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crumbledcastle28 · 7 months

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Joel Miller: Stay Down

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood.

Excerpt: He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Warnings: stitching of a wound, kissing, blood, blood loss, so much yearning, unestablished relationship, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel is scared of feelings.

A/N: This is me coping with the fact that we do not get more last of us in January. Also partially inspired by my favorite song maybe ever.

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

Joel had found his hands becoming more and more susceptible to the cold as he got older.

They would crack and bleed, flaking dried skin within his decades-old gloves before November had even begun. This not only hurt like hell, but forced him to slow down and think about what he was doing to his body for once in his life. He had a harder time gripping the reins on a horse or fingering the trigger on a shotgun. Noticeably so. And living in a small town with a little brother foaming at the mouth to make old man jokes didn't help matters.

This is what led him to you.

He wouldn't call you a hoarder. Honestly, he would be the first to admit that you were one of the smartest people in Jackson. You had somehow become one of the most materialistically rich people in the town. You consistently managed to find the most randomly useful items on your patrols, things that people before the outbreak would never have even thought to miss.

Things like shoe insoles, ball point pens, Chapstick.

And luckily for him, lotion.

You never charged anyone for taking from what you had. Furthermore, you actively asked people if they needed anything. Even offering to scout around the area in search of specifics. Joel hadn't been around that kind of softness since...

Well, a long time.

This made him uncharacteristically nervous when he first approached your doorstep, but he knocked anyway. He had never in a million years expected to leave that house satisfied in more ways than one.

He blamed it on that stupid crinkle the skin underneath your eyes got whenever you smiled at him. He couldn't help but fall into your light.

This started a... friendship. Of sorts. He would come over when he needed you, and you would happily oblige. As time went on, the visits to yours became more and more frequent, frequent enough that the rest of the town seemed to be catching on. At least, that's what his brother had been hinting at through jabs and side comments.

"You smiled at me the other day, Joel," Tommy had said. "Actually smiled."

Joel responded with a gesture he was hoping Ellie would not pick up anytime soon.

Joel was...happy. Happy with the arrangement. He had a warm body – a fucking gorgeous warm body – to get his energy out with, and the woman inside the body seemingly had no issue with his lack of strings attached.

And yet, for some reason, this annoyed him.

There was some undetectable, bruised part of him that wanted you to…what exactly? Fight him on it? Confess your undying love for him? Pull him back into bed to cuddle?

There had to be either pheromones or crack cocaine in that honeyed floral perfume you always wore. You were beginning to drive him this insane. Unfortunately for him, the place he went when he was beginning to toe that line into insanity was always you.

Joel had checked the schedule posted in the main square, assigning every able-bodied person shifts of patrol. You had a shift earlier in the day, which usually kept you busy until noon. You would then shower, eat, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever the hell you wanted.

Overtime, these mental gymnastics became muscle memory to Joel.

He huffed as he lugged his aching legs up your steps, their typical milk white now coated in an ugly muddy brown. Winter had begun, apparent by the puffs of Joel’s own breaths, and the snow in Jackson was trying desperately to keep up.

Joel balled his hands into fists as he planted both feet onto your porch, blowing into them quickly, before knocking three times. Spaced out enough, but not too much. He envisioned you smiling as you heard his signature knock, but cringed at himself internally, burying the thought instantly.

It fluttered back to the surface when he heard the pads of your footsteps somewhere in the house begin but extinguished itself when they dissipated.

He waited a few more seconds, the rational part of his brain saying that you must be in the middle of something, but the man part of his brain imagining you putting on your silky red robe he loved so much, only for him to take it off you so slowly it made his own fingers shake. He breathed in deep, the laundry detergent from his nylon coat mixed with the beginnings of December filling his nose, and cracked his neck while rocking back and forth on his heels.

His eyebrows came together when he heard another rustle, then nothing.

He knocked again.

Still, nothing,

He knew you were in there – he could hear you, clear as day, and he knew you could hear him – but for some reason, you weren’t coming to the door.

His much too weathered mind began to race, thinking of three possible explanations. One, you heard him knocking, and were ignoring him. Two, you somehow were not hearing him knock on the door. Or three, you for some reason were not able to get to the door.

Meaning, there was a possibility you weren’t alone in there, and not by choice.

“Y/N?” he asked loudly. “Y/N, are you in there?”

Nothing. A bit more rustling, maybe a slight groan, but nothing.

Joel’s fingers began to tingle, and it wasn’t from the cold. He knocked again, harder.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said loudly, “just…just tell me you’re okay.”

Silence.

He gripped the doorknob and jiggled it, hard enough for the wood to groan underneath his fingertips, but it was locked from the inside. He huffed, knocking again, his hot breaths now clouding his face. He felt an ache in his wrist.

He said your name one more time, hearing the beginnings of a voice he knew better than he should have muffled by the wood, and the door was flat in front of him before he could think twice.

He stomped his way inside, coating the ground with mud and snow, and his eyes darted around the familiar living room. His vision was tunneled, scrounging for the shape of you on the floor, draped over the couch, held at gunpoint. His heart pulsed in his ears.

You weren’t in the living room.

He stomped into the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, nothing. All that was left was the bedroom.

There was no way in hell you were still asleep.

He practically sprinted to the room, preparing himself. He had seen what men did to women, the remnants of it anyway, and despite his state of denial, he could never in a million years handle the sight of you that way. In your own bed. In your own house. Likely one of your own friends.

He pulled open the door anyway, and was met with gold.

The room was dim except for the lamps you loved so dearly, spreading their warm, glowing, honeyed light across the room in streaks. He blinked his eyes to adjust, focusing in on your body on the bed. You were facing him, skin painted with similar golden streaks, highlighting the tears culminating under your eyes. You were sat crisscrossed, upper body totally bare, back slouched tightly, your body practically folded in on itself. Your right hand was pressed against your left shoulder blade, while your other was filled with wine-colored rags.

Blood-soaked rags.

His eyes met yours quickly, and despite their dampness, they still had that fucking crinkle.

You chuckled, your shoulders dropping up and down quickly as they always do.

“You know,” you said, voice curdled and tired, “if someone doesn’t answer the door, that’s usually them saying ‘leave me the hell alone.”

You chuckled again, this time finishing it off with a wince.

His hand slid slowly from the doorknob as he took a hesitant step towards you, his body tearing itself in half. One side begging to fold your body into him, bubbling you in a cocoon. The other, itching to tear whatever did this to you apart ligament by ligament.

Your eyes slowly drooped from humor to something like shame, like a kicked dog or a broken child, and he stepped forward again.

“Don’t,” you countered weakly. “Just…just don’t.”

You scooted away from him slightly, refusing to look at him, and applied more pressure to whatever was expelling that much blood from your shoulder. Pain was suddenly present in your face.

“You want me to leave?” he quickly countered.

You said nothing.

He walked to you, removing the hand you had pressed against your wound, and sucked in a quick breath.

“Probably the first time you’ve seen a revolver bullet in about twenty years, huh Joel?” you asked, chuckling once more.

He barely heard you.

You had gotten the bullet out, but it had sunken in deep. The skin around it was red and welting, so swollen that Joel had to guess you had already been working on it for at least an hour. He winced, imagining what kind of pain you were in, and the fact that you were dealing with it all yourself.

He swallowed grimly.

“Hand me that rag,” he said. He could tell how little strength you had left to fight him by how quickly the rag flopped into his hand.

He pressed it to the wound, and you hissed.

“Fuck Joel,” you whined, squeezing the covers of your bed so tightly your knuckles went white. He held his pressure, forcing himself to think straight.

He might as well have been feeling the pain in his own shoulder.

He finally eased his pressure, wiping away as much blood from the area as he could.

“You cleaned it pretty well,” he said softly, voice thick in his throat, so thick it was hard to speak. “But…it’s gonna need a stich or two.”

“Or seven,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit sat in the middle of the bed. You opened the bag with shaking hands, taking out the needle and thread. You attempted to begin threading the needle, but with your hands quaking so fiercely you only produced frustrated grunts and sighs. He moved to the front of the bed, the front of his body facing yours, and took the needle and thread from your hands, setting them to the side. He then held your hands in his, squeezing them slightly, before using one to tilt your chin up at him.

He sighed at the storm in your eyes.

“What happened?”

“Did you kick my fucking door down?”

“What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened.”

He sighed again. “You’ve never once been stupid.”

“Today I was.”

“How?”

“It’s how I always am.” Your voice cracked. “Thought I could pick some apples for Mrs. Lawrence down the street. She always talks about how much she loved that as a kid – a freshly picked apple. Went out too far. Felt a sudden burning in my shoulder and ended up having to take out six hunters all by myself. Six.”

A single tear dripped from your left eye, the gold from the lamps turning it to sunlight.

“I could’ve died. All for a fucking apple.”

You turned away from him again, and it took everything in him not to cup your face in his hands and turn you back to him. He had never seen you like this before. So… raw. Beaten. Trampled. Doused in self-hatred. He hated it.

And yet, he didn’t want to look away. He was slowly realizing that this was the part of you he had been desperate to see. Truth. Undercarriage. Weakness.

Human.

He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Slowly, gentler than he ever had in his life, he brought his mouth to your cheekbone. You exhaled a prolonged breath, the heat of it cascading down the left side of his neck. It only prompted him to kiss you more, and more, and more. His lips traveling up into your hairline, across your forehead, down your nose, and finally onto your lips. His kiss there was tongueless, rather a soft press, and yet it meant more to him than any other one you had ever shared.

He could tell by your breathing that you agreed.

He pressed his forehead against yours, swallowing thickly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do if you did.”

Your stormy eyes turned into a sunrise, and Joel straightened his aching back to slowly remove his coat and boots. He placed them on the floor beside your bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You watched him just the same, mouth propped open slightly.

He smirked as he set his things down. He then picked up the needle and thread while using his free hand to frame your face.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his thumb stroking your chin. “I promise.”

You nodded. “I know you will.”

His lips wanted to meet yours so badly it hurt, but he needed to stitch you. Quickly. For a wound as deep as the one you had, it should have been closed up hours ago.

He wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t.

He walked to the edge of the bed and turned you around, leaning you into him slightly to give your pretzeled back some support, and began.

You were surprisingly unreactive when he first inserted the needle, taking it as delicately as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he began to tug the skin together that your body showed signs of pain.

“You’re going too slow,” you mumbled softly after he finished the second stitch. “Please go faster.”

His hands began to shake at your request. He didn’t blame you. Speed would make it hurt worse, but be over with quicker. He squeezed the top of your shoulder in response, threading the needle quickly and stitching over the center of the wound.

You let out a high-pitched whine, gripping onto the comforter at your side, and he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your neck.

He let your breathing steady, then stitched again, this time kissing your shoulder blade.

Another stitch, a kiss across your shoulders.

Another stitch, a kiss down your spine.

Another stitch, a kiss on your lower back.

After every stitch, he planted one. Something in him couldn’t help it.

He made his final stitch and cut the thread quickly, sealing it with a kiss on the side of your face. He tasted a mix of salty tears and heat from your skin. He watched your throat bobble as he moved away, finishing off the wound with a final cleaning. Alcohol and blood filled the air, along with undertones of sweat.

He had a feeling that last aroma came mostly from him.

He threw the needle and thread away into the small garbage can you kept near your bed before turning back to face you. You rested on the balls of your palms, leaning back to look at him as he walked back towards you. There was pain visible behind your eyes, he could see it, but they were coated in something else. Something somehow rawer than before.

“You should rest now,” he said, scruff evident in his voice from lack of use. He cleared it quickly. “You took a hell of a hit.”

You didn’t move. Joel moved to the first aid kit still sitting in the middle of the bed and used the (what had to be decades old) wet wipes on his hands. He tossed those as well, but you still hadn’t moved.

“There somethin’ on my face?”

You cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly.

He hummed. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned forward and scooped your body into his arms. You involuntarily rested against him, eyes fluttering already, but he set you down beneath your sheets and swiftly pulled them over you.

He laughed at your fight against your own exhaustion, pushing stray hairs away from your forehead. He pulled away from you, beginning to walk out of the room. A fierce grip pulled him backwards.

“Stay,” you mumbled weakly. “Please stay.”

He inhaled deeply. The sweet cocktail of your voice mixed with those words fucking inebriating him, so much so he was surprised he was still standing up straight. He felt physically winded.

He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay down.”

You smiled, loosening your grip, letting your hand fall back into the bed.

Joel walked quietly out of the room but would be the last to admit how he practically sprinted to your kitchen and scoured your cabinets like a man being chased. He found your pain meds, pouring two into his hand, and filling up a small glass of water. He gave a slow, silent jog back to your room.

He felt equally as winded when he caught the view of the setting sun between your windows, glazing over you like a statue in Rome he had once seen on a traveling magazine. The streaks of leftover tears were highlighted in the light, as well as a small crease in your brow.

That is what told him you were not quite yet out cold.

He brought the meds and water to you, tucking your hair behind your ear to alert you of his presence. You opened your eyes and practically inhaled the medicine before laying back down on your side.

Joel removed his shirt in a blink and tucked himself in behind you, ensuring your stitches were not firmly pressed against him, but pressed just enough to ease soreness. You curved into him perfectly, as he did to you. He wrapped his arm around your frame, taking your hands in his and massaging them gently.

You hummed. “Promise you’ll stay?”

He knew your voice like that better than any man in the world.

He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder. “I’m stayin.’”

Tag List: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @daphne-turner @leeeesahhh

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x #joel tlou #joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller x f!reader

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astonmartinii · 9 months

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i don't wanna be funny anymore | daniel ricciardo social media au

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem podcaster!reader

i don't wanna be funny anymore, i got a too short skirt, maybe i can be the cute one. is there room in the band? i don't need to be the front man, if not then i'll be the biggest fan

based on i don't wanna be funny anymore by lucy dacus (this song speaks to me, i love lucy (she's also AMAZING live))

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 341,203 others

yourusername: hey girl hey, new ep coming at you fast this friday all about rotting. as the twilight weather rolls in and it becomes the season of all too well, we'll talk about rotting, how we can do it right and how not to lose your mind this october (a cautionary tale, i've already lost mine)

view all comments

user1: my queen hands down five stars already

user2: the bag is so real and the way i know it's a tote that does NOT stay on your shoulder

yourusername: it's the enchante tote, shameless plug for my man

danielricciardo: you singlehandedly sell out my totes every time baby

user3: not this actual fan erasure 🤨

user4: babe be real, she has a massive platform and there was a direct correlation between the first time she plugged a tote and the fact that they sold out that day you guys just love being mean

user5: i'm mean cause i don't want some leech taking credit for dan's hardwork and his fans?

user6: he fucking said it? you guys grasp at straws every time so try and justify your agenda against her

maxverstappen1: idk what rotting is but i'll still listen to every second

yourusername: thanks maxy, though i'd say going on the sim for up to 14 hours of the day is bordering on rotting

maxverstappen1: productive rotting !

yourusername: yes, i guess your sweet little treats are trophies?

maxverstappen1: that would make sense (don't tell my trainer but i do enjoy the little fruity drinks from starbucks)

user7: yall wanna say we're mean but she's literally invalidating max, saying he's rotting on the sim is so invalidating to everything he went through when he was younger

user8: how did we get there? this grasp on straws has to be studied... from a joke about the sim to invalidating abuse?

user9: i honestly thank the lord for dan and max because they're so supportive no matter the shitstorm that yall throw at y/n everyday

user10: literally max is even listening to podcasts... real friends, i hope one day she feels confident enough to come to races

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen, georgerussell63 and 1,034,239 others

tagged: yourusername, enchante

danielricciardo: buckle up, enchante is going to the rodeo 🐎

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user13: i shall be breaking the bank

user14: dan so smart, he looks like a good boyf for including y/n but didn't include her face

user15: yall ever listen to yourself talk, you need to be put in time out for real

yourusername: we all know the phrase, save a horse, ride a...

danielricciardo: daniel?

yourusername: YUP

user16: ugh there are children who are fans of daniel, she's so gross

user17: do you ever get tired of doing all of that mental gymnastics?

yourusername: can't wait for the tote drop for this collection, yall WON'T be disappointed

user18: yes, i will always trust mother's tote recommendations

user19: anyone who carries that much shit knows what makes a good tote

yourusername: this one has survived two dostoevsky book, an unreasonably large water bottle, a laptop and microphone

user19: thank you ma'am

maxverstappen1: real love is dressing as a cowgirl for your needy boyfriend

yourusername: the things we do for love (i actually had so much fun)

user20: here y/n goes doing all the publicity, but never going to races, clearest gold digger attention whore wag of all time

user21: surely a real attention whore would go to every race to get the screen time and papped and all that jazz?

excerpt of y/n y/ln's podcast where she addresses her absences in the paddock.

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 412,349 others

yourusername: life recently lol, the enchante tote is taking a beating

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user24: she's such a crybaby making dan use up an entire portion of his interview to coddle her

user25: she doesn't come to races cause of people like you invading her privacy and being rude and here you are ... proving her point

danielricciardo: pretty lady i can't wait to be back in your arms

yourusername: waiting outside the airport now

danielricciardo: we haven't even taken off yet babe

yourusername: i know i just miss you and can't wait to see your handsome face

user26: dan must be saying this shit at gun point cause there's no way he actually thinks she's pretty

user27: are you clinically blind? cause we must not be seeing the same girl

maxverstappen1: the aperol rawdogging the bag, you are SO brave

yourusername: living life on the edge, is this that thrill all you drivers talk about?

maxverstappen1: i may drive at over 200 kmh but i'd never risk my tote like that

yourusername: is it worse that i have a jar of olives in there as well, one drop and it's so over for me

maxverstappen1: OLIVES? remind me NOT to hug you when you pick us up

danielricciardo: if you want that hug you gonna have to get in line boy

user28: she picks them up from the airport? that's so cute

user29: someone tell her the gross girl aesthetic isn't cute

user30: babe don't worry no matter the aesthetic you have daniel will never want you x

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, christianhorner and 982,344 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

maxverstappen1: finally went on my bff's (no 1 in the world) podcast after i finally convinced her yall ain't shit - oh and dan was there for emotional support x

view all comments

user31: SO ICONIC

user32: ep on repeat forever, they're so funny

yourusername: for a man who hates podcasts, you were a star i think the memes hit you hard

maxverstappen1: i enjoy the PROFESSIONALS could you imagine doing a podcast with lando

landonorris: why am i catching strays

danielricciardo: i wouldn't say that too loud, i got about 20 texts as soon as you posted this demanding i ask y/n to be on the show

yourusername: oooooooooo the girls are fighting

landonorris: so can i come on?

yourusername: i'm sure we can schedule something

maxverstappen1: don't say i didn't warn you y/n

user33: ugh now she's going to whore around the rest of the grid

user34: for real wasn't dan enough? she's not even pretty enough to whore herself out

user35: you people have no reading comprehension cause you see how dan says yall are insane and yall keep proving him right

danielricciardo: i'm so proud of you pretty girl

yourusername: i love you cowboy

danielricciardo: forever obsessed with you

user36: i'm living for y/n basically telling all these insecure weirdos to fuck off

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, christianhorner and 603,451 others

tagged: danielricciardo

yourusername: who was gonna tell me these cars are loud as shit irl

view all comments

user39: someone tell sky to stop zooming in on her i don't pay to her her ugly ass

user40: cry your heart out bro everyone else is happy

danielricciardo: oops i think you're my lucky charm you now have to come to every race ever sorry not sorry

yourusername: gosh i think that might be true - i'll be there! (but for real you are so so talented and don't need a lucky charm)

danielricciardo: i'm just so happy to share this with you, i love you so much, i'm sorry people have been so cruel

yourusername: people are passionate about you and rightly so, but i appreciate you protecting me baby

user41: imagine being this irrelevant and demanding protection in the paddock ... the audacity

user42: you finally came to the paddock and this is what you wore?

user43: she's wearing danny merch? if she didn't yall would have a problem with that as well so please just be quiet

maxverstappen1: i need you to come every weekend cause you're the only one drunk danny will listen to

yourusername: we had practice with all the wine tasting we did for his wine line

danielricciardo: i am NOT that bad

maxverstappen1: tbf it's usually him just crying about how much he loves you

yourusername: AWWWWWW (i also cry about how much i love you)

user44: gosh this is my favourite f1 couple

user45: hopefully now she has her dose of fame she'll fuck off

user46: HAVE A DAY OFF

danielricciardo

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,451,677 others

tagged: yourusername

danielricciardo: as we're nearing our two year anniversary i wanted to say a couple things. one. i love you so much. when you came into my life i was in a bad place and you truly taught me to love myself again and how to love my sport again. you're the most amazing woman ever, the kindest soul and the most beautiful girl ever. two. i am so thankful for the support i have, i do not allow the disrespect some have given y/n. you guys have no real perception of relationships between athletes and fans. you do not have the right to comment on y/n in the way you are. you take extremely low blow and have the gall to confront her in public as well. do not call yourself a fan of mine when you treat the people i love like this. my team will now begin to monitor comment sections and will seek to block and report accounts doing this. thank you and i love you y/n.

comments on this post are turned off.

note: hope yall enjoyed!! i love danny and i saw the danny ric honky tonk this morning and had to write about him. i'd also had this idea for a while but didn't know who to write for lol. please listen to the song i love lucy so much and the song is so relatable xx

also anyone who has requested - i am working on them (but as per some questions in my asks, as for right now i do not write for footballers, if i become less disillusioned with the sport (thanks chelsea) this may change)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #daniel ricciardo instagram au #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #astonmartinii

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hoseoksluna · 4 months

Text

— WIP 𐙚 part 4 of wine

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

about: the first time jungkook owns oc’s orgasm

word count: 0.417

note: because i started writing part four so late in the week (friday and i barely had time during this weekend to write) due to the fact i struggled hard, here i give you at least a little something on updating day. im really sorry its not the full thing yet, but i promise i'm working hard and i'll post it for you sometime next week. i'm really excited about what i've written and i can't wait to show you. please enjoy the little excerpt && keep your fingers crossed for me. love you all <;3

side note: happy belated birthday to my husband yoongi, the poetry to my words, the sanity to my mind. my anchor, my everything. i miss him terribly and i love him.

warnings: clit rubbing, shyness, riding fingers, jungkook penetrates her mid-climax and has a very tender reason for it

𐙚

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

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

Jungkook sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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bakubunny · 7 months

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bad days & insecurities | katsuki x f!reader

a/n: here’s another untouched excerpt i had sitting in my drafts that i don’t think i’ll finish. enjoy.

tw: f!reader, chubby reader, insecurities, comfort fluff

“Just - just don’t fucking touch me,” you said angrily.

“The fuck? What do you mean, don’t touch you?”

You chanced a glance his way and saw the hurt in Katsuki’s eyes. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe-

“Huh?”

“I mean don’t touch me. I don’t want to talk about it,” you replied. “And I know you hate it when I tell you that, but that’s the answer you’re getting.”

“No, it’s not. What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice raising.

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Katsuki,” you shouted. “Just drop it.”

You walked to the bathroom hoping to secure some privacy, but Katsuki wasn’t having it.

You reached for he handle as he slammed the door away from your hand into the wall, wide open. You knew him enough to know it took all of his effort not to force you to look his way. But right now you didn’t care. Everything inside hurt, it hurt too much. All you wanted was the hot water on your back and the lights off so you didn’t have to see what parts of you didn’t deserve him.

“If you don’t get the hell out of this bathroom and let me shower-”

“Look at me.”

“No,” you said.

He wouldn’t let it go.

“Please, baby. I - I won’t yell, I promise,” Katsuki said, pain evident in his voice.

It felt like hot daggers in your stomach. A lump grew in your throat.

“It’s not that. Not you. I’m sorry for being so childish,” you said. “I’m having a really tough day, that’s all.”

“Then let me-”

“No,” you said firmly. “I need to be alone.”

Katsuki stood quietly.

“Please, Kats.” Tears threatened to fall down your cheeks.

“Was it that fucking bitch again? She getting into your head?” he asked.

‘That bitch’ was a shitty coworker who never seemed to shut up about you. What you ate, what you wore, how your body looked, your job performance. Someone who had the gall to tell you to your face that you weren’t good enough for the hero standing in the room. Who said that he could do so much better.

“No, I just…”

“What is it?” he said.

“You don’t want the truth.” Your voice was quiet and pleading.

“The fuck are you on about, babe? Yes, I do.”

You took a deep breath. “You deserve better. I don’t want to elaborate. And I don’t want you to console me or tell me I’m wrong right now. My body feels gross, and I want to process it on my own.”

The crushing hug he pulled you into knocked the air out of your chest. “Kats-”

“Shut it. I want to hold you, n you’re gonna let me,” he said grumpily. Katsuki kissed you on the head. “Fuckin’ tellin’ me I can’t touch you. ‘S bullshit.”

You cracked a little grin, your face pressed into his chest. He held you in silence for what felt like ages, but eventually a calmness soothed the tightness in your stomach.

“I love you. Can I shower now?” you asked.

He sighed. “Fine. But I’m not done with you, little miss. You owe me a damn kiss or ten after that.”

You laughed and met his scowling gaze.

“That’s fair.” You leaned in and stood on your toes. “How about one for the road to start with?”

“‘S more like it.” Katsuki lifted your chin, pressing his soft lips to yours.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @pastelbakugou @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @citysweet @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @gold24fish

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fluff #x reader #f!reader #chubby reader #plus size!reader #bakubunny

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irb-pascalito-99 · 4 months

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Worship You

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 5.7 k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: After she experiences a death in the family, Joel tries to give his girl some space to grieve. When she tells him all she wants is him, he makes sure to show her how much he cares about her.

Warnings: grief, mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence, smut, unprotected p in v, creampie

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter fourteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing please visit a03.

By the time we finally get to Joel’s house, the sun is beginning to rise. The girls are asleep upstairs when we get in, but Tommy and Maria wait in the living room for us.

When I enter the room Tommy stands up, walks across the room, and gives me a hug. I stand with my arms at my side as he holds me for a minute.

“I’m so sorry,” Tommy says as he squeezes me. I blink a couple times, my tired eyes hurting from fighting the sleep that I need.

When Tommy pulls away he holds my shoulders and analyzes me for a moment. I can feel all the eyes in the room on me, waiting for some sort of reaction. I take a step away from Tommy so he will let go of me.

“Anyone hungry?” I ask. I walk past Maria and Tommy into the kitchen, looking at the contents of Joel’s fridge for something to cook. “I could really use some dinner, but I guess at this point maybe breakfast is the better call…”

The others follow after me as I pull the eggs out of the fridge and grab some bread, cinnamon, and sugar out of the pantry. Joel says my name softly to get my attention while I search the cabinets for some bowls.

“French toast sounds good to me, anyone else want some?” I glance over at the others. Tommy looks confused while Maria and Joel share a similar look of concern. “No?”

Joel says my name again. I pull my attention away from him, grabbing an egg and cracking it into one of the bowls I pulled out. I feel Joel walk up behind me. He grabs the second egg out of my hand before I can add it to the bowl with the other. He holds my hand still as he says my name again.

“You need to sleep,” he says softly.

“But I’m making french toast,” I say. I keep my eyes on the counter.

“I’ll make you french toast when you wake up,” Joel responds.

“It’s already tomorrow though,” I retort. “I have work, Ellie has school. There’s no time to sleep.”

“Work and school can wait for another day. They’ll understand.” I let Joel pull me away from the kitchen, but he doesn’t get farther than the living room. Maria and Tommy stand back and watch our conversation.

“I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” I say, continuing to argue.

I can feel how heavy my eyes are, but I’m not ready to sleep. Sleep cements everything that just happened into reality. I have too much to do, and I don’t want to think of what dreams may bring me.

“You can sleep in my room, I’ll stay on the couch until you guys are ready to go home.” I shake my head. I can’t take Joel’s room from him, even though I know he won’t let me refuse.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you some of my clothes to sleep in, and we can stop by your house when you wake up for new clothes.” I try to wrack my brain for other excuses.

“There’s too much else to do. I have to get my car from the school. I have to tell Bill and Frank. I have to call Ellie’s school. I have to call the funeral home. I have to write the obituary.” I count each item on my fingers, staring at the floor as I think of more items to add. Joel places a finger under my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“Sleep first, we’ll figure out the rest later.” He says with a look in his eyes telling me there’s no room for argument. I sigh and let him direct me toward the stairs. He keeps his hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades as he walks behind me up the stairs.

I can barely hear the muttered voices of Maria and Tommy downstairs as Joel drags me away. When we get to his room he walks me inside and lets go of me as he closes the door. He turns away to start rifling through his drawers for something I can wear to sleep in.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that I didn’t have clothes at his house before. We may be together in some sense, but every time I’ve spent the night before we slept with our naked bodies tangled in the sheets. It feels more intimate to be wearing his clothes to bed.

I start to take my clothes off while his back is still turned to me, figuring it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He immediately averts his eyes when he turns around to see me standing in only my underwear. I feel a rush of rejection at the movement. He’s never looked away before. Joel clears his throat and holds the shirt and sweatpants out to me.

“Here you go, might be a little bit but it should do.” He keeps his eyes on the floor, even when I take the clothes from his hand.

He doesn’t look in my direction until I’ve pulled both the shirt and sweatpants over my body. It feels absurd that only 24 hours ago I had my mouth wrapped around his cock while he slept and now he can’t even look at me while I change. I can’t tell if it hurts more or if I’m angry that he's treating me like I'm delicate.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Joel says motioning his head to the door. “You get some sleep.”

He walks to the doorway while I stand in the middle of the room watching him. What just happened?

“Joel,” I call after him when he opens the door to leave. He turns his head in my direction. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“You’re welcome,” he says and leaves the room.

—

We spent the first full day after my father’s death at Joel’s house. Despite my attempts to keep things normal, my friends are constantly watching me as though I’m seconds away from falling apart. I know it stems from a place of concern, but it only sets me more on edge. My every move is being observed and analyzed. Everyone is walking around me like they’re walking on eggshells. I don’t know how to convince them I’m fine without them thinking I’m in denial.

Ellie still doesn’t want to go home yet, so Joel offered to let us stay at his house at least until after the funeral. Maria comes by in the mornings and doesn’t leave until after we all go to bed. Joel sleeps on the couch. I haven’t been alone with him since he handed me his clothes to sleep in the morning we came back from the hospital.

When Joel offered to let me sleep in his room, I thought he would make his way into the bed after the others had fallen asleep. After the awkwardness of when he handed me his clothes, I thought maybe he just wanted to give me some space to actually sleep for a bit, or maybe he was concerned about others perceiving the relationship we’ve attempted to keep quiet. I held out hope that maybe come night time when everyone left I’d feel the warmth of his body next to mine again. I stayed awake for hours that night, just in case, but he never came. It’s been a couple days since then, and still nothing.

Today I have to do a couple of errands to ensure things are ready for the funeral tomorrow, the first of which is picking up clothes from the house. Maria stopped by the house a couple of days ago to pick up clothes for Ellie and I to where while we stay at Joel’s, but I haven’t been back since I left with Joel to pick up Ellie and Sarah from their trip.

Maria parks the car in the driveway alongside mine and, upon my insistence, waits outside for me while I go in. On top of the lingering stares, and the constant pressure of being surrounded by people, between Maria and Joel I have not been allowed to drive at all in the last several days. They went so far as to pick up my car from the school parking lot while I was asleep that first morning. They brought it back here after and hid the keys.

When I go inside the house it seems exactly the same as it always does. Mine and Ellie’s things are strewn about the various rooms. I’ll have to make sure to come back and clean before we have the wake here tomorrow. Sunlight streams through the open blinds, sending beams of light across the hardwood floors. I feel like I’m disturbing things in a way, like our home has been preserved in a world before the news and my presence forces the grief upon the space.

I move slowly up the stairs, taking in the tranquility of my surroundings. I don’t have to watch myself here, I can just be. I go to Ellie’s room first, delicately opening the drawers to her dresser. I thumb through various shirts until I find the black sweater she wore to our mother’s funeral.

I run my fingers over the soft cotton of the yarn. I remember her tears that day, the way she refused to look at me for weeks after the accident. I remember asap the fights we had in the months I first moved back. She used to scream at me and remind me that I’m not her mother.

We’ve made so much progress since then. It’s been hard to get the relationship to where it is now, but I can’t help but wonder if we’re headed back to that kind of relationship with the passing of our dad. She’s been so quiet since his passing, it’s hard to read where she’s at. I do my best to push the thought out of my head as I grab the black slacks that finish her outfit and move on to grab mine.

I keep my funeral dress in the back of my closet. A simple black piece with short sleeves, it used to be a dress I would wear regularly. I can’t stand to look at it now, the memory of my mother’s loss dripping off of its fabric. I made sure to save it for the next one though. I grab a small bag from my closet and throw Ellie’s clothes, along with my dress and a pair of opaque tights and black heels, inside.

I glance at my bed from the doorway before I leave. Joel took the time to make it before we went to pick up the girls that afternoon. I stood back and watched him after he declared I wasn’t doing it right. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration as he tucked the corners in neatly. I close my eyes and sigh as I move on.

The last of my father’s things are hidden in the far corner of the closet in the art studio. We kept his nicest suit in a garment bag there, anticipating the need for exactly this, the outfit he will wear to his own funeral. Because the room was originally the master bedroom, the closet is large and I’ve put a lot of things inside to store. Which means I have to walk past stacks of art, both mine and my mother’s, to get to the bag I’m looking for.

The large canvas Joel and I painted last weekend rests by the door among my stack of Joel paintings. My eyes linger on its bright colors as I pass. It feels silly to be so insecure after only days of little romantic interaction with him. It’s not like he’s gone, or even like he’s ignoring me. I see him everyday. I talk to him every day. He shows me he cares every day. However, I can’t help but play the moment with the clothes over in my mind again. I remind myself of his absence in the bed each night. I know there’s a possibility he’s just trying to maintain our secret, but I can’t help wondering if he sees me as weak now. What if that spark is gone?

I tear my eyes away from the painting and grab what I need. Then I turn out the lights and head back down the stairs. When I walk outside with the two bags in my hands. Maria rushes to my side to grab one of the bags when I pause to lock the door again. I ignore the way my stomach clenches in frustration. She just wants to help, but I can’t help feeling like everyone is treating me as though I’m fragile.

We put the bags in the back seat of her car. I don’t look at her as I get in the passenger seat, eyes peering at my car in the driveway next to hers. A lump forms in my throat as I continue to fight against my anger. They won’t even let me drive my own car.

“You good?” Maria asks as she gets in beside me. Her eyes scan my face while I adjust my seat belt.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I reply, keeping my eyes on the front windshield. Maria looks over me once more before putting on her own seatbelt and pulling out of the driveway.

Despite my arguments against it, Maria does go into the funeral home with me. She follows me awkwardly through the building, observing my every movement. She stays quiet, but always just a step behind, while the funeral director asks me questions and we pick out options for the service.

I wasn’t very present with the planning for my mother’s funeral. Bill and Frank took over most of that for me, claiming I needed to focus my energy on Ellie. It was a reprieve I gladly accepted then, but one I refuse now. It’s nice to have something to do, to have a distraction amidst it all.

A good number of things had already been decided beforehand since his health had been declining for so long. The last steps are really just finalizing the details. Who will be performing the service? Where? Which coffin did we want to use? What will he wear for the viewing? Working out the details has given me a chance for some normalcy in my life while everyone attempts to get me to step back. Even now, when we drop off the clothes my father is to wear at the viewing tomorrow. I’m acutely aware of Maria’s wandering stare beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks, her hands toying with the edges of the garment bag I’ve placed on the counter. I drum my fingers across the counter while we wait for the funeral director to come get the clothes so we can be on our way.

It’s just the two of us in the empty showroom up front. The funeral director went to the backroom for a moment to put the file of our selections away. She offered to bring me back there as well, to give me a chance to view the body before tomorrow. I declined. I don’t want to see him, not now and not at the viewing tomorrow. I just want this to be over. My refusal just seemed to set Maria more on edge.

“I’m fine,” I respond. I keep my attention on the door to the back room.

“It’s okay if you’re not…” Maria pushes. My fingers tighten on the edge of the counter. I take a deep breath and try to keep the bitterness out of my voice when I speak again.

“I said I’m fine okay?” There’s some movement through the window in the door to the bathroom as the funeral director makes her way back to us. “I know he died, but he’s been gone for a while. This doesn’t change anything. If anything, it’s for the best actually.”

Maria and I both go silent when the director comes back out to collect the rest of our items. Maria’s eyes don’t leave the back of my head as the director and I discuss the last few details before the funeral tomorrow. I try to ignore the way her eyes burn into me as I talk.

I walk quickly when we leave, Maria trailing behind me with the car keys in her hand. I wait at the passenger door of her locked car in the parking lot while she catches up with me.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” Maria asks when she gets to the car. She doesn’t unlock the doors. I sigh and stare up at the sky.

“Maria…” I huff, but she isn’t letting go.

“What do you mean it’s for the best?” She asks again.

I debate on taking off and walking instead. Despite the fact it’s still early February, the weather is extremely nice. There’s a slight chill to the air but with the sun it should be warm enough to walk. That is, if I knew Maria wouldn’t follow me down the road in her car.

“I mean, even if he had by some miracle lived, he would have gone to prison,” I say. Maria and I stare at each other over the hood of the car. She looks concerned, but doesn't judge as I continue. “He decided to drive drunk and he killed two people, now he’s dead. It really is the best possible outcome for him. His little angel will clean up all the pieces for him. The rest of us just go on living and he never has to face the consequences of his actions.”

The weight of what I’ve said lingers in the air. It sounds callous, said out loud. I’m not even sure if that’s the full extent of what I’m feeling right now, but it’s the simplest version to explain. Mourning him doesn’t feel right, so I won’t. I settle on the anger instead, partially because it’s so overwhelming in the face of everything else, and partially because I don’t want to deal with the rest of my grief.

“He’s still your dad,” Maria says quietly. I bite my lip and look away. I know she’s right, but I can’t think of it that way.

“Maria, just drop it.” I plead quietly. She exhales and unlocks the door. I immediately open it and get inside.

—

Joel already has dinner prepared when we get home from our errands. Everyone sits down to eat together, but we maintain an awkward silence through the whole meal. Maria’s eyes keep glancing over at me as I shovel potatoes in my mouth and keep my eyes on the table. Tommy watches the friction between us from his seat beside Maria. He looks as though he wants to say something, but has no idea how to bring it up.

Ellie sits next to Sarah, quietly playing with her food. She hasn’t eaten much lately, but she takes bites from time to time so there’s something fueling her. Joel and I sit on opposite ends of the table. He watches everyone closely, noting the tension in the air as he cuts a piece of his pork chop.

“Is there anything you need help with for tomorrow?” Joel asks, his eyes on me. I look up at him, his expression soft as he offers his help.

“No,” I reply, trying to keep any emotion out of my voice.

“How was-“ Joel tries to ask but I cut him off.

“It was fine. I’m fine.” It comes out harsher than I meant it to.

I can see Joel and Maria exchange a glance in my periphery, which makes the anger turn in my stomach again. I take another bite of my food and get up to clear my plate. I rinse the dish and leave it in the sink before heading upstairs without speaking to the others.

A couple of hours after we all go our separate ways I hear the quiet sound of the doorknob turning and then a gentle click as it latches behind whoever entered the room. I don’t turn to see who it is. Moments later, the mattress sinks under the weight of another body as someone lays down next to me.

“You asleep?” Joel whispers. His breath fans against my shoulder. I nearly sob at the sound of his voice.

“No,” I whisper back. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.

I close my eyes as I feel his face bury into my hair. He presses soft kisses to the back of my head. His hands rub gently up and down my arms. I inhale the scent of vanilla and wood I’ve come to associate with Joel’s presence.

“I really am fine you know,” I murmur. He kisses my hair again.

“I know,” he whispers back. I have a feeling he doesn’t fully believe me, or maybe he does but doesn’t expect it to last. Either way I don’t attempt to convince him any further.

I retreat into him, allowing his gentle caresses to pull out the most vulnerable sides of me. It’s exhausting trying to keep up the balancing act, being sad enough that my friends don’t think I’m psychotic while not being so sad that they think I’m drowning in grief. It has felt like I’m putting on a show instead of simply existing ever since my father passed. I’m too tired now, and Joel’s warmth is too comforting to keep up the facade.

“I’ve missed you,” I say into the dark room. Joel’s fingers brush against my arm again.

“I’ve been here,” he says. I shake my head.

“Not like this.” I murmur. Joel’s hand moves up my arm to pull the hair out of my face. He kisses the skin under my ear.

I turn my body around in the bed to face him. His hair falls in messy curls around his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He maintains a soft expression on his face, but I notice a hesitancy in him. I softly press my lips against the patch in his beard.

“I don’t want to push you.” Joel murmurs as I move my lips to his. I kiss him softly, our noses brushing against each other. “I don’t want it to be like how it was when Ellie was in the hospital. That wasn’t fair to you.”

I don’t understand what he means by ‘it wasn’t fair to me’. I wanted to be with him at that time just as much as he wanted to be with me. I didn’t feel like he pushed me to do anything, why would he?

“I know you have a lot on your mind right now,” Joel continues. “I don’t want you to think I expect anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to. That’s not what this is for me.”

“I want you,” I mumble against his lips. I kiss him again. My lips are firmer against his this time as I swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. “Please, I want you. I’m not weak or broken. I can drive my own car and make my own decisions. I want you.”

I try to be patient, to let him lead, but I wrap my hand around the thick muscles of his arm anyway. Going from an entire weekend of constant intimacy with Joel to nearly a week without touching him has made me hungry for his attention. His hands spread across my back, holding me delicately as he allows me to take what I need.

“You have me,” He responds while resting his forehead against mine.

“I want more of you. I need more.” I’m feeling desperate now. It’s not enough to be beside Joel, to feel his body wrapped around mine. One of his hands leaves my back and travels down to my bare thigh.

I’m only wearing panties and the oversized t-shirt he let me borrow to sleep in on the first night here. When he looks down at my clothing it’s as though he just now realized I’m wearing it. He grips my thigh harder, eyes darkening with lust when he pulls me in for another kiss.

His tongue slides into my mouth as I pull at the fabric of the shirt he is wearing, fighting to get him closer despite his entire body being pressed tightly against mine. He breaks the kiss only to allow me the space to pull the shirt over his head and then begin to kiss my neck softly.

Joel takes his time with all of it, his fingers delicately sliding under my shirt to glide against my bare skin. I twitch when his thumbs brush my nipples.

“Joel,” I whine. I push my hips against him, his hardening length making contact with my core.

He growls at the feeling, his hands squeezing me harder. He climbs on top of me, finally pulling my panties down my legs. I whine and attempt to grind against him but Joel presses my hips back down to the bed.

“Patience baby, let me do this for you.” I lose myself in his eyes, his hand slowly snaking between my thighs.

There’s something different about the way he touches me tonight. Each brush of his hand is deliberate. Just the slightest movement sends sparks across my skin. He doesn’t break eye contact with me as he runs his finger through my folds. I push my head back a little, my lips parting though I’m careful to keep my eyes on his.

There’s a deeper connection between us this time around. His eyes communicate with mine wordlessly as he begins to rub circles against my bundle of nerves. He puts all his energy into showing me the words that fail him. It makes me squirm, not just from the pleasure he’s providing me but from the emotions involved in all of it. It’s too much to handle, too much to feel right now.

I move my hand down and pull him out of his underwear, hoping to pull some of his attention off of me. He hisses through his teeth when I grip his cock. I twist my wrist as I move my hand slowly up and down his shaft. His hips chase my hand despite the way his hand grips my wrist to get me to stop.

“Enough,” he growls, squeezing my wrist as I pump him again.

“Then fuck me already,” I whisper back. He pulls my hand off of him and pushes his boxers the rest of the way down.

I spread my legs further apart so he can nestle in between them. He rests against me, rubbing his swollen head through my folds as it leaks pre-come. I whine as he runs his length over where I need him most, but doesn’t push inside.

“Joel,” I plead. I push my hips up, the tip of him breaching my hole. He shivers as I pull him in, not moving from where he rests against me.

“Okay, okay sweetheart.” He keeps one hand on his cock as the other grabs my leg and hitches it around his waist. I have to bite my lip to keep from calling out as he pushes inside. My eyes flutter shut, but his fingers squeeze my leg and he pauses his movement. “Oh no you don’t. Keep your eyes on me darlin’.”

I force my eyes open again to make contact with his. He continues in one long, slow, motion until his hips are flush with mine. I expect him to immediately drive into me with the intense passion he normally does, but when I’m completely full of him he freezes again.

He drops his head to my shoulder and I huff in frustration as I wait for him to move. I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I pulse around his length, my wetness dripping around him. The house is silent aside from our hushed breaths. I’m desperate for some sort of motion, but he does not grant it to me.

I start to move instead, pressing my hips up and down the best I can while stuck between his body and the mattress. I go fast, settling for short bursts as I desperately try to get enough friction to build the pressure in my core again.

Joel pulls back slightly to give me more room, but it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He watches me through hooded eyes while I desperately attempt to set a good pace.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs. I feel something vaguely simmering inside me, but it’s nothing like what Joel normally provides. He mutters my name and grabs my hips, pressing them back to the mattress. I throw my head back on the pillow as he stills my movements. “Not like this, not tonight.”

He pulls out of me and kneels back on the bed, looking over my form carefully. I adjust my body on the bed, self conscious from his observing eyes.

“As much as I love this on you,” Joel says, tugging at the shirt that covers me. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls his shirt over my head and throws it on the floor. I am bare to him now, his eyes roving over me not in lust but in worship. He looks over my body but stares into my soul. His hands skim my form delicately before he positions himself over me again and presses a delicate kiss to my lips.

I watch closely as his lips trail down my entire body. He kisses softly at my skin as though he’s trying to memorize how my skin feels pressed against his lips. He kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest. My stomach tenses as he kisses further down my body. I jolt when he lightly presses against my core, not in a sexual way like he has before but gentle and loving. He moves to my thighs next and down my legs, then back up again until he reaches my hips once more.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers to me and lines himself back up with my center. I pull my arms around his neck, my eyes staring into his as I await his next move.

He cages me in with his body, wrapping my legs around his waist while his arms rest on either side of my head, holding his upper body above me. He pushes back inside me with a languid thrust and sets his pace.

I moan against him, finally getting the reprieve I need. His hands grip the sheets by my head while he watches my face contort in pleasure. I pull lightly at the ends of his hair, my toes curling as I gasp. I start to lose myself in the feeling of him, allowing the warmth of his body to float me away to some other place.

His body melts into mine. I’m no longer aware of where he ends and I begin. He doesn’t retreat fully, not wanting to leave my body long enough to do so. He thrusts slow and deep, each one knocking the breath out of me. We share the air between us, our breaths mingling in soft pants as he cages me in. The world fades away until all I feel is him. All I see is him. All I know is him.

Sex with Joel has always been great, but this is on another level. The word sex can’t even encapsulate what is happening right now between us. This time it’s not about finding release, or the pleasure that builds in my stomach. This time it’s about the way I can feel the sweat on his skin and each pulse of his member inside me. It doesn’t take long for him to bring me back to the precipice of my orgasm.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I clench around him. It’s everything I needed and too much at the same time. I thought this would provide me a distraction from my grief. Instead Joel holds me like he’s trying to prove how much he truly sees me, trying to prove he’s here to help me hold the burden.

I’ve never felt this vulnerable. It scares me that he doesn’t look away. If anything he seems to hold me closer. The hand that rests by my head moves closer to my face, his thumb brushing the tear on my cheek away. He moves his thumb out of the way to press a kiss to my tear stained cheek.

“I’m gonna-“ he says hoarsely, his lips ghosting my cheek.

“Me too,” I reply. It feels like my entire being is about to explode, and despite how overwhelming the experience already is I need to know what it feels like to be one with him. I desperately want to feel every last moment of this. I don’t want it to end. “Do it inside, please.”

He looks at me with wide eyes, a silent question of ‘Are you sure?’ passing between us. He knows I’m on the pill, but we’ve always been extra careful. We have enough going on with Ellie and Sarah that we don't need to risk any other surprises. Right now, nothing else matters but having all of him.

I nod my head, giving him a final approval. We keep our eyes on each other as he groans and I feel his warmth begin to release inside me. I let go as well. His body wraps tighter around me as I pulse around him. He pushes deeper while ribbons of his seed spread inside me. We kiss passionately, our lips pressed hard against each other as both of us struggle to stay quiet with the pleasure coursing through our bodies.

Once the shockwaves begin to subside, and Joel’s twitching frame subsides into one of heavy pants, he drops his forehead to mine. He holds me close while he rolls us onto our sides, keeping one of my legs hooked around his waist so he doesn’t slip out. I fall asleep with him still inside me, his body intertwined with mine in every way.

To read more visit a03

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou smut #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou #sweet joel #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character

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jinnie-ret · 8 months

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If ur taking rq still can I rq a skz x 15 year old girl in training (like that protection gic you wrote ) and how they react to her being good at producing, singing, rapping and dancing but they didnt know she could do all that until they keep running into her or maybe look for her because they ordered fkkd for her too eat with them and they see her in her rehearsals and in her dance practice room learning like idk an itzy choreo or sum by herself and they see shes improved since they last saw her do everything? Ig like a little Ace if u would like to put It that way!

It's ok if u don't want to or can't do this tho! Love ur writing💕

ace of hearts

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

summary: stray kids have nothing but good things to say about the upcoming ace of jyp.

I hope you enjoy! There's a small excerpt of a song Y/N has written herself which I actually wrote (it's a hobby of mine hehe) so if you want me to post the whole thing I'll do so, maybe as a poem haha

My asks are currently shut but if you want to be added to my taglist, do let me know! And if you liked it, please reblog and like! :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Shoulder shimmying had never been so hard, but Y/N seemed to have finally gotten down the choreo to ITZY's 'Wannabe', the members of Stray Kids seeming to think so too. They had just been looking around for a room to practice in when they came across their young trainee friend, who they hadn't seen for a while due to their busy schedule.

A small applause sounded from behind Y/N, making her jump as she saw the door open and Stray Kids clapping for her.

"Ah! Hello sunbaenims!" Y/N blushed and bowed politely. She wasn't expecting to see them there, so absorbed into practising for her next showcase.

"Hi there!"

"Annyeong!"

"Wow!"

They all let out greetings as they walked over excitedly to Y/N.

"How has everything been? It's been a while since we saw you," Jeongin smiled widely at Y/N, trying to ease the obvious nerves he saw from her.

"Have you been practicing regularly? Your dancing has improved a lot," Changbin nodded his head in approval.

"Ah, you really think I've improved?! Yeah I've been practising a lot these days..." Y/N bashfully admitted, rubbing her sweaty palms on her leggings. Was it from exercising or from nerves? She wasn't quite so sure herself.

"We can see that. You're better at dancing and freestyling than us now," Lee Know laughed, praising the younger girl jokingly, but there was still a hint of seriousness to it that showed Y/N he was proud of her, and that helped her relax more.

"Maybe one day even Jisung will be jealous of your dancing skills," Felix laughed, causing the quokka like man to look over at him with a mock appalled face.

"Haha maybe I'll take his place as the ace," Y/N smirked, feeling comfortable enough to joke around with them. It wasn't a regular occurrence that she saw the boys but everytime she did, she was soon able to fall back into a relaxed state where it felt like she had known them forever.

"No way! You will never be as talented as me!" Jisung smirked back, yet he couldn't help but goofily smile back at her as he ruffled her hair.

"Well, we're glad you're practicing so hard. Would you like to have some fried chicken with us?" Seungmin piped up, his eagle eyes noticing that she only seemed to have some water in the room with her. Plus, he remembered what it was like being a trainee, and an offer of fried chicken would not be one to be turned down.

"Oh sure! If there's enough to go around!" Y/N clasped her hands together excitedly.

"Of course there's enough food! We're so proud of all your progress by the way, we can tell how hard you've been working, Y/Nnie," Chan praised her, as they all sat down together on the floor.

"Here, eat up," Hyunjin passed over a box of fried chicken to Y/N from the bags of fast food they had.

"Just remember to take a lot of rest too," Jisung commented genuinely, yet anyone could tell he, as well as the other members were very much so enthralled with the heaven sent food in front of them.

"Don't worry I do!" Y/N rushed out, before taking a bite of the fried chicken and wiggling slightly as she did a happy dance.

"You're so cute when you're excited!" Felix giggled as he saw her.

"That's exactly what Channie hyung does," Seungmin laughed along.

There was a moment of peaceful eating before Chan kept up the conversation.

"Oh yeah, we wanted to ask you something! Are you good at rapping?" Chan wondered, wiping his hands on a napkin.

"Well, I don't want to brag but I think I'm pretty good," Y/N shrugged, she had practiced enough and knew she was at JYP for a reason, and her talents certainly didn't go to waste when it came to rapping.

"Oh yeah? You actually rap too? I had no idea. Have you tried writing your own lyrics before?" Changbin got excited at the prospect of hearing Y/N rap.

"I'm not as confident in writing rap lyrics as I am in singing them if that makes sense?" Y/N explained, hoping it was understandable.

"I get what you mean. You must be very talented though since you can sing so well," Lee Know wondered.

"Do you happen to write your own songs too or do you learn songs from other artists?" Chan asked, interested in what her identity as a future artist would be.

"Oh I like to write my own songs too!" Y/N beamed. Now that, was an area she was proud of herself for.

"Really? Can you play one of your original songs for us?" Hyunjin said in a shocked tone, head tilting slightly in disbelief but wanting to hear her sing nonetheless.

The boys all stared at her in anticipation.

"Oh, sure... If you really want me to," Y/N became nervous again, because this was Stray Kids! Yes they felt like her friends but to sing her own personal works in front of them was still nerve wracking.

"Yes, we really want you to!" Jeongin encouraged her, offering that same reassuring smile as he did earlier.

All of the members were now eagerly waiting for her.

"Ok, here's a chorus I wrote recently," Y/N finally nodded, making the boys even more excited as she began to sing.

"Oh it's in my bones.

Hereditarily alone.

Surrounded by people,

But that gives no meaning.

It's in my bones."

The boys stared in in wonder, thinking the words were so beautiful and they loved the emotion she put into it even for such a small snippet of the song.

"Her voice is amazing..." Hyunjin was in awe.

"Yeah, you have a really good vocal tone!" Jisung clapped.

"And you wrote that yourself?" Chan smiled like a proud dad.

"Can we hear more?" Changbin said hopefully, nudging Y/N playfully.

"Well, I think I should now that I've sang a teaser for you," Y/N beamed, and for the next couple of minutes she sang the rest of the song to the boys. She even played a small backing track which consisted of an acoustic guitar, simple but sweet, building up towards the end of the song.

"I can't wait to see you debut!" Felix clapped with the other boys.

"You really will steal everyone's hearts, Y/N, you'll go far," Chan said, a big smile adorning his face as everyone offered their comments and praises to Y/N.

"Just don't let it get to your head," Lee Know joked, causing his members to whack him playfully and tell Y/N to not listen to him anymore.

"Thank you guys, it really means a lot."

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @hanjiquokkaaa

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic

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usetheeauthor · 6 months

Text

The Yandere Knight Wants Me As His Last Dying Wish 🥀 (MDNI +18)

(Teaser)

King’s Knight!Yandere!Coriolanus Snow x Nun!Virgin!Reader

A/N: This is kinda beauty and the beast inspired although really dark. But im currently working on it. Snow is going to be an absolute menace and simp for the reader.

Summary: Coriolanus isn’t too fond that the young nun, who once took care of him as a child during the dark days, has her attention taken away by others. An unhealthy obsession for you to belong to him and no one else plagues him and with the “flower lungs” a.k.a. Hanahaki disease shortening his lifespan and slowly deteriorating his mind, kidnapping you in what could possibly be his final days doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

Tw/Warnings/Tags: SMUT like really filthy smut (its a surprise 🤭), age gap (coriolanus is 18-19, reader is late 20s), DUBCON/NONCON situations, some sejanus plith x reader, sort’ve adopted highbottom!reader, loss of virginity, dom!corio with some switching, corio has a mommy kink, extremely toxic yandere traits, blood and violence, graphic language

(Excerpt)

Coriolanus pinches the bloodied flower petal between his thumb and index finger, studying it profoundly. What an enigma the human body is. This single rose petal had been produced right from his own body. From his own bloodied mouth. At his fingertips rests his fate. Coriolanus knew it well. After all, it was the same curse that ate away at his grandfather then years later his father.

How could he have been so foolish to have let his guard down? To think for a second that he wouldn’t fall victim to the same disease that coursed through the veins of the men in the Snow family?

He could feel his rage burning so deeply within the pits of his stomach, he’s almost convinced he’ll spontaneously combust. Instead, he crushes the rose petal in a closed fist, eyes narrowing in you and Sejanus’s direction.

You don’t seem to understand the pain you’re putting him through. Or maybe…maybe it isn’t that you don’t understand but rather you don’t care! Despite all his best efforts to show you how much he cares, you turn your back on him! For village scum!

His condition is your doing! The underlining deformity will chip away at the perfect image he’d created for himself all because you couldn’t just stay loyal to him and only him. Now instead of focusing his time with Lucy Gray, Coriolanus’s physiological, biological—even mental—state is dependent on your compliance to remain his property. Even if it meant locking you away from the world, you will learn to accept that fact.

Hmm. Locking you away from the world? Actually… that thought sounds quite enticing. And you’d seldom reject any form of punishment if it is in your best interest to pay for your sins like a good little lamb should.

#coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader smut #tbosas fanfiction #hunger games fanfiction #yandere x reader #male yandere #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow x reader fluff #hunger games au #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #tom blyth characters #president snow

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drunk-on-dk · 4 months

Text

[11:16 PM] | Yoon Jeonghan

pairing: bestfriend!Jeonghan x afab!reader tags/genre: angst, slow burn, friends to lovers (?), maybe fluff?, maybe suggestive? (minors DNI), college au, frat au, mentions of alcohol (drunk cheol appearance), the reader is a bit emotional, no specific pronouns but mentions wearing a skirt w/c: ~1.4 (a bit long for a timestamp I'm sorry) summary: Jeonghan has always been your Valentine, even if he's only been your best friend all these years. a/n: this is an excerpt that was taken out of my WIP Over the Country Club [teaser link here], which I didn't plan to include and sort of used to think of how I want to develop their dynamic a bit more. I still thought it would be fun to share! Happy Valentine's (and carat) day!

“There you are! Don’t you know I’ve been looking everywhere for you?” The shrill voice that rang from behind you was easily recognizable as your best friend’s. His tone was unfamiliar, a mix of disappointment and concern that made your eardrums trill in embarrassment knowing you must have worried him. Selfishly, you don’t bother to respond nor look in his direction, too embarrassed to face him and expose your likely swollen eyes.

It’s not like he’s bothered to spend any time with you tonight anyway. You didn’t think he’d even notice you were gone.

Jeonghan comes to a hesitant stop behind where you’re sat on the curb, sneakers smacking on the dewy pavement just inches away from you, definitely close enough to hear your sniffles. A quiet hiccup escapes you, pulling a sigh from Jeonghan who evaluates you carefully.

Admittedly, if Jeonghan hadn’t spent the last thirty minutes running around the frat house in a frenzied search for you, he might have teased your slumped form that was dressed in a ridiculous Valentine’s Day get-up. The red tinsel headband with spring hearts was crooked on your head, your hair slightly frizzy from the humid air of the yearly Cupid’s Arrow party his frat held, and fingertips nervously tugging at your comically short miniskirt.

Jeonghan advised you not to wear that skirt tonight, not that he ever intended to dictate what you wore, but just out of friendly concern. You know, since you might get cold, and definitely not because he had a hard time controlling his wandering eyes. No, friends don’t do that.

As per usual, you were excited about this party; you had a plethora of festive accessories - including that silly headband you were presently wearing - that you’d dig through a bin for, fishing out an item for you and Jeonghan to wear. (Every year you’d beg Jeonghan to wear something festive, he’d typically settle for the fuzzy pink ‘xoxo’ socks you had, but this year he let you put little heart stickers on his cheeks).

“Everything OK?” His voice is soft, deciding to set aside his frustration that you’ve been MIA. Jeonghan squats down behind you to place a gentle hand on your back, feeling you tense slightly at the contact, but you don’t pull away from him, which he takes as a good sign. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you mumble, your voice sounding a bit hoarse, revealing that something is in fact wrong. Jeonghan sighs again, this time you feel his breath fan out against the back of your neck, making your skin prickle at the warmth.

There’s a pause as if Jeonghan is thinking deeply about what could have caused you to be upset. “You were with all the guys when I last saw you. Was it Cheol? Did he say something stupid?”

“Jeonghan,” your voice is whiny, and it would almost be embarrassing if it wasn’t your best friend you were talking to. Seungcheol didn’t upset you. Well, maybe he inadvertently did, which is why you couldn’t admit to Jeonghan that he might be onto something. You forget that Jeonghan knows you better than anyone does.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Jeonghan clicks his tongue, an incredulous laugh escaping his lips. “That bastard. Do you want me to go knock some sense into him? He’s on another level tonight, seriously can’t keep his mouth shut.”

You’re almost frantic, turning around to grab Jeonghan’s wrist when you feel him stand up to go confront his frat brother, who was also one of your closest confidants other than Jeonghan.

Seungcheol who may have had too much to drink tonight and may have been a bit loose-lipped when he pointed out the fact that, slurring, “You know, Y/N. Jeonghan’s really messed up your game tonight. Won’t let anyone hit on you, even told the whole frat that you were off limits for Valentine’s, and he’s practically ditched you with me. What’s that all about? Kinda fucked up if you ask me, dude.”

When Seungcheol made his comment, you had rolled your eyes and shoved some crackers his way, encouraging him to sober up. He was talking a load of bullshit. That was until you really sat back and thought about it, how no one has approached you tonight. Not even one soul, and at this point you settled on the fact you’d unceremoniously go home alone later tonight. It hadn’t bothered you at all, not until your eyes narrowed in on Jeonghan who was busy flirting in the corner, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach at the sight.

God, was that a confusing feeling. Enough to send you into a panic, sending you stumbling outside in search of fresh air. Instead of finding solstice, it almost felt as if the cool breeze knocked some sense into you, tears welling in your eyes thinking ‘fuck, it is annoying that Jeonghan hasn’t spent any time with me tonight. It is annoying that I’ve been apparently branded with an invisible ‘off limits’ sign. And why is he there flirting with someone instead of hanging out with me?’

Not that you planned on leaving, but you needed to collect your thoughts a bit before heading back inside. You hadn’t realized you were gone for that long until Jeonghan came looking for you.

Hence, which is why Jeonghan feels his heart breaking when he sees your expression, a small hand wrapped around his wrist and red-rimmed eyes silently pleading as if to say ‘don’t leave.’

Like the softie he is for you, Jeonghan pauses, urging you to speak when he quietly utters, “Something’s wrong, and I can’t help you if I don’t know why.”

“It’s seriously nothing,” you breathe, finally gathering the courage to stand up from the curb. You let go of his wrist to properly brush yourself off. You know Jeonghan doesn’t believe you, so you muster up your best lie. “Just a few tipsy tears over the fact it’s another year without a Valentine. Nothing to worry about.”

It’s a big lie, you’re practically sober, and not once have you ever been bothered by the lack of a true Valentine. However, after seemingly contemplating your words for a moment, it must be convincing enough for Jeonghan, who pulls you into a comforting embrace, lips pressing against your forehead just like he usually does when you’re upset over something.

“That’s not true,” he mumbles into your hair, a teasing smile evident when he squeezes you a bit too tightly, earning a discontent groan from you. “You know I’m always your Valentine. Forever and always your Valentine.”

To which your heart skips a beat, what is supposed to be an innocent comment evokes a foreign feeling in your tummy for the second time tonight. It was true, long ago you two had pinky promised in grade school that you’d always be each other’s Valentines, not knowing the true nature of the holiday at that time. It was a curse you clearly had to deal with for almost your entire life.

As you attempt to push him away, his nimble fingers tickle your sides in an attempt to cheer you up. Jeonghan stumbles away from you when you successfully break away, loving the way you huff in frustration at his teasing, his impish laugh quelling the weird fluttering feeling through your body.

“Shut up, Yoon Jeonghan,” you use his legal name, evoking an incredulous chuckle from him as you stomp towards the house. It’s a feeble attempt to get as far away as possible, trying to hide what you assume is an incriminating blush on your cheeks.

“Slow down, Valentine,” he sing-songs behind you, following closely as you re-enter the house, and immediately pulling you in for a bone-crushing back hug, guiding you back towards your typical group of friends.

Thankfully, you find Seungcheol in a much more sober state, but you almost wish he was long gone, face-down in his bed instead. Especially when his sharp eyes narrow in on you and Jeonghan, curious and analyzing as Jeonghan clings to you. It wasn’t out of the usual, it was just that Seungcheol started paying closer attention, and you felt seen for the first time ever during your friendship with Jeonghan.

“You sure you’re doing OK?” Jeonghan asks, his voice low as he leans closer to your ear, making sure you hear him over the booming music.

It was then you knew you absolutely were not OK. Regardless, you twist your body as best as you can in Jeonghan’s grip, head craning so that you're face-to-face with your best friend. His worried eyes indicate that he’s still concerned, leaving you to breathlessly (nervously) respond, “Yeah, I swear I’m OK. Thanks for always being my Valentine, Hannie.”

#jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan #seventeen fic #seventeen angst #svthub #yoon jeonghan fic #jeonghan angst #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan seventeen #jeonghan

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jaykaysthicthighs · 11 months

Text

End Of The Love Story | JJK

banner by @archivededits via @archivedkookie <3

excerpt | you fell in love with the new kid in class. the love blossomed to something so beautiful and yet so destroying. you destroyed him. years later and you both finally crossed paths. will there ever be a chance for that love to grow again?

genre | major angst, slight smut, minor fluff

pairing | jeon jungkook x fem!reader

warnings | bartender!jungkook, rich!reader, flashbacks between past and present, arranged marriage, strong language, emotional breakdowns, smoking, short descriptive smut, reader & jungkook hurting a lot, bittersweet ending

wc | 12k +

notes | the story is unedited, but hopefully there isn't grammar mistakes

Eight years ago (the first meeting)

You watched as the small timid boy make his way next to you. When he fully sat down, you finally took a good look at him. He was beautiful. From his big doe eyes to his well-sculpted chin. He had a long nose, but kissable; lips that pout when not intended, pink and soft. He has a mole under his lips, a scar on his cheek, and his skin was -

"I'm sorry, is there something on my face?" The boy interrupted your train of thought. You blurted out, "No. I'm sorry, that I was staring at you. Didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." The boy notices a tinge of red surfacing your cheeks. At that moment, embarrassment made a home in you. The boy reassured you that it was okay. He wondered about your name, “My name’s Jungkook. You?” With your cheeks still red, you answered, “____.” The boy smiled warmly at you, “____, that’s a pretty name.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden action. You faced forward trying to redirect your attention to the teacher, but all you could think of was the smile the boy displayed; the dimples making their debut, and its bunny-like appearance.

Present

You were finally free. Free of this marriage that has been brought upon you. Just an hour or so ago you were Mrs. Boyce, now you're not. You have been waiting for this moment for so long, and it's finally done.

You were making your way to your car when someone pulled you aside. You came face to face with your ex-husband. "Mason, what's wrong?" The man let go of your arm and hugged you. He quietly murmured, "Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to hug you one last time before I go." Even though you despised this marriage, you never hated Mason, actually, he was your rock. All those nights, days, and moments you had wanting him, missing him, needing him, Mason was always there comforting you. Just like you, Mason hated this marriage.

You hugged Mason for the last time. Tears started welling up, and you sniffled to him, "Thank you so much, Mason. For being there for me when I had no one." He gave you a big squeeze for your welcome. A few seconds later, the hug ended. Mason placed his hands between your chilled face and expressed, "I'll always be there for you, ____. Not physically, but.... spiritually?" You had your head leaned back laughing at his confusion. "Please, don't be afraid to give me a call." You shook your head and gave him your response, "I won't. Be safe, Mason." Your ex-husband gave you his infamous grin. "Will do."

You're here in a club called Jessamine with your best friend Becky. She wanted to celebrate your freedom by trying to get you laid, and part of that plan was going to a club. She dressed you up in skimpy lingerie that could pass as a dress. The outfit barely covers your ass; one wrong move and you can flash the whole club. If it was your choice, a nice knee-high bodycon dress would be great, but things never work out in your favor.

About 30 minutes into dancing and all you wanted right now was a cold hard drink. You turned to Becky shouting your departure, "Beck, I'm gonna go get a drink!" Still dancing she gave you a thumbs up. "Try finding a hot man to fuck, babe!" You laughed sarcastically, "Yeah, sure."

This club was jammed packed, with no room for movement. You pushed and shoved your way through the crowd until you finally reached the bar. You sat between a woman who looked like she was in her 40s and the other who was accompanied by a man, probably a couple. A bartender came up to you; his figure was tall but lean, had a goatee, and green eyes. He was quite handsome to you.

The bartender plopped his hands on the ledge of the counter and inquired, "Is there anything I can get you, ma'am?" You gasped; you placed your hand to your heart, "Ma'am? Do I look old?" The man before you chuckled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't want to address you something that you might not like.... like pretty lady." You smile at the man and asked for his name. "Carter," he replied.

"Well Carter, I would like a Vodka Gimlet - if that's possible." The bartender straightened himself up and responded, "Don't worry it is." You smiled and watched the man get to work. A few moments later the bartender offered you your drink. "Thank you, Carter."

He gave you a nod and did a light slap on the counter. "Well, I'm gonna go on my break. If you need anything," the man pointed at the other bartender a few chairs away, "Teo, would be able to help you." You gave the man a thumbs up and said, "Okay. Thank you again, Carter." You watch the man make his way to the back door.

He swung the door open, startling two people. "What the fuck, Carter! I'm doing something here." Carter leaned against the brick wall and dug in his pocket and took out a cigarette. "Yeah, I can see that. Now do you have a light?" The man beside him groaned, "I hate you sometimes." He pushed the girl off of him signing her to go back inside. The man reached inside his back pocket and lit Carter's cigarette.

Carter inhaled the stick and let out a puff of smoke. He dropped his hand down and asked, "Who's the chick?" The man shrugged, "Don't know. Just grabbed the nearest girl and dragged her out here." A moment of silence was taken, the only sound heard was the busy streets at the front of the club.

The man pushed himself off the wall and made his way to the door, but before he had the chance to go back inside, Carter intervened, "Ah Jay, there's this hot chick at the bar. I don't know if she's taken or not, but she is by herself. Kind of thought you when I saw her." The man cocked his head to the side, "What are you saying?" Carter smirked at the man, "What I'm saying is that maybe you should try and get her number." The man opened his mouth to say something, but Carter stopped him, "If you're thinking about what she looks like, you'll know when you see her. Now get the fuck inside, your shift is starting."

The man grumbled at the thought of Carter. "Asshole. Fucking interrupting me." He sulked his way to the bar getting ready for his shift. Teo greeted him, giving the man a quick fist bump. He stationed himself and got ready to take a customer's order.

"Hello, sir. Anything I can get you?" And right before he could get the man's order, he heard a familiar laugh. He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, and his heart dropped. Just sitting a few chairs away was the woman who broke him.

He wanted to run, to hide, he would do anything to be away from you. He was frozen in fear, shaking from the inside out. "Hey!" The customer shouted, "Hello, are you listening? I want my fucking drink now!"

You heard the commotion a few feet away from you. And since you're human, you were curious. You turned your attention away from Becky and to the shouting. What you saw was something you didn't expect in a million years, Jeon Jungkook. The boy you fell in love with, the man you're still in love with.

You guys made eye contact; an unspeakable feeling of confusion running wild. You got up, ignoring the weird stare from Becky, but before making any movements toward Jungkook, he ran. You saw him run through the back door, pushing everybody without care.

Taking the first step to him, Becky uttered, "Where are you going?" She had her hand wrapped around your arm. You gently pushed them off and said, "I'll be right back." Before Becky had the chance to say something you speed walked your way to the door.

Just mere feet away from the exit, it swung open. Carter stepped into the club reeking of Tobacco. You were surprised by the sudden appearance. "Cater!" He gave a tight-lipped smile, wondering what you were doing back here. "Ma'am, you're not supposed to go back here."

As a response, you frantically explained, "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry, but someone I know went back here, and I haven't seen them in years." Carter furrowed his brows; he asked, "Do they work here?" You swallowed in some air and took a deep breath. "Umm... I think so. His name is Jungkook." Carter was getting confused by the second; he's never heard of that name before. He apologized, "I'm sorry, who?"

You were getting impatient with Carter. So, you pushed him aside, not caring about if you were being rude or not. You busted the door open and saw him crouched down with his face between his hands. The door slammed shut, startling you. You looked at the man in front of you with much sadness. With a heavy heart, you whispered, "Jungkook."

The screaming wind drowned out your voice, but even so, he heard. It's been two years since he last heard your voice, two years since he heard his name leave your lips. He slowly lifted his head up, and you saw his tear-stained face staring at you. Your heart stopped at the look he was giving you; hatred was all he was displaying. You wish to take all his pain and throw it at the nearest star, but you couldn't, especially since you were the cause of it.

Jungkook stood up, and you noticed how his build got bigger. He was definitely working out. You were never scared him, however, right now you were. He was not the same man as before - you know that, but you still hoped he hadn't changed.

Jungkook on the other hand, thought the opposite; you had gotten smaller. Not physically, but mentally. Your aura seemed scared and quiet, a complete 180 from before. He wanted to hold you - protect you, but he wouldn't. Jungkook could never forget what you did to him.

He laced his tongue with venom, and spat out, "Why the fuck are you here?" You flinched at his words. You deserve it - you know you deserve it, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Your heart started beating faster, and you tried controlling your breathing, but one could know that you were having a hard time keeping calm. You put your shaky hand to your heart and trembled, "I didn't know you worked here. I came here with my friend to celebrate."

Jungkook stayed quiet and you took that as a sign to continue on, "I came here to celebrate my divorce." Jungkook was taken aback by your sentence. Divorce... it ranged in his head. He'd never thought you would get a divorce. "You got a divorce?" You nodded shyly, "This morning actually. Everything was done and finalized this morning."

Jungkook gulped down some spit he didn't know he was harboring. He wanted to be happy, he was waiting for this moment, but he couldn't find it in himself to be. Jungkook took a few steps back, giving himself more space. You stood there watching him pondering his thoughts.

You took this time to fully analyze him. His hair was longer, reaching close to his shoulders, almost in a mullet style. Two piercings were placed on his face, and tattoos littered his right arm; knuckles all the way up to his shoulder. It's only been two years; how did his appearance change so much? Never once has Jungkook said anything about getting facial piercings or tattoos. At this moment, you wanted the old Jungkook back. You were selfish - so selfish; you have no right to think that, but you couldn't help it.

"Why'd you come here to celebrate? Ready to find a new man for you to break?" You scoffed at his questions, "Are you serious?" Jungkook knew he was being mean, but he didn't care. "Of course, I'm being serious. You broke it off with me easily, and then you got married - only for you to divorce two years later. And what's the first thing you do... you go to a fucking club! Single people go to clubs to get fucking drunk and sleep with people they don't even know."

You felt your heart swell with pain; you felt so offended. "Is that what you think I am? A slut?" Jungkook seemed unfazed by your pain. He shrugged his shoulders and remarked, "I don't know, it's been two years. You could be... I mean look at the fucking outfit you're wearing. It's like you're asking for it." You slapped him; you have never slapped Jungkook before. And without a second thought, your tears came streaming down. Jungkook watched you as you tried wiping them away. The tears and snot came running down; you were hiccupping and whimpering at the pain Jungkook shoved at you.

For a split second, Jungkook regretted his words, but he shook off the thought. If he was a monster, his only reason would be that you made him into one.

Still crying, you bellowed out, "Yeah, you're right! It has been two years. Because in just that period, you've become someone unrecognizable! An asshole!" You dropped down to the cold and dirty concrete floor and wailed. You didn't care if people were to hear you; you didn't care if people thought you were crazy. All that you could care for, and feel was the immense agony shooting throughout your body. "And to think I still love you!"

Jungkook felt himself staggering; he was angry about what you said. He growled out, "Love? You say you love me, but you left me! You left our relationship! You left everything! You left our five years of love so quickly... so easily. I have every right to be a fucking asshole, ____! I fought for us when you didn't."

You shot your head up, and yelled, "You're wrong!" Jungkook started laughing. He bent down to your level and challenged you. "I'm wrong?" You threatened back, "You're wrong. I did fight for us." You sent glares at Jungkook, as he did too. No words were exchanged, but the spitefulness radiated off of each other.

A few seconds later, Jungkook got up. He looked down at you and decided, "I'm not gonna fight with you. Everything that has happened is in the past." He started making his way to the door, but before he placed his hand on the knob, he added, "But know this, ____, you're fucking dead to me." And with that, he left you alone on the cold April night.

Seven years ago (the confession)

Jungkook was sitting in his car, waiting patiently for your tutoring to end. He had his head resting on the steering wheel contemplating whether he should tell you his feelings or not. He's been thinking about it for three weeks and thought today is the day, but like a lot of people, he has the last-minute jitters.

When the anxiety became unbearable, Jungkook stepped out of his car to take a breath of fresh air. He took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He dug in his pocket to check the time on his phone; four more minutes till you're out. He spent the next minute stretching for reasons he doesn't know. When he got back in the car, he downed the leftover water from earlier and threw the empty plastic in the back.

A few moments later and you were finally exiting the school, along with a few other people. Jungkook watched the way you smiled at the girl next to you, deep in the conversation. It made his heart warm seeing you smile.

You made your way to his car, exhaling the tiredness from today. You swiftly turned your body to give Jungkook a hug. With your body fully back on the seat, you sighed, "Thank you, Jungkook, for picking me up." He gave you a small smile, "No worries." You buckled yourself, ready to be taken home, but you noticed that Jungkook hadn't made the slightest move to leave. "Jungkook, are you okay?" He turned to you and whispered, "I umm... have something I want to say to you."

You got a little worried that something might've happened. "What is it? Are you okay?" Jungkook shook his head at your questions; he informed, "I'm okay. Nothing to worry about," he took a deep breath and continued, "I have just been feeling something for a while now, and I thought today should be a good time to tell you." You gave Jungkook a look to tell him to continue.

When Jungkook opened his mouth, all that came out was a shaky breath. He brought his head down from embarrassment, "I'm sorry." You giggled at his nervousness. You grabbed his hands and assured him, "It's okay. Take all the time you need." Jungkook took another deep breath, and screwed his eyes shut, scared of what facial expression you were to make; he admitted, "____, I like you... like really like you." You let go of Jungkook's hands, causing his eyes to open. He spouts out, "It's fine if you can't replicate my feelings back! I just don't wan-"

You grabbed Jungkook's face between your hands and cut him off with a kiss, and just as quickly you pulled apart. Jungkook was in a state of shock, he didn't know what happened, or why it happened. Since your hands still held Jungkook's face, you gently caressed his cheeks to bring him back down to earth. You softly spoke, "I can replicate your feelings back. I like you, Jungkook - possibly even more than you do."

Jungkook's eyes bugged out from your confession. Never in a million years would he think you had feelings for him. He pointed to himself, "Me? You like me?" You took your hands off his face and waved them around, "I like you, Jungkook! Ever since you transferred to my class, I have liked you severely. Was my kiss not obvious?" Jungkook starts chuckling at the turn of events; he rubbed his face and said, "I'm sorry, I just... Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think this would happen?" You smiled at his words, "Neither did I."

You guys got quiet, the awkward tension swimming throughout the car. Jungkook took the initiative to cut the tension, "Well," he kissed his teeth, "Since we like each other, we should kiss... again." You have never smiled more widely until today. "It's your turn to kiss me, Jungkook."

He gently took his hands to hold your face, and slowly but surely, he closed the gap. Your lips brushed against his, in a teasing manner. Jungkook didn't want to waste any more time, so he crashed his lips to yours. You guys kissed ever so slowly; reeling in the feeling of being wanted. You were the one to pull away first; you breathlessly spoke, "God, how can you hold your breath for that long?"

Jungkook chuckled at your question. He leaned his forehead to yours, staring deeply into your eyes. He feels like he could get lost in them and he wouldn't mind. He whispered, "I like you, ____." You gave him another kiss, and responded, "As do I, Jungkook."

Present

It's been a week since the event with your ex-boyfriend. It took you a fat minute to go back inside. When you did, you tried your hardest to avoid Jungkook, but of course, since he worked there avoiding him was not possible. Carter, on the other hand, went up to you, asking if you were okay, but you shrugged him off. You reached Becky demanding that you wanted to go home; she complied with your request.

Here you are with Becky out on your terrace smoking. You used to hate the idea of smoking, the burning sensation, the horrible smell of Tobacco, but since the break-up with Jungkook, you fell down the rabbit hole of cigarettes. You used to smoke one pack every two days, but it subsided to one pack a week.

Right now, you were feeling very serene. The cold harsh wind screaming in your ears, it was burning your eyes, and stabbing your skin; it felt nice. It made you forget the pain you were feeling inside. Becky was talking to you, but her voice went in one ear and out the other. You were just focusing on letting yourself get lost in this freezing pain. The only time you felt alive was when you suffer. You think to yourself that this is what you deserve, that everything you did should come back to you ten times worse.

Becky was getting concerned about your lack of attention. She was talking about how horrible the weather was right now; she expected your usual sarcastic remark, but you didn't give any. She turned to you, analyzing the way you were engulfed in this harsh weather. She saw the way you stared blankly with your teary eyes at the busy city. She saw the little goosebumps littering your skin. Your hair blowing in every direction, not caring for the tangles it's making. The firing cigarette getting close to your fingers. She saw nothing but a shell of her best friend.

Becky hadn't known you for very long, two years to be exact. She was Mason's coworker; they were in the same law firm. You met her when you were visiting Mason one day, and from then on, she became your best friend. She gets worried about you, knowing that the majority of your pain consists of your broken love. Becky only knows briefly about what happened that night; she wanted to know more, but she respects your boundaries, so, she never pushed the topic.

Becky tapped your shoulder, lightly shouting so you can hear her voice in the loud wind. "____, your cigarette is about to be out! Throw it away and let's get back inside!" You blinked away your tears, and promptly threw your cigarette in the ashtray.

"What the fuck! You wasted a good piece of cigarette, Jay." Jungkook just waved off Cater's complaint. "Yeah, whatever. I don't give a shit. It's mine, not yours." Jungkook and Carter were seated in the clubs' break room. Their shifts usually started at the same time, so they always take their breaks together.

Ever since that night, Jungkook has been on edge. He thought that you had moved away, but since his encounter with you, he's now rethinking that you hadn't left at all. Seeing you definitely brought back memories that Jungkook tried so hard to avoid. The pain you had caused resurfaced and immersed his heart with agony. Right when he thought he finally healed, your pretty face came and ripped off his band-aid.

Carter interrupted Jungkook's train of thought. "Damn, Jay. Crankier than usual?" Instead of responding back, Jungkook threw his head back on the leather couch. He didn't really have the energy to converse with Carter. If he didn't have work, he would've spent a year hiding out in his apartment avoiding everyone and everything, but he didn't have that luxury.

Carter was very persistent in making conversation. "So, Jungkook is your real name? And you didn't think of telling me? Your best friend?" Jungkook swiftly raised his head at Carter's question. He remarked, "Don't fool yourself, Carter. We're not friends." Carter felt hurt by Jungkook's words but choose not to show it. Jungkook continued, "The reason why I didn't tell you my name was because I didn't want to be tied down to my past."

"Past?" Carter questioned. Jungkook dug in his pocket for another cigarette to smoke. He lit it up and took a hit. "I never really cared for my name. I didn't really like it, but I didn't really hate it. It wasn't until this girl came along that I started loving my name - only when she said it. Hearing my name leave her lips made my stomach do flips. One day she ended things, and my name just started to sound horrible to hear. So, that's why I changed it to, Jay."

Everything stayed quiet after Jungkook's confession. Carter didn't know what to say. He wanted to lighten up the mood and make Jungkook slightly happy, but he was scared that whatever left his mouth, the man in front of him would shoot him the meanest glare, and Carter was a sensitive man.

Minutes go by until their shift starts. Before exiting, Carter wanted to say at least something to the broken man. He halted Jungkook's walking, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jungkook turned to Carter with a puzzled look. Carter spoke, "Jay's not a bad name. I quite like the name." Jungkook gave Carter a tight-lipped smile and nodded. He left the break room with a lone Carter inside.

Seven years ago (the first night)

You had arrived at Jungkook's house for a sleepover. You and Jungkook have been dating for seven months, and he thought today was the day you could finally stay over at his house. You actually wanted to stay over at his early on in the relationship, but Jungkook informed you that he wasn't ready yet. Jungkook wanted things to go nice and slow; he was afraid that if things were to be rushed everything would fall apart. You understood his reasons; you took things nice and slow just like he wanted.

You entered his house; it was small but cozy. His house felt like a home, just the feeling the house gives makes you feel at peace. You looked around the place, admiring the family pictures, drawings, and even the little trinkets displayed on top of the T.V. Everything insight made your heart warm.

Jungkook on the other hand, was nervous. He knows that his place is far more different than yours. You had been born with a silver spoon in your mouth; everything was handed to you, even without asking. As he watched you look around the place, Jungkook was sweating profusely. He was scared that you would leave him because of how poor he was compared to you.

Jungkook trembled, "I know this isn't much. I know how ugly this is to you, but I hope that you won't leave me." You flipped towards your boyfriend. You were flabbergasted that he would think that. Everything that he had said was the opposite of what you were thinking. You threw yourself on his soft brown couch cuddling with one of the throw pillows. Jungkook walked in front of you, and you gave him a bright smile.

You chuckled, "Babe, this house is beautiful, not ugly. It isn't much but it's definitely something amazing." You grabbed his arms, discarding the pillow, and pulled him towards you. "I could never leave you because of how much or little money you have. Jungkook, I'm with you because of who you are. And you are someone worth treasuring." Jungkook's heart has never felt so full. He kissed your forehead, "My heart is full of you, I can't even call it my own."

As your response, you gently grabbed his face and kissed like it was the last. He held your waist and gripped you closer to him. There was no room in between you two. Things started escalating when you began unbuttoning Jungkook's shirt. He pulled away the second he felt your fingertips brush against his chest. You were startled by the action; you felt that you had done something bad.

You felt your eyes slightly tear up, but Jungkook was quick to assure you that it was nothing wrong. "Baby, don't be sad. I just think that we shouldn't be doing this in the living room." At first, you were confused by his statement, but then your eyes lit up by his meaning. You blushed and Jungkook smiled at your cheeks. "Let's take this in my bedroom, yeah?" You had never nodded your head this hard until right now.

Jungkook chuckled at your cuteness; you never fail to make him smile. He picked you up like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his torso, and your arms around his neck. Jungkook had his hands resting on the bottom of your ass, keeping you in place. He marched his way to his room, all while keeping his eyes on yours. You would usually feel nervous about the intense eye contact, but at this moment you were too lost in his big brown eyes. He looked at you with so much longing, and you loved that feeling.

Once he reached his room, Jungkook placed you on the bed and said, "I am so glad my parents aren't here today." He climbed on top of you, caging you in between his toned arms. "So, don't be quiet for me. Never be quiet for me." You were stunned by the words that had left your boyfriends' lips. It was like a different person entered his body. It was hard to muster any type of word, so you just nodded.

Jungkook can see that you were speechless by his behavior. He was actually having fun doing this to you. He wanted to push you even further, so, Jungkook slipped his hand underneath your shirt and inside your bra to lightly brushed his fingers on your hard bud. He saw your mouth go agape; he ordered, "Use your words, baby. I wanna hear you." You can see the mischievous glint along with lust swimming in his eyes. You cleared your throat and shakingly said, "I won't be quiet for you. I'll let you hear all of me."

Jungkook smirked, "That's my girl." He dived his head to your neck and sucked your soft skin. The hand that had brushed against you was now needing the plump area. "Ahh... babe." you moaned at the sensation. Jungkook unclasped his mouth from your neck, admiring the painting he had done. He licked the area grinning. When he had lifted his head back, he already saw the dazed look on your face.

Jungkook caressed your cheeks tenderly. "Why do you already look a bit fucked out, babe? I haven't done anything yet?" You grabbed a hold of his shirt and said, "It feels good." Jungkook chuckled. God, you were too adorable. You tried unbuttoning his shirt again, but Jungkook just swiftly took it off. You straight away raked your fingers along his abs. The feathering touch made Jungkook lightly flex his abs. "Aren't you a little horny?" You blushed from embarrassment at his words. You pinched his skin, "Shut up."

Jungkook grabbed a hold of your arms and placed them above your head. "Spread your legs, baby." And like a dog, you did what you were told. You watched Jungkook position himself between your legs; he was slowly grinding against your clothed pussy. You bite your lip, containing your moans. Jungkook saw the way you try quieting yourself. He released one of his hands away from your pinned arms, dragging your bottom lip down with his thumb. He groaned at you, "____, I said to never be quiet for me. So, stop biting your lips and moan for me, baby."

You released one sinful moan for your lover. He wasn't even inside you yet, but you already felt like cumming. Jungkook fully let go of your arms, and instead, he ripped open your shirt. You gasped at the action, "Jungkook! Babe, I liked that shirt." Jungkook unhooked your bra and threw it on the floor. "I'll buy your another one, baby. Now lift up your hips." You really didn't know what it was, but every time Jungkook demanded something, you would always be compliant.

He took off your shorts along with your underwear, and just like your bra, he discarded them on the floor. You laid bare in front of Jungkook's eyes. You looked ethereal to him like you were an angel living down on earth. Your hair was sprawled out on his sheets, your skin shining even though there was no sun, your legs wide open giving him a view of your pretty pussy, your breasts laid beautifully on your chest, and your face stared back at him with devotion. They say that nothing in this world is perfect, but to Jungkook you were the definition of prefect.

You stared at him while he took off his pants. You saw the outline of his thick cock, bulging on his boxers. You couldn't tear your eyes away; Jungkook noticed. He grabbed one of your hands and placed it on his hard-on, gently rubbing himself on your hand. Jungkook exhaled and said, "You feel how hard I am for you, baby?" You licked your lips and meekly whispered, "Yes."

He placed your hand back by your side and bent down to you. His lips hovering above yours. "Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it." You lifted up your pelvis, it was your turn to grind yourself on his clothed cock. You breathlessly spoke, "I want you to fuck me, but I want it slow." Jungkook groaned at your words.

He slipped out of his boxers and his cock sprung free. It hit you right on your clit, making you jolt. Before Jungkook could continue, he reached behind you, and right beside his bed was a small dresser. He dug into one of the drawers and pulled out a condom. Jungkook took off the plastic and tapped the rubber piece on your lips. He grinned, "Do you wanna put this on me, babe?"

You sat up and took the condom from your boyfriend. You had your eyes locked on his cock. It might've been weird to voice out, but Jungkook's cock was really pretty. His shaft was slightly lighter than his skin, and his tip was pretty pink. You could see the feint veins that circled his member, and he wasn't hairy, just a slightly shaven area that resided on top. You could see some pre-cum leaking out of him. He was pretty thick and long, you would've guessed him to be around eight inches.

You swallowed some air before you proceeded. You took him in one of your hands and placed the rubber on his tip. You tried sliding it down, but since your hand was too shaky it kept coming back up. Jungkook had seen your nervousness. He gently grabbed your hand, and he worried to you, "Need help, baby?"

You shot up at him and quickly replied, "No!" In the midst of your answer, you had gripped your boyfriend too hard. "Shit, babe! Not too hard, please?" You were quick to release him from the stronghold. You apologized, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I-I don't need help. I can do this." Jungkook nodded and copied back, "You can do this."

You tried sliding the condom back down again, and thankfully this time it stayed in place. You smiled at Jungkook like a kid who aced their pop quiz. He chuckled, "God, ____. Can you get any cuter?"

Jungkook looped one arm around your torso, slowly bringing you back down on the bed. He positioned himself back between your legs again and gently slid his cock between your folds. His movement sent tidal waves through your body. You moaned out, "Fuck, Jungkook. It feels good, but I want you in me." Jungkook placed his cock right at your entrance. He said, "If it hurts tell me, okay? I'll go slow like you want." You nodded.

You hugged your boyfriend readying yourself. Jungkook had licked his fingers, lubing you up. He slowly entered you, feeling your warm walls caging him tightly. Your arms around Jungkook tightened. It didn't hurt having him inside you. You have a dildo, so the feeling was nothing new. But this was your first time having other than a toy inside you. You softly moaned once he was fully inside, Jungkook as well. His mouth was right next to your ear. When you heard him groan it made your mind hazy.

"Am I hurting you, baby?" You shook your head at his question, but Jungkook wanted words. "I need to hear you say it." You murmured your words lowly, "No, you're not hurting me."

"I'm gonna move now, alright?"

"Alright."

Jungkook started slipping in and out of you. You created wetness, making it easier for him to not hurt you. It felt nice, but you wanted him to go deeper. You rasped out, "Deeper, Jungkook. I want it deeper." And that's what he did. Jungkook had reached deeper inside you, hitting your G-spot. Your body thrust up, touching your boyfriends' chest. "Shit!" you cried out.

Jungkook smirked to himself. Seeing you like this, only wanted him to go harder - faster. Placing you back down, he grunted, "Baby, can I go faster? Please?" You wanted to please your boyfriend like he was doing to you. So, you agreed.

Jungkook lifted up his body and moved you to the edge of the bed. With him standing, he placed your legs straight on his chest. He held your thighs with a firm grip and started thrusting you at a fast pace. Your body started moving up and down, your breasts doing the same.

The room echoed with the slapping of your guy's skin. You watched Jungkook as he fucked you. His head was leaned back; he was immersed in the pleasure. Jungkook was so glad that you are his first. He read online that having sex with someone feels so good, but to him, you felt like heaven.

Jungkook brought back down his head and snuggled between your legs. He rubbed his cheek along your calf. He beamed at you, "You're so precious, baby. So precious." You mimicked back his smile.

Jungkook went back to fucking you, never slowing down his pace. You gripped the sheets of his bed when you started to feel your high coming. Jungkook felt you holding his member hard, not letting him breathe. But he took it as a sign to go faster. When your high reached you, you jerked your body up, your body quivering. You moaned his name repeatedly. You never felt this much pleasure until now. Jungkook sure knows how to make you feel like you were in another world.

Jungkook watched as your body shook. He loved that he was the reason for your undoing. When your high came down, you thought that you guys would be done, but Jungkook had other plans. You gave your boyfriend a puzzling look when you felt that he was still in you. Jungkook cocked his head to the side, "Did you think it was over? Baby, I haven't even cummed yet." Your eyes bugged out.

Just as you were about to say something, Jungkook fucked you hard. He took your breath by surprise. You had just came, so when Jungkook added more pleasure to your sensitive cunt, you couldn't help but cry. You tried telling him to stop or slow down, but you could barely muster up any words.

Jungkook felt himself almost there. With one more thrust, he dropped your legs and collapsed on top of you, riding out his climax. His lips were right next to your ear; he was groaning out incoherent words. You both were out of breath, giving yourselves some time to be composed.

When you guys were finally calm, Jungkook pulled out of you. He discarded his filled condom in the trash. He gently pulled you up and asked, "Do you want to bathe together?" You smiled widely; you answered his question with a nod. You were about to walk with him to the bathroom, but Jungkook noticed your legs slightly trembling, so he picked you up bridal style.

You giggled at his action, holding him tight as he walked. When you made it into the bathroom, Jungkook sat you down on the closed toilet. You got worried that you might dirty it. "Wait, Jungkook, I don't think I should sit here. I don't want to dirty your toilet." Jungkook playfully scoffed at your concern. While he went to run the warm water, he shrugged, "It's fine if you dirty the toilet, babe. I can always clean it."

Minutes go by and the tub was finally filled. Jungkook carefully placed you in the tub. "Is the water warm for you?" You nodded your head and then urged him to get inside with you. Jungkook sat behind you; your back rested against his chest. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the warm and safe atmosphere. Jungkook looked down at you admiring your beauty. He could never get tired of looking at you. You captivated him, and he wasn't complaining.

Jungkook raked his fingers along your stomach; his head rested in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. With your eyes still closed, you spoke out, "You know, they say that a home is a place, but I don't think that's true." You opened your eyes and faced your lover. "Because I found a home in you; you're my home, Jungkook."

Jungkook buried his head deeper in your neck. He rarely blushes, but right now his face was painted bright red. He gave himself a minute to calm his beating heart. When he lifted up his head, he found that you had your eyes closed again. "____?" he called out. You responded to him with a little hum.

Jungkook took a deep breath in and a deep breath out and confessed, "I love you." Your eyes shot open, and you looked at him. Jungkook repeated, "I love you, ____. Every fiber of my being calls for you. My need for you is so strong, that I don't know what I'll do without you." You felt yourself crying, your body trembling. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you; he thought that what he had said made you sad. "____, I'm sorry. Please, don't cry."

You shook your head. You weren't crying because of what he had said, but because you were so happy. You were filled with so much joy and love. You sniffled to him, "I'm not crying because of something bad. I'm crying because you're making me so happy. I'm so happy, Jungkook." You wiped your tears away and grabbed his face. You admitted, "And I love you so much.”

Present

"I would like the veggie wrap, but please don't put in the bell peppers. And some sweet tea - no ice. Thank you." Becky handed her menu to the young waitress. "Ma'am, is there anything I can get you?" The girl had her attention switched to you. Getting ready to write, you gave her your answer, "I'll have the same, but I want the bell peppers put in. And for the drink, I'll just have plain water." The girl collected your menu and gave a curt nod.

After she left Becky spoke out, "I talked to Mason yesterday. ____, he's worried about you. You haven't texted or called him since the divorce. He's wondering if you're okay." You did a deep sigh. You didn't mean to make him worry; you just have a lot on your mind right now. You exhaled, "I'm okay, alright." Becky advised, "I'm not the one you should be answering to. If you claim to be okay, then call Mason and tell him." You nodded your head, not saying anything further.

Becky could see that you're not really here; your mind is someplace else. Ever since that night, you've been more closed off than usual. It's sometimes hard to make conversations with you since all you give is short direct answers. You were always pretty open with Becky, proud to say she knows about ninety percent of you. But recently, Becky has been left in the dark about your feelings.

She worried to you, "____, I want you to know that I'm here... that I'm not some stranger. You can talk to me." You stared at your best friend; you can see the worriedness in her beautiful face. You're definitely not doing a good job of making the people who care about you feel calm. You were ready to talk to Becky, but then the young waitress came up and brought the food. "Here's the wrap with no bell peppers for you," She gave Becky her food, and then you, "Here's your wrap with bell peppers. And your guy's drinks." Once she placed everything down, she added, "If you need anything just call me." And with that, the girl left.

Becky had noticed that you were about to say something. "What were you going to say, ____?" You begged, "Can we talk about this after we finished eating, Beck? Please?" Becky didn't want to push your buttons, so, she agreed to continue the conversation later.

Around thirty minutes later, you and Becky finished your lunch. You guys were now entering your car with a full stomach. Once you guys had your seatbelts buckled, you pulled out of the parking lot. The vehicle was silent, just a whispered voice singing through the stereo.

"Let's go to a park." Becky had broken the silence with her suggestion. You slightly turned your eyes to your best friend. "A park?" you questioned. Becky replied with a yes. With your eyes back on the road, you took some time thinking about the reason for the random pop-up. Then you remembered what you said at the restaurant. "To talk?" your voice laced with caution. Becky replied with another yes. You sucked in your cheeks and nodded. "Sure, why not."

You two arrived at a random park. The area didn't have a lot of people, which for you was great. You put your car in park and pumped up the air conditioning. It was silent yet again. Becky wanted to speak up, but she also wanted you to open up to her on your own. You were trying to figure out what to say to Becky without sounding incoherent. It took a minute before words left your mouth.

"Remember how I said I saw my ex that night?" Beck nodded her head. You continued, "Well, ever since that night I've been feeling lost... or I guess confused - I don't really know how to describe it. But seeing him made my heart swell with longing, but he was not the same as before. What happened that night rearranged my view - my feelings into something unbearable. The more I think about it, the more I know that I'm the reason for this pain. This feeling... it's like it's growing bigger, and it fills my heart with ache. I feel like I'm gonna be gone if these feelings keep being bottled."

Becky furrowed her brows; she was confused by your last sentence. "What do you mean 'gone', ____?" You gulped down some spit, "I mean that if I keep feeling like this, my sense of warmth might be extinguished." Becky's heart broke hearing her best friend say that she might lose any type of love. You've always been there for her, even when you were at your lowest. Becky said something that she might hope will help you. "Maybe you should try talking to him. Find some closure, ____."

You dropped your head to the steering wheel and gripped the sides. You shook your head at your friend's request; you explained, "I can't talk to him, Beck. You know, the last thing he said to me that night was that I was dead to him." You faced Becky. "Beck, he hates me... deeply. And I can't blame him, 'cause I hate myself too."

Becky turned her body completely towards you. She didn't want you to think badly about yourself. "____, don't say that." Just like Becky, you turned your body as well. Your frustration was building. "What am I supposed to say then, Becky? It's my fault that things are like this." Your voice started rising up, "It's my fault that we're broken! If you were there that day, Beck, you would've hated me as well."

Tears started freely flowing down. You grabbed your shirt and cried, "You didn't see the way his face looked when I told him that I accepted the marriage. You didn't feel the want in his hug - in his kiss when he begged for me to stay. You didn't hear the pain in his voice when he told me that I broke him. Becky, I left him alone and broken. I destroyed him. So, please... don't tell me that I shouldn't have said what I have said."

Becky hugged you the minute you ended your sentence. Her tears silently fell, while yours were loud and clear. Becky felt her shirt dampen, but she didn't care. You had wrapped your arms around your best friend tightly, holding on to her while you poured out your pain. You choked out, "I tried telling my parents that I didn't want this. I tried, Becky, I tried." Becky gently petted your hair and said, "I know, ____."

A Few minutes go by, and your crying had subsided. You pulled away from Becky and grabbed some tissues that were placed in the cup holder. You wiped your face from all the tears and snot. Becky softly rubbed your eyes and calmly said, "I wasn't there, so because of that I don't hate you. And if I was there, I still wouldn't have hated you, ____. Even though you couldn't stop your parents, you were still strong enough to try. That itself tells me how much you love this man. I know that I'll probably never be able to understand this pain, but one thing I do understand is the unbelievable love one person can have for the other. ____, this type of love is so powerful, it can heal the weak, but it can also destroy the strong. I know you said that you can't talk to him, but I think you should. If you don't... this feeling will keep being bottled - and just like you said, you'll be gone. I don't want that. So, just try talking to him."

Two years ago (the break up)

You had just gotten done having the meeting of your life with your parents. The discussion for an arranged marriage for you has been brought forth a week ago. Your parents wanted to expand their company by joining another company that was owned by their friends. They thought that marrying you with Mason would bring more publicity and fortunes to their companies. Your parents had known that you were already in a relationship, but they're the type of parents that don't care for their kids' opinions or feelings.

When they had announced that they were going to be marrying you, you shot them down the second the words had left their mouths. You left the room not giving them any time to say something back to you. You didn't want to hear it. That day, you held off on telling Jungkook about your parent's announcement. You had thought that they would respect your decision not to go through with this marriage. You thought that the discussion would end and there would be no reason to tell Jungkook, until today.

Your parents had called you to their office, and right when you entered the room, they dropped the bomb and told you that having this marriage is inevitable. You tried convincing them that this is not what you want, that you are happy with your life; loving and having Jungkook is all you want, but they didn't care. The only thought they had in their mind was strengthening their company. The debate went on for so long, with you crying and your parent's shouting.

They told you that if you didn't go through with this, they wouldn't hesitate on making Jungkook's life hell, starting with deporting his father. You called their bluff, telling them that they're not that cruel, but once they had ICE on call you were forced to agree. Your parents had a satisfying smirk knowing that their plan was working. You had gone up to your parents, wanting to physically hurt them, but your father beat you to it. He had slapped you right across the face, and even more, he did not hold back on giving you a right hook on your stomach. Your mother had a displeasing look on her face when you spat out vulgar words at them.

You ran out of their building to find sanctuary in your car. You didn't cry because of the pain your parents inflicted on you; you were crying because you were now going to be tied to someone who wasn't the love of your life; Jungkook. It took you a few minutes to calm down your breathing, and your crying, but once you did, you texted Jungkook that you were going to drive to his place for something important.

Jungkook got a bit nervous with your message; he tried calling you to see if you were okay, but you didn't answer. You didn't want him to hear the choked pain in your voice.

Here you are driving to your boyfriend's apartment, with blurry eyes. You know that driving in this state is unsafe, but you didn't care. You were lucky to have not run over any red lights or gotten pulled over for speeding. You pulled up to your boyfriend's apartment unscathed and without any tickets. You saw Jungkook pacing around his front door with a worried expression.

When he spotted you, he ran to your car door and hugged you. He expressed, "Baby, why weren't you answering my calls? I was worried about you." You couldn't speak; your body frozen was in panic. Jungkook noticed; he tried picking you up, but your legs collapsed on top of each other. He bent down to check for any injuries. Jungkook searched your body, and then he came across your face.

He let out a short breath, "____, your face! Your cheek! Baby, what happened?" You rasped out, "Can we take this inside? Please?" Instead of answering, Jungkook carefully picked you up and helped you to his apartment. He sat you down on his little sofa, with him going to the kitchen to get you an ice pack.

Your boyfriend returned and placed the cold pack on your bruising cheek. He wanted to question why you needed to talk, why you looked like you'd been crying so much, why your cheek is bruising, but he didn't want to bombard you with so many questions. He wanted you to talk to him when you were calm and ready.

You were trying to think of ways to break down the marriage to him, but no matter how you were to say it, you know that Jungkook would be hurt. Your head was down, but you could feel the anxious stare your boyfriend was giving you. You tried mustering up some words to say, but all that came out was unstable breaths.

Seeing you in this state had Jungkook on edge. He's never seen you like this before, and it quite terrifies him. Seeing you made his heart churn with indescribable panic. All that he could do was hold you, waiting for your mind to be steady.

The clock kept ticking and you still hadn't said anything. You just stared at the floor, with nothing but fidgeting eyes. Jungkook was a patient man, but in this scenario, he was feeling a bit restless. Jungkook tried speaking up, "Babe, ar-" You cut him off, blurting out your proclamation, "I'm getting married."

Jungkook's whole world stopped when those words left your mouth; he felt his heart drop. He stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. You were still seated, watching your boyfriend getting stressed. Your body was still, but you felt your tears slowly fall. The moment you said the words, you knew, you knew that everything was will never be the same.

Jungkook's heart was racing faster than the speed of light. His body felt cold, like what you had said dumped ice all over him. He couldn't control his breathing; his chest heaving up and down in a disbelief manner. He turned to you, catching sight of your broken spirit. He would usually hug you - comfort you, but all he wanted to do right now is ask you, his questions. Jungkook shakingly said, "Are you serious? 'Cause if you're playing with me right now, ____, I'll forgive you. We can move on with this horrible joke of yours." He tired laughing, hoping that you were joking.

You faced back down on the floor; your tears making it hard to see anything. With his question, you shyly nodded your head. You heard Jungkook release a pain exhale. You could feel the pain steaming off of him. You didn't want to lift your head; you were scared of the sight you might see.

You heard Jungkook gasping for air like he was finding it hard to function. You tried muffling your sobs that were escaping, but it didn't work. Jungkook demanded, "Look at me, ____." You couldn't. How could you? After what you said, you don't have the strength to face him. He demanded again, "____, look at me." this time you can hear the plead in his voice.

You lift your head, hating the sight you were seeing. The one person who you never wanted to hurt, showed a face full of agony. You did this to him. Your tears were now rapidly flowing; you tried wiping them away, but they did not prevail.

Jungkook didn't know why you were hurting. He had every reason to feel like this, but you? His voice rasped out his questions, "W-was it me? Did I do something wrong? Wa... was I not good enough for you, ____?" You vigorously shook your head. All his questions were far from it. "Then why?" Jungkook gripped his shirt; his voice was rising. He cried to you, "Why a-are you doing this to me? Did you have a relationship with this guy, and you didn't tell me? Is-is that the reason you're marrying him and not me?"

You stood up quickly, crying to him that his questions were not the reason. He repeated, "Then why?" You couldn't tell him why. You didn't want him to know, because if you did, you knew that he would tell you not to worry about him. He would tell you that you guys can fight through this, but he doesn't know your parents. The vile things they can do to him and his parents. So, you left that part out, "My parents want to wed me with a friend's son to bring more success to both companies."

Jungkook nodded his head, feeling somewhat hopeful that you didn't agree; your parents just told you, you were getting married. "Okay, this was all your parents. Baby, just decline them and then we can go back to normal." You saw him optimistically smile. You wished that was the case; you wished it was that easy. You brokenly said, "No, Jungkook. It was my decision... I accepted the marriage."

Jungkook cried yet again. Why would he think that? Stupid! He felt stupid. "Why would you accept it? You're not happy with me, are you?" You told him a white lie, "I think that as their daughter, I need to do this." Jungkook shook his head, not believing you. "What about what you want? ____, I thought that what we have is everything and more, but you seem so willing to let go of our five years. Is this truly what you want?"

You wanted to say no. You wanted to be with him forever; that this marriage is not what you want, but the words got stuck in your throat. You didn't know what to say. Jungkook knows you like the back of his hand; he could see the hesitation; he could see your body frozen in contemplation. He knows deep down that you don't want this. So, why are you doing this?

Jungkook walked towards you, holding you tenderly in his arms. Dipping his head to the crook of your neck, breathing you in like always. "____, stay with me." Your eyes were hurting from all the crying, but you couldn't help it. Jungkook felt your body tremble; he felt your tears sliding down your face, down your neck, and onto his face, it only made him hold you tighter. He felt himself crying just as hard as you. "Stay with me, ____." He let you go, only for him to cup your face, and give you a passionate kiss. "Please, baby. I need you to stay with me. Can you stay with me?"

You could feel the want in his hug - in his kiss, but you couldn't - you wouldn't drag him down, because of your love. You didn't want him and his parents to suffer because of you. You saw his eyes begging you to say yes. You know that your answer was going to hurt him, but rather this than the long-suffering pain he would feel to lose his father. Pushed him off of you, and you let out a strangled sob. You saw pain taking hold of him. You wailed, "I can't... I won't stay with you, Jungkook. I could never forgive myself if I did."

You saw him clutch a part of his shirt where his heart was. You heard him whimpering. Jungkook hiccupped, "____, please don't do this. We can be together. Your parents - your husband won't have to know." Jungkook knew he was being pathetic; begging you like this, but he would go to any length if it meant that you'll stay with him. "I don't want you to leave me. I love you."

Your face scrunched up, trying to contain the pain you were feeling. His words sent an ache through your heart. You wished everything was that easy. You didn't want Jungkook to love a horrible person like you; a person who would lie to him, a person who would tear him piece by piece. The only way to make him hate you is to say the impossible, "These past six years spent with you, were everything and more. But I don't love you anymore, Jungkook. It's time we took our separate paths."

Jungkook felt himself die inside. He was shaking his head, trying to deny your words, but you sound so convincing. If he knew that this type of pain was to happen, he would've never confessed his feelings to you. The one person who he tied himself with, the one person who he gave his whole heart, the one person who he loved broke him. He whispered to you, "You absolutely broke me, ____. Destroyed me." He didn't spare you a glance; he walked to his front door, opened it, and yelled, "Get the fuck out of my house, before I fully succumb to you, truly!"

You knew that this was gonna come. You knew that sooner or later he would yell and say harsh things to you. Still, you could help but be appalled by his words. You carefully walked your way to the door. Tears come down streaming harshly, knowing that this will be the last time you step foot in his home. Right at the entrance, you faced your now ex-boyfriend and saw the stern and pained expression plastered on his face. You timidly said, "I'm sorry, Jungkook."

Jungkook swiftly turned his eyes out the door, signaling to leave his apartment; you did just that. You turned around wanting to at least say one last goodbye, but before you got the chance to, Jungkook slammed the door, leaving alone on a cold April day.

Present

"So, don't worry about me, Mason. Call me when you get this." You ended the voicemail.

You were outside the club waiting for your ex to be finished. It took a lot of thinking about what Becky had said, and you came to the conclusion that she was right. You didn't want to spend the rest of your life avoiding this, you wanted to have some peace of mind. You don't know how he'll react or how he'll be, but you just hoped that he'll be willing to listen.

Time was speeding up and your body was getting tired. Right when you were about to head to your car to rest your legs, a group of people exited the club. It was hard identifying the group because they were heading in the opposite direction from you.

If you hadn't spotted Carter, you would've thought that this trip was useless. You and Carter made eye contact, and you watched him whisper to another guy who had his arm slung over the shoulders of a pretty woman. You knew that the man was Jungkook. It wouldn't matter how many years have passed; you'll always be able to identify him.

You wanted to get closer to hear what was being exchanged but to be respectful, you gave them their boundaries. The group of people already left, just leaving the four of you alone. You couldn't see his face, but by the way, Carter is expressing, you knew that the conversation was getting frustrating. Your body started fidgeting, you were getting impatient.

The conversation seemed to have ended when Carter gave you a bright smile. He pulled the woman towards him and gave Jungkook a wave of goodbye. Now it was just you two alone. Jungkook still had his back faced to you, but you can tell he was annoyed.

You spoke up, slightly shouting, "Can we talk, Jungkook?" For what seemed like forever, he finally turned to you. He trudged his way to you; he seethed, "Were my words that night not enough for you to know that I don't want to see you?" You were blinking frantically. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"I just want to talk. You don't have to say anything, I just want you to listen. I'm begging you." Your head was down, eyes closed. You started fiddling with your fingers. "I don't deserve it, but will you allow me to be selfish just one time?"

Jungkook stared down at you. He's not gonna admit it, but he also wanted to talk with you. He took some deep breaths through the nose, and said, "Did you bring your car? Where's your car?" You lifted your head in an instant. You exhaled and gave a relieved smile to yourself. Jungkook saw your small smile and somewhere deep down inside him, he felt his heart swell.

You made a beeline to your car, Jungkook following closely behind you. Once you made it inside, everything was quiet. Not a peep was made from the both of you. You thought that since you wanted to talk, you should start first. "Thank you... for agreeing to this. I wanted to talk because I need to have this closure." You faced your head to Jungkook, but all he was looking at was outside your car window. "I feel like we can take our first step into healing through this talk."

Without looking at you, Jungkook mumbled, "I tried to feel something new with someone else, but all I could see in them is how they're not you." You started biting your lips; you felt guilty. "There was this woman I met around close to a year of our break up. She was a customer at the club, and all she ordered was a glass of water." Jungkook started laughing at the memory. "She started coming in more often, and I found a friend in her. She was kind, smart, beautiful... she was perfect. I thought that she was everything I wanted in a girl. But every time we tried to progress our relationship; I kept holding her off. All I could feel - all I could want was you. I didn't want someone perfect," Tears started to slowly fall down Jungkook's eyes. He faced you with his eyes red. "I wanted someone who messy, loud, clumsy... broken. All I wanted was you, ____."

You were choking on your sob. You placed your hand on your mouth, trying to cancel out any noise. Wanting to add to your pain, Jungkook confessed "I went to your wedding. I blended myself with the hundreds of those invited people. I saw you walk down the aisle in your beautiful wedding dress. You truly make a beautiful bride, ____. I saw you guys hold hands, heard your vows, and say your 'I do's'. I saw you guys kiss. I couldn't stay any longer, so I went back home. I laid in bed staring at my ceiling, it took me a while to figure out that I was crying. And I realized that my tears were no longer for you. They're for me; the me you destroyed. How could you do this to us? How could you do this to me? You didn't love me."

You shook your head, denying his last sentence. "Don't say that! You may hate me, and that's fine, but you have no right to say that I didn't love you. Jungkook, my love for you was infinite and it still is. You know, the moment I left you, I killed half of myself. And to this day, I'm still half a person. You know, I have spent the first year missing you, wanting you, needing you." You cried harder like you were reliving your pain. "My ex-husband tried consoling me, and it would work for a little while. But every time night rolls around, the moon brings back my pain. I'll never ever forgive myself for the pain I brought to you."

"It doesn't matter now. You ruined everything." You cried harder because he was right, but you didn't wanna keep being reminded. "I know! I know that everything is my fault. But please, Jungkook, stop reminding me of my faults. I hate myself enough as it is."

Jungkook questioned, "Then why? I want the honest truth now. Don't hide from me. Why would you accept the marriage?" Jungkook wanted answers that you couldn't give to him before.

Now that you are divorced, you have nothing holding you back. "It's true when I said that I accepted the marriage. It was fully my decision, but they really left me no choice. They were going to call ICE on your father. Jungkook, they wanted to make you and your parents suffer." You started shaking your head; your tears falling in the process. "I didn't want that to happen because of my selfishness."

You were crying, but all that Jungkook could think about was one thing. "Is that why you came home that day with a bruising cheek? Did those fuckers do that to you?" You were quiet; you didn't have to say anything for Jungkook to know the answer. He took a deep sigh, "Why didn't you tell me? God, I feel like killing them."

You scoffed, "What would you do if I told you? I think you're forgetting just how powerful my parents are. Jungkook, they will stop at nothing to achieve something."

He retaliated back, "So will I! I don't care how powerful your parents are, ____. If putting in my blood, sweat, and tears means that I could still have you, I will. It was wrong for me to say that you didn't fight back, but I would've started a war for you if it meant that we could still be together. If my father were to be deported, my mom would go with him; they can't imagine a life without each other. That's the same thing with me. I couldn't imagine a life without you, but it's too late now, huh? The chance to fight is over now."

You quietly asked, "You wouldn't fight for me now?" That question had stumped Jungkook. He wanted to say that he will, but it wouldn't sound right. Many things have happened over the past two years. Jungkook has learned to move on, to live without you. Of course, he's not fully healed, but after this talk, he feels like he can fully live his life without the pain you bring. But you, you were still stuck in the past. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe everything would be back to the way it was.

Jungkook answered your question from the truth in his heart, "No... I wouldn't fight for you now. ____, what we had is something I'll always treasure. The years I spent with you felt like heaven. You were my haven. You were my first everything, I could never forget that. I wished it had been me standing at the altar. I wished it had been me marrying you. I wish for a lot of things, but those are just wishes. Two years isn't a lot of time, but during that period I've learned to move on with my life."

Jungkook cupped your crying face. He held you tenderly. His eyes filled with sorrow. "I loved you so much, ____. Actually, I-I still love you. I don't think I'll stop loving you. We were just two people who loved each other but weren't meant to be." He started wiping your fallen tears.

Jungkook gave you one last kiss. You guys kissed with so much love and regret. The tears from both of you made the kiss salty, but you guys didn't mind. You gripped his shirt, and he gripped your waist. This was truly the last contact you both will make.

Pulling apart was hard but needed. You knew that he was right. It's time for you to move on. You whispered to him, "I realize now that I can't keep holding on to something I can't have anymore. I'm ready to let you go, Jungkook."

Jungkook connected his forehead to yours, and said, "If once we're ready, faith will bring us together again. Whether it be in this lifetime or the next, I'll wait for you with open arms." You smiled at his words. You both know deep down that being together again won't happen - at least not in this life.

Five years later

Many things have happened in the five years since your guy's last talk. You had moved out of the city along with Becky and started room mating with Mason. The first two years of moving forward were hard, but with the help of Becky and Mason, everything started to feel just right. Your two friends opened up their own law firm called M & B Laws. You also got a job at a daycare not too far from their work.

Since that night, you have never seen Jungkook again, but you were grateful to have followed his Instagram profile. You guys would exchange DM's here and then, asking about each other's days, new stuff. But after the third year, the texts stopped coming and you guys were now strangers.

You were alone at home, and Becky and Mason were working overtime. In times like this, you wished you had a dog or cat, a companion to keep you company. The TV was playing Iron Man; you weren't too focused on the TV screen, instead, the only thing that had your attention was your phone screen. Scrolling through Instagram, and liking random stuff, you came across a post from Jungkook.

You sat up from the couch. It's been months since his last post. The picture that was displayed on your screen was a photo of Jungkook and a woman. You tucked your hair from behind your ears to get a better look. His post was seven hours ago. The caption from his post said, "Happy 2 years, baby! I'm happy to have circled the sun with you twice, and I can't wait for more. I love you, Yuna!"

You from before would've been so heartbroken. She would've cried herself to sleep, despising herself more and more for losing him. But you are so happy now; you are so happy for him. You looked at the picture and for the first time in a long time, Jungkook showcased a genuine and happy smile. His eyes weren't facing the camera, they were locked on the beautiful woman in front of him. His eyes were filled with so much love and adoration, his smile was shining with so much joy. Your heart's not broken, it's far from it. Your heart is healed, and your heart is happy. You can't wait to see what the world has to offer.

358 notes · View notes

slashingdisneypasta · 3 months

Text

Good Day For It Thugs x Reader || Excerpts

Plot: You were taken as leverage against your criminal boyfriend and his friends; kept in a dirty unfinished basement for 3 nights through negotiations under rough, cruel conditions. This is the moment you're released back to Him.

Warnings: References to kidnapping and getting thumped.

Tagging: @marinerainbow and @slxsherwriter .

Dale Acton:

One of the guys shoves you suddenly- you weren't expecting it because you were staring at Dale, you weren't even listening to anything that was being said between Norman and your kidnappers- and you go tumbling to the ground. You hear heavy footsteps coming towards you, then feel hands on your arms helping you up.

When your exhausted, weak, half-lidded eyes look up to see Dale there so close, helping you up out of the dirt, they open up wide and you gasp; shooting forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. "Dale!"

"Y/N. Fuck, you're back."

"I- I'm so happy to see you- "

"I know, I know." Carefully Dale disentangles your arms from him, pulling back far enough so that he can look you over and check you for injuries- when he finds one, a bruise on the side of your face and dried blood on your ear from when one of them thumped you in the head, the murderous stormy look on his face is terrifying, filling your heart with ice. "What the fuck happened here!?"

"Dale, I- "

But he's not talking to you. He's looking up at the kidnappers like he's going to kill every single one of them with his bare fists. "What the fuck is this!? 's this what you call perfectly fucken safe!?"

"Had to subdue them," One of the men says, shrugging huge mountain-like shoulders like its just basic kidnapping procedure. "They got off pretty easy, actually."

"Easy?" Dale's eyes are on fire as he raises up to his full height, leaving you on the ground and stepping between you and the men with clenched fists. Meanwhile you look up and around in a panic for Norman. When you catch his eyes across the room you only have to look at him scared and desperate for a second, your eyes screaming don't let him get himself killed, before he nods and grabs Dale; whispers something quickly in his ear, probably a threat, before the muscles in Dale's shoulders half-relax. Norman shoves Dale out of the room before anyone else, while Wayne helps you up and you follow.

When you get into the back seat of the car with Dale, all he has for you is the softest sincerest blue eyes and i'm so fucking sorry's, and a million questions, and kisses for the whole ride home.

Norman Tyrus:

Beyond pissed off, and disgusted and scared and... and hungry, and tired-... you wrench yourself out of the man's disgusting hands so hard you almost send yourself toppling to the ground- you would have it the ground, in fact, if it weren't for Dale catching you quickly and handing you off to Norman.

Immediately the only person here is Norman, his arms around you practically holding you up you're feeling so weak and fatigued. You don't care that Lyle's still speaking with your kidnappers (wrapping up 'business'), you don't care that Dale and Wayne are guarding the door, you don't care that the men who hurt you for 3 days are still there. You only care how terrible Norman looks; his hair a greasy mess, dark shadows under his eyes,.. looing tortured... You feel a rush of worry and a flicker of guilt, knowing this is because of you.

"Norman I'm okay," Are the first hushed words that slip out of your lips, wanting only him to hear you talk. Wanting it to really just be the two of you, here now. You want to be alone in his bedroom, in his bed, safe with your legs interlocked and your fingers fixing his hair.

... at least you can have that last part. Carefully you reach up and start lacing your fingers through his hair, straightening it up the best you can with focused eyes.

You're exhausted, and you're starving, and thirsty, and s c a r e d... but you would do it all again if it would take away that miserable, terrified look in Norman's eyes.

Like he just woke up from the illusion that you were ever remotely safe with him.

"No, you're not." Norman replies, a stern frown on his face. Which is not strictly out of the ordinary- but you know better. You know he's feeling worse then he lets on. "... -and its my fucken fault."

Immediately you stop what you're doing, eyes hard. "No."

"Yeah." He sighs, a sad sad look in his eyes as he looks at you. "It is... "

"Norman, I don't wanna hear- "

"Don't worry." His eyes suddenly go hard though they'd don't ever leave your face (not once- not since he saw you brought in here), one hand - the one not holding your body up against his, - coming up to run his knuckles across your cheek bone. "Wont happen again... '

... you don't know what that means, but he sound sure. Eyes softening, electing to worry about it later, you just rest your head on his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. All you want to think about right now is his warm bed, and safe arms, and maybe a shower for the both of you.

Wayne Jackson:

Your eyes are full of tears, your arms crossed over your chest against the cold; your wrists covered in rope burn and bleeding. The t-shirt and cotton shorts you were wearing when they took you out of your bed 3 nights go too thin in the winter. Too thin to be standing at a bus stop where your kidnappers left you, waiting to see Norman's car appear on the horizon.

Suddenly you feel a fingertips brush your shoulder and jump, eyes widening, and whipping around to see- Wayne. Looking tired and relieved.

They'd come from the opposite direction, you realise seeing the car with Norman and Dale inside behind Wayne, the tears slipping down your face in crushing relief as you turn around and crash against him; burying your face in the softness of the hood on his denim-clad shoulder and wrapping your arms around him. Feeling almost safe for the first time during the whole terrifying ordeal.

He's got a flannel blanket from the back of the car bunched in one hand, which he pulls around you and secures by tying a thick knot over your shoulder, fumbling only a little bit, before rubbing your arms to get you warm. "There you go... How're you doin', sweetheart? What, uh," Nose stuffy and red from the cold, you pull back slightly from him to see his face. There's an almost unintelligible look on Wayne's old face, you've certainly never seen anything like that on him- but- its definitely worry. "What'd they do to you? Huh?"

... you just shake your head, sniffling. "I don't wanna talk about it." You whisper. "Just take me home."

You know that he sees the graze on your cheekbone, and your wrists, but he just slowly nods. Wayne's good like that. "O- okay. Yeah. Home, alright. No problem, lets go." He starts to turn you around and guide you to the car, one hand on your waist and the other on your opposite upper arm - its like he cant keep his hands off you now, and you're more than okay with that, - but your own hand snaps out to his wrist, to stop him. You turn around; numbly shake your head.

"N- no, not my home. Yours."

"Wouldnt'a let ya outta my sight if you wanted to be."

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crumbledcastle28 · 1 year

Text

Javier Peña: Call Me Javi

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: “His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.”

Warnings: SMUTTT, slightly insecure reader, mentions of smoking, Javier is cocky (what’s new), oral female receiving, idiots in love.

1.4k

A/N: I needed some Javi in my life. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(gif credit to owner I owe you big time this gif absolutely ends me)

The rubber from his tires came into your apartment’s parking lot so hot they ignited not one spark, but a dozen, lighting up the dark Colombian sky. You could feel your legs beginning to quiver and shake, knowing who was behind that wheel.

“Right now?” he had whispered over the phone.

“Right now, Javier” you whispered back, “now or never.”

That wasn’t even ten minutes ago.

Javier Peña had been your acquaintance for two years, your coworker for one, and your friend for six months. The process had been slow, due to both of your unique issues and the fact that you were after the best drug lord that had ever lived, but you had gotten there eventually. He understood your humor--even the pieces of it dripping in a dark ink--and that was where your own spark began. The teasing began, then the bickering, then the long smokes outside after a day with more casualties than fingers on your hands where neither of you had to say anything.

He had always been good at that, saying everything yet nothing at all. It was exactly what you needed in those moment, the silence of the unsaid pact between you: keep each other sane. Keep each other distracted.

There was only one more step you had to take, one more figurative box to check to let Javier truly distract you from the bucket of shit day you had. You could see it in his eyes during those long smoking nights, the proposal for it, but he always read your eyes right back: Not yet.

It didn’t take very long or “not yet” to turn into “right now.”

Your heart crawled further and further up your throat when you heard his boots hit your carpeted floor, moving just fast enough to be subtle but fast enough for you to smirk, and you cracked your door open a sliver.

He looked how he always looked, handsome with a drizzle of rugged. Your kryptonite.

You took a deep breath before opening the door, reminding yourself that this is just Javier. The Javier who drinks black coffee, only black coffee, blushes at compliments, has a soft spot for cats, adores reality tv, and would never, ever hurt you.

You opened the door all the way when he made his way in front of it. His eyes were blown wide, the proposal from all those weeks ago present in his eyes, as well as...apprehension. Like he genuinely thought this would never happen, you would never say yes, and if he traced one valley of your skin, he would wake up.

You smiled, enjoying this look on him, and nodded.

He smiled too, and kissed you dizzy.

He walked you back into the apartment, gently, and helped you close the door. His tongue teased yours as he locked it behind his back, and you both pulled away to smile. It weakened more than just your limbs.

His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.

Suddenly, you realized everything he meant, all of it, and an exhale of fear escaped from you before you could stop it.

His honey-dipped vanilla eyes met your own instantly, mouth formed into an o, and his hands removed themselves from your jeans.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, bringing his hands back to your thighs. “I--I’ve never had that before, that’s all. Just scared me.”

You had seen Javier angry before, but this wasn’t that. You’d seen him sad before, sad for you even, but this look wasn’t that either. It was...disappointment. That was it. Disappointment. Disappointment and resentment.

“You haven’t?” he whispered, massaging your thighs.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve asked for it, but--”

“And so you will have it,” he said, and practically ripped your jeans in two. Your underwear came down with it, and you were suddenly bare. The A/C hit you, igniting chills down your freshly-shaved legs, as well as the sweat from your kiss freezing its heat against your skin, and you were tempted to cover yourself completely.

But Javier was looking at you in a way you had never seen before.

He was kneeling there, examining your body like an artist to his sculpture, as if he...as if he might...

You wouldn’t go there. Not yet.

“Y/N,” he groaned against the skin of your shin, kissing all the way up to your pulsing core, “I think I’m dreaming.”

And then he dove in.

You had experienced pleasure before--quick fucks, your own hand, maybe even making love--but one lick of Javier’s tongue, one scrape of his moustache against your soft skin, one grip of his hands against your ass, and sparks brighter than the ones from his tire clogged your vision.

You were in heaven, or maybe hell, whichever one had an eternity of this.

“Javi,” you whimpered as he mapped you out like the expert he was. Tunnels of fire shot up your thighs to your lower back causing it to arch, only pressing his mouth against you harder. Your right hand gripped his hair while your left gripped his leather jacket, your mouth could not keep itself shut, and tears burned your eyes as he licked and sucked and kissed right there--

“Javi, don’t you--don’t you dare stop.”

He pulled away from the obscene noises his mouth was making against you and said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He ate you out for what had to have been hours and seconds. It felt endless yet not enough. Never enough. He finally worked his fingers up to you, entering you like butter, and another pathetic whine came from what had to have been you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself.

“Javi please--” you wheezed, your fire burning you alive, “I’m right there.”

“I feel it baby, I feel you,” he whispered against you, licking his lips. “Just a bit longer.”

He ate and ate and ate. You were there, then you weren’t, you were screaming, then silent, on the brink of release, then almost numb. He was etching his sculpture effortlessly, hitting you exactly where he wanted you to curve.

You never wanted anything else that wasn’t him, that wasn’t this, him on the floor, your spine against the wall, his face between your legs.

Finally, your fire caught enough for you to grip his hair the way you had discovered he liked, and he kept going. You were there, right on the edge, your fire coiling inside you--

“Come on hermosa, come on,” he whispered against you, mouth dripping with you, “let me feel it, give it to me.”

And you did, so good it hurt.

Your back curved against the wall and sweat dripped down your shirt as he wiped you clean, licking from your chins up to your clit, fully wiping you down. With your heartbeat finally slowing you could hear more of the noises he was making.

He was nearly as pathetic as you.

Finally, you pulled his face up from between your legs and pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was a mix of nicotine and you, and his moustache was nearly damp. His cheeks were reddened as well as his neck, and his eyes...

...you had never seen them more black.

You felt your way around his body, the two of you once again falling into the rhythm of saying everything and nothing, and your fingers traced their way to his bulge completely soaked.

He didn’t—

You looked up at him, shock surely present on your face, and he immediately kissed you harder than he had all night. His mouth was wet and tired, but still giving you everything you wanted. Ever the hard worker.

He pulled way to kiss your hairline and whispered, “Call me Javi from now on. I like it.”

And with that, he was backing out of your apartment, away from you, a bead of you still dripping down his chin as he closed the door.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not working/not present. If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @aninnai

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña headcanon #javier peña smut #javier peña oneshot #javi #narcos #netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #pedro pascal x you

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dearly-somber · 6 months

Text

Twister | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, eventual romance, fluff, humor, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, found family, high school!au, eventual smut

-> w/c. 1180

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. Devil All The Time is an actual book I read, and, to this day, it’s still one of my all-time favorites. The excerpt at the beginning is also real!

-> warnings. None!!

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Aug. 16th, 2022 @ 15:00

-> fin. Sat., Sept. 16th, 2023 @ 16:59

-> edited. Mon., Oct. 30th, 2023 @ 23:03

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Unless he had whiskey running through his veins, Willard came to the clearing every morning and evening to talk to God. Arvin didn't know which was worse, the drinking or the praying. As far back as he could remember, it seemed that his father had fought the Devil all the time—

Someone knocks on Jungkook’s door. You look up from your book (The Devil All The Time by Donald Ray Pollock) and smile smugly at Yoongi as he stands in the doorway, a grumpy pout on his face. “Can I help you?” you ask saccharinely.

He grumbles something you don’t catch before saying, “We’re playing Twisters downstairs.”

You gasp dramatically. “Am I dreaming or are you actually being nice to me for once?”

He growls low in his throat. “Don’t push your luck, human.”

You set your book face-down and skip past him, bounding downstairs with a smug grin. “I’m not leaving anytime soon, Boongles, so you better get used to it!”

“What did you just—“

“Y/N!” Jungkook’s face breaks out into a blinding smile as you enter the living room a few paces in front of Yoongi, his metaphorical tail wagging excitedly.

“Hey, Kook. I heard you’re thinking about me,” you tease, gently patting his back when he rolls his eyes and pulls you in for a hug. As you pull away, you ask, “So! How are we doing this?”

“I was thinking teams, since it’s only four of us playing,” Hoseok says, looking up from where he’s slung an arm around a still-grumpy Yoongi’s shoulders. “We can have two players move during one spin, and the other two the next, that way we can take turns so it’s not too chaotic.”

“The others aren’t playing?” you ask, kind of disappointed. Oh, the amount of chaos there would’ve been if more of them had joined you.

Jungkook shakes his head no. “They’re not feeling it. We convinced Jisoo noona to spin for us, though.”

Jisoo walks in from the kitchen with a glass of red wine in hand. She smiles amicably at you as she takes a seat. “Hey, Y/N. How’s the book so far?”

“Good, thanks.” You turn back to the others. “I assume JK and I are gonna be in a team, then?”

Hoseok grins mischievously as he shares a strange look with Jungkook, saying, “Told you. It’s me and you, hyung.” Hoseok smiles down at Yoongi, who sighs his acceptance.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.

You turn to look at Jungkook, who quickly tries to hide a dopey smile. “Why? What did Hobi oppa tell you?”

“Shh.” He turns you back to the mat with his hands on your shoulders. “Focus on winning.”

“Alright!” Jisoo sets her glass down and picks up the wheel. “First spin!” She flicks the plastic arrow, waiting a few seconds for the outcome before calling out, “Right foot, yellow!”

“You go,” you tell Jungkook. He nods, dropping his hands from your shoulders and taking a confident step forward as Yoongi does the same.

“Next… Right leg, blue!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

In hindsight, Jungkook should’ve seen this coming. He should’ve known Hoseok was trying to set him up from the second he asked if “angel” would be joining them for Twister, even though Jungkook had been more than content to let her stay in his room a little longer. (His complacency with her absence had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that her scent was getting on his sheets.)

Now, with Y/N bending in front of him in a makeshift downward-dog and only one viable option for his next callout (right foot, blue), Jungkook wants to smack his head against a wall. He’d have to move his leg halfway across the mat, so he wouldn’t have any balance.

Unless, of course, he held onto Y/N’s hips.

Twister was a cursed game and he’d never play again.

“Jungkook, you gotta make your move in the next five seconds or else you’re out,” Jisoo warns.

He panics and shifts his foot farther out than he meant to, holding onto Y/N’s hips as his balance gives out and thanking whatever god is out there that Y/N can’t see the disgustingly bright pink hue dusting his cheeks with her ass so close to his crotch.

“You’re gonna make me fall!” Y/N complains, teetering forward. He tightens his grip on her hips and pulls her back ever so slightly. Hopefully he won’t get a boner. Gods, that would be embarrassing.

“Just—focus on your next move!” he half-yells, mouthing a curse at Hoseok, who was knocked out almost five minutes ago and is now standing smugly off to the side trying to contain his laughter. Asshole.

“Stupid game,” Y/N grumbles under her breath, her arms shaking.

“Left hand, red,” Jisoo announces.

Y/N grunts as she moves her hand closer to her body, unintentionally pressing into Jungkook. He bites down on his tongue and focuses on his breathing as blood rushes to his cheeks.

Yoongi huffs as he crouches and sets his hand on the red circle closest to him, grinning up at them with a dark look. “It’s over for you,” he taunts.

“Alright, Kook. Left hand, green,” Jisoo says.

Jungkook crouches down and sets his hand behind him, making eye contact with Y/N for the first time in almost ten minutes straight. “Next time—“

Y/N gets cut off with a yelp as, on their next turn, Yoongi bumps into her and sends her falling back into Jungkook’s lap. He groans, his hands shaking with the effort to keep himself up.

“Asshole! You pushed me!” Y/N yells, her ears turning red with rage as she pushes herself off Jungkook, about to angrily rush Yoongi when Hoseok picks her up around the waist and holds her off to the side with an arm around her shoulders.

“Now-now, kids, no fighting,” he teases.

“Beat his ass, Kook!” Y/N says in response, glaring at Yoongi.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as the game continues. The longer Jungkook has to play, the more tired he becomes—holding weird positions for long periods of time is surprisingly taxing. Just when he thinks he’s going to give out, Yoongi’s sweaty hands slide to the side and he ends up falling over, ass in the air.

Y/N squeals with excitement and rushes Jungkook as he stands up to his full height, massaging his lower back with a grimace. He oofs as she slams into him, her arms around his neck. He blushes and hides his face in her shoulder, trying to subtly breathe in her scent as she drops down before excitedly smacking him on his arm.

He smiles down at her and avoids looking at Hoseok (who he’s sure is having his own little mini-celebration) as Yoongi sighs as he stands up. “Well played,” he grumbles.

Y/N grins triumphantly, but holds her hand out for him to shake. “Good game.” Yoongi hesitates, but takes her hand. Y/N grins. “How does it feel losing to a human?”

“Gods have mercy…”

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts a/b/o au #a/b/o au #bts a/b/o #shifter au #shifter jungkook #bts werewolf au #werewolf au #werewolf jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts angst #jungkook angst #ao3 #archive of our own

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darklcy · 8 months

Text

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲

━━━━━━━━━━━━

‣ armin arlert x reader | attack on titan masterlist | altruistic masterlist | 716 words | fluff, armin being awkward lmao, cute interaction

‣ an excerpt from altrustic's part 3 but also a sneak peek of part 4. i enjoyed writing this first interaction between reader and armin so i wanted to make a oneshot off it :) more to come in the series!

He initially disagreed with the idea.

He knew he had to try harder, talk louder, get stronger. Maybe this was the start to his journey. Huffing down a shaky sigh and thrashing his hands against his sleeves, his throat clears for his beginning sentence.

“...[Y/N]..?”

It’s timid and meek. Could he hear himself? Did you even hear him?

When you don’t stir from your position, he tries again.

“[Y/N]?”

And then he finally sees you. The skin around your eyes was red and agitated, probably a result from lack of sleep. Your blinks were lavishly slow as you peered at him, the moment of recognition crossing onto your face right before Armin’s eyes.

“...Hey, Armin.”

You greet him carefully, he notices. He glances to the beacon of light.

“Aren’t you heading to dinner..?”

Your hand falls to dangle by your shoe.

“..Not tonight. I’m not hungry.”

He pops his knuckles at his sides.

“You sure? Skipping meals isn’t good for you..”

“I’m sure.”

His frown deepens.

You’ve nestled back into your home already, staring upon the shadows filtering throughout the camp.

..His footsteps trudge over to the steps, and you face him when he sits beside you, body position matching yours. Armin lost his stare into the forest, fingers tapping sporadically from where they laid over his biceps. He doesn’t mind that you observe him.

Armin was a calm in the storm type of person. His best friend seemed to speak for three, never afraid to holler his frustrations, but on the other side of the spectrum lay this boy, the polite boy who loved to read. He’d apologize for existing, apologize for taking up space, before he ever sat down to introduce himself.

“You’re easy to watch.”

It took everything in you to not choke. Armin instantly panicked.

“I-In training, I mean..! When we’re doing drills? Combat drills?”

His words puddled out in a hurry, the skin of his cheeks blaring bright red.

“I just mean, you’re impressive! Or, inspiring? I uh, I’m not good at that stuff, so-,”

Your sudden boisterous laughter made him freeze. Armin couldn’t see your face anymore now that it was ducked over your thighs, shoulders trembling with cackles. Your arms caressed your aching stomach as if it could cease the attack, but it just kept advancing.

“Uh…”

Finally rising off your thighs, you swooped in deep breaths to calm your heartbeat, a couple giggles escaping here and there.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you laugh..”

You waved him off with a hand.

“No, no, don’t be. I liked it.”

His face was a never ending tomato. Now it looked like he was sweating a bit.

“But, what you were saying…you watch me?”

Armin smacked both palms to his face. “I was trying to compliment your skills, but I apologize that it came off as stalkerish.”

Another wave of laughs pass through your smile. “It didn’t, it just caught me really off guard.”

He reveals his blue eyes to you again. “That’s good, I guess..”

Your expression slightly dims when you turn away from him.

“Well, thank you.”

Armin’s lips part, but then close.

He’s relieved when you wave him off, instead of barreling down on him like the weirdo he is. You even thanked him for his terrible attempt at a compliment, and it makes him want to smile. He didn’t mess this one up..!

Wafting through the crevices, the moon rejoins you on the steps, this time encasing Armin in her light, as well. By now, the mess hall was dismissed, sending cadets off to bed to end the day and rest for tomorrow.

“Guess dinner’s over..”

His comment reawakes your reality, that tomorrow brings new hardships and restless nights. It makes you grimace.

“I’m gonna..head off to bed. Goodnight, Armin.”

When you finally part ways for the night, he feels like there’s more to say, more he has to get off his chest, but he can see how exhausted you are.Enough is enough for tonight, he decides, and he bids you goodnight. He daringly feels better on the walk to bed, somehow proud of himself for speaking to someone new. He doesn’t register his best friend’s greeting inside, instead heading straight for his bunk with a dazed smile on his face.

#armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk #snk x reader #armin arlert fluff #armin fluff #armin x reader fluff #armin arlert x reader fluff

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hoseoksluna · 3 months

Text

A CELEBRATION OF 1K FOLLOWERS — WIP 𐙚 steam | myg

pairing: bf!yoongi x f. reader

about: showers with yoongi

word count: 0.383

note: to celebrate this beautiful number, i'm giving you all, my babies, the wip of the current fic i'm writing. apologies for it being so short, but i don't have much written and i couldn't not post anything for you on this special day. THANK YOU to all my followers, to all my kind and lovely readers who stumbled upon my blog and decided to stick around. I LOVE YOU ALL. you deserve way more than this silly little excerpt. i hope you like it. let's meet on sunday for the full thing (jungkook lingo). ᡣ𐭩

warnings: raw shower sex, yoongi talks you through it, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting, falling asleep in yoongi's arms :(

𐙚

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like a paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That is your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

𐙚

BACK to wip masterlist / BACK to general masterlist / READ the full thing

#lunas dark wips #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #yoongi one shot

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 8 months

Text

Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart)

Mihawk x reader. NSFW!!

Title is an excerpt from Blind and Frozen by Beast in Black. I will probably write a second part to this...

Note - 13/11/2023: I have edited the fic to delete a brief, completely unimportant reference to Kain, the reader's past lover, in order to focus on other, more important characters.

*****

What I wanted to ask you is... do you wanna have a baby?

Dracule Mihawk doesn't have friends; he hasn't had any for a long time, maybe since he was still a child and forming bonds with school mates was almost inevitable. He knows, without guilt or embarrassment, that the fault is largely his own, since approaching him requires a certain courage, given his intimidating figure, not to mention his reputation; he prides himself on the fact he has never hurt an innocent, least of all voluntarily, but many people don't even need to know about his activities and his deadly ability as a swordsman to perceive he is not the sort of man you could invite to join you at the bar.

He is fine with that; truthfully, he is happy with that, since he has always preferred his own company to that of others; perhaps it is presumptuous of him, but most people bore him in the best of cases... and get on his nerves in the worst. At best, he has a few acquaintances he doesn't mind meeting, like Shanks (even though he doesn't consider the Red-Haired pirate a worthy opponent anymore, given the loss of his arm)... or you.

Your acquaintances goes back a long time, after a chance meeting soon after the beginning of your respective carreers. A swordsman who had challenged him was killed by you the day before they had agreed to meet for their duel; you apologized for stealing his adversary, and offered to split the bounty as compensation, but Mihawk declined, convinced that the fact that the other swordsman had been so easily killed made him an unworthy opponent, so in a way you had spared him a waste of time. You parted (somehow) amicably, and that had been your last encounter for years, until you had both allied yourself with the Marines, him as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea and you as a mercenary, both not exactly on the World Government's payroll but still regularly called upon to carry out assignments suited to your particular talents.

You have never exactly looked for each other, but for some reason you have met often and regularly, both at the Marine HQ and wherever your travels would bring you. You are extremely capable at what you do, proud of your abilities and accomplishments without lapsing into boastfulness, smarter than many of the people he has to deal with and a pleasant company when the two of you find yourselves killing time with a glass of wine as you wait to meet Vice-Admiral Garp. Mihawk... likes you, in a sense, a feeling that is in part respect and in part a fondness he can't describe; it is pleasant talking to you, you never get on his nerves like many people do, and he can't help admiring the bravery, stubbornness and resourcefulness that have made you the best mercenary in the four seas, capable of hunting down whoever you are pursuing across land and sea and dispatch them, accurate, relentless, and inexorable. He wouldn't say he looks forward to seeing you, but you are one of the few people he doesn't mind meeting, and is pretty sure you feel the same.

That is how things are between the two of you; such they have been for years, and such Mihawk expects them to remain for the foreseeable future... until today. Until your proposal, and since he has been a boy very few things and people have been able to surprise him, but this... this really takes the cake.

"Is it good to see you; it's been a while." you say, receiving a nod in response. A small, well-lit chamber in the Marine HQ is used as a waiting room for officers and civilians waiting for a meeting or to be received by a superior, and this is where the two of you have met, having both come to the HQ for your own affairs; you seemed happy to see him, and he had accepted your invite to sit and enjoy a glass of wine, that you had languidly ordered to the first cadet who had walked past you.

"It has."

"Are you leaving or returning?"

"Returning; I have to report to Garp." Mihawl explains as he makes himself comfortable on the chair; he has not fully carried out the task he had been assigned, since the young pirate who has inherited Shank's straw hat is still at large, but he is not worried of the repercussions; after all, he is not the Marines' lap dog, the Vice-Admiral's even less "Yourself?"

"Just received my new assignment; I'm leaving for the North Blue in the morning. Just killing some time until my dinner reservation." you elaborate; one of your many guns (you always have no less than four on your person, from the long rifle you carry slung over your shoulder to a tiny but deadly pistol you keep hidden in the wide sleeve of your shirt) is placed on your lap, together with the rag you have used to polish it until the arrival of your drink "So, what keeps the greatest swordsman in the world busy these days?"

You listen intently as he tells you about Zoro, a young and impulsive adversary he nonetheless is sure will one day will be worthy of his attention, and then you tell him about your latest quarry: a man who, knowing you were pursuing him, had hidden in a ball-room full of people during a dance, confident that the quick-moving throng around him would make it impossible for a sniper to aim. He didn't have the time to realize how wrong he was when you, hanging upside-down from a lamppost across the street, shot him through a window in the middle of a valzer, your bullet brushing against his partner's cheek without hurting her and passing through his skull from his left orbit.

"Impressive." Mihawk says; he doesn't tell you he could count the people who have earned such a compliment from him on the fingers of one hand, but you smile, clearly flattered.

"Thank you."

For a couple minutes, the only noise in the room is the soft song of the backwash filtering through the windows; you seem... pensive, Mihawk thinks, not sad but vaguely tense as you sip your wine, as if there were a problem you can't find a solution for.

The only other people present in the room are a trio of captains arguing over a map on the table in front of them; coming in, they have glared at both of you, as if unhappy to see a couple of miscreants like you, a pardoned pirate and a woman who kills for money, among them, but both you and Mihawk have ignored them. He sees a look of satisfaction on your face when finally the three uniformed officers leave; as soon as you are alone, you look at him.

"May I ask you something?"

Mihawk looks back; this is why you were anxious, he realizes. Even though you try to maintain a calm, almost casual tone, the tenseness is still clear in your eyes and in your ramrod posture, and in the way in which you almost subconsciously grip the gun in your hands, not to point it against him but because it makes you feel safer and more in control.

It is the same for him; otherwise, no matter how confident he is in his capacities as a swordsman, he would not sleep with Yoru under his bed... and the Kogatana under his pillow.

"You may." he concedes; not of course, or tell me everything, because such expansiveness is as far from his personality as it is possible to be, and you know it well. But he knows you as well, and because of this, he is willing to listen; he has no idea what you may want to discuss (maybe a partnership for a particularly challenging task? If so he might humour you, if the quarry is interesting. He wouldn't mind seeing you at work) but he must admit, he is curious... just a little "What is it?"

You breathe in, like a diver ready to jump; you don't lack courage, and still, for a moment Mihawk expects to hear you say "It doesn't matter." and leave it there.

You don't.

"I would like to ask you... if you'd like to have a baby with me."

*****

You can't remember ever being so nervous, even though he is the last of a long list of men you have approached (but after all, none of them were like the one sitting in front of you; none, you have come to suspect, could ever be), but when you look at Mihawk, who after a whole minute has yet to utter a single word, you feel a smile blossoming on your lips.

"Are you surprised? I should be proud, I left the infamous "Hawk Eyes" Mihawk speechless..."

"Is this a joke?" he inquires, and you would have to be deaf to ignore the threat in his voice; your smile disappears, as quickly as it had come.

"Absolutely not; I know you are not the joking sort, and this matter is extremely important to me. Give me five minutes and everything will be clear."

He doesn't answer, not even with a nod, but he remains where he is, silently allowing you to go on, and you swallow, your mouth suddenly as dry as if you hadn't had a sip of water in days. You are not afraid of him (not actively, at least; he could probably kill you, if he tried, but you know he is not the sort of man who needlessly resorts to violence for the simple pleasure to hurt others... and maybe, just maybe, your long acquaintance will grant you a little of his patience) but probably you'd have been better off keeping him out of your little plan. After all, there are so many other candidates, healthy men whose cooperation you could secure with a bought drink and a bit of sweet talking; involving him (a man you know, and respect, and because of this who you feel obliged to be honest with, not to mention it would be hard to keep him in the dark regarding your plan, since you meet semi-regularly) is unnecessarily complicated... but at the same time something in your heart, a tiny voice you have stopped listening to eight years ago, tells you that this is the right choice, he is - for your future child, and maybe for you as well.

"I don't think you know this, but I am the heir of a noble house." you begin "My family rules over an island in the North Sea. It is nothing special, tiny compared to many others similar domains, but the soil is fertile and we have trade agreements in place with many other kingdoms and cities; about fifteen hundred people live on the island, and my family has governed them for more than ten centuries. It is a very beautiful place, with a mild climate and a luxuriant nature."

Silence.

"Sorry, sometimes I get carried out when I talk about my home. Anyway, I am the only heir to the family; I have no siblings and my mother is too old to have other children, which means that the responsibility to ensure the continuation of the family lineage falls on my shoulders. Because of this, I have decided it is time for me to bear an heir who will one day rule our home; and because of this, I need someone to sire a child for me."

Silence again, and you know him well enough to know that Mihawk never utters three words if one is sufficient, nor does he appreciates useless talk from his interlocutor, so you force yourself to keep silent as well, feeling your heart beating fast enough to hurt. The worst he can do is refuse your offer, which would be disappointing (it would really be, you realize in your heart; a bitter, deep disappointment) but not an insurmountable problem, and you'd be free to look for another donor, but still, you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for an answer. Why do you feel like this?, you wonder; he is just one man, one you have grown deeply fond of in the years since your first meeting and whose blood would undoubtedly produce healthy, strong and attractive offspring, but suddenly you feel desperate to receive a positive answer, and you don't know why. Is it because after five years, you're starting to lose hope? Or because you know how embarrassing it would be, to think back to his refusal when you would meet Mihawk again in the future? Or maybe...?

"Don't noble families require a member to be married in order for their children to be eligible to inherit?" the man in front of you suddenly asks "I seem to understand you are not asking for my hand."

"I am not; what I would like from you is to get me pregnant, that's all. It is true that the children of unmarried couples are often forbidden from inheriting, especially in the case of a noble family, but things are different in my island. Marriage is often just a formality and a personal choice, and no large difference exists between couples who actually tie the knot and those who don't, nor between the treatment given to their children. A blood relationship with the ruler, or their heir, is enough to ensure suitability as far as the inheritance of the fief is concerned; I could technically adopt a child from another family, but their position would be less solid. I have no siblings or other close relatives: if the child is born from my womb, there will be no reason to doubt their qualifications." you explain, secretly relieved Mihawk has not refused your proposal already but suddenly wishing you could exchange the average red wine in your glass for a sip of cool water "So... are you interested?"

Silence - again, and this time it is clear to you Mihawk is reflecting on your words, something you can't blame him for, and obviously this is the sort of proposal you can't decide on in a matter of minutes, not to mention he is clearly the sort of man who likes to meditate on what he does, but at the same time you can't take it anymore... the silence is going to kill him.

"Mihawk, please." you murmur. For a moment you are about to rest your hand on his over the table, an innocent contact to lend more weight to your words, but thank all the Gods you stop yourself in time since, good acquaintances or not, in a heartbeat you'd probably find your hand amputated by the little blade hanging from Mihawk's neck "Tell me what you're thinking."

His eyes, until now focused on the wine in his glass, move to you, and for the first time since you remember, you need to make an effort to hold his gaze, not because of his eyes, whose colour actually reminds you of a bird of prey, rather because of the intent behind them: he is observing you like a scientist studying an interesting experiment, and it is not pleasant.

Stop it now, you're about to say, but once more, you force yourself to hold your tongue; you are not afraid of him, you have never been, but after all you're trying to earn his collaboration.

"I have a few questions." he states in the end, folding his hands on his lap.

"Understandable. Please ask."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Well, you're not my first choice." you confess, immediately aware those words don't precisely convey your thoughts; you glance at him, suddenly curious to know if he found them offensive, but Mihawk's face is as expressive as the wall behind him "I mean, I have started trying to conceive five years ago, and consequently it was then that I have started searching for a donor. Until now, I have chosen men I didn't previously know; I made sure they were healthy, because obviously I want my child to be physically and mentally sound, and young, since at a certain point age results in a decline of fertility. But now..."

"Now?"

You shrug. "I don't know. I am tired of sleeping with men I don't even know and don't feel attracted to; seducing them is not easy, since I have never been good at flirting, and I can't help feeling guilty when some of them ask to see me again. With you it would be different, and this is why I am coming clean about my real intent; with the others I didn't, and not simply because we meet regularly and you would notice I was pregnant and suspect the child was yours. I know you are in excellent health, and since I want what is best for my child, I'd be happy if they inherited your skills and strength of character."

"I see."

He seems uncertain - he is uncertain, you realize, maybe like it rarely happens in his life; but he is actually considering your proposal, which is already more than you felt confident about.

"What if I wanted to be part of the child's life?" he says after a while "And what if they were not fit to rule your island? Healthy parents can have sick children as well."

"Do you think I would put aside my child simply because...?"

"Answer me."

In your heart you can't blame him for asking, rather the fact that he wants to make sure the child will be taken care of does him credit; he doesn't seem the sort of man who dreams of fatherhood, but after all he deserves to have his say on the matter. So you tell him that your child will have to be raised on your island, since it will be necessary for them to know the land and the people they will one day have to rule, not to mention to receive the necessary education, but nothing forbids their father to spend some time with them, either there or wherever else. "You could visit our island as often as you want, or they could visit you; I'm sure you'll keep them safe. On the other hand, if you wished to have nothing to do with them, I would respect it; I would also keep your name a secret, if you so desire. And whatever happens, even if, Gods forbid, our child got sick or something actually made him unfit to rule, I would still take care of them at the best of my ability. I don't want you to think they would be a means to an end; I don't want a centuries-long lineage to end with me, and I know of my duties towards my island, but... but I do want a child. I want to become a mother, I have for a long time; and there is nothing I would not do to defend my child, not after...

... after what I have been through. After I failed once already.

"... after wanting it for so long."

Silence. Again. You are still clutching your wine glass, hard enough to break it you realize, and as you place it on the table between the two of you Mihawk is still deep in his thoughts, his fingers intertwined on his knee; after a while (you have practically stopped breathing) he opens his mouth to talk...

"Hawk-eye Mihawk? Vice-Admiral Garp is waiting for you."

You have nothing against the cadet who has just joined you at the table (a young, short man with pink hair and round glasses) but you find yourself glaring at him, wishing he had better timing. Mihawk doesn't try to hide his dissatisfaction either.

"I will be with him in a moment." he says with an hand-wave, as if to dismiss the messenger; for a moment the cadet looks as if he's about to say something, before wisely deciding it really is not worth it, and leaves the two of you alone.

Mihawk stands; in a moment, he has retrieved Yoru from the wall he had placed it against and he has placed it on his back, the movement as fluid and apparently effortless as those of a dancer. "I will think about it." he says; he doesn't add I promise or anything of the sort, but you can trust him (you do already) and you know it, and because of this, you smile.

"I know you will. Thank you; thank you for listening to what I had to say." you say, and then he leaves, and you pour yourself another glass of wine, still thirsty but aware you need more than water to recover.

*****

The sight of the sun disappearing beyond the horizon, the flame-red ball seemingly drowning in the dark waters of the sea, is still breath-taking; Mihawk loved it when he first took the sea as a young man, and while no one could ever consider him a romantic (not that many people know him well enough to get an impression of his personality, but still) he finds it equally charming now, so many years later.

The harbour is almost empty around him, a few sailors who hurry to secure their boats before retiring, while the Marines doing the night shift cross the paved path behind him to reach their post. A gentle wind has risen, the white feathers on Mihawk's hat and the tails of his coat barely stirring; he doesn't notice, so focused he is on the spectacle taking place as every day in front of him... and on the surprising proposal he has received four hours ago.

(name) has amazed him; that he has to give her. He would have never imagined her in the role of the scion of a noble family, given her collected but friendly personality, completely devoid of the conceit and sense of superiority so common among the few World Noble he has crossed path with, but at the same time, it isn't hard to imagine her drafting laws or collecting taxes in the little corner of world her family has ruled over for so long. How did a woman whose destiny had undoubtedly been prepared for her since before she was born (Mihawk had no doubts about it, given the care (name) herself had already taken programming the future of their child) end up working as a mercenary? Is her fief so impoverished she needs to raise funds to take care of her people? Or is it simply an hobby to pursue while the previous generation still rules... ?

Their child. The thought appars, sudden and unbidden, in his mind, and Mihawk finds himself struggling to breathe for a moment. He has never given much thought to a possible future paternity, and during his (very sporadic, at least in the last decade) sexual encounters he has always made sure to avoid the risk of pregnancy. Still, the idea of having a child with (name) is... intriguing. He has no doubt she would take care of her progeny in the best way possible, and while he has never considered himself an ambitious man, the prospect of contributing to perpetuate a centuries-long lineage is... pleasing; also, should the child demonstrate an attitude for swordsmanship, he could take them on as an apprentice and bequeath them his knowledge and capacities...

And then there is the other thing. The fact he is almost embarrassed to admit even in the privacy of his own heart, the small but not insignificant detail that has caught him off guard like no adversary has ever done since he was thirteen: the warmth that has filled his belly, and the area below that, when the mental image of him and (name) conceiving that child... the two of them naked, in bed together... blossomed in his mind.

He shouldn't feel embarrassed, let alone distressed, because of that. He is an adult, having thoughts and desires of a sexual nature is perfectly normal, and he has no troubles admitting, at least privately, that (name) is an attractive woman; he surely is not the first man to be attracted to her.

... am I? Attracted to her? I have never thought about her in such a way, let alone about the two of us together; and there was nothing lascivious in the way she discussed her proposal. She wasn't trying to... to seduce me, she asked for a favour but it was more akin to a business deal. Then why am I feeling like this?

He sighs, his eyes still focused on the darkening expanse of the sea. The whole matter is probably harmless, but delicate enough to potentially cause troubles down the line; but after all, what would they have to fear? The idea of becoming a father is not so unpleasant after all, he and (name) are both adults and have the sort of relationship he is confident would not suffer after the end of their... tryst. At worst, they will spend a few pleasant hours together; at best, they will have something precious to carry out their lineage once their time is over.

It is getting darker by the minute. Mihawk remains still, his svelte figure cloaked by the night, witnessing the sun disappearing under the sea.

*****

Dinner was nice. If there is a positive side in your visits to the Marine HQ, besides the thousands of berry you are paid every time you successfully carry out an assignment, is the possibility to visit the city's establishments, among which many world-class restaurants; after all, Admirals cannot always dine in the mess hall, and while you'd be content to taste your island's local cuisine for the rest of your days, sometimes it's nice to have a little variety.

Now, your belly pleasantly full, you are sitting cross-legged on the bed in the inn room you have booked for the night, still busy polishing your weapons, like you do at least once a week. A few of them (a couple of revolvers, customized to hold up eight cartridges instead of six; a carbine with a barrel longer than your leg, that you took as a souvenir from the last man you killed; an ancient varmint rifle you regularly use to hunt larger preys than badgers and boars; and your personal favourite, a beautiful, muzzleloading derringer, your name engraved on the ivory butt, that you always hide under your pillow before going to sleep) are neatly arranged on the duvet in front of you, waiting for their turn. You are singing softly under your breath as you clean the barrel of a gun from the drops of blood left by your latest quarry, when an unexpected noise comes to disturb your concentration: a discreet, soft but resolute, knocking on the door.

You haven't told him what inn you're staying in, nor were you thinking about your discussion at the Marine HQ. Still, you immediately know who it is, as sure as you are of your own name, and when you stand from the bed, the way your hand immediately moves to grasp the derringer is more out of habit than because of a potential danger, and the way your legs are suddenly shaking might be because you stood all of a sudden after more than an hour spent cross-legged, or maybe not...

You force yourself to cross the room. "Who is it?" you ask in a deliberately questioning tone. You would recognize the firm, vaguely husky voice filtering from the other side of the door everywhere, even without the soft whisper of the name of his owner. A moment later you have pulled the handle towards you, and you and Mihawk are face to face, again after just a few hours, but suddenly you feel, and he looks, as if it everything had changed - as if you had.

"Hello."

"Good evening." Mihawk greets you; he is not smiling - if he ever did, you think, the world would probably stop turning on its axis "Is it too late? Am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not; please, come in."

He looks around him as you close the door, unhurriedly examining the weapons on the bed, the folded clothes on the tiny desk, the boots you have taken off as soon as you returned in a corner; and then he looks at you, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

You feel his gaze on the back of your head as you retrieve your weapons from the bed and neatly place them on the desk, except for the derringer, which is simply moved to the bedside table; you haven't been anywhere, not even in the privacy of your own room at home, without a loaded gun within easy reach ever since you were ten, and you don't intend to start now.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." you invite him, and a moment later Mihawk is sitting next to you on the bed, Yoru resting against the wall, and you feel yourself smiling softly at him, still unbelieving you are actually here - with him.

As you dined (and wined; you immediately stop drinking alcohol after one of your trysts, well aware of the dangers for the baby you each time hope has been conceived in your womb, but the only silver lining to getting your period once more is that you can start again, if only to drown your sorrows) you had started regretting involving Mihawk in your plan. While it is true that you're tired of sleeping with men you don't even know, much less like, and that any child would be lucky to inherit his gifts, the choice of an acquaintance as a donor is potentially even more complicated; first of all, he is aware of what you plan on doing, which means that it will be next to impossible to fully exclude him from your child's life, should the need arose. One of the reasons you are an excellent mercenary is that you are resilient and stubborn enough to follow your quarry to the other end of the world and back, without giving up until your bullet is in their brain or heart and their bounty in your pocket, but you know no one and nothing, barring perhaps death, could ever keep Mihawk away from something he is keen on. You are more than willing to let him be part of his child's life, and you don't think he would ever hurt them, but still, who knows what could happen...

And then, there is another reason, one it is hard to explain logically. What had become as a simple business proposal (this is what you had intended it to be when you spoke to him, you could swear it on your mother's life) has quickly become something else, something more delicate and less rational, all of it in the few minutes you and Mihawk spent discussing it, and then later you couldn't help reflecting about it, wondering what he thought about your proposal and whether he would accept it, as you enjoyed your dinner.

Having a child with Mihawk... and more specifically, Mihawk putting a child inside you. You have forgotten (it has been a mistake, a simple and natural failure to recall a relatively small detail during an already complex discussion. You didn't do it on purpose!) to tell him there is no need for the two of you to sleep together, artificial insemination is a common occurrence nowadays and the doctors on your island are more than capable. It would be much easier the other way, but honestly, you hadn't meant to suggest... to give him the impression that you wanted to...

You chided yourself for your forgetfulness, in case that was actually a dealbreaker for him and Mihawk would not think to propose a less invasive procedure himself, and then... and then it was as if you couldn't stop thinking about it, thinking about him... and how it would be, what it would feel like. You'd have nothing against it... quite the opposite, actually, you realized as you emptied the wine carafe on your table and asked the waiter for another.

Mihawk is an attractive man. Extremely attractive, actually, especially if one looks beyond the menacing look, deadly reputation, and the huge sword on his back (or, if one is actually attracted by that sort of man. You might.. not not be.) to notice his elegant and athletic figure, the chiseled features of his face, the well-styled beard and hair... even his eyes are exceptionally beautiful, that deep, penetrating yellow gaze that actually reminds you of a bird of prey. You have no idea whether he has a partner or not, but you'd be ready to bet he doesn't lack in admirers... even though approaching him would require no small amount of courage.

You have known him since you were barely more than a girl, and met him regularly for years, and you have never thought about him like that, never even realized how handsome he is. Or rather, you were aware of the fact (after all, you are not blind!) but somehow subconsciously, never paying attention to the fact. You have already slept with many partners you were not attracted to and you could easily do it again, Mihawk' strong body and swoon-worthy face change nothing, but... but...

Who knows what kind of lover he is, and he would be with you. Generous, attentive to his partner's pleasure as well as and maybe even before his, or egotistical, the sort of man who doesn't even look at you in the eyes and tries to avoid even kissing you? What is his favourite position? Your guess would be something that allows him to be the dominant part in the rapport, given his forceful personality and no-nonsense attitude, but for so many people the face they show to the world is different from the way they live their intimacy, and maybe when he is with a partner (someone he trusts, someone he can be himself when he is with... why were you suddenly picturing yourself in that role?!) Mihawk likes to surrender control, to relax and let someone else take care of and decide for him. If he is with a woman (again, in the thoughts that had quickly become a full-blown fantasy, not simply any woman) does he like to be ridden, or to push her against a wall and lift her legs around his hips? Does he like to receive oral? Or... or... to give it? Does he grunt, moan, sigh, scream, his partner's name or to express his pleasure, or is he silent just like his normal taciturnity would suggest...? What does his body look like, under the elegant but austere clothes he favours? What does his...?

This, and much more, is what you couldn't help reflecting about at dinner, and then during the little walk you took to return to the inn, and even later, as you killed time with the upkeep of your weapons, those thoughts persisted in your mind, so much that you started fearing you wouldn't be able to fall asleep... or that you would go from thinking to dreaming about him.

Is this due simply to your proposal, and the fact that you did ask him to get you pregnant? After all there already is an emotional, no matter how distant, bond between the two of you, and you're still a sort-of-young woman with a heart and not a stone in her chest. Or were these feelings already part of you, hidden until you had reason to reflect on the fact that this business deal could actually turn out to be much more pleasant, not to mention complicated, than you had thought...?

Whatever the truth may be, the man who is the source, and the cause, of your emotional turmoil is now sitting next to you, on your bed, to further discuss your proposal, and no matter how many times you have risked your life since you were just a girl, no matter the coldbloodedness you have acquired during your years as a mercenary, no matter how many men you have slept with since you were sevevnteen, you are trembling, like a young girl before her first kiss, and suddenly you are not sure what would be better, if he refused your proposal... or if he accepted it.

Because of the baby, and not only that.

You have remained lost in your thoughts for several minutes, which is perhaps deplorable when someone has come to talk to you, but Mihawk seems fine with your silence; actually, he looks as pensive as you feel.

"I thought about your... proposal." he finally says "And I'm willing to accept it, provided you agree with my conditions. I'll give you a baby, or at least I'll do my best trying."

A hundred other men would have accompanied those words with a saucy look; a thousand others would have blushed, or stammered, or betrayed embarrassment due to the delicate, intimate nature of the deal they are accepting. Not Dracule Mihawk; he looks as rational and dispassionate as if he were buying an umbrella during a sudden downpour to discard it as soon as it stops raining, something he needs to do but he is relatively unconcerned about. And once more, you're not completely sure how that makes you feel.

What you know, is the answer he deserves. "Thank you. I... Thank you so much. I am truly and deeply grateful, you don't know how much this matters to me." you say; you are not stammering, but you know he can hear the depth of the emotions filling your heart in your voice: happiness, gratitude, relief, and trepidation. All he can do is try, there is no guarantee he can actually get you pregnant, and the list of failed attempts you have left behind you is as long as your arm, but still, you have a good feeling about it... and even if the two of you failed, you feel suddenly sure you won't consider it a wasted effort "You spoke about conditions. Tell me everything."

Mihawk's first request is to keep his involvement in the conception of your child a secret; in other words, nobody has to know he is the one who got you pregnant, not even the child themself, at least for a while. "Even though I am technically an ally of the World Government now, I have a certain number of enemies in the world, people who could try to hurt me or lure me out through those closest to me. I have no doubt you would do everything you can to protect your child, but I'd feel safer if no one knew. Unless, of course, this would be cause of... embarrassment for you, on your island..."

"It won't be." you assure him; many at home will undoubtedly be curious about the identity of your child's father, but the law says your heir must be a child of your blood, without any particular requirement about the other parent, so that won't make any difference "I promise I'll keep it secret, if you wish. Anything else?"

Mihawk's second request is even simpler: for you to immediately tell him whether you are pregnant or not, as soon as you know for sure. He is a patient man, but since the matter you are discussing about is particularly delicate, he'd rather not be left wondering.

"Of course. It will take about a month, you can probably guess why; should I miss my period, I'll go to my doctor, and then I'll inform you of the results, whatever they are."

"Very well."

Silence falls between the two of you, and you're suddenly aware of the still purely platonic, but somehow compelling intimacy surrounding you: you're alone, for the first time in the many years of your acquaintance, sitting on a bed, discussing about matters that concern you both deeply. Mihawk looks as relaxed and in control as ever, so maybe for him this is simply a favour he is doing you and an investment that could come in handy one day, or maybe not, you think as you search for something, for an emotion of any kind, in his beautiful yellow eyes, and could swear you actually find it, maybe that is simply a facade he is used to present to the world, and in the privacy of his heart, he feels exactly as you do...

"Anything else?"

"Not on my part, no. I'm sure you will be an excellent mother, and I don't need to ask you to take care of them. I... still haven't decided how involved I will be in the child's life, I hope this is not a problem."

It isn't, since you will be happy with whatever he decides to do, as long as he does not object to you raising the child on your island.

"So... shall we?" Mihawk asks; the flash of emotion in his gaze is brief, but you see it (maybe he has let you?) and a smile blossoms on your lips.

"We shall."

You quickly take off your shoes, while Mihawk stands to take his hat and then his coat off, leaving them neatly placed on a chair.

"I forgot to tell you." you begin once more, after more than one silent moment spent staring at his naked back "We don't necessarily have to... to do it the old-fashioned way, if you'd rather not. We could... go to a doctor..."

Mihawk grunts as he bends to unbuckle his boots; again, you find it impossible to avert your gaze. "I will not give a stranger a vial of my seed, as if I were a stud bull." he states "It is barbaric. There is nothing wrong with the natural method."

You silently agree. A moment later, he's back on the bed; he lets you look a him, and he looks back while you unhurriedly take off your dress, exposing the bra and underskirt you wear underneath.

"Very beautiful." Mihawk says, as if he were talking more to himself than to you; you smile.

"You'll make me blush."

"You are an attractive woman, I sincerely doubt I am the first man to pay you a compliment. The other... donors you selected, for example. I'm sure all of them felt exceptionally lucky."

There is no trace of mocking in his voice, let alone of blame; still, those words are enough to make your smile disappear. "They did not matter."

"While I do?"

"You do. You know you do. We have known each other for so many years, and I know we are not... friends, exactly, and I could always close my eyes and think about something else, but you don't know how... how dehumanazing it is to... well, to feel nothing for the other person..."

Mihawk nods. "I know the feeling." he says, and then, in response to your incredulous look: "I have been young as well; and I've made mistakes, like everyone."

"I'm sure you were the only one to think so."

"Hmmm..."

For a whole minute, you are both content looking at each other. Finally, Mihawk's raised hand brushes against your face, and you close your eyes, savouring the warmth of his fingers against your cheek. You take his hand, and let it guide you as you stand, close the brief distance between you, and rest both of yours on his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you sit on his lap, your thighs open to the sides of his clothed legs.

Mihawk's eyes move on your body; you can't stop looking at him either, and so you feel, rather than see, his strong and elegant hands rest on your hips, gently caressing them above the light fabric of your underskirt. You can feel his breath on your chest; he can feel you hold yours when you rest your hand on his cheek and then let it slip down his body, the well-toned physique (he is much less burly than other pirates and fighters you know, but his muscles are solid and defined, as you expected... and even a little more), the pale, smooth skin, except for a thin line of hair on his lower abdomen that your fingers follow down to the waistband of his pants, and that is when you hear him grunt.

"Shall I stop?"

"Do not mock me, woman..." he growls, but he's enjoying your ministrations and doesn't bother to hide it. "Take this off, now."

This is your bra, which you obediently remove; you sigh, kissing his dark hair and temples and any inch of him you can reach, as Mihawk, whose arms have circled your waist and who is now holding you tight against his body, begins licking your chest, the sensation of his lips on your skin sweet and delicious beyond words. Soon, you are moaning his name, gently rocking against the turgescense under you, and you hear him whisper your name before he quickly but gently turns, pushing you on your back on the duvet while he kneels above you.

He sighs, relief evident in his tone, while you relieve him from his pants, lowering the fabric to his knees. He returns the favour lifting the hem of your underskirt, but when you move to take off your panties

"No." he stops you, gently resting his hand on yours "Please, keep them on."

A minute later you are locked in an embrace, your leg lifted around his hips, Mihawk's hand caressing you between your legs, gentle, confident, inexorable, until he feels you are ready for him, and he shifts to press the centre of his body against yours.

You lock eyes; for a brief, precious moment, it is as if the distance between the two of you had melted like snow under the sun, leaving you the two parts of a single, hot and quivering being.

"I don't know if I can actually... do what you want." Mihawk whispers; his hips press against yours with the desperation of a man living his last night, but he sounds regretful, as if saddened by the possibility of disappointing you "I... want to, but..."

Of all the emotions you expected to feel for Dracule Mihawk, tenderness was the last of the list; still, you do, a sudden, powerful surge of empathy that makes you desire this night would never end... and that it weren't your last, as well as your first.

"An attempt." you murmur, before claiming his mouth in a new kiss "That is all I ask."

He gives you three.

*****

You wake early on the following morning (like you expected Mihawk to do as well, since he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who likes to sleep in; on the other hand, you did exhaust him last night...), but you linger a bit before getting up, as you observe the man sound asleep next to you. He is lying on his side towards you, an hand hidden under the pillow, the other reaching out towards you.

He is so handsome - no, he is rapturously beautiful like this, tranquil, at ease, not exactly smiling but serene, as if he were in the middle of a beautiful dream; the azure sheet covers him up to his hips, letting the first sun rays of the day caress the naked skin of his arms and chest.

You feel as if you could spend the whole day like this, just admiring him; but sooner or later he will wake up, and then you could stay in bed for a little more, attempting again or just cuddling, savouring that new intimacy that feels so natural, so genuine and true, even though nothing in your relationship until last night could suggest this could be born from it. But it has, and it is a gift you will keep in your heart forever... as a cherished, now-distant memory; because no matter how desperately you wish you could stay in that little paradise you have created together for a little more, you can't... and, in your heart you know for sure (or you think you do; the truth couldn't be more different, but you haven't learned to read his heart, nor he to express his feelings. Yet.) Mihawk doesn't want to, no matter how enthusiastically he made good on his promise last night. You didn't even know a man could last so long, and hearing him growl your name was enough to push you over the brink...

Still. He has done what he had promised you, and expecting more, expecting other, is naive and even dangerous, because the last thing you need now is to have your heart broken. You know Mihawk respects you and maybe even considers you a sort-of-friend, and not to brag, but you are confident you have given him the best night of his life... but letting that rapport evolve, pursue a relationship, whether romantic or even simply sexual? That's another thing altogether, one you know he won't be interested in.

(Again, you don't, and he would).

You shouldn't even consider thoughts like these. Since when have you thought about Mihawk like that? You are well aware of how attractive he is and are genuinely fond of him, yes, but when did you start wanting more than a casual friendship with him? Probably you don't, not really, it's just that the amazing night you have spent together and all the talking about the baby made your most emotional and romantic side emerge, as if you were still the young girl who thought two people could not experience pleasure, let alone reproduce, without being madly in love with each other. The truth is obviously different, and in a few days, maybe even as early as tomorrow, you will realize how naive and shallow your desires are, born from passion and the hope to see your dream come true. You don't really want him, you just... think you do, because you shared something amazing last night and you know he'd be an excellent father for your child. That's all; and he wouldn't want you in any case. You did what you agreed to, and now you better leave as soon as you can, to avoid the classic, unavoidable embarrassment of the morning after.

This is why when finally Mihawk wakes up, twenty minutes later, he finds you already clothed and ready to go, busy sliding your weapons in their holsters or hiding then under your clothes, your faithful derringer by your side once more.

"Hi." you murmur softly as you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands naturally, instinctively finding the one he has moved towards yours "Are... are you ok?"

"I am. You?"

"Fine. It... it was nice, wasn't it?"

He looks at you, veguely ironic; do you really need to ask?, his lovely yellow eyes seem to ask, and you can't help a small laugh.

"You are leaving, I see." Mihawk adds after a moment, his tone expressionless. He is looking at you as if your clothes were still scattered on the floor, just like he did last night; he sees you blush, and he smirks, but after a moment he turns serious as usual - even a little more sombre, you would swear.

"I am; after all Garp gave me a new assignment yesterday. The first ship for my next destination leaves in half an hour, but you can stay, if you want, I have rented the room until midday."

"There is no need, I have things to do as well."

He gets up, without bothering to hide what you have had time to look at, and to touch and to kiss, as much as you wanted last night, and retrieves his clothes. He has turned his back to you, and you wonder if it is deliberate, because he has already lost any interest he could have in you, because he is already regretting what you did together, or maybe because he is grappling with emotions he doesn't know how to process, and trying to find the words to express them, to ask you...

No. It's impossible. Stop thinking about it and focus on your next assignment. You did everything you could, now you can only pray it worked.

Five minutes, and you're both ready to go; you look at Mihawk as he places Yoru on his back, and you wring your hands, suddenly shier and more unsure than you have ever been in his presence.

"Mihawk?"

He doesn't answer, but he turns, his face slightly tilted on one side in an inquiring manner. He looks so much like a bird when he does that, you think, amused; like a bird of prey... a beautiful, deadly hawk.

"I... I wanted to thank you."

"There is no need..."

"Yes, there is." you quickly interrupt him; you need to tell him, and you need to do it now, otherwise you will lose courage "I... I have been wanting to become a mother for a long time; it's the thing I want the most in the world, and not simply because my island needs an heir for when I'll be dead. It's... it's more important than I could explain, and I've been disappointed so many times and there is nothing I can do but hope and pray, but... call me crazy if you want, but I have a good feeling about this. About you. I... I think we did it, even if it will take time before I know for sure. And I'll be happy to have your child."

Mihawk nods. He is standing right in front of you, close enough he could touch you without even reaching out, but suddenly it is as if you were standing at the opposite points of the Great Line, the unmade bed next to you a suddenly uncomfortable remainder of your nightly activities. "Remember your promise."

"Of course; I will inform you as soon as I have seen the doctor, whatever the result."

"Good."

Pause. "(name)..."

"Yes?" you ask, intimately happy to break that uncomfortable silence, the first in the many years since your first meeting. This is something you have always liked about Mihawk; with him, you never feel the need to talk, but you can feel content with his solitary presence next to you. Still, it has never been so hard to say good-bye... "What is it?"

He hesitates (something you are probably the first to witness, or at least to live to tell) as if unsure about what he wants to say, or about the words to use; he looks at you, and you hold your breath, because for a split second you are sure, you just know, that what he is about to say will change everything, because it is not all in your mind, something has changed, after last night or because that moment of intimacy made you both realize your bond was much deeper than you knew...

"I need to give you my number. To call me."

Disappointment explodes inside you. You feel... mortified, as if you had ended up naked in the middle of the public square; your little infatuation will without a doubt disappear in three days at most, but for now, it hurts as if you had been stabbed. Stupid, romantic girl, an unpleasant voice whispers in your ear; what did you expect? Did you really think he could care about you that way?

"Oh. Oh, right..."

A moment later, a slip of paper with Mihawk's contacts is safe in your pocket, and he is neatly placing his feathered hat on his head.

"It is. Be safe. I mean, I know I don't need to tell you..."

"You don't." he easily recognizes "And I don't need to tell you, but I will; remember that perhaps now you have someone else to think about as well. Good-bye, (name)."

A smile, small but sincere, and a brush of fingers against yours, accompany that greeting a moment before Mihawk leaves, and even though you awoke first and meant to depart before he could notice your absence, you are still there, alone in the sunlit room, suddenly too saddened and wistful to think about the child who might be growing in your womb.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Steven John Ward #Dracule Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Bellona's stuff #100 notes #200 notes #300 notes

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