fast in your life.

Warmth settles on your cheeks as your eyes dart between the kid you’re yelling at and Luke’s narrowing eyes from afar, and you can’t quite tell if the rush of emotions is from what you’re doing versus who you’re really looking at.

Maybe the next time he pushes you around he’ll find out.

[emphistic]

Sukuna Headcanons

a/n: this is from the same universe in my Boy Nextdoor Series, in this drabble yuuji is sukuna's baby brother, i mightve gotten a bit carried away while writing this

@starlets-things PS: idk if you wanted me to tag you in a part two of "Buttface", or just another part of my Boy Nextdoor Series (example: being part of a tag list), pls lmk though

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK

(REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

These are mostly pre-relationship hcs (post-relationship hcs are towards the end of this post)

Neighbor!Sukuna who hangs out at your house constantly, whether it be for studying, playing a game, or having your weekly movie night, he's there almost 24/7

Neighbor!Sukuna who would always force you to partner up with him whenever a group project was assigned; he always played it off as "I'm just using you to get a good grade" — which is a total lie if you haven't caught on yet

Neighbor!Sukuna who discovered his love for whenever you played with his hair when you pushed him into the pool and had to blow-dry his hair as recompense

Neighbor!Sukuna who sometimes forgets that his friends were supposed to come over when you were already at his house

Neighbor!Sukuna who constantly teases you for the height difference between you and him

Neighbor!Sukuna who always walks you to class, even if it means being late to his [own classes]

Neighbor!Sukuna who, without a doubt, hates your friends, like absolutely despises them — this is because he doesn't like the fact that they take your attention away from him

Neighbor!Sukuna who has a hate and love relationship whenever you come over to babysit his brother when he's busy at basketball practice or something — he loves having you over at his house, but he hates that he has to miss seeing your smile and hearing your voice

Neighbor!Sukuna who never listens during class because he's always staring at you

You turned your head around to be faced with a surprised Sukuna. "Hey. Stop staring at me, Freak."

Sukuna would always roll his eyes at that, denying the accusation, but you knew the truth, though — and so did your whole class, maybe even the whole school too, your teachers included

Neighbor!Sukuna who gets on your nerves on purpose because he is obsessed, utterly infatuated with the cute face you make whenever you're mad

He thinks you're adorable when you're upset, especially when the cause is him

Neighbor!Sukuna who sometimes makes you a little too angry, resulting in detention for the both of you — however, he doesn't mind the extra time he gets to spend with you

Post-establishedrelationship hcs:

Neighbor!Sukuna who always shuts you up with a kiss whenever he thinks you talk too much (he is a little mean, yes)

Neighbor!Sukuna who can't stand when other people are talking to you

Neighbor!Sukuna who always has to be touching you one way or another — whether that be a hand around your shoulder, hand on your waist, or even your hand wrapped around his bicep/arm, sometimes he doesn't even realize he has a hand on you, it's just become instinct now

Neighbor!Sukuna who kicks the back of your knee when he wants you to stop talking to someone, and talk to him instead

Neighbor!Sukuna who forces you to wear his jersey whenever he has a game; he loves seeing his last name on your back — he always points you out in a crowd to his teammates

"See that pretty girl over there? Yeah, that's mine."

Neighbor!Sukuna who can't resist slapping your ass whenever you walk past; it's become a natural instinct at this point

Neighbor!Sukuna who is actually super clingy, but he'll never admit that; he'll spam you with nonstop calls and texts just to ignore you when you do eventually respond

Neighbor!Sukuna who can't fall asleep without you beside him in bed

Neighbor!Sukuna who loves when you kiss him on the cheek — he doesn't even know why, he just thinks it feels more intimate than an actual kiss on the lips

Neighbor!Sukuna who always carries your bag

Neighbor!Sukuna who rarely gets sick, but sometimes gets sick on purpose just to have you take care of him

Neighbor!Sukuna who would always kiss you, even if you were sick

Neighbor!Sukuna who pretends not to pay your guys' dinner bill but actually sneaks the money into your purse after you go to sleep

[notjustjavierpena]

Reader coming home from a night out a little tipsy and just happy. Javi is waiting up as he always does to make sure she’s safely back in his arms. Kids are already in bed and it’s just a little cute moment between the two. Reader being quite lovey dovey i guess.

Lovey-dovey

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This was a joy to write for you, anon!

Summary: Would Javier Peña still love you if you were a worm?

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, Drunk and horny reader, javi is a respectful man, undressing, kissing, making out, drunken tears

Word count: 1.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54772312

Lovey-dovey

Javier knows you’re home from the jingling of your keys outside the house, your shaking hands trying desperately to fit the key and unlock the front door without much success due to your drunken state. He is standing on the other side, entertaining himself briefly by listening to your quiet swear as you give up on your mission to get inside the right way. 

However, considerate as you are, you don’t even try to knock in case you wake up all your sleeping children. Instead, you start to pocket the keys to go around the back of the house and get inside the house through the door to the garden. 

It’s just before you step off the front porch that he opens the door for you, leaning against the doorframe to watch you whirl around in confusion. For a second, it looks like you think that you have made the door open by just wanting it enough, but then you smile warmly as you see your husband. 

You are drunk but not out of your mind. It is just enough for you to be clumsy in your state of giggles and heated cheeks, and you waltz inside with confidence that you shouldn’t really have with the way your heels make you walk like a newborn giraffe. 

“Hello husband,” you snicker. 

“Wife,” Javier closes the door after you, holding back a laugh as you hold onto the coat rack to keep your balance while stepping out of your shoes. He drops to his knees to help you, grabbing your ankle to gently slip off a heel, “Had a few martinis, huh? A few tequila sunrises?”

“No,” you grin widely.

Javier rises to his feet once more when your shoes stand perfectly perched on the shoe rack, “No?”

“I just had a little sip of everything,” you confess in a whisper, your words slightly slurred, “Connie let me taste all of her drinks, I barely got to drink mine.” 

“So you mixed a lot of alcohol?” He tuts, reaching around your waist to guide you towards the staircase as you look too unsure on your feet to not end up with your face falling into the floor if you miss a step. 

“A LOT!” You exclaim with a laugh. 

“Shhh,” he shushes you as you begin to ascend the stairs together. Not so considerate after all then but he wouldn’t have you any other way, even when you are trouble. 

“Shhh,” you parrot him with tired eyes, holding a finger in front of your pursed lips. He rolls his eyes affectionately, stepping onto the next few steps of the stairs and watching you watch your feet as you follow. 

“Sorry, I may have gotten a little drunk,” you finally admit, arm slung around Javier’s shoulder. 

“No, really?” He teases in the same tone as he might tease his daughter. 

“Can I sleep in your bed?” You ask in another whisper, almost as if you are fourteen again and Javier is your secret boyfriend that you are not allowed to be alone with. 

“Your bed is my bed,” he reassures with a twinkle in his eye. You have reached the top of the staircase now, and carefully move down the dark hallway to your bedroom whilst Javier tries shushing you when you comment on the family pictures on the walls. 

“You look so handsome here,” you point to a picture from your honeymoon but your finger slips from the glass as Javier has already dragged you further through the house. 

“Thank you. It was a long time ago,” he opens the door and pulls you inside.

As you enter the bedroom, you wrestle free from Javier’s arms and collapse onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. You have your arms out to the sides, staring up at the ceiling which spins slowly above you. 

“For the record,” you say absentmindedly, “You’re still very, very handsome.” 

“Thank you, mi amor (my love),” he chuckles softly, “C’mon, sit. I need to get you out of these clothes.”

“Oooh,” you whistle as his gentle hands start unbuttoning your blouse until it falls open and reveals your bra. He gives you a look, not even having to speak because you know he wants to say really? 

He shrugs it off your shoulders and you visibly shiver at his touch even though your skin is burning from the alcohol in your system. Javier would have you right here if you weren’t drunk. 

“Stand up,” he orders and then helps you out of your skirt, his careful fingers lingering on your waist as he lowers it to the ground. Your head swims. Javier goes quiet. He taps your legs to signal that you need to lift them one at a time so he can pull the skirt away. You sway slightly, leaning into his touch as he steadies you with a firm grip. His eyes meet yours from where he is kneeling on the floor, filled with warmth and adoration, and you can't help but smile back at him. 

“T-shirt?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” you hum.

For both of you, it is almost too much to have him undo your bra without following it up with making love to you. He remembers the first time you met and he had walked you home, drunk out of your mind and trying to get laid. He hadn’t done it back then either, and not even a ring on your finger would change that now. 

He slides the straps off of your shoulders and down your arms, collecting all the pieces of clothing from the floor so he can throw them into the laundry basket by the dresser. Then he gets one of your loose t-shirts from your drawer and turns to walk back to you.

However, you ambush him by pushing him up against the furniture to kiss him. You taste of fruity cocktails that mix with his own minty breath and Javier lets himself indulge for a moment, deepening the kiss to taste your silky tongue but keeping it slow. He throws the t-shirt over his shoulder so he can settle two hands on your cheeks, framing your face in his large palms. 

"You're so good to me," you whisper into his mouth. 

“It’s because I love taking care of you, wife,” he murmurs and guides you back to the bed, tricking you to think that he wants more (and he does, revealed by the tent in his underwear, but not like this; his cock will flag eventually). Instead, he helps you sit down and pulls the t-shirt over your head before you can protest. 

“Javi,” you pout as you move your arms through the sleeves with his help. 

“I know, baby, we can kiss tomorrow when you aren’t drunk,” he says softly, “Tell me about tonight instead. Did you have a good time?” 

“We had such a nice time,” you giggle, seeming to move on pretty quickly. He leaves your side to get you a glass of water and your makeup remover wipes from the bathroom. 

“That’s nice, mamá,” he replies with concentration on his face, beginning to rub your mascara off, “Did you talk about your husbands? Scold me behind my back, huh?”

“We talked about how horribly you treat us,” you bat your lashes innocently, “I don’t know if we can take it anymore.”

“Running off together, are we?” You take a tiny sip of your water. He holds his fingers under the bottom to make you gulp it down instead. 

“I think I might love you too much for that,” you say after swallowing. Javier’s fingers are gentle as he cleanses your skin. 

“You love me?” He asks playfully and crouches to wipe the foundation off your neck too. You hum as an answer. It’s almost too much to feel him like that, so you try to initiate another heated kiss but he shakes his head and pulls away. 

“No,” he says in the same tone as one would use to stop a cat from doing something naughty. 

“What if I promise to be a good girl?” You challenge.

“You’re making this extremely difficult for me, baby,” Javier’s breath catches in his throat, conflict written all over him. He looks like he is just about to give in but then, “No.”

“But,” you pout again, watching him leave your side. 

“Go to sleep,” he orders albeit reluctantly as he climbs into his own side of the bed, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Time goes by after he has turned off the light. Javier hears your breathing in the quiet room but there’s no sign that sleep has found you yet. He gives you the space you need to rest, tries to think about something that will make his cock flaccid again.

“Javi,” you suddenly say into the dark.

“Yes, honey?” He tries not to sigh. Besides him, you have moved to sit up once again and you are flicking on the light on your nightstand. 

When Javier turns his head to look at you, he sees, much to his shock, that you are on the verge of drunken tears. He sits up immediately with slight panic at your shifting emotions, “What’s wrong, mi amor (my love)?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You ask just before turning into a blubbering mess. You let yourself fall against your husband’s shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your crying form. 

There’s a fond smile on his lips as he finds out that it is nothing serious. Instead, it is you feeling everything at a heightened rate. He shushes you gently, rocking you back and forth whilst kissing your hair. 

“I would love you so much as a worm,” he promises through a chuckle. 

“Don’t laugh,” you whine into his chest, “There are physical boundaries that come with me being a worm.”

“We would overcome them,” he replies but you just continue sobbing to the point where he feels tears on his bare skin, “But I really need you to go to sleep right now, okay? I know you’re upset but I promise you that I’d love you even if you were un escarabajo pelotero (a dung beetle).” 

You breathe hard for a few seconds to calm your tears, and Javier figures that you have seen some kind of logic in his argument or at least enough to let yourself be calmed. You wipe your eyes when you pull away. Javier gets some tissues from his nightstand and helps you with the tear streaks you miss. 

“No need to cry, okay?” He runs a hand over your back.

“Okay,” you repeat with a final sniffle. 

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he purses his lips and you peck them almost shyly. However, he just kisses you a few times more, “Good girl. Now lie down and go to sleep.” 

You do as you are told, and he lies down on his side to look at you. The crying seems to knock you out, causing you to snore softly as the clock ticks on your nightstand. He slings an arm over your stomach, cupping your side, and falls asleep too. 

You make him so happy. Even like this.

Especially like this.

.

.

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