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dreammfyre · 3 months ago

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targaryen dynasty ⋆ jacaerys velaryon

SUMMARY. You are the first daughter of Daemon and Laena Velaryon, betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon whom you have known since childhood. Queen Rhaenyra personally asked you to seek out knights and ladies with Targaryen blood to try and get them to claim a dragon to join the cause. You, always so attached to reading and the most studious and intelligent, did not hesitate to obey your queen, however, it was proving to be more difficult than you imagined. Luckily, Jacaerys knows how to help you.

WARNIGS. (+18) Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!oc. Targaryen incest. Smut, oral (fem receiving).

NOTE. The thuth is that I don't know how thid got 5000 words, but here we are!!!

If anyone asked you, you had no idea how long you had been locked in the castle library. The queen had left you the task of researching in depth about the Targaryen lineage with valyrian blood and the right to claim a dragon, you did not refuse to comply with her orders, you were known for your intellect and interest about history, always with a different book under your arm, you handled data that the others did not, so you were in your comfort zone. However, you did not imagine it was going to be so complicated, you had had breakfast and lunch in the library in solitude, which meant that you had been locked up all day among papyrus, books written in the language of your family, you had read about the dragons still alive, especially Vermithor and Silverwing, but you found more than you needed and your attention jumped from subject to subject, you had never access to such a place and did it hold information on Targaryen history from the time of the conquerors to the reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen.

"My lady," Elinda's voice, so soft and gentle as she addressed you, dissipated your attention causing you to turn your head up from your reading. The maid was standing in the doorway and you behind the wooden desk in the midst of your own chaos, you had ordered not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. "why don't you go upstairs to dine with the queen in parlor?"

"I'm fine, thank you." You smiled trying to put on your best face, the truth was you didn't want to appear before Rhaenyra without any advances.

Elinda sighed knowing she wasn't going to be able to convince you to come out for fresh air, she wasn't surprised at your response, always so stubborn and driven to your ideas.

"It's okay, I know you, so I went ahead and brought dinner up here." She said walking over with the silver tray holding a steaming plate and a cup. "Eat before you rest, you've spent a lot of time in this place, you haven't been eating well and we don't want your body to weaken."

You nodded and thanked her before she left. You watched the food from afar without appetite, so you went back to reading, the Targaryen bloodline had expanded to different places, moving out of King's Landing and Dragonstone to other lands. You were writing down the possible names of knights and ladies with what needed to claim a dragon, so far there weren't many options, but you didn't want to be left in doubt you looked everywhere. You stood up to look for another book that you had not yet read, this time from the houses to the north, you had a mess everywhere and on every table, open books, scattered papyrus, the shelves almost empty. Your notes on the other hand, Valyrian texts that you read without problems, as if a hurricane had swept away the order.

You took from the cup that Elinda had brought you with sweet wine to which you gave a generous gulp. You paced back and forth reading and reviewing the history, trying to find useful connections to the present, back and forth, flipping through the pages and drinking. When you started to get dizzy from the spinning you found no better idea than to sit on the table crossing your legs no matter how uncomfortable your clothes were, on your thighs you opened the heavy book so you could hold the glass in your hands.

"Are you still here?" Jacaerys had entered the library, taking you by surprise. The heir found you in the middle of the mess, surrounded by papers, sitting on the table which was frowned upon for a lady. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I think I hate the Targaryen." You sighed, relaxing your shoulders and looking up. Jacaerys smiled coming closer, watching the mess around you out of the corner of his eye, but he was sure you were the one to find what Rhaenyra was looking for. "Is that wine?" he pointed to your goblet raising his eyebrows.

"Elinda feeds me like an imprisoned animal."

"I doubt an imprisoned animal would be fed lamb and wine." This time it was you who smiled. "How are you doing with your mission?"

"I found some names that might be of use, let's hope they are still alive." You replied setting the cup aside, on top of other papers that were of no use to you at the moment. "The children of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alyssane were a great starting point that I cannot yet move on from."

"My mother asked about your absence at the table. I told her you needed time, and that I was going to keep an eye on you." You nodded, a little flushed at the last part, but you knew how to hide it.

"That's Visenya Targaryen?" Jace asked excitedly as he looked at the draw in the book open on your legs, moving closer to you to get a better look, invading your space.

"Queen Visenya," you corrected him causing him to apologize. "Vhagar's first rider." You looked at the image closely admiring her beauty, trying to take in the closeness of Jacaerys. "And the first in her name."

Jacaerys watched you from the corner of his eye biting the inside of his cheek, he liked the way you corrected him, even on some occasions when you chatted privately he would purposely get it wrong to make you angry. You just looked up meeting your fiancé's gaze, which made him realize he had gone silent.

"This place is…" the heir looked around you carefully analyzing the place, he didn't know how to continue the sentence without offending you.

"Say it, a complete mess." You sighed exhaustedly.

The prince nodded with concern for your well being, you are his fiancée and he had to take care of you, he looked at you noticing your tired eyes, your hair a bit messy falling a few unruly strands down your face, the dress disarranged on your shoulders. And somehow, through his eyes, even though it sounded bad and he didn't have the courage to admit it out loud, that was attractive.

He took a lock of your hair and tidied it behind your ear, it was a gesture he repeated and you liked it.

"Do you need help?" you denied immediately, you didn't want to look pitiful or desperate. "Don't be proud, I know you."

"Apparently it's not as simple as I imagined." You said discouraged, looking at the papers scattered around you. You closed the book putting it aside, you couldn't think anymore, you were blocked, tired and your body was asking you to eat and rest, maybe not in that order. You stretched your legs, still sitting on the table with Jacaerys watching you. "Targaryen dynasty is vast and diffuse, complex to trace, now I understand why several names are missing. I don't want Rhaenyra to be disappointed, I'm trying my best."

Hearing you, Jacaerys quickly interrupted placing his hand on your thigh unknowingly unleashing a shiver down your back. "The queen could not have chosen anyone better than you, you are the smartest lady I know." He said sincerely, positioning his other hand on your shoulder. "Go to sleep, you need it."

Tired, you rested your forehead on his shoulder resting on it. Jacaerys stroked your loose hair without removing his hand on your leg. The physical contact comforted you, but you didn't accept it often, so it was a surprise for the prince to have you so close.

"I'll dream of dragons." You joked with your eyes closed, Jace's scent intoxicating you immediately. "I'll stay a while longer, I think I know where to find a thread to pull on."

"Eat something first." He added as he noticed the tray with the untouched plate. His caresses relaxed you, feeling his fingers tangle in your hair made you feel a delicious shiver, so you let him repeat it, even his tone of voice relaxed your muscles.

"I'm not hungry yet."

Jacaerys swallowed hard as your warm breath hit his neck, bristling his skin. He didn't know how the hell she was managing to control himself like that, when she held you close his thoughts were easily confused and the heart was about to burst out of his chest. In a moment of weakness, the prince closed her eyes in order to intensify the sensations, in the middle of the silence and taking advantage of the hidden place where they were, she squeezed thigh on the fabric of the dress, it was not strong, just enough to steal a sigh and that now the tachycardia clouded your reason. You didn't know at what moment that comforting embrace turned into a boundary of something else, Jacaerys Velaryon stirred as he felt the tip of your nose brush against his exposed neck before you, a slow, torturous contact.

The heir's hands were too still, he was controlling himself as much as his duty allowed him. While you had little interest in complying with the damned traditions, they were teenagers, you couldn't ask much of them in that regard.

The tension of their bodies rubbing against each other grew with each movement in a pleasant and affectionate rhythm, but you urgently needed it to increase, so you opened your legs to surround his body with your thighs, the prince did not think a second to position himself between them taking advantage to squeeze your ass tearing you a sigh that vanished in his mouth. You brought your lips to his neck leaving kisses all over, Jacaerys did not want to stop you, he had fallen too easily into the game. The prince's hands were eager to touch as much as possible went up from your waist to your breasts, you had never seen him like that, then your fiancé sought your mouth before you kissed his bristling skin again.

"Jace…" you whispered against his lips touching slowly with yours, your warm breath hitting his face, he could hear the desperation in your call looking into your eyes, but his gaze was focused on your wet lips.

Shit. His name sounded so different when you said it.

It was he who had the courage - or the impulse - to make the move to close the distance between you, an accurate approach to trap your lips between his, his hand took your jaw and prey to your desires you opened your mouth to let his tongue enter your cavity, sticky, wet noises echoed off the stone walls as Jacaerys brushed his tongue along yours. The taste of sweet wine ended up intoxicating him as well. His slow movement caused a wave of heat to grow in the underside of your belly, you rested a hand behind the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his wavy hair.

Your heart could not calm down, on the contrary, it begged for more. The crown prince began to lift your red dress, a messy piece of infinite fabric, so you clumsily helped him by crumpling it until he slipped his hand underneath it, running his fingers over your bare skin playing with your sanity by how slowly he explored.

"Someone could see us at any moment." You reminded him that they weren't in the privacy of your quarters or his, trying to gesture because your labored breathing was making it hard to think.

"They can listen to whatever they want." He responde kissing your neck moving down to your collarbones, the heat of his mouth on your skin felt like the most exciting thing you had ever tasted. The intense grip on your legs didn't bother you at all because it was him, his deep voice made you bristle complete when he whispered too intoxicated in the moment to be his usual proper prince self. "I said I would take care of you."

You laughed at how little importance he gave to your innocent concerns, too sure that nothing was going to happen, but maybe it was just adrenaline and desire clouding his rational thoughts. Jacaerys kept going down, kissing between your breasts on the fabric, until he knelt before you, you held your breath when you understood his intentions, he raised his gaze towards you, an intense silence where your nobility was at stake for falling into carnal temptation, it was a few seconds until you decided to lift the skirt of your dress so he could have the access he desired.

Your fiancé began to kiss the inside of your thighs gently, just that minimal contact made you tremble on the table. "Don't close your legs." He ordered.

Your cheeks flared in heat as a reminder of the sin they were committing, yes, it was your fiancé who was between your legs unabashedly, but it was still Jace, whom you had known all your life and had grown up together, the most proper prince Westeros had ever seen, so devoted to duty that no one would imagine he would be able to steal your innocence out of wedlock, but there he was, he was the same, kneeling before you like a believer, kissing your thighs feeling his hot breath approaching your cunt exposed to his delight. The sighs coming out of your mouth were intensifying as Jacaerys swollen lips approached your most sensitive area making him beg, you felt he was toying with your sanity but he only wanted to extend your pleasure as long as you would hold out. Your hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, his wet tongue flicked across your cunt, he didn't quite finish his journey when your knees had the urgent urge to close like a natural spasm, but Jacaerys prevented it by holding your legs tightly apart for him, continuing his work of giving you the pleasure you deserved.

"Oh, Jace, gods." You said with bated breath, an emotional torture of not knowing how far you could go before you screamed. His tongue kept licking like candy, unabashedly tasting knowing what he was doing, moving up and down listening to your moans that excited him as much as it did you to feel his mouth on your center, the heir seemed to be having fun taking his time under your dress, reveling in your desperation. The warm wet sensation on your folds sliding down began to make you desperate, in an attempt to quiet your moans so as not to draw attention to yourself you bit your tongue so hard that the moan was one of pain rather than pleasure. You crumpled some papers in search of what to hold on to, you closed your eyes intensifying the spasms even more. "Jacaer…"

Saying his name seemed the most difficult task.

You managed to feel the crown prince's long fingers opening your pussy slippery with his saliva and your transparent wetness dripping. Again he ventured in with his mouth, this time with more euphoria and hunger, making little circles with his tongue, drowning himself in you tasting your cunt as he had never done to any of the whores on the island, with you he took great pains to get it right. Agitated, chest rising and falling from your erratic breathing the prince placed one of his hands on your belly as if he knew you were looking for him, intertwining his fingers you squeezed as his tongue pushed into your entrance. Curiosity as to how he learned to do that had to wait because your legs began to tremble and you began to move struggling against the strength of Jacaerys who wasn't going to stop servicing you until you were done.

"Please… Jace."

"You are so wet." Said the prince as an accomplishment, but you were embarrassed to know how vulnerable you were before him. The sound of his mouth playing with your clit, so wet and wrong, similar to a kiss where Jace was just doing all y he work. You searched for his head with your hand which was complicated by being hidden under your skirt, the damn dress prevented you from looking into his eyes, you wanted to look at him and beg his face not to stop now that you were so close to touching the best orgasm of your life. Jacaerys was struggling with your legs, so he put your thigh over his shoulder without letting go of your hand. "You have to hold on a little longer. I promise you'll like it."

"I c-can't." You cried trembling.

Between your legs, Prince Velaryon was reveling in your pleasure with a painful erection trapped in his pants that only hardened against the fabric with every high-pitched moan coming from your throat. He had to be strong to hold back the urge to take advantage of your wetness and penetrate you right then and there, that wasn't the first time he thought of you that way nor was it going to be the last after tonight, he would go to his quarters overwhelmed to attend to himself just thinking of you for another night. You were so open that with a little strength you could take it, but you were not ready for the moment and deep down, Jacaerys felt just as guilty for giving in to temptation by breaking traditions, disrespecting you to a lady of nobility.

"Jace, oh, like that." You moaned wiggling your hips.

But shit, he couldn't take one more moon without claiming that belongs to him. Your whole body, your every desperate moan and plea. It was an addictive melody that he didn't want it to end.

You reached for his head with your hand under the cloth that was being Jacaerys' salvation because if he saw your sweaty face, pink cheeks and pleading gestures he wasn't going to be able to hold back the urge, fucking you right there on that table. Merciful to your clumsiness, Jace took your hand turning it towards the back of his neck, you tangled his wavy hair between your fingers, bringing it closer to your center than it already was which only encouraged your fiancé to lose control by gently biting your cunt and with his finger caressing your exposed clit like a throbbing button.

"Gods!" You exclaimed so loudly that Jace feared for both of your lives. You covered your mouth yourself, waiting for someone to walk in and find them you sitting at the table with the heir kneeling between your legs under your dress. "I-I'm sorry." You whispered in exasperation.

"Scream whatever you want." It was a command rather than a comfort.

And you listened to him. Your body couldn't resist any longer, the spasms were getting stronger and Jacaerys knew you were close to orgasm, your legs faltered and couldn't hold still. You pulled your fiancé's hair, which instead of annoying him, he liked to feel. You mumbled incoherently, cursing everything, your hips couldn't stay still and Jacaerys' tongue wasn't making it any easier. You let go of the heir's hand on your belly to cover your mouth, however, Jace grabbed your wrist preventing that from happening. The rule had been clear, he wanted to hear you screaming his name to burn it into his memory, he wanted to hear your whimpers and pleas not to stop, your choked moans, the curses and incoherent ramblings.

"Jace!" your chest was rising and falling so fast you felt short of breath. The pressure between your legs was increasing, you closed your eyes tightly trying to hold on a second longer, but it was impossible. "Oh, shit!"

Your orgasm came as a spasm that controlled your whole body, from your hair to your legs. Jacaerys knew it when the tension in your muscles disappeared and he didn't have to exert any more force to hold you back. His pace slowed considerably, he didn't hold back from licking one last time.

Your body was wracked, aroused to return to normal. Your chest was expanding and contracting fast, the sweaty skin made it look shiny. Your body had peaked, and now, you missed Jacaerys' tongue between your legs. The heir stepped out from under your skirt, his mouth wet from his own saliva and your wetness in a mixture that soaked into his pink, swollen lips. The prince was red in the face, his hair falling down his face in the most exciting mess, he looked so good. He wiped his mouth with his clothes and fixed his hair behind his ears without taking eyes off you.

"You were very good lady." He stroked his thumb across your red cheek, you closed your eyes at his gentle, almost brotherly caress, a well-deserved congratulations. You were still weak and rambunctious with ragged breathing and a high pulse, your body wasn't going to withstand another orgasm, not for tonight. Jace moved closer to your face, he wanted to admire you up close, your exposed neck was the target of a kiss. "Did you like it?" he whispered so slowly against your ear that a shiver brought you back to reality. His breath beating against your damp skin was a reminder that you were completely crazy about him, no one in all of Westeros could service you so well.

You nodded in shame and innocence. You couldn't hear him, but you knew he was smiling.

"Y-yes." You replied looking into his eyes. Your innocent look reignited the fire in Jacaerys, who was still holding back the urge to fuck you.

The prince closed his eyes and swallowed saliva in frustration. He had to be aware that no matter how good it felt, it wasn't right.

"We can't do it here again." He took your face in his hands caressing your skin with his fingers. You nodded again, seeing you so obediently at his mercy only triggered his excitement, fighting until the last second. Jacaerys moved closer to your face, you closed your eyes expecting him to kiss you, but you only felt the brush of his lips against yours and his breath against your mouth. "Next time I'll rip that fucking dress off you myself with my bare hands."

2K notes · View notes

togenabi · 1 year ago

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pick me up

roronoa zoro (opla) x reader

♡—zoro never paid your jokes or pickup lines any mind. that is, until something happens that makes you stop.

word count♡— 3.2k

genre♡— mild angst, fluff, straw hat!reader

content notes♡— opla zoro, fem!reader, reader wears a dress and tells very bad jokes, creepy dude oc, don't be creepy be cool yall, reader pulls off a heist with nami, zoro gets jealous, alcohol consumption, no use of y/n, barely proofread

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is a request from anon! I'm sorry if I tweaked a few things, I'm not the best at angst hhhh I hope you still like it!

“Okay, okay. Wait. I got it this time.” You say, already trying to keep from laughing.

“Why were the kids having trouble in pirate class?”

Zoro only side-eyes you with his arms crossed, vehemently unimpressed.

“Because they were overbored!”

Watching for his reaction intently, you keep your eyes focused on his face... Nothing changes.

You tsk, but aren’t seriously discouraged. This is how he always reacts to your jokes, after all. “I’ll get you one of these days, Roronoa Zoro.”

The swordsman only sighs, leaning back into his seat to take a nap. “You do that.”

“Don’t listen to him, love.” Sanji says from the other side of the kitchen as he cleans the counter. “I thought that joke was good.”

“You’re lying, but I appreciate the sentiment, Sanji.” You grin at him. Focusing back on the book you were reading, you miss the amused, challenging look Sanji sends Zoro.

Everyone hears Luffy approaching the kitchen before he enters. “Guys!” He bellows. “We’ll be reaching land soon. Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes!”

The majority of the day is spent restocking supplies. You were all split up into pairs, but before you left, Luffy pointed to a restaurant with a flashy, illuminated sign on top that reads: ‘Bistro of Light’. How cringey of them.

“We should meet there for dinner! You don’t mind taking a break, right, Sanji?” Luffy asks eagerly, and you think that no one could say no to him when he’s so enthusiastic. Sanji nods, and you all go through the town until the sun starts to set.

The inside of the restaurant is just as ridiculous as the sign outside. Chandeliers of every color hang on the ceiling. Huge fish tanks and fountains lined with lights almost blind you. You laugh when looking at it all causes Zoro to wince.

“Hey Zoro,” You call for him. “You know what’s faster than the speed of light?”

“...”

“My heartbeat when I think of you!” You wink at him, proud of the joke even when he only sighs and looks away.

Usopp walks up to a receptionist standing behind a desk. “Hey. Table for six, if you would be so kind.”

“I’m afraid we’re at full capacity at the moment.” They respond. “You’ll have to wait, is that alright?”

Everyone shares a look. Except for Luffy, who looks dead set on eating here, you all feel unsure about waiting.

“When’s the next table going to be available?” Usopp asks. “We’re actually a really big deal. It’s gonna be really embarrassing for you guys if you don’t let us in.” The person frowns, face screaming, ‘is this guy serious’?

But before they can reply, a booming voice enters the restaurant. A tall man, dressed in a pristine white suit and wearing jewels on every finger, pushes you out of the way to yell at the receptionist. You stumble, but thankfully Zoro is there to catch you.

“What on earth is going on here?! Why are there so many people crowding the entryway?!” He fumes, angrily gesturing to your group.

“If they’re not going to eat, then I strongly suggest—” The rich man freezes suddenly, his eyes trained on you.

You keep your face as emotionless as possible, but you die laughing inside when Nami swipes a brooch from his jacket while he’s distracted with you.

“Ah,” The man says. His tone softening a considerable amount as he walks over to you. “I thought I had the best jewels in my treasury, but you're the most radiant gem I've ever laid my eyes on.” It takes everything in you to not back away. Zoro tenses beside you.

“Why haven’t these guests been guided to a table?” He asks, turning back to the receptionist.

“We’re at full capacity, Sir.” Oh. He must own the place. It makes sense that the owner is as gaudy as everything else in here.

“That won’t do.” He looks back to you, and you swear you could feel your skin crawl under his gaze.

“I am Helios. Welcome to my establishment.” The man introduces himself with a flourish, bowing to you. His jewels and gold accessories glint in the light. “What might your name be?”

Reluctantly, you introduce yourself. Had this been a normal situation, you would have turned around and walked away from him the second he saw you. But, you could feel the crew going hungry, and you’re sure Nami will want to snag another ring or two—so you play nice.

Helios smiles, repeating your name. He was probably trying to sound romantic, but he’s not doing anything for you. Not when Zoro says your name much better.

You keep Zoro’s voice in mind, remembering how nice it sounds. It’s easier to smile at Helios that way. Time to lay on the charm, “I was really looking forward to having dinner here. I don’t suppose you could help us out?”

“Follow me, my dear. You deserve to dine upstairs. The view is simply spectacular at this hour.” Helios holds out his hand to you, but Luffy—bless his soul—grabs it to shake it zealously.

“Thanks so much for letting us eat here, Mr. Helios!” Luffy claps him on the back. Helios looks dumbfounded, and the crew does an impressive job keeping their composure.

Helios tries to walk beside you as he guides you all upstairs, but Zoro is steadfast on your right, and Nami smartly positions herself on your left. Luffy and Usopp tug the restaurant owner along, chatting his ear off. You almost feel bad for him.

Nami murmurs, her voice carefully silent so only you can hear. “Treasury, huh?”

You smile. “Of course you’d be curious about that.”

“Think you could get us to his mansion?” She dares you, eyes aglow at the promise of a good heist.

“I know I can.” You pause walking to check your reflection on an ornate, sun-shaped mirror. After fixing your hair, you grin at your friends. “I’m irresistible, after all.”

Maybe if you weren’t busy buttering up your host, you would have noticed that Zoro wasn’t eating properly. Normally, you would force him to eat. You would pile food on his plate, telling that joke about fake noodles being impasta that always cracks you up.

Zoro frowns at the meal in front of him. The fish seems to frown back. Sighing, he decides to just order another drink. But no matter what he consumes, a bitter taste always blooms in his mouth afterwards.

The glass in his hand almost cracks when he hears your voice sucking up to Helios again. “So, you own this place? Do you live around here?”

Helios leans far too close towards you, but you grin and bear it. “Would you like a private tour, my gem?”

You place a hand on his arm, he may read it as affection, but you hold him so he keeps that distance. “That sounds wonderful.”

Zoro huffs under his breath. He needs another drink.

Thankfully, Helios serves good booze at his manor. Zoro almost didn’t want to drink any of it, but he needs alcohol in his system if he has to watch you flirt with this idiot so Nami can rob him blind. Whatever she steals better be worth all this, or else he might punch something. Or someone. Preferably Helios.

You share a look with Nami and give her an imperceptible nod. With that signal, she passes by and pretends to lose her footing. Wine seeps into your clothes, staining the fabric and sticking it to your skin. Did she really have to pick red wine? You liked this shirt.

“Oh, my dear!” Helios gasps. “You should get cleaned up. I’ll have my servants draw you a bath and bring you fresh clothes.”

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going.” Nami loops her arm through yours. “Let me help you with that.”

And so, with another fake smile sent Helios’ way, you rush with Nami to find the treasury.

“Be quick.” Nami says once you enter the luxurious bathroom prepared for you.

As tempting as the bubble bath is, you only take a few wet towels to tidy up. You step into the curtained area, about to strip when Nami holds out a hand to stop you.

“Wait.” She says, her tone serious. A teddy bear holding a rose is propped up on a shelf behind you. Tapping its eyes, Nami scowls before throwing the bear into the trash bin.

“A camera?” She nods. “Seriously? What a creep.”

You and Nami inspect the room. It’s not clear if there are other hidden cameras, but she stands guard in front of the shower curtains just in case.

“Hey,” She starts. “Did you notice Zoro acting weird tonight?”

You frown as you change into the dress Helios prepared. “What do you mean?”

Nami hums in thought. “He’s just…” A dumbass, she wants to say, but doesn’t. “He seems extra grumpy.”

That causes you to laugh. “I guess I should prepare more jokes for him when we get back.”

She winces. “...I’m not that sure he likes those.”

“Hm… Maybe not, but,” You pause to think. He may not laugh loudly as Luffy does, but he never shot you down for being bubbly around him. “Zoro would have told me to shut up by now if he didn’t, right?”

“Huh.” Nami says. “You got a point.”

You push the curtains aside, grinning at her. “Come on, let’s break into that treasury.”

“Of course, my gem.”

“Oh my god, if that sticks I’m going to be so mad.”

The treasury was a vault full of everything from jewels to ornamental weapons. Nami playfully crowned you with a diamond tiara, and she put on dangling emerald earrings that looked stunning on her.

After filling your bags and pockets with the most you can carry, you and Nami head out to find the others. You run into Usopp on the way back to the lounge.

“I see you two cleaned up well.” He jokes. “Luffy and Sanji are in the kitchen. I was just on my way there.”

“Where’s Zoro?” You ask.

“With Helios. You know him, still drinking.”

“We should leave soon.” Nami insists. “We risk getting caught the longer we stay.”

“Right.” You hand Usopp your bag, his eyes widen comically when he feels how heavy it is. “I’ll just go say goodbye, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Before you even enter the lounge, however, you hear Zoro speak your name. Are they talking about you? You press your back against the wall, straining to hear their conversation.

You almost wish you didn’t.

“She tells the worst jokes and doesn’t know when to quit it. Thinks she’s hilarious but she’s really not.” Zoro speaks in that deep voice that would usually be comforting to you—but his words now pierce through you painfully.

“What exactly is your relationship with her?” Helios asks, and Zoro is silent. It feels like your heart crumbles for every second he doesn’t answer.

You’re friends! You’ve been dreaming of more but, you’ve always been friends.

…Aren’t you? Doesn’t he think so?

“I don’t know.” Your heart fully shatters. What does he mean he doesn’t know? “She just sticks to me a lot. It can get annoying.”

“Well. That’s unfortunate, but it’s nothing to sob over.” Helios kisses his teeth. “I don’t care about her attitude. All that doesn’t matter as long as she has that pretty face.”

You wait for Zoro to say something. Anything. You want him to cut Helios where he stands.

But he doesn’t. The silence drags on. The air feels like it’s pushing you down, crushing your lungs. You have to get out of here.

You burst into the kitchen, trying your best not to cry. Nami immediately rushes to you, holding your shoulders to steady you. “What happened?”

Letting out a shuddered breath, you whisper, “You were right.” It’s impossible to think straight right now. “I want to leave.”

You look to Luffy, still shaken up. Your captain’s expression is serious as he nods. “Go ahead, we’ll get Zoro and catch up.” Not needing to be told twice, you head out the door.

Before she follows you, Nami hisses at Sanji, “Talk some sense into that dumbass, won’t you?”

The entire walk back to the Going Merry is silent. You’re grateful Nami doesn’t immediately press you for what happened, but you know that you should answer her questions. You finally get the words out in the safety of her cabin.

You sit cross-legged on the bed, and everything comes pouring out. “He called me annoying.”

“Zoro?” She asked, offering you a box of tissues.

“Yeah.” You sniff, taking the box.

“I’m sorry. That was fucked up of him to say.”

Unsure how to properly comfort you, Nami gets up and retrieves extra pillows from a storage compartment.

“Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” Nami asks, offering you a smile. It pulls a smile out of you too, the first one you mustered since Zoro crushed your spirit.

“I’d like that.”

Zoro is confused to find that you and Nami had left before them. Luffy gave Helios some lame excuse that you weren’t feeling well, but Zoro knew better. If you were really sick, the whole crew would be panicking and rushing to get to you.

He stares at Sanji and Usopp, trying to piece together what really happened. They both turn away from him, refusing to say anything.

In the next second, a maid rushes out, panting and screaming, “Mr. Helios! The treasury has been robbed!”

Fine. Answers can come later. For now, they need to run.

Once they’re back on the ship, Sanji follows Zoro into his cabin. He stares at the chef blankly, “Get out.”

“Did you do something?” Sanji leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Get out.” Zoro repeats, about to push him out of the room when Sanji speaks your name.

“She was upset. Asked to leave as soon as possible.” Sanji’s gaze is almost menacing, and his frown deepens when Zoro’s face falls. So, that’s what happened. You had heard him.

“Fuck.” Zoro groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Everyone noticed you getting bitchy over Helios.” Sanji notes “Did you confront him or something?”

Scoffing, Zoro sits on his hammock, the fabric dips under his weight. “It was something, all right.”

Wanting Zoro to explain himself unpromptedly, Sanji just watches him and lets the silence hang in the air. After a solid, suffocating minute, the swordsman caves.

“I called her annoying.” Zoro breathes out deeply. “I said her jokes aren’t funny and that she sticks to me a lot.”

“Man, that’s screwed up.” Sanji gapes. “I thought you cared about her?”

“Of course I do, but I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” Zoro defends. “Luffy’s the only one who laughs at her jokes, and she’s always by my side.”

Sighing, Zoro continues, “...but I never minded any of it. I learned to care for those parts of her a long time ago. I was only trying to get that shithead off her back.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sanji concludes. “You have the emotional depth of a sink, sometimes.”

Zoro, surprisingly, doesn’t insult the chef back. He stares at the wall, slouched and looking the most empty Sanji’s ever seen him.

“What should I do?” He asks. “How should I make it up to her?”

Sanji’s eyes light up, he beams and claps his hands together in excitement. Even if Zoro hasn’t heard it yet, he already dreads the chef’s suggestion.

“I have an idea.”

When you woke up the next morning, you had every intention of avoiding Zoro like the plague. It was still really difficult to look at him, the hurt you felt still stings your heart.

But unfortunately for you, he had other plans.

You’re gazing out into the sea on the forecastle deck when you hear a familiar set of heavy footsteps. You sigh. “I don’t want to talk, Zoro.”

“I’m not here to talk.” You turn to him questioningly, but you really shouldn’t give him the time of day. Wasn’t he the one who complained about you clinging to him?

You don’t say anything. Only glaring at him and hoping he sees how disappointed you feel. Zoro stands here, appearing strangely vulnerable. If you weren’t so hurt, you would have hugged him by now.

But you are. So he has to wallow in the awkwardness of the consequences of his words. He—wait. What’s that on his face?

“I…” Is he… blushing? “I’m sorry I wasn’t around in the past.”

You make a face and blink at him. What is he up to?

“...Can I be part of your future?”

That knocks the wind right out of you, your jaw practically falls to the floor. Did Roronoa Zoro just use a pickup line? On you? You can’t help but glance at your surroundings to check if the sky is still blue.

No—hold on. He can’t win you over just like that. He needs to explain why he said what he did.

“You said my jokes are the worst.” You grumble.

“They are.” Zoro looks straight into your eyes as he speaks. “But you’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“You said I always stick to your side.”

He doesn’t miss a beat and answers earnestly, “You do. And I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else.”

“…You said you didn’t know what our relationship is.”

That causes Zoro to pause, searching your eyes as if he’ll find the answer in them. “…I don’t.”

Oh, this impossible sword-brain of a man. Your lips quiver, and you realize you can’t fight back your smile anymore. “I love you, Zoro.”

His expression shifts from anxiousness to shock, relief, and a bit of something else...

“I love you, too.” Ah, of course. Love, that too.

Slowly, tentatively, he raises his arms, inviting you to an embrace. He’s adorable, looking a teensy bit nervous that you wouldn’t want to hold him. Giggling, you rush to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he envelops your shoulders.

“I bet Sanji taught you to apologize with that line.” You murmur into his chest. “If you tell me another one…” Zoro cringes, his frame tensing.

“...I’ll give you a kiss.” His expression lifts, seriously considering it.

After a minute, Zoro clears his throat. You almost squeal in excitement.

“Roses are red, violets are blue…” A classic. This is going to be good.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel awkward, I just want to have dinner with you.” You gasp, squeezing him tighter.

“Yes! That was perfect.” Laughing, you reach up and hold his face to keep your promise.

You plant a sweet, short kiss on his lips. When you pull away, he’s looking at you like he would fight anyone for you. He probably would, if you’re being honest.

“You’re perfect.” He breathes, mouth against yours and then he’s kissing you again.

Hiding behind a pile of crates, the rest of the crew whoop and cheer. (Silently.)

“That was such a good line!” Luffy whispers.

“I still think he should have used the ‘I don’t speak angel’ one.” Usopp whispers back.

“What are you talking about?!” Sanji angrily, quietly mutters. “That was perfect because he apologized and delivered the line.”

“Shut it, you guys. I was right, he didn’t last a day with her mad at him.” Nami holds out her palm. “Pay up.” The others groan, handing her some berry. All’s well that ends well.

taglist: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @hi3431 @akakaze @lownna

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nyctarian · 2 years ago

Text

a good amount of these drafts are also going to be things for my ocs i used to be so into but lost interest in,,,rip psla you were so iconique to me for a long time

#drafts #personal #this blog is littered w ocs i got really into the idea of and then didnt have anything to do w them so i lost interest #but they really were like Wow Everywhere and then i just was like #ah no im not really interested in you any more #anyways now its a matter of do i still want to rb those posts and is that interpretation of them from 2019 even fitting where they were at #when i lost interest last year. truly harrowing stuff #when i realized they were no longer my special little ocs last year it really was like oh no ive spent so long with you and youve changed #in so many ways and now ive just gotten bored w you #ill still rb things for them here and there but i just dont think about them all the time the way i used to rip i had so many pages of #notes about them and never really figured out a plot they were just fun little paper dolls 2 me

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cherryobx · 4 months ago

Text

Prom season

request: here

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: you tell your best friend Rafe no one's asked you to prom and he insists on taking you (because he's down bad)

warnings: language, insecurities about appearance and behavior, lovesick Rafe, angsty, oc side character

wc: 2.4k

“I seriously don’t know who to go with!” Emma groans, shoving a couple of fries in her mouth. “Like 4 people have asked me already and I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose.”

She’s been venting the whole lunch break about her prom struggles. She has 4 people to choose from and it’s her biggest dilemma to date. It’s all she’s been talking about the last couple of weeks. You wouldn’t mind it if it wasn’t for how she keeps rubbing it in your face that she’s got so many options while you haven’t got a single one. No one’s asked you. For a while you kept hoping that someone was going to ask. Maybe that guy in biology who keeps asking for your notes or that dude in your English class who you sometimes study in the library with. Or even your best friend, Rafe. But no one’s asked yet and now you’ve lost all hope. Prom’s soon, everyone who plans on going already has a date.

It’s always been like this. For as long as you can remember, all the guys have gone for your friends. Sometimes they make conversation with you first before asking for your friend’s number or if they’re single. Over the years it has affected your confidence and mental health more than you’d like to admit. Was it the way you looked? Were you awkward? Were you too tall or too short? You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why no one ever approached you like they approached your friends. You weren’t in any way lesser than them. So what was it?

You absentmindedly push your lunch around the plate with your fork, not really focusing on her constant chatter.

While Emma’s talking your ear off about the struggle of choosing a date, you’ve also got a dilemma brewing in your head. There’s no way you’re gonna go alone. That would be embarrassing, you think. That means you’re going to have to sit out prom entirely. But that also feels wrong. Prom is such a staple in every young person’s school experience and you know for certain that you’d feel shitty for missing out.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks as you hop into his car after school and throw your backpack in the backseat before buckling in. He has always been good at reading you, ever since you two became friends, best friends. He just knew by the way your shoulders were slumped and how you walked to his car that something had happened.

“Nothing.” You angle your knees towards the car door and stare out the window, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Talk to me,” he presses but you won’t budge.

“Just drive.”

He looks at you with a puzzled expression for a second before shaking his head, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the school parking lot.

He will find out what’s bothering you.

Rafe pulls up to your driveway. As soon as his car rolls to a stop, you’ve unbuckled yourself and grabbed your backpack. You exit the car swiftly and walk to the house without waiting for him.

This is bad, he thinks. Something is very wrong because you’re almost never this cold to him. He turns the ignition off, trying to figure out if he’s done something to upset you. If he did, he can’t recall it.

“Did I do something?” he barges into your room right after you, having caught up to you in the hallway. The door slams shut after him, the bang of it echoing through the house.

“What?” you turn to him after throwing your backpack on the ground next to the desk.

“You’re clearly mad at me and frankly I can’t figure out what I have done to deserve this treatment.”

“Not everything is about you, Rafe. I’m not mad at you but I’d like for you to go home.”

He shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around this. “So you are mad at me?”

“I just said I’m not! I just wanna be alone right now,” you groan in frustration and pinch the bridge of your nose. You didn’t mean to unleash all these pent up emotions on him and if he had left after dropping you off like planned, you wouldn’t have to have this conversation with him.

“You are! Clearly something is wrong and you refuse to talk about it. I’m not gonna leave things like this and just go home. That’s bullshit. You know me better than this.”

And then you snap. All of the negative emotions from the past couple of weeks take you over. “I still haven’t been asked to prom. And that makes me feel like shit, like a complete loser. Is that what you wanna hear?”

Rafe’s lips are sealed shut and he doesn’t know how to react.

“I’ve been feeling sorry for myself for weeks because no one seems to want anything to do with me. What is so wrong with me that absolutely no one wants to go to this stupid fucking prom with me? Emma got asked four times. Four fucking times! And I haven’t still gotten asked a single time. Not once! That was all I wanted. I wanted one person to ask me. Just one! And no one did. All of my friends have found their dates. I even bought the dress and I was so excited to wear it and now I won’t have the chance because no one thinks I’m worthy enough. Am I that invisible?”

Your emotions are all over the place and that tipped you over, you burst into tears. They’re streaming down your cheeks. It feels embarrassing to be crying in front of him. You’ve done it before, of course, but this feels different.

“Hey.” His voice is soft as he takes a step closer. He hesitates just for a second before wrapping his arms around you. One of his hands snakes around your waist and the other cradles the back of your head. He holds you against him as you sob into his t-shirt, fisting the fabric in your hands. But he doesn’t mind that one bit.

“You are not the problem. Not one bit. And absolutely nothing is wrong with you. It’s not your fault that everyone else is an idiot. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

“You’re just saying that,” you sniffle, voice weak and quiet, barely above a whisper.

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” You still don’t believe him. He’s your best friend. He’s supposed to say stuff like that.

A beat of silence passes before you speak up again. “No one ever chooses me. And it hurts, you know. Everyone always goes for my friends, sometimes using me in the process to get to them. It makes me feel like shit, Rafe. I feel so unwanted. And this prom thing is just making this feeling grow worse and I hate it. I don’t wanna feel like the last choice anymore. I’m tired.”

Rafe feels sorry for how you’ve been treated. And angry. How is it possible that you, the most wonderful, beautiful, and funny person he knows, has been enduring this and hurting in silence? Who has dared to make you feel like you’re not enough? How is it possible that you’ve never felt like anyone's first choice? You’re his first choice. You’re enough for him. He’d choose you every day if you’d let him. He wants to kill everyone who has ever made you feel bad about yourself. You haven’t deserved this in the slightest.

He’s not sure what he should do. He doesn’t know if he should confess how he’s been feeling for the past couple of years to show you that there is someone who’d put you first.

“I’ll take you to prom.”

You pull back a bit at his words, staring at him dumbfounded with your red puffy eyes. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? I’ll take you.” His fingers gently run through your hair. You don’t think he even acknowledges doing it.

“No.” You take a step back, out of his warm and comforting arms. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

Now it’s his turn to be dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected that to come out of your mouth. “What do you mean ‘no?’”

“I don’t want your pity, Rafe. I’m not letting you take me to prom just because you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you! I feel sorry for others because they can’t see what’s right in front of them. I want to take you to prom. I want you to get to wear that dress. I want you to have fun. I want you to not regret going years later. I want to make you happy. I would’ve asked you in a heartbeat if I had known that no one had taken up the opportunity to ask you. I was so sure you already had a date. I would’ve pulled out all the stops and given you the most embarrassing promposal ever.”

You feel your heart tighten in your chest at his words. His voice is pleading and he’s so desperate for you to hear what he’s actually saying.

“Why are you saying all that? I’m not some charity case. I’m not some problem for you to fix. No one asked me to prom, no one chose me, no one has ever asked me out, but that’s my burden to deal with.”

He furrows his brows. “That’s not what this is! I’m not trying to fix you or invite you to prom out of pity. I fucking love you! Why can’t you see that? I want to take you to prom because you want to go and I would do anything to make you happy.”

Your mind short circuits as your mouth hangs open as you just stand there. “You…love me?”

“Of course I fucking love you,” he states, like it’s obvious.

Rafe loves you. And you had no idea. You try to think back to all the moments when he’s gone above and beyond for you. All the moments you felt like he was trying something, all the gifts, all the compliments and the sleeping over almost every other night. Was that just him trying to show you he cared more than he let on? That he cared about you more than a best friend should?

“Me? Why?” You can’t believe it. This must be a dream because what the fuck.

“Why? Because I just do. I think you’re the most beautiful, amazing and caring person in the whole world and it pains me that you don’t see that. I love you because you’re always yourself around me. You’ve wormed yourself into my heart and my head and no matter how much or what I try I can’t get you out. You occupy my every waking thought and you won’t even leave me alone at night in my dreams. I think about you constantly and I feel almost sick when I’m not next to you. You are and have been my first choice for so long. I’d choose you in a room full of my family and closest friends without a second thought. I care about you more than anyone else in my life. And if I lose you after this confession I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. I don’t know if I can let you go. I don’t want to let you go. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same and despise me now. I’ll find it in my heart to accept that. But I won’t stop loving you. I refuse to do that. I don’t think I’m capable of not loving you.”

A tear falls from your eye and rolls down your cheek. Rafe reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb.

“Do you mean all that? You’re not fucking with me?” Rafe hears the insecurities speaking for you.

“I’d never, and I mean never, fuck with you about this. This is real, this is what I feel.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirms with a nod.

You take a step closer to him and hesitantly wrap your arms around his torso, placing your head against his chest so you’d hear his heartbeat and you feel it grounding you. You’re speechless and he can tell so he just holds you for a while. He did just drop a life-changing bomb on you.

“I love you too, you know.” Your voice is barely a whisper but it’s enough for him to hear. “I just never thought you’d feel the same.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and then keeps his lips there. He inhales the familiar scent that is just so uniquely yours and he can’t seem to get enough of it.

“Well, I do. Always will.”

You raise your head from his chest and look up at him. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can. I’ve known for years that I will always love you, doesn’t matter if we’re friends or together. My feelings for you will never change.”

One of his hands leaves your body and he extends his pinky towards you. It makes you laugh. Pinky promises have been your thing since forever. It’s childish but that’s how you always knew he meant what he said, that he intended to stay true to his word.

You wrap your pinky around his in a silent promise and Rafe doesn’t hesitate to lean down and press his lips against yours. Your pinkies are intertwined as you kiss him in your bedroom. A concept so wild you think you might pass out. You’re kissing Rafe Cameron. Rafe fucking Cameron. Your best friend. Yet it feels so right.

After a while he pulls away and his forehead rests against yours as you catch your breath. Your heart is racing with adrenaline and happiness. This is so surreal.

“So… prom?” he asks.

“I don’t care about that anymore.”

“Too bad, we’re going.”

And he stays true to his word. He picks you up at the agreed time. He makes sure you know that you’re absolutely gorgeous and that dress suits you so well. He opens doors for you and dances with you all night. He’s glued to your side the whole time and makes sure that this is the best goddamn prom in the history of proms. For you. He’d do anything for you.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #outer banks #obx #rafe outer banks #rafe obx

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naughtyneganjdm · 1 month ago

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Sharing Father and Son

Summary: After a physical hunt, you finally invite John Winchester into your bed, but you get more than you asked for when Dean comes back and gets involved.

Characters: John Winchester, Dean Winchester & reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59479396

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, female reader, threesome, double penetration, unprotected p in v, ass play, age gap, no use of Y/N, etc.

Notes: This is day 2 to go with this kinktober list. The prompt I used was double penetration. When I started this fic, Dean and John were winning the pool so that's why I chose this duo. Credit for the gifs @jdmorganz & @spacedean

In the darkness you laid waiting. A strange smell was coming from the heater that was barely blowing out any hot air, leaving you cuddling the comforter closer to your body. Today you had done something bold. Something you never thought you would have the strength to do. After going on a hunt with John that was very physical, you decided that you wanted to give yourself to him. So when John went to take a shower in the room that was connected to yours, you wrote him a note and left it on the table for him to find when he got back. You made sure to put the corner of the note under the bottle of whiskey so he would certainly see it. John always drank himself to sleep every night so you knew he wouldn’t miss it.

Lately, you had been spending a lot of alone time with John. Especially with Dean trying to prove himself to his father and him going off on his own for hunts. Sam was away at college and truthfully? You looked forward to it just being the two of you.

You were a fellow hunter that teamed up with John and Dean after a group of vampires killed your family. The boys had empathy for you being alone, so they taught you everything they knew and trained you. You were Dean’s age, but there was something about John that drew you to him. When Dean was around, you tried to hide your feelings for John. You didn’t want to make it weird since you were the same age as Dean. When you’d flirt with John, a lot of the time he’d flirt back. On the nights he had a few drinks in him, that’s when John’s confidence seemed to come out more. Maybe it was just because he was more relaxed, but the things he would say to you when the two of you were flirting would warm you to the core. Many nights you wished he would take you, but it often led to John falling asleep with a bottle of alcohol in his hand.

Tonight, you just wanted more. So you finally made it known.

After you left that note for John, you went back to your room leaving the connecting door between the two rooms unlocked. You stripped out of your clothes, turned the lights off and laid at the center of the bed.

Your note was very direct.

I want you. I’ll leave the door unlocked. I’ll be naked underneath the blankets.

It felt like things were taking too long. And that left you having second thoughts. Maybe John didn’t have those kind of feelings toward you. Maybe he would just flirt back with you not to make you feel bad about yourself. The longer you waited, the more you wondered if you should have just put your clothes back on and went to explain yourself to John.

Right as you went to pull the blankets back, the sound of the door pushing open was heard. Your blood rushed through your veins with excitement. Nothing was said. It was so dark in the room with the heavy curtains covering the windows that you couldn’t see him. You just heard him. That was something you were starting to regret.

The sound of something dropping to the floor was heard causing you to let out a nervous breath. There was a dip at the bottom of the bed and you felt the blankets being pulled up at the bottom. A cool rush of air surrounded you, but it was soon replaced by the warmth of a body crawling up the bed from the bottom.

Rough fingertips dragged across your ankle toward the inside of your leg. Immediately it drew chills through your body. With him coming in here? That meant he wanted you too. Tipping your head back into the pillows, you felt the warmth of breath hovering over you. A faint brush of lips was felt at your knee. The short stubble scratched at your flesh and you liked the way that it felt.

You wanted to speak, but he seemed determined on something else. Each kiss grew stronger as it led up over the inside of your thigh. There was a wetness that was left over your skin and you licked your lips. More than anything you wished you could watch him, but the idea that you couldn’t see seemed to enhance the sensation of his kisses over your flesh. So maybe this was a good thing.

Gasping, you felt arms hooking under your thighs to pull you down toward the center of the bed closer to him. The force his hands had on your flesh was strong and you were surprised how eager he seemed for this. Licking your lips, you lifted your head with the warmth of his breath lingering over your most personal parts. His right arm released one of your legs, pushing at your thigh to separate your legs enough for him to be able to bury his head between your thighs.

A few stray kisses were pressing further up the inside of your thigh until he found your core. Kiss after gentle kiss covered your folds with him taking his time. By the time his tongue dragged a strip out over the length of your sex, he had you trembling with anticipation. Focusing on the buildup was not something that you pictured John doing, but he was. When his tongue met your clit, it circled your sensitive bundle of nerves with soft circles at first. Growing in strength with each circle of his tongue led to him slurping at the small nub.

Moaning out, your hips lifted toward him wanting to feel more of that, but his left arm was still hooked around your other thigh keeping you locked in place. Stretching your arms up, you balled the material of the blanket in your fingers squeezing tightly. Each stroke of his tongue grew stronger focusing for a while on your clit until he turned his attention onto your folds sucking at them and giving them a small nibble.

Your breathing grew broken, your eyes slamming shut with him drawing a long line down from your clitoris to your entrance. Teasing at the tight hole had you whimpering out, your fingers squeezing even harder at the blankets. Prodding at your entrance with his tongue, he slurped and sucked before dragging the length of his tongue back up toward your clitoris to do the same dance with his tongue.

That’s where he focused for a while, his mouth working hard at the bundle of nerves. Switching from his mouth to his fingers to circle it with a bit of pressure. He was working to get you to an orgasm first and you appreciated it. You were enjoying what he was doing very much and you were letting him know with the sounds he was drawing out from you.

Crying out, your hips were rocking into his movements with your thighs twitching. You were right on the edge of your orgasm and he could tell by the way you were breathing. The strength of his tongue grew with him burying his head further between your thighs. It didn’t take long before you were shuddering beneath him, your thighs tremoring from what he had done to you.

Releasing the blanket, you licked your lips and tried to catch your breath. Fuck. That was good. Soon he was kissing up the lengths of your body. Over your abdomen, between your breasts and then over the side of your neck. Bracing his weight over your body, you felt the warmth of his breath lingering over your lips and you leaned up toward him wanting him to kiss you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” the familiar voice breathed against your lips causing your body to immediately tense up. You knew that voice, but the only problem? That wasn’t John Winchester.

“Dean?” you blurt out his name hearing the confused breath that followed.

“Yeah?” Dean’s raspy voice replied back. Involuntarily, without thinking, you immediately pushed into the center of his chest shoving him back. Scrambling for the light, you flicked it on and when you met the green-eyed stare of John’s son you let out a small scream. It had Dean jumping up from the bed, standing beside it. He was shirtless only wearing his jeans that were hanging low at his hips. The room was spinning around you as you buried your face in your hands. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s going on?” the door swung open with John soaked standing in the doorway clinging tightly to the worn-down white towel that he had grabbed from the bathroom. Coming to a quick halt, John’s eyes fell upon your bare breasts that were revealed with the blanket hanging at your waist and color flooded into his face. “Oh, wow…”

Tugging the blanket up, you covered yourself wishing that the world would just open up and swallow you whole. Lifting your stare, you saw that John was looking to Dean expecting some kind of answer. Dean threw his hands up in the air, his jaw flexing in panic. Having a nearly naked John soaking wet, only holding the towel that he had grabbed together with his hand and a shirtless Dean in your room made you feel lightheaded.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on, or…?” John finally spoke up, reaching up to brush his fingers through his wet hair to slick it back.

“I got the note you left for me,” Dean explained pulling the note you left for John out of his back pocket. Holding it up, it had John’s eyes narrowing trying to read what it said. “I don’t understand, why did you just scream?”

“Damn it,” you scoffed under your breath hating that you were being put in this position. “I didn’t leave that note for you, I left it for him.”

Pointing to John had Dean’s face going completely pale, his eyes growing wide as he looked to John, “Him? My dad?”

“I didn’t even know you were going to be back today Dean,” you claimed with guilt eating away at you over what just happened. John stepped forward to snatch the note from Dean’s fingers to read it. A raspy laugh fell from John’s lips that he tried to hide by biting down on his bottom lip. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” John confessed with a wrinkle of his nose looking between the two of you. “Come on, I thought it could be something bad. Demons. Vampires. Something else. This? This is at least a little amusing.”

“It’s not,” Dean snapped, his chest rising and falling heavily. By his reaction, he was offended that the note you left was for his father and not him. “I thought dad told you that I was coming back tonight and you missed me.”

“I mean, I missed you, but…” your eyes lingered back to John, your stare dropping down to the top of his towel making your mouth go dry. “It was meant for him.”

“You…you want to be with my dad?” Dean blurt out, his face scrunching up in disgust looking between you and John. You were embarrassed, but at the same time your body was still euphoric off the orgasm that Dean had got you to before everything fell to shit. “But, you’re my age.”

“I know,” you whispered noticing that John was really quiet in the moment. His hazel eyes were shifting as if he was contemplating things. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were attracted to me. We kissed several times,” Dean reminded you of your past together with the years that you spent alone. “I’ve been crushing on you this whole time and I thought you were playing hard to get. I thought the time away from me…”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” John interrupted Dean, holding his finger up to silence his son. “We can actually make a very good thing happen from this.”

“How?” Dean panted, his hands resting at his hips while he tried to catch his breath. “I just found out the woman that I’m jonesing for wants to fuck my dad. I can’t imagine how weird that is for you since she’s my age.”

“Well…” John paused to think about what to say next, his eyes fixating on you again. “I wouldn’t have turned her down if I found the note first Dean.”

“Come again?” Dean threw his head about dramatically with John sucking at his bottom lip. “The two of you…you want to…?”

“I do,” John admitted with a grunt, carefully closing the door behind him. Switching on the main light, John cleared his throat and waved his hand about in the air. “So you want me?”

You nodded.

“What about mom?” Dean stammered to find words, his eyebrows furrowed with John muttering something under his breath.

“Your mom is dead, Dean. I will love her until the day I die and I will do everything to avenge her, but…” John let his words linger, his head tipping from side to side. “I am a man…and she’s a beautiful woman. We all have needs.”

It went silent in the room. Dean didn’t know how to handle that. But you were thankful John was fighting for this.

“How about a two for one deal?” John reasoned having Dean let out an overwhelmed exhale. “You obviously have some kind of attraction for Dean. Would you be against having both of us?”

“Dad?” Dean tried to get his father’s attention with John holding his hand up to silence Dean.

“I mean…” you started, taking a look between both of them. Dean was breathing heavily, undoubtedly worked up and confused. After what Dean had just done to you, he proved that he was ultimately talented with his mouth. That was the honest to god truth. “I wouldn’t say no. It’s Dean that I would worry about.”

“You like the girl, right?” John commented, stepping further into the room, shrugging his broad shoulders. “This way you get to be with her. We both do.”

“Yeah, but you’re my dad,” Dean stressed, his eyes narrowing and he dramatically bobbed his head about. “That’s…that’s kind of weird.”

“It’s bonding,” John came up with the first thing he could think of and it made you smile. John was trying to come up with an idea to make this work for everyone and honestly? You didn’t hate it. “It’s a father and a son sharing…”

Swallowing down hard, John moved over to the side of the bed lowering down on it. Extending his hand out, he grabbed the blankets and pulled it down over your body letting the blanket rest at your hips. Your naked upper half was on display and you were okay with it.

Stretching out his long fingers, John palmed in over your abdomen. Dragging it up over your breast, he cupped it firmly in his large hand and it had Dean’s cheeks flushing over with color, “If you want to leave, you’re welcome to, but I think you’d be missing out.”

Giving his son a final glance, John turned toward you, using his free hand to curl his finger in underneath your chin to get you to raise your head up. Claiming your lips in a forceful kiss took your breath away. Your eyes came to a slow close with the way he took you in that moment. You had always wanted to kiss John, but never had the guts to do it. Now with his lips caressing over yours, you were eagerly kissing him back enjoying the taste of him. Surprised, you felt his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to brush against yours and you lifted your hand to hook your fingers into his wet hair.

“Good girl,” John growled when his lips pulled away from yours, capturing your jaw between his thumb and index fingers. Stealing a quick look back at Dean, John knew that by the expression over his son’s face he was lost in contemplation. “If this weirds you out too much, you’re welcome to leave.”

In that moment, John’s hand lowered with his thumb circling over your nipple causing it to grow into a hard bud. He was so nonchalant about the way he was doing things. It had Dean’s eyes following the movement with his lips parting.

After taking a minute to consider, Dean’s hands rested at his hips and he nodded, “You would want both of us? And you’re okay with that?”

“I am,” you admitted right as John lowered down again to start covering the side of your neck with wet kisses. His left hand wrapped around your throat in a possessive grasp eliciting a hiss from you, but you liked the way that it felt.

With a nod, Dean moved across the room and sat at the other side of you opposite of John. Matching his father’s motions, Dean’s lips pressed in over your jawline pampering your flesh with wet kisses. The grasp John’s hand had on your throat grew stronger having you suck in a sharp breath. A moment later, he was standing up from the bed and Dean stole a quick kiss from your lips. The taste of you still lingered over his lips making you hum.

“Alright sweetheart,” John breathed out, curling his finger in underneath your chin to get you to turn your head toward him. Releasing the grasp he had on the towel had it fall to his feet in a thud allowing his body to be exposed to you. With John still being wet from his shower, the dark curls of hair over his body enhanced the lines of every inch of him. John’s girthy uncut cock was semi-erect and it was big. He also had a nice set of testicles on him too. It took your breath away seeing it. By the look on John’s face you knew he was waiting for you to pleasure him. You could tell by the expecting look in his hazel eyes. Grabbing a hold of the base, John wiggled it a bit bringing your attention to it. “Go ahead.”

With a smirk you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, throwing your legs over the side. Stepping closer, John allowed you to press lingering kisses at his hips. It had his head tipping back, his long eyelashes fluttering to a close. Nibbling at the soft flesh just under his navel had him releasing an intoxicating growl that spread chills throughout your body.

Shakily reaching up, your fingers curled loosely around John’s manhood giving it a few small strokes. At that moment, you felt the warmth of Dean moving in behind you. A tender caress at your shoulders was felt before he started pampering your flesh with hot, wet kisses. Stepping closer to the bed, John lifted his cock up to your lips dragging it across your lips.

“Be a good girl and open your mouth,” John ordered and you did as he said. Wrapping your lips around John’s cock had him humming out with his fingers sinking into your hair. With flicks of your tongue, you lapped at John’s body enjoying how he seemed to grow harder in your mouth. Purring out against John’s flesh had him moaning out when you felt Dean’s hands drag across the length of your breasts. Dean’s hands were everywhere, touching you and caressing you in attempts to sooth you and make you comfortable. Pulling your lips away from John’s body, you took your time to sheath him in your grasp teasing the flesh back and forth over his growing erection. His hazel eyes watched you closely with you leaning in to kiss at the tip of his cock, sweeping your tongue around the sensitive underside. “That’s it.”

Purring out, you felt Dean’s hand reaching between your thigh to caress over your mound. The sound vibrated against John’s body having him involuntarily arching forward toward you. Dean left tiny nibbles at your shoulder and John led you back toward his arousal. Hooking his fingers around the back of your head helped in leading you to take his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. It was hard to take at first, a slight gagging sound falling from your throat with John groaning out. Thrusting his hips toward your throat had his cock pulling back and pushing forward toward the back of your throat. Wet, slurping sounds were filling the air and John’s manhood was growing harder with every move he made.

“That’s good,” John hummed, pulling you away from his cock by grasping your hair and tugging you back. Stroking his erection in his palm drew attention to the tip and you held your tongue out eliciting a smile from John. Tapping his length against your tongue had an amused rumble of a sound escaping him. Dean’s fingers were working furiously between your thighs and greedily you were rocking your hips against his movements. Dragging your tongue across the slit of John’s manhood left you with the taste of him and you licked your lips. “Dean, get up.”

Snapping his fingers, John pointed to the area beside him. Doing as he was told had you panting out, yearning to be touched again with your hips twitching and your body aching at the loss of friction. Whimpering, John’s firm grasp returned with him getting you to tip your head back. A demanding, breath-taking kiss was stolen from your lips and it had you caressing up over the back of his neck, sinking your fingers into his thick locks. The way his tongue caressed over yours made it feel like the room was spinning around you. As soon as Dean stepped before you, John took his time pulling back, giving your bottom lip a tiny tug and then he dragged his tongue out over the inside of your bottom lip.

Licking his lips when he pulled away, John dragged his thumb over his bottom lip. There was still discomfort in Dean’s features when you looked to him. Undoubtedly this was the first time that he had a threesome with his father and you pictured that’d be uncomfortable for anyone. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw John stroking over his length in sluggish movements. Between the two of them, there were a lot of similarities, but also a lot of differences. John had a lot more hair on his body, whereas Dean was mostly smooth.

Grasping to the loops on Dean’s jeans, you tugged him forward eliciting a gasp from him. Stumbling toward you, Dean swept his fingers in over the side of your face drawing you to close your eyes. Turning your head toward his touch left you appreciating the gentleness of Dean. Kissing at his pulse point took Dean’s breath away and he shuddered. There was a big difference between John and Dean already. John was dirty in the best of ways, but Dean appeared to be more innocent. Then again, did an innocent man really have that kind of talent when going down on someone?

Unhooking the belt in Dean’s pants, you felt a breath catch in your throat with John lowering down beside you on the bed. John was sweeping your hair from your neck, his mouth covering the side of your neck with you pulling apart Dean’s pants. Licking his lips, Dean traced his thumb in over your bottom lip collecting the wetness at your lips. Allowing him to push his thumb into your mouth, you looked up at him with big eyes enjoying the way that it felt between the two of them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dean commented, his green eyes locked on your movements while you sucked at the tip.

“Fucking gorgeous,” John agreed, his large palm pressing between your thighs causing your eyes to flutter to a close. Shifting your hips forward and opening your thighs gave room for John to caress and touch you as he pleased.

Parting the material of Dean’s jeans, you tried to focus yourself. Sliding your hands down over his hips, you grabbed at his jeans tugging them down firmly. The movement had Dean’s hard cock bouncing free from behind the confinements. Unlike John, Dean was already rock solid with his erection throbbing. Which honestly made since after everything the two of you had already gone through before John showed up. Like his father, he was uncut and big. Not as thick as John, but still impressive. It visibly ran in the family.

The way it bobbed in front of you had your mouth watering. Like you had done with John, you curled your fingers around Dean’s length, stroking it while you peppered his hips with wet kisses. Gasping, you felt your body being pulled forward toward the edge of the bed. It had you falling back on your elbows. John had lowered himself between your thighs and Dean had knelt on the corner of the bed to make it easier for him to trace the tip of his cock over your lips. Drawing your mouth open further, you allowed Dean to press his hips forward to sink his cock between your lips. Dragging your tongue along the smooth length of his cock had Dean dropping his head back and moaning out.

John now had situated himself between your legs, his rough palms caressing over the fleshy part of your thighs. It was hard to focus with John’s kisses growing closer to your core, but you did your best to stroke over Dean’s body at the same pace that your mouth was moving over his length. By the time that John’s mouth met your center, it was easy to tell that he was much rougher than Dean was. Closing your eyes, you hummed against Dean’s cock getting him to shudder on his knees before you. Bracing himself with his free hand on the bed, Dean lowered just enough to help start thrusting his hips forward drawing his cock further into your throat.

Wet slurping sounds surrounded the both of you between John eating you out and you giving Dean a blowjob. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John shaking his head from side to side. Pulling back every so often to lick his lips. John was feasting on you like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Growls were escaping his throat, his tongue lapping at your entrance having you crying out.

One of John’s long, slender digits circled your entrance before pushing forward into your warmth. Cooing out, you watched John pumping his finger inside of you at a steady tempo. Joining the first, John inserted a second finger rubbing them up against your g-spot. Dropping his head back between your thighs, John’s lips latched to your clit, slurping and suckling at the sensitive bud.

“Rest back,” Dean urged you getting you to lay back against the bed. Bracing his hands on the bed, Dean used his right hand to urge his cock back to your lips. Opening up, you knew you were shaking with what John was building up inside of you. Sinking his member back into your mouth had Dean moaning out at the heat that surrounded him. Being careful at first, Dean was thrusting his hips working to fuck your throat while John pleasured you.

It was hard to breathe, but you were doing your best with your hands squeezing up and over Dean’s hips. Tremoring, you began to realize the pressure that John was flooding you with. The pit of your belly was tingling, your hips arching up toward every caress of his tongue. Moaning out sent vibrations throughout Dean’s body with his cock down your throat. A wet sound filled the air with a growl from John having you pulling your hips up and away from him. Pushing into Dean’s hip gave him the hint he needed to let you have a minute with you rolling onto your side. Your body was shaking, your thighs twitching and your eyes slammed close.

“Oh, she’s gonna be fun,” John stammered, getting up from the bed and reaching for you. Moving you to the center of the bed, John gave Dean a quick look and cleared his throat. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Yeah?” Dean confirmed with John who gave him a confident nod. Crawling in over you, Dean attempted to get you to open your eyes. Whimpering out, your breathing was broken and your body was still high off of what John had done to you. “Look at me beautiful.”

Forcing your eyes open, your heart skipped a beat at the way that Dean was looking at you. Even though this whole thing was meant for John, you weren’t really losing out in getting Dean either. He was gorgeous and the way he looked at you took your breath away.

“I’m gonna go grab something,” John announced pointing back toward the door that connected your rooms together. There was a kick to his step, but before you could say anything to beckon him back, Dean’s hand palmed in over the side of your face getting your eyes to connect with his.

This was never a way you pictured yourself with Dean. Yeah, the two of you had kissed in heat of the moment situations or when you were both drunk, but you never saw it going any further than that. But now with the warmth of Dean’s naked body over yours, you realized that this was actually happening.

Bracing himself on his left hand, Dean allowed his hand to trace down over your side, down over your hip and to your thigh. Chills flooded your body with the way it felt, your breath catching in your throat with the way he looked at you. It was safe to say that you were looking at Dean in a completely new light.

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamt of doing this,” Dean breathed, his words vibrating against your lips with you arching up toward him wanting him to kiss you. An arrogant smirk tugged at his lips and it was a smile that you had seen so many times before on John. Bringing your lips together in a heated sweep, Dean reached between the two of you leading himself to your entrance. With a push forward of his hips, the tip entered you causing you to moan out and drop your head back into the pillows further. Dean’s lips found their way to your jawline, peppering your skin with wet kisses that felt incredible.

Dean’s forehead pressed forward against yours, pushing forward agonizingly slow until he filled you completely. It had your hips arching up toward his, your body trembling at the way it felt with him inside of you. Your lips were agape, your fingers caressing into Dean’s shoulders until his hips pulled back. Each movement was dragged out with Dean thrusting forward and then back. Everything was brand new so you felt like Dean was taking his time to cherish the way your warmth felt around him. Footsteps were heard and you clung to Dean, looking beyond the bed to see that John was returning to the room. Setting down what he had grabbed on the corner table, John smirked seeing you biting down on your bottom lip as Dean’s movements grew faster. Sharp breaths were falling from your throat, your eyes locked on John’s while his son fucked you. Dropping his hand down, John curled his fingers around his swollen erection sheathing the skin in his fist as he jerked himself off.

With your eyes still locked on John, you kissed at the side of Dean’s face moaning in his ear as his thrusts became more pronounced with his hips smacking up against yours.

“Alright Dean, don’t be greedy,” John slurred, moving over beside the bed to hint to Dean that it was time to switch up. With a frown, Dean pulled his hips away from yours leaving you with a whimpering sound. It didn’t take long for John to reach for you, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Positioning himself between your thighs, he got on his knees at the edge of the bed hooking his arms under your knees to pull your legs up over his thighs. “You’ve been a real tease, you know that?”

Licking your lips, you lowered your stare to watch John grabbing a hold of his erection, tapping the swollen tip against your clit. Purring out, you arched your hips up toward John hearing him hum in appreciation. Tracing his cock over the length of your sex, John took his time to admire your body stretched out before him. Lining his body up with your entrance had you sucking in a sharp breath of air. With a firm smack forward, John thrust inside of you with a wet sound. Unlike Dean who took his time, John forced you to take all of him. Whining out, your body arched at the stretching feeling his thick cock left you with.

“Now that’s a beautiful sight,” John hummed, licking his lips at the way his cock looked inside of you. Pulling his hips back dragged out his girthy cock just to the tip. Hooking his arms tightly around your thighs, John smacked forward again. It had your breasts bouncing with the force, your cries flooding the air. Repeating the motion again and again, John kept his right arm hooked firmly around your thigh while the left outstretched to cup one of your breasts in his large palm. Circling his thumb in over the nipple, with his head tipping back.

“Does that feel good?” Dean whispered, the warmth of him pressing in beside you and you felt his lips kissing at your jawline. Nodding, you couldn’t form words. You just turned your head to the side and met Dean in another hot, lingering kiss. John’s thrusts seem to grow stronger having you wince against Dean’s mouth. Dropping his right hand, Dean’s fingers connected with your clit trying to match the pace his father’s hips were making. Cooing out, you bit at Dean’s bottom lip giving it a firm tug enjoying the moan that you got from Dean.

“I have an idea,” John announced, pulling his body from yours swiftly leaving you with the worst empty, aching feeling that you could imagine. Breathing loudly, your heart was hammering in your chest while Dean’s fingers continue to caress over your sensitive folds. Heading to the table to grab what he had brought in, John waved his finger about and nodded toward the bed. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Doing as you were told, which you often did when John gave you an order, you shakily pulled yourself up. It was harder than you thought it would be with the way your body was tremoring. Bracing yourself, you looked over your shoulder when you felt someone palming down between your shoulder blades over the length of your spine. It was John who was gazing over your body. His erection bounced with his movement when he palmed down over your hips to give them a firm squeeze.

With John behind you, Dean worked himself before you to lower himself down on the bed. Motioning you to lower down, Dean curled his fingers around the back of your neck and led your mouth back to his length. This time you took him eagerly between your lips, working to bob your head in steady movements over his manhood.

“You have such a beautiful ass,” John growled, his hands squeezing at your fleshy bottom. Giving it a firm spank had you moaning against Dean’s cock and his head dropped back with a throaty groan. Another spank had your hips bouncing forward and then back against John. The sensation of his cock pressing against your bottom was there as he palmed and squeezed at your flesh once more. Pulling your lips from Dean’s arousal with a wet popping sound, you purred out with John kissing at your lower back and his hands caressing at your thighs. Lowering down behind you, John squeezed at your fleshy bottom, separating the flesh so he could drag his tongue in a long strip along the length of your sex. Focusing on your entrance, John’s tongue flicked, plunged and he slurped at your flesh. Kissing at the tip of Dean’s cock, you tried to focus on continuing to give him a blowjob but you felt John’s tongue drag out against your tight pucker and it made you whimper. Looking back, you saw John pushing apart your cheeks while his tongue focused on your ass eliciting a whine from you. It was a strange sensation that you had never done before, but you didn’t hate it. It had your body tremoring, your hips bouncing back toward him with a growl from John vibrating against your body. Pulling back, John spit causing your hips to bounce forward before he went back to eagerly feasting at your body. Standing up, John yanked your hips back and sank into you again with his thumb circling your tight pucker. Trembling beneath him, your head lowered resting against Dean’s hip with the loud smacking sounds that John’s thrusts were causing. “Do you think you can take the both of us.”

“You mean…” you cooed out with John’s thumb pushing it’s way into the ring of muscle of your tight canal while he continued to pound into your pussy leaving you a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” John rumbled proudly, sucking in a sharp breath with how good it felt with the warmth of your body surrounding him. By the sounds you were making and the way you were tremoring, it was obvious that you were nearing another orgasm. Right when he got you to the edge, he pulled from your body eliciting an upset whine. “Lay down on your side. Dean, get her comfortable.”

Helping you to roll over onto your side, Dean laid in beside you urging your leg up over his hip. Pressing in closely, Dean reached between the two of you to lead his cock back into your eager body. Arching in closer to Dean, you were still riding off the high of John almost getting you to another orgasm only to keep you from it. Dean’s heavy breaths were warm against your lips while the two of you shared kisses with the bed dipping behind you.

The heat of John’s body moving in behind you had your forehead pressing to Dean’s. Licking at his lips, Dean’s fingers swept over your jawline having you turn your head toward his hand to press a kiss at the center of his palm.

Tender caresses were felt over your fleshy bottom and it surprised you since John had been rather forceful with the way he had done things previously. Looking back over your shoulder, you met John in a passionate kiss. Sliding in closer to you, John reached for the bottle of lube that he had grabbed earlier. Popping open the lid had your heart hammering inside of your chest. Dean’s movements had slowed with his hands dropping to your hips to keep you steady.

“Dean,” you panted, your body aching with the way he was stagnant inside of you. Your body wanted that movement, it needed it. Forcing you forward toward Dean, John’s hands braced at the small of your back. Arching your back, you felt the cool liquid pouring down in over your flesh and closed your eyes tightly when John’s fingers started to stroke and prod over your tight pucker. Wincing, you buried your head against the side of Dean’s neck, panting when John’s fingers entered you. Thrusting again and again to prepare you for what undoubtedly you weren’t ready for.

When John’s fingers pulled from your body, you whined and John hushed you from behind. Again he reached for the bottle to coat his thick cock in the slick fluid. Pressing his hips forward, John brought your bodies together with all of your legs tangling with how you were sandwiched between both him and Dean.

“You’re such a good girl,” John growled, nipping at your jawline giving your chin a small bite. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, you tensed up with the swollen tip of John’s cock at your tight hole. Bouncing your hips up had Dean moaning out and his grasp on your hips grew tighter. “Hey, relax. I would never hurt you. Ever.”

“I know,” you tried to relax yourself, lowering your hips back down. Caressing down over your arm, John’s left hand found yours. Hooking his fingers with yours, he used his right hand to lead himself into your tight opening. A deep rumble of a growl fell from John’s throat as the tip of his cock pushed through the tight ring of muscle. It had you clutching tightly to Dean who whispered calming words in your ear while he pressed kisses against your skin. “John.”

“I know,” John hushed, a raspy moan rumbling against the back of your neck from where he was nuzzling his nose. Reaching back, you grasped a hold of John’s thigh, your fingers digging into his flesh. Using his strength, he pushed forward further having you let out a pained sound. “Do you need me to stop?”

“No,” you realized that your fingers were digging so hard into his skin that he might have thought you needed to. “Just give me a minute…”

“No problem,” John whispered, his hand lifting up to curl his fingers around your throat. Closing your eyes, you appreciated the way that Dean’s lips covered yours. Soon as you were relaxed, you gave John the nod to continue to fill you. The stretch between the two of them was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You had never felt this full before and it was a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Let us know when you’re okay.”

“You can go ahead,” you confirmed for them, swallowing hard bringing more attention to the grasp that was over your throat. Whimpering, you didn’t expect this to feel like it did, but you didn’t hate it. Their movements were uneven at first. Dean faster because you were already used to him inside of you, but John was slower, trying to work you into being comfortable. By the time their tempos matched, it left you a panting mess between them. Their hands were everywhere, touching you and making you theirs. Dean’s moans were short often with his nose buried against the side of your neck and John’s were loud, raspy against the back of your neck or on your shoulder.

The sounds coming from the both of them turned you on more than you could ever imagine. Which honestly probably helped you enjoy this all the more. Lowering your hand, you curled it around John and urged his movements to be harder.

“Are you okay?” Dean whispered, drawing your attention to him by grasping at your chin. With a nod, you knew that you were breathless and you could hardly gather your words. Dean’s mouth claimed yours again, his tongue brushing against yours.

With how paper think these walls were, you hoped that no one was on the other side because none of you were being quiet. The headboard was smacking up against the wall, moans flooding the air. By now your hips were eagerly rocking back between Dean and John taking them in and out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” John slurred against the side of your face, his grasp growing tighter to your hips. With how hard he was grasping to your flesh, you wondered if it would leave a mark. Pulling your hand forward, you hooked your fingers with John’s. Nipping at your earlobe, John gave it a small tug before whispering in your ear. “You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

“Please…” you panted knowing that you were still riding that line of being right on the edge of an orgasm. Realizing what it was you were looking for, Dean started to bounce his hips harder against you. It had you rocking back harder toward John so every pull and push of their cocks was not only harder, but faster inside of you.

The smacking of John’s lower abdomen against your ass grew louder until he roared out, pulling out of you and you felt the splashes of his cum covering your ass along with your lower back. Kiss after forceful kissed was pressed at your neck with Dean pulling you closer to him. He was desperate to get you a release as well as himself. Sinking your fingers into his hair, you purred out and tossed your head back when a rush flooded to your temples. Covering your lips with his, Dean’s moans became more frequent with him pulling his hips back and thrusting his hand over his length until he covered your lower abdomen with his release.

Dropping down beside you, the three of you laid out at the center of that bed trying to catch your breath. John’s arm possessively wrapped around your waist with Dean’s arm stretched out across your shoulders. For a long time, you were all quiet. Saying nothing because what else was there to say? You were all riding off the high of your orgasms.

“It’s going to be weird from here on out, isn’t it?” Dean lifted his head, his messy hair in his eyes while he looked you over.

“Only if you let it be,” John snorted, turning his face further into his pillow with a huff. “Don’t ruin a good thing Dean. Shut up.”

An involuntary laugh fell from your lips. It got you a glare from Dean, but you were impressed that John wasn’t going to let this change anything. You didn’t want anything to change. The only thing that maybe you hoped would possibly change was getting to sleep with them on occasion. Other than that? This was the perfect scenario for you and you loved it.

----

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wintfleur · 8 months ago

Note

so stella is anemic, what if one of her brothers finds her passed out bc of it

౨ৎ passing out spells and a misinformed quinny

°. — pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X brother! Quinn Hughes )

°. — details ( g; i honestly don’t know. w; Stella passing out, I think that’s all. wc; 1.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( thank you so much for requesting !!! So sorry that it took so long to get out, I’ve never written something like this before so I hope the passing out scene isn’t to cringe. I hope you guys enjoy it, please don’t be a silent reader !!! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

Stella loved how peaceful early mornings were at her brother's lake house, especially when she had the house to herself. Luke was staying with some friends for the weekend, Jack was out doing God knows what, and Quinn decided to wake up early and go to a rink close by to do some laps. After making sure Stella was okay with being home alone, she was having a rough week, her energy was low, and she was basically napping and relaxing all week.

Stella was curled up on the couch watching Gilmore girls and eating, well more like picking at some cherries when Quinn kissed her forehead and said he would be back soon. Shouting out a ‘i love you’ before he left. Stella mumbled back an i love you as her tired eyes were focused on the big tv, watching as dean and Rory argue for what felt like the 10th time this episode.

She was currently rewatching the show with Luke, so she was stuck rewatching the earlier episodes since Luke was adamant of them watching it together. Stella yawned and brought the blanket she was cuddled up in up to her shoulders, she honestly wasn't sure whose blanket it was, it was already on the couch.

Stella watched 3 more episodes of Gilmore girls before she started to get stir crazy and hot under the blanket. She pushed the blanket off her legs and sat up from laying down, she searched for the remote and paused the tv in the middle of the theme song. She blinked a few times and let out a heavy breath, starting to feel a little nauseous. Maybe it was the smell of cherries? She thought as she looked down at the bowl filled with cherries on the coffee table.

Stella always got really nauseous whenever she was on her period, like now. She grabbed the bowl and got up from the couch, too quickly as she saw white spots in her vision. Stella ignored the nausea and the dizzy feeling she was used to and slowly walked out of the living room and into the kitchen to put the cherries in the fridge.

She held onto the corner of the island counter after she put away the cherries, the dizzy feeling was much worse and the pounding in the back of her head became unbearable. Stella winced at the pounding in her head, closing her eyes and hoping that it would help. She felt that familiar fear of passing out, she slowly walked back into the living room, her legs and hands trembling.

She grabbed onto the edge of the couch as she tried to lean against it, but she felt her knees become weak and her grip on the couch slip, her eyes roll back as she collapses on the living room floor with a thump. The last thing on her mind was that she was alone.

Quinn hums along to the song playing on the radio channel Stella had put on the last time she was in the car with him, he wasn't sure what the song was, but he had heard Stella listen to it many times. His car would almost always turn into Stella's whenever they were together, her things in the backseat, her ChapStick or lip glosses in the cup holders. He wasn't complaining though, he missed it when he was away.

He drove into the driveway and shut off his car, sliding his keys into his pocket and grabbing the cherry ChapStick in the cupholder that he remembered Stella complained to Cole about her losing it. He slid it into his pocket before getting out of the car and going to the trunk to grab his hockey bag. He gets his keys out his pocket and locks the car as he walks up to the front door and unlocks the door, a sigh of relief leaving his lips now that he's home.

Quinn closes the door behind him and drops his hockey bag near the front door, tossing his keys on the island counter in the kitchen. He was confused when he didn't hear the sound of the tv, but then again maybe she went up to her room. “Stella, I'm home!” Quinn shouts out and he gets no answer, he knows she could be sleeping but he got a weird feeling in his chest that something was wrong.

Quinn set the water bottle he pulled out of the fridge on the counter and made his way out of the kitchen and into the living room. Quinn's eyes drop to the floor of the living room and his eyes widen in fear and worry when he sees his sister's heart patterned socks peeking out from in front of the couch. Quinn quickly made his way around the crouch, and he dropped to his knees at Stella's side when he saw her unconscious on the ground.

“Stella? Estella, can you hear me?” Quinn frantically spoke loudly, his tone filled with worry as he quickly but gently rolled Stella to lay on her back, one of his hands on the back of his littles sister's head as he tilted it back to clear her airways. His heart was almost beating out of his chest as he tried to remember all the steps of helping someone who's unconscious.

He turned his body to reach and grab a pillow off the couch to put under Stella's legs but quickly turns back to his little sister when he hears the weak groan leaving her pale pink lips. Quinn brought his hands to cup stella’s face, gently forcing her to open her eyes as he rubbed his thumbs on her cheeks “Hey, hey stella can you hear me ⸺ c’mon open your eyes.”

“Oww” Stella sleepily whined out as she gained full consciousness. She was confused, she had no idea what was going on or what happened. All she knew was that her head was killing her, and her ass was numb. Stella slowly fluttered her eyes open, a wince leaving her lips at the bright light of the living room. Stella blinked a few times trying to get used to the light, Stella's hand gripped onto the fur of the rug, and she tried to flatten her palm to lift herself up from the uncomfortable floor.

“Not so fast, it's okay just lay back down” Quinn spoke softly as he grabbed a pillow from the couch and slipped it under her head so she could rest it comfortably. Quinn kept his eyes on his little sister, they were still filled with worry. Stella groans and rests her head on the pillow looking up at her brother as she whispers, “What happened?”

“Looks like you passed out ⸺ when were you gonna tell me you could do that hmm?” Quinn jokes with a weak smile, knowing that Stella would panic the more she thought of it. Stella sniffles and tries to smile at her brother's attempt to make her feel better, she was starting to remember what had happened. She replied quietly “Thought I’d surprise ya”

“Consider me surprised” Quinn sighed, he gently moved some of Stella's hair out of her face before he stood up. “Don't move okay, I'm going to get your iron pills and something for you to drink.”

Stella weakly nodded and watched as her big brother rushed into the kitchen. Stella waited for a few moments before she tried again to sit up, this time she was much more successful. Stella groaned quietly as she slowly stood up and sat on the couch, pulling the blanket over her lap and closing her eyes. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Stella chanted in her head as she did her breathing exercise, hoping that it would help with the pounding in her head.

“I told you not to move ⸺ they say you have to lay down for 10 minutes” Quinn groaned as he walked into the living room to see stella snuggled up on the couch, of course she didn't listen to him. ‘They’ being the internet. Quinn had scoured the internet for as much information he could get about Stella's anemia and what to do if she passed out when she was diagnosed.

“They also say you shouldn't put a pillow under someone's head after they pass out” Stella says matter-of-factly as she looks up at her brother who was holding out a cold glass of orange juice, the other hand holding two iron pills.

“What? ⸺ and you're just telling me this now?” Quinn gaped as Stella took the glass and pills into her hands. Stella rolled her eyes and swallowed the two pills with a big mouthful of orange juice. She looks up at her brother who was giving her an unimpressed look, he took her health and safety very seriously. Stella gave him an innocent smile and just simply shrugged “It was a really comfy pillow.”

“Where are you going?” Stella questioned him as he shook his head in disbelief and turned around to walk out of the living room, his hands on his hips as he dramatically walked out. All of her brothers were so damn dramatic . . . but so was she. She hears Quinn shout his answer from the kitchen and the sound of him unzipping his bag for his phone “Going to call mom and tell her you haven't been taking your pills.”

“They also say you shouldn't put me through any stress or yell at me” Stella shouted back with a playful smile, she took another sip from the glass while she picked up the remote and started looking for something new to watch. Already feeling much better.

“Now you're just making shit up!” Quinn shouted back with a roll of his eyes, knowing that his little sister was just teasing him. Quinn paused his movement of searching up their moms contact when he heard the faint sound of her laughter, a smile coming across his lips when he heard her sassily shout a reply.

“It's completely true and reasonable!”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( THIS. IS. SO. BAD. IM. GONNA. SCREAM. 😄 )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @prettyboywoll @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨👩🏻‍🎨୧˚ stella hughes au!#💌stellahughes!#hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #vancouver canucks #qh43 #jh86 #lh43 #quinn hughes x reader #hughes brothers #hughes!sister #hughes sister #nhl blurb #nhl imagine

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snowball-doie · 3 months ago

Text

| pairing: Plus size!fem!Reader x Johnny

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Loss of virginity. Romantic Johnny. Fingering. Johnny and reader tasting themselves. Protected vaginal sex (He's got stacks on stacks of condoms, let's be fr). Semi-awkward sex? A surprising amount of plot from me...

| wc: 6.3k

| aurora's note: this was originally written as a self insert!oc x idol!oc. please let me know if i missed changing any names, pronouns, or information.

When Johnny opened the front door to his apartment, you were hit with the warmth from the heaters in every room and the heated floors kicking into gear suddenly. The contrast between the cold outside of Seoul in winter and the warmth inside made his apartment even more inviting than it already was. You stepped in behind him. You had been to his apartment a million times over, there was nothing to be worried about. This was Johnny, after all. He would probably offer to watch a movie or two, then you would crash on the couch together, cuddled up in each other’s arms, you half off the couch because of how much of a rough sleeper you were.

“Would you like something more comfortable to wear?” He tossed his keys on the counter after you nodded shyly. “I have some pajamas you can wear, come on.” He held his hand out for you to take, then he led you to his bedroom where he pulled out fresh navy blue sweatpants, a grey t-shirt, and a pair of fuzzy socks. “I’ll change in the guest room.” After grabbing his own pajamas from the bed, he gave you a quick smile and a peck on the lips, and he left with the door closing behind him.

You stood there, baffled, staring at the door, wondering what would happen within the next few hours. You never changed in his apartment before— Never wore his clothes. It happened so quickly, you didn’t even realize that your feet had carried you from the front door all the way to his bedroom so easily… What if he had other intentions? It would have been so easy for him to coax you there all the same, and Johnny had a certain reputation surrounding him, despite your many months of dating, so who was to say you wouldn’t have fallen into some kind of plot just to get you into his bed?

No, come on. It was Johnny! He never would have done that to you in a million years.

You were embarrassed after putting his pajamas on. They didn’t fit the way they were supposed to, at least not in the way you imagined wearing a partner’s clothes… You thought that it would be loose fitting and so baggy that it would hide everything, because that was how you always saw girlfriends wearing their boyfriend’s clothes online and in movies. Instead, because Johnny was so much taller and skinnier, his sweatshirt fit you perfectly, almost a little too perfectly, and it made you feel self-conscious. You disliked that the waistband hugged your hips, or that there was no bagginess in the sleeves, and that he would be able to see everything from your boobs to your hips to the tummy you had… You wanted to cry. But it wasn’t like you could take it off and go back into the living room wearing a nice dress for the rest of the night. And you knew that he would have been disappointed if you didn’t wear his clothes. Fuck.

You tried to suck it up and go out there anyhow. They were just clothes, after all.

“I made some hot chocolate, I hope that’s alri—” Johnny stopped in his tracks when he looked up and saw you standing there. “I…” It looked like his brain went into Windows Reboot because of the way he was mindlessly gawking at you, like he couldn’t think straight for two seconds. “I, um, made some hot chocolate…” He gulped. “Figured it was… too late for coffee…” He slowly ventured around the kitchen island with both of the mugs in his hands. “You look pretty,” he finally let out just as he was standing in front of you and could steal another kiss.

You blushed against his lips. He was embarrassing you even more than wearing the clothes already did.

When you couldn’t find the strength to reciprocate or move, Johnny took the hint and went towards the couch so that he could set down the drinks and plop himself down comfortably on the cushions. “Can I convince you to watch Star Wars with me?”

You had to snap yourself back to reality with a deep breath and a blink of your eyes that made you glance over at his casualness. “Depends on which one,” you replied as you went to join him. “If it’s one of the sequels, I’ll leave.”

He laughed and pulled you down onto the couch with him. “I was thinking the fourth one.”

“Thin ice, but it’ll do.”

As Johnny turned on the TV and scrolled to find A New Hope, you got comfortable laying next to him, your back pressed against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder so that he could see what he was doing on the TV. All the while it was painfully obvious to you how Johnny's feet were lazily playing with your ankles. Did he realize what he was doing? Did he know that you were very aware of the clothing you were wearing and how he was pressing his body into yours? Maybe he didn’t fully know it, but you did. It made you dizzy and excited, but you had to play it off coolly so that you didn’t look like an idiot around him.

When the movie started, Johnny put the remote to the side, then his hands went to your hips. You finally tensed up at the same time your breath hitched. Surely Johnny knew exactly what he was doing! You even imagined that he was grinning behind you as his fingers drew light circles on your hips, tickling your skin, forcing the hair on your arms and legs to stand up before a shiver ran down your spine, causing you to buck back into him slightly. Johnny sighed. He didn’t flinch or react too wildly… He just sighed contently behind you.

Luke met with the Jawas, and Johnny's hands wandered down to your thighs, a part of your body which you had a love-hate relationship with. On one hand, thick thighs were nice because they gave you bigger hips which you enjoyed, but you also hated the idea of how much fat there was on your legs and how it made you different from other women— The types of women Johnny used to get with before he fell head over heels for you. Having him knead your thighs made you unsure of what to do. Were you supposed to tell him that he was being distracting? Perhaps you could have shoved his hand away if you truly disliked it. Or, worse, you could have admitted to him that it was nice, that you wanted more, that his hands could have even gone between—

What the Hell were you thinking!

Ugh, it was all Johnny's fault. He was purposefully teasing you. All night, he’d been affectionate with you in the car and at his birthday dinner, and now that you were at his place where he could do anything he wanted, he was taking full advantage of it, and you couldn’t tell the difference between up and down whenever he touched you like that.

As Han flew the crew away from Tatooine, you couldn’t take it anymore. The movie was going too fast yet so slow, and it was like you were watching it for the first time or not at all… You just couldn’t think straight with the way Johnny was behaving. So you decided to distract yourself from your wandering thoughts caused by his curious hands, pushing yourself off the couch to get more to drink from the kitchen. You prayed as you picked up his mug that he didn’t notice your flustered face. Hopefully he didn’t see your anxiety stricken hands or wobbly knees either.

Johnny shuffled around somewhat on the couch behind you while you made drinks in the kitchen. You tried your best to ignore him, to not give him any inclination that all you could think about was him, but it was so hard when all there was to think about over the sound of the movie was how it sounded to hear him sigh in your ear when you moved.

Then it occurred to you. A wicked thought. Something slightly brilliant that Yuta would be proud of if you ever got the courage to tell him about it.

If Johnny wanted to play the teasing game because he thought it would be easy to get away with, then you would fight back, play the same game, meet him at eye level so that he didn’t get all the fun out of it. He would either lean into it, and what was the harm at that point when you were already committed to each other… Or he’d tell you off, at which point you would know for sure what the boundaries were and that he wasn’t actually fucking with you, he was just trying to get comfortable while spending time with you. Either way, it would give you some relief and peace of mind.

So you returned to the couch with full cups in hand, and you gave Johnny's mug to him before carefully sliding directly onto his lap with your thighs bracketing his, preventing him from seeing the movie— All there was to see was you, in his clothes. You both stared at each other while you hesitated. What were you supposed to do next? You hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. Shit.

Johnny took the initiative instead. His free hand began gently gliding up your thigh, inching its way towards the spot which craved him most. You tried so hard to play it smooth. You didn’t want to let him know exactly how much he had actually gotten to you, because that wouldn’t be fun, for it defeated the purpose of the game you wanted to play with him. So you swallowed your embarrassment before smoothly taking a drink while staring down at him. Johnny's breath fluttered.

“How was your birthday?” you finally asked him quietly.

His hand snaked higher towards the hem of your pants, finding the shoestring waistband that he could tug on to keep his mind occupied. “It was fine…”

“Did you have fun?”

He gulped and nodded vaguely.

“You sure?”

He nodded more confidently. Slowly, little by little, as if he was worried that one quick movement would scare you off completely, Johnny leaned in towards you while tilting his chin up for you as you leaned down and in just as slowly as him until… eventually… your lips touched. You elected to set your cup down on one of the tables beside you so that you could wrap your fingers in his hair, but Johnny was too distracted to go to all that trouble. He did his best to balance his drink in one hand while holding you close on his lap. You took pity on him. It wasn’t like you were stupid— You knew exactly what was happening and where things were leading to, so you put more of your weight down on his thighs, even though you were terrified to do so, and that prompted Johnny to put his cup next to yours.

“Tell me if I should sit up,” you whispered between kisses. “Or get off…”

But his hands drifted around to the small of your back so that you couldn’t let up at all. Suddenly, much to your surprise, Johnny grabbed your ass and held on while moving your hips forward and back, which made you feel his clothed erection pressing against your covered clit. You both moaned. He moved you faster, and you bit onto his bottom lip in an attempt to fight for some kind of dominance, however all that did was encourage Johnny to use his tongue in your mouth to reclaim the dominance he always won. You groaned and pulled at his hair.

“John,” you muttered between kisses, but he kept going so you had to push away in order to breathe. “I have to tell you something first…” You bit your lip nervously. “I…” Your gaze tore away from his due to the shame bubbling up in your chest. “I’ve never…” It was too fucking embarrassing to admit it. Shit. “I’ve never done…”

Suddenly, his thumb was tilting your chin so that you had to look at him again. “It’s okay.”

You pouted at him, relieved but also still ashamed.

“It is!” He chuckled, wiping your pout clean off your face ‘til you giggled, earning a grin from him. “But we’re not doing it on the couch if that’s the case.” He grabbed your hand from his hair. “Here…” He kissed your knuckles before slowly helping you off his lap so he could stand and take you along with him towards the bedroom. Cautiously, he closed the door so that you could be more private and intimate. “Is this okay?”

You nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” you croaked. “I’m just nervous, I’m sorry.”

Johnny led you towards the bed. “Don’t be sorry.” He kissed your cheeks gently. “Just… tell me if we should slow down or stop, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

He moved down to kiss your neck. “I’m not gonna rush. Okay?”

“Yeah…” you bit back a moan.

As he chuckled against your skin, he carefully helped you lay back onto the mattress. Despite your anxieties in the back of your head about what was going to proceed, Johnny's hold on you managed to calm you down just enough that you were able to participate by tangling your fingers in his hair once more as you spread your legs in order to make room for Johnny as he shimmied down. He thanked you by settling comfortably. Through his lashes, he looked up at you carefully while his cold hands snaked under your shirt, slowly pushing it up and up and up until it was over your bra and up to your chin. Johnny gulped slightly. His eyes were glued to the beautiful image of your lace bra holding your breasts, and you could see as his eyes glossed over that he was imagining what you'd look like sans the bra. The self-consciousness was settling in slightly. No one had ever looked at you like that. Not in the context similar to your current predicament. The angle he was at made it so that he could see how your stomach pressed against the waistband of the pajama pants he lent to you, and that was enough to make you want to cover yourself up— But the second your hands went to do so, Johnny grabbed your wrists to prevent you from hiding what he was admiring.

“You’re not going to scare me off,” he said reassuringly, like he could read your mind. “I know what I’ve signed up for.” Much to your surprise, Johnny kissed both sides of your waist before inching up to kiss your clavicle between your breasts. “You’re so fucking beautiful—” He barely got the words out before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, jumping up to kiss you passionately. While you kissed, you continued to play with his hair, and Johnny's hands slid under you slowly with your help by shimmying around slightly so that he could unclasp your bra after a few seconds of struggling. At least he got it off. You thought that was a talent in itself since you were laying down and you were kissing so roughly. “Fuck…” As your bra disappeared from your chest, Johnny cupped one breast with his left hand.

You whimpered into his mouth. Johnny took that as his chance to stick his tongue further in, your own tongue immediately giving up all control to him so that he could do as he pleased.

Suddenly, just when you were getting used to the slickness of his tongue that was beginning to feel natural to you, Johnny pulled away and moved back down, his lips immediately wrapping around your right nipple. You hadn’t anticipated it. Not for a single moment had you assumed that he would do such a thing without any warning— It caught you so off guard that you reacted by immediately tugging on his hair while you moaned quietly. Johnny seemed to grin.

Somehow you had enough of your wits left about you to remember that you didn’t want to let him have all the fun. Adjusting to the feeling of having him suck on your nipple, you reached for the shoulder seams of his shirt, and you started scrunching the fabric up into your hands so that his shirt was slowly pinched up to his head, revealing his muscular back to you.

Johnny showed some mercy to you by finally neglecting both of your nipples in order to sit up and pull off his shirt. You froze up entirely. He was… Well, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen his torso a million times before on sets and in dressing rooms— And since you started dating, there had been a few times where you were making out and you had nearly seen it all within the same context of which you were faced with in that moment… But seeing him like that made your head spin. Why did he have to look like that? Why was he as hot as he really was? And why did he have to entice you so badly with his tight abs, defined pecs, muscular arms, tight back, and his… Well, the erection that was glaringly obvious in his pants.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “Can I?” You played with the hem of his pants like he did to you before on the couch, and you bit your lip at the thought of what was waiting for you beneath those pajama pants.

He looked fazed. “Y-yeah…” And as you pulled the drawstring loose, Johnny reached out to run his thumb over your bottom lip until you released it from your teeth. “Don’t bite your lip.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me want you more.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You slid your hands around his hips, working your fingers into his pants slightly.

Johnny gulped again. “I want to… control myself tonight… You’re making it difficult…”

You slid his pants down over his ass, his erection still holding the front up a little bit, but you were beginning to see his groomed pubic hair. “My apologies.” With another swift movement, you finally had enough strength in you to pull his pants all the way down to his knees. You tried your best not to look at it. You wanted to show some decorum and keep looking him in the eye, but his panting chest and his flexing thighs in your peripheral vision were becoming too much to ignore.

“Is this still okay?” he asked, his finger remaining on your lip.

“Yes.”

Johnny leaned down again so that he could kiss you passionately, his hips hanging in the air, out of your reach or view, leaving you confused and yearning to know more. He had seen you struggle to behave. He knew that you were trying your best to be proper… So he saved you before you had to embarrass yourself, but that also meant that you didn’t get to indulge your curiosities either. He got to see all of you, why couldn’t you see all of him? He was the one more naked than you were.

“My pants,” you mumbled into the kiss. He blindly fumbled with it as you wished. Together, you worked to lift your hips so that he could push the fabric down just enough for you to kick it off and to the side. Now you were more naked than him. “Touch me.”

Johnny took your lead, one hand cupping the underside of your breasts while another sneakily made its way down towards your thighs. He squeezed the sponginess of your thick thighs. It took you by surprise, but it was welcomed, so you spread your legs out to make more room for him. Johnny's breath shuddered against your lips when he settled between your thighs. It was like he was most comfortable there. Not only was he able to balance himself more easily, but he was also in the prime position to thrust into you whenever you were ready.

“More,” you pleaded with him.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

To distract you from his anticipated movements, Johnny drifted his hand from your thigh to your slick folds, slowly running his index finger between your dripping entrance and your clit. You bucked into his touch. No one had touched you there before. No one but yourself.

“You're so wet,” he told you.

“Stop teasing...”

You weren't sure why you were jumping the gun, truth be told. He insisted on taking things slow, at your own pace. You were the one who was scared to lose your virginity in the first place— Weren't you supposed to be ashamed? Hadn’t life and the media taught you that it was embarrassing to still be a virgin at your age, despite your many efforts to remedy the issue? Wasn’t Johnny supposed to be turned off to the idea of sleeping with you once he knew that you had no experience? No… Johnny wasn’t like that, and neither were you. You both had a fight and a wit about yourselves that drew you together; You couldn’t be torn apart by something so stupid as the concept of virginity. Johnny could be an idiot sometimes, but he wasn’t that fucking stupid.

“Gotta warm you up with my fingers first, darling, I’m sorry.”

You nodded knowingly, agreeing with his statement that came off almost like a proposition. Johnny kissed you again with even more passion just before his index finger dipped into you. You pulled roughly on his hair and croaked out his name.

“You okay?”

You nodded again.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you can keep going… Don’t stop.”

To encourage him, you swallowed your nerves then reached between your bodies, going around his own hand which was toying with you so that you could find the tip of his cock with your thumb. You weren't expecting there to be pre-cum dripping off it. Well, you knew in concept that it was possible, but you didn’t know that when you would touch him that it would be there… It was all too new to you. You didn’t know where to start. Was your thumb over his tip enough? Surely not. What if you dared to use other fingers on his wet tip? Yeah, that seemed to get a decent reaction out of him, he bucked his hips forward and gasped into your mouth. What if you did what you had seen a million times in porn and read about in plenty of smut stories… What if you wrapped your entire hand around the length of his dick?

“Jesus, baby, don’t make me cum yet.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You’re distracting me.” To get back at you, Johnny tried to fit his middle finger inside of you, alongside his index finger. “I’m supposed to be focused on you, remember?”

“Just want to know what you feel like…”

“And what do I feel like?”

You blushed under the intense stare of Johnny who suddenly curled his fingers directly into your g-spot like he knew you perfectly from the first day they met. How the Hell did he know that spot was there? You didn’t even know what. You couldn’t hit that spot the way he did—

“Fuck—” You turned your face to hide in the pillow. Johnny hit it again. “Fuck, J.”

“Tell me what I feel like, baby. You can do it.”

It was like he knew that the embarrassment got to you in a good way, he looked so confident above you with his fingers moving skillfully in and out of you while waiting for a proper response. Dickhead. You tried your best to get back at him by jerking him off harder, but it didn’t seem to faze him too much. Truly a confident asshole.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“You just want me to tell you that you’re big.”

“I already know that.” He curled his fingers again. “That’s why I’ve gotta stretch you first.” And as he said that, he scissored his fingers apart then back together, and he repeated the motion a couple of times, slowly spreading you more and more to make sure that you would be able to fit all of him.

“I need you,” was all the dwindling courage left in you had to say.

Johnny seemed slightly disappointed that you couldn’t bring yourself to admit what he really wanted to hear, but there would be plenty of other times to pry that embarrassing information out of you. Plenty of opportunities. So Johnny continued to take your lead by slowly removing his fingers from your core to leave room for what would come next— However, you were surprised when Johnny stuck his middle finger in his mouth, and with his gaze glued to yours, he tasted you. You tried to hide your embarrassment from him. You used your hands to cover your face, but Johnny didn’t like that one bit. He used his dry hand to reveal your face to him again so that you had to watch as he cleaned his middle finger off completely, then with a pop he released it from his mouth.

“Do you want to try?”

You gulped. Your hand slowly drifted up his length, earning a quiet pant from Johnny, his thighs tensing, and you collected some of his pre-cum on the tips of your fingers. Johnny shivered. With your gaze still watching him in the hopes of standing up to his confidence, your touch left his aching cock before you wrapped your lips around the tip of your index finger.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

He tasted… odd… Not bad, necessarily, but it definitely wasn’t anything you were used to. You thought that you would be prepared for the “salty” taste everyone claimed semen had, yet you couldn’t have predicted the texture or the underlying flavor that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but you wondered if you would ever be able to suck him off and swallow. Again, you didn’t hate it; Maybe it would just take some time to get used to.

You also popped your finger out of your mouth. “Wanna try?”

Johnny chortled. “Fine.”

Still keeping you on your toes, Johnny leaned over to take your middle finger in his mouth at the same time he urged you to suck on his index finger. You obliged at the same time he did. You also hadn’t expected what you would taste like. It was similar to Johnny, but also not? It somehow seemed more pleasant than his pre-cum.

Johnny moaned around your finger, and you caught a quick glimpse at his cock jumping with anticipated excitement. You already told him that he could fuck you— You made it clear multiple times, but he was the one procrastinating. What if he didn’t want to hurt you, or was worried about you rushing things just to get it over with? But you weren't like that, and he knew it… He must have been savoring the way you were genuinely overconfident for the first time, because at work it was all a facade, and with him you were too shy and scared of spooking him off that you kept quiet. You enjoyed the chance to not be afraid of what was about to happen. Johnny made you feel so comfortable that you didn’t have a moment to second guess or be fearful of any pain that the sex might cause.

“Condom, J…”

“Hold on, I’ve got some.” He leaned over to open the top drawer of his bedside table while drying his hand on his own bare thigh. Somehow in the many months of dating, you never knew about the stack of condoms he had tucked away in the far back corner of the drawer. Well, he certainly did have a reputation to uphold.

With an unsurprising amount of expertise, Johnny used his teeth to tear the packet open before holding his erection in one hand and using the other to roll the condom on. The anxiety began to kick in again. After feeling how big he was in your hand, and knowing what it felt like to be stretched by just his fingers… Now you were slightly scared. He was there, hovering over you, and the fact that it was him made it reassuring, but all the expectations you had leading up to that point were crashing down around you all at once.

“Hey,” he cooed gently, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger, “just watch me. Hold me like this,” he guided your hands to his shoulders, “and pinch me if something’s wrong.”

You nodded silently.

He leaned in again, shifting his weight so that his hips could move towards yours while simultaneously bracing himself to kiss you. “Come here.” He laid an extremely gentle kiss on your lips, waiting to see if you would reciprocate. Your mind was so busy wandering for a minute that you couldn’t focus on him until he tilted his head to the right and started kissing you harder so that he could get you to breathe which allowed his tongue to slide into your mouth and claim dominance. You moaned when you felt Johnny’s tip brush against your clit. That gave him even more opportunity to distract you with his tongue.

You braced yourself on his shoulders and spread your legs even more when his cock drifted down your slit, landing at your dripping entrance.

“Breathe,” he moaned into your mouth.

You did as he instructed, and once you let out a deep exhale, Johnny began pushing into you. You winced slightly. The stretch was uncomfortable though not unbearable thanks to the previous efforts of his fingers. Feeling his girth push you open, and his length gliding along your slick walls was… There really weren’t any words… It felt so strange in comparison to how you imagined it. Having something inside of you like that made your stomach feel full, but in such a pleasurable way that it made you break the kiss so that you could throw your head back against the pillows.

When Johnny was settled in all the way, he paused to look at you and wait for a squeeze to his shoulders, yet it never happened.

“You okay?”

You took a deep breath in order to relax yourself. “Yeah… I think…”

“I’ve got you. Promise.”

You nodded. To hear that from him comforted you more than it ever did when you tried to remind yourself of it silently. He’s got you. He’s good to you. He wouldn’t hurt you. Those were all empty words until Johnny made them real.

“You can move.”

Johnny grinned before obliging you. Your breath got caught in your throat when his cock started dragging along your tight walls while he pulled his hips backwards. Was it supposed to feel that tight? Was he supposed to be that big? It hurt to some extent, but it felt good too, and Johnny was going slow enough that the pain was overshadowed almost entirely by the unfamiliar pleasure.

“This okay?”

“Keep going,” you begged him a bit.

Johnny's length pushed back into you, then he pulled back out. He was getting a bit faster. There was a rhythm building somewhere that you could sense, but he was giving you time to figure out if it felt good or if he needed to stop. No, don’t stop. You knew that it was pathetic, but you were almost inclined to beg him desperately to speed up and fuck you at a brutal pace like you’d always dreamed of; But Johnny wasn’t going to do that to you… Not yet, at least.

He was so gentle with you. It was like in movies when there would be a montage of bare skin and panting, maybe a tad of hair pulling here and there. Johnny was like that. He made sure to make every kiss count by letting them linger for long periods of time and the passion would vary between breaths. He held your hands, tangling your fingers together, just so he could feel if he was too fast or rough through the pulsing of your hands. If you squeezed him too tight, he slowed. If you winced, he pulled out slightly so that your walls could readjust and bear him before pressing into you again.

The only time he was certain was when you whispered into his long hair, “I’m getting close.”

Not that you were close. Not that you were cumming. But you were getting there if he kept going.

He tried to egg on another comment by nipping at your jawline and whispering back, “You’re so fucking tight… Fuck…”

While it didn’t earn him a proper response, you tugged at the strands of hair on the back of his neck in order to kiss him as hard as you could. There was a tension building in the pit of your stomach. There was a coil made of pleasure wrapping round and round, and it wasn’t a foreign feeling that scared you or made you second guess what was going on. You had touched yourself plenty of times in the past. You knew what made you cum— And that always happened with your fingers against your clit, but no one knew that about you except for Yuta ever since the asshole pried that information out of you when you were drinking. Johnny must have felt your walls fluttering around him and decided to do something about it.

“This the spot?” Johnny's fingers returned to your clit.

You moaned, throwing your head back into the pillows. “Y-yeah— J-just… just… like that… Fuck.”

Johnny was a fucking menace. While you had difficulties cumming via penetration on your own, the way Johnny worked his length in and out of you, his tip hitting all the right spots, and he played with your clit so fast, all of it had you seeing stars… At least his reputation paid off. At least it wasn’t all talk. He definitely knew what he was doing, which picked up the slack when you had no idea where to look or touch, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak any more than necessary out of fear that you’d turn him off in an instant. You were too close to the edge to fuck it up.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nodded.

“Gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl?”

You had never heard him speak like before, you didn’t expect to ever hear anything like that from him. Was it all those years of experience that taught him how to talk dirty to girls? Or was he doing that just for your sake? Why did you feel like if you tried that then it would be cringe as fuck and you'd turn yourself off? But when it came from him, it did everything it was supposed to.

“I’m close.”

That was a step up from before. Johnny was immediately encouraged to fuck you even faster, his abs tightening as much as possible, his biceps bulging even more to the point that you were concerned they were going to pop at any moment. The way he panted in your ear was a telltale sign that he too was close. His head fell into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his lips wet from licking and biting them so often throughout the whole ordeal; and Johnny began muttering a bunch of nonsense that you couldn’t understand while he was buried against you and moaning desperately with every thrust.

The coil in your stomach finally snapped when Johnny hit a new spot deep within you as his pelvis met your core entirely. A sinful moan left you in the process. Your eyes blurred slightly, so you squeezed them shut to not think about it and to focus solely on how Johnny's hips were still but his fingers were doing so much work on your clit in order to help you ride out your orgasm. Johnny let out a breath, then thrusted another two times… and with a grunt and, “I’m cumming,” Johnny came in the condom he was wearing. You laid there while you also let Johnny hit his high appropriately. You weren't sure if there was anything you could say or do, so you remained in your position to allow him to use you however he needed while you participated by pulling on his hair and kissing his neck.

“Fuck, princess…” He slumped on top of you.

You both laid there as you tried to catch your breaths and stop your heads from spinning.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” you said with a slight giggle.

“It was okay?”

You laughed even more and hit him. “Yes, stupid.”

He also chuckled as he pulled out of you and took off the condom which he tied shut then tossed into the trash can nearby. He flipped over onto his back beside you. “You promise it was good—”

“I promise. Stop worrying.” You turned to lay on your side to face him. “Thank you.”

Johnny grinned and reached out so that he could play with your swollen bottom lip. “But you promise you actually came, right—”

You shut him up with a kiss mixed with another giggle that made Johnny laugh too. It wasn’t so scary in hindsight. Sure, there was pain, as expected, but that had subsided so fast thanks to the care Johnny put into making sure that it was perfect, almost like he had been planning what your first time together would be like— Except he probably hadn’t anticipated taking your virginity, too, but he didn’t seem to mind once it happened. You were relieved. All those years you spent worrying over it and being self-conscious about it now made you feel stupid beyond comparison.

taglist: @hisunflower , @zozojella , @l4na3s , @taehyungnl , @theycallmesya , @peachytokki , @neotechclub , @drxmxss , @evergreeneyesx , @got-sum-badhabits , @putlonghatdog ,

#op #fanfic #johnny #johnny suh #johnny smut #johnny suh smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny suh fanfic #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic

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dontlookforme00 · 6 months ago

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Tridental regicide,

I won't hesitate to kill my Heart and Mind.

MY 300 FOLLOWER DTIYS IS FINALLY HERE!! Info and alt versions below the cut!!

Helloo!! I hit 300 followers a good while ago now but I'm only getting to the DTIYS now lmao. About half of those were ninjago followers, and the other half were chonny jash followers, so I was gonna do a sort of mix between the two fandoms, but just decided on plain old HMS, sorry!!

If anybody at all entered I'd be honoured :] because last time I did this I only got one (admittedly amazing) entry lol.

> also this took me thirteen hours jfc. I haven't spent this long on a drawing for monthssss.

Here's some notes if you plan to join!!:

You can use any iteration of any HMS designs, it doesn't have to be my ones.

But by all means, if you do wanna use mine/my colour schemes, there's some clearer images below.

The text in the background says "Tridential Regicide". It'd be nice if you included it!!

What the entry does have to have is Heart, Mind, and Soul, with Soul threatening the other two.

I once saw someone enter a dtiys by making a plushie lmao??? So just gonna put down that ur entry can be whatever

If you have any questions or wanna extend the deadline, send me an ask.

Feel free to change any details not mentioned, or the poses that they're in.

Tag me in any submission!

Use the tag #donniesDTIYS300

Prizes (??) and deadline:

The deadline will be (checks watch) two months from now, so, the 14th of July.

Again, if anyone needs more time for an entry they wanna do just send an ask.

Uhhh I have no idea how many people will actually enter, and I've never actually drawn DTIYS prizes.

So I suppose I'll go with the standard??

1st (chosen by me) fully rendered drawing of any character or OC.

2nd, just coloured in drawing of any character or OC.

3rd, doodle or lineart of any character or OC.

(Keep in mind the characters have gotta be sfw though!)

Here are some other versions of the image:

Thanks for reading!! :D

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trippinsorrows · 6 months ago

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with me + part one

authors note: well, i got some type of writers block working on two other RR wip's so opened a new google doc and ended up with this. prob gonna be 3 parts, maybe 4. there's an almost five year time jump after this one, can you guess why? also, joe's wife is an oc, not galina.

first time posting my roman writings on here and trying not to freak out tbh

warnings: angst, infidelity, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

word count: 4,000

You know that assignment everyone at some point in their education where they research what they want to be when they grow up and share it with the whole class for a grade? Yeah, that big mammoth of a question that somehow you’re supposed to have confidently answered before even reaching double digits.

That was always super easy for you.

From as far back as you can remember, you wanted to be a teacher. It took until you were in middle school, almost high school for you to settle on an elementary school teacher, college for a specific grade. But, the teaching profession always called to you.

You chalk it up to your grandmother, undoubtedly one of your favorite people in this entire world. She was also an elementary school teacher who taught until she was expectedly called home when you were 14. Some part of you wonders if you’ve never even allowed yourself to entertain any other professions because of her loss. She was your best friend, and following in her footsteps was wanted but also felt somewhat necessary. Like you had to in order to honor her and her legacy.

A couple years into your career, you still think about that, how you’ve known from such a young age what you wanted to do with your life. Well, one part.

In other areas, maybe the most important areas, you were lost as all of the outdoors. Mostly in one area, if you’re being honest, and truthfully, it’s not even what you want in as much as it is how you get there. The path is relatively simple: find a man, fall in love, get married, have babies, live happily ever after.

It’s such a stereotypical trajectory, but one you’ve also envisioned for yourself since your late teens. You’d gotten partying all out of your system during the early college years, somewhat in high school as well. Now in your mid 20s, soon to be late 20s, all you want to do is prepare to eventually settle down. Sooner rather than later.

And the issue isn’t even having no prospects. You have a prospect, he’s just unavailable.

Because he’s already fucking married.

But can you even call him a prospect when that implies there’s some chance? Because there’s zero chance. You know this. You know this very well, too well. So why you still allow him into your bed and inside of you is beyond you. Yes, the sex is out of this world, but you desire more than that. Maybe not at first, but almost three years deep into this arrangement, most definitely.

You still think back to your first meeting.

Your best friend won a contest that not only granted her two front row tickets to a Smackdown show but backstage passes as well. You met so many wrestlers that night, some you grew up watching on TV as the little tomboy that you were as a kid. But, it was one wrestler in particular: tall, muscular, hair more beautiful and silky than any silk press your beautician mother could ever style, that changed your life. Whether for better or worse remains to be seen.

He was attractive, extremely, possibly one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. But, the attraction was short-lived when you spotted the wedding band on his left hand. You’d be lying if you tried to say that was when the attraction sizzled out. It diminished, but it was still there. Still, you didn’t think much of it, that was until you received a call from a number on your phone that you didn't recognize.

Why you even accepted the call is still a mystery. You never answered random calls, yet that one was an exception, an exception that resulted in you having an unexpected phone conversation with Roman fucking Reigns. He explained that he got your number from your friend who’d exchanged contact information with a wrestler she met that night as well. They were messing around too, that much you knew. And good for her. He, unlike Roman, was not married and therefore free to fuck around.

The conversation lasted much longer than it needed to, especially given the flirtatious nature it quickly took on. It was wrong, you knew this well, very well. He took vows, but you were also aware of those vows. And heat no point pressured you into anything, you could have cut it off. Flirtatious he was, but forceful he was not.

The conversations increased in frequency and length over a matter of weeks that turned into months, and before you knew it, your day started and ended with either a text or phone call from the wrestler.

A small part of you knew that it would eventually escalate into more, a man like him seemed like he needed more. But, you stupidly tried to tell yourself that when that time came, you would remain strong and draw the line in the sand with just communication. Even if it was just as wrong as anything else.

It was a silly thought.

Your resolve was weak.

You absolutely did not need to accept his invitation to fly you out to one of his shows, and you damn sure didn’t need to allow him to take you back to his hotel where your legs ended up wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you—among other things—until the early hours of the morning.

The days after that were rough. You felt absolutely disgusted with yourself. It was one thing to flirt with a married man, but it was an entirely different thing to fuck a married man. He wasn’t yours. He belonged to someone else. He had a life with some other woman. You had no right to insert yourself into that union, so you decided to sever contact with him, deleting his number from your phone and shoving the experience in the ‘biggest regret of your life’ box with no intention of reopening it.

Unfortunately for you, Roman, Joe, as he asked you to call him, was a persistent bastard.

You ignored his texts, so he called. You ignored his calls, so he texted. You ignored both, and this motherfucker showed up at your goddamn door. There were multiple times you could have and should have ended things, that being another perfect opportunity. If you told him to leave that night, not allowed him into your apartment, he would have listened. He was stubborn and resolute but also respectful. If you told him to leave, really told him, he would have done so.

But, you didn’t. You allowed him into your place and similar to the last time you were in his presence, ended up spread out on your bed with him balls deep inside you until you couldn’t feel your lower half.

Now, fast forward three years later, not much has changed. You two don’t communicate quite as much in the day, and his visits are more spread out given the company’s current efforts at pushing him as the new face of the company. But, that doesn’t stop his visits to come see you and flights he puts you on to come see him, both of which always end with him leaving your legs jelly and throat raw.

All the while his wife sits at home unaware of her husband’s consistent residence between your legs.

The thought alone makes you sick, revolted at yourself, at how you’ve allowed yourself to reach this point in life. Closer to 30 than 20 and going on 3 years of being a mistress to a married man, a man who can never give you the future you want yet refuse to let go.

Not that you’d ever allow yourself to really acknowledge why.

That’s….that’s just too much.

________

Pillow talk was just something that naturally happened between the two of you. It made sense given that your relationship started out with just talking. He seemed interested in knowing more about you, about your likes and dislikes. He shared his as well. You weren’t beyond admitting that Joe was insanely easy to talk to, the flow of conversation always natural, never forced. There never seemed to be a dry spot between you two.

And whether it was an innate ability to pick up on the emotions of others or just his, you could always tell when something was bothering him, could see when he came to you with a burden he didn’t want to discuss.

Not that that stopped you from asking. If he declined to talk about it, you respected it, didn’t push. But, more often than not, he would end up sharing things with you, mostly concerns regarding his career.

It seemed he visioned one thing for himself, while Vince McMahon saw another. He felt frustrated at times, especially when the fanbase started pushing back more. He never admitted as such, but you could see it hurt his feelings. How could it not? Kayfabe or not, Joe was still a real person with real feelings, regardless of the role he played.

And at some point, his visits to see you stopped always involving sex. That happened majority of the time, but there were occasions when he just seemed like he needed someone to be around, a distraction, someone to talk to.

Someone like you.

“Come on.” You jumped up off the couch and offered your hand that he looked at with disinterest. “Don’t make me drag your big ass. It’ll probably break my back.” He lifts his brow, and you roll your eyes. “Joe, come onnnn.”

“Where are we going?” He finally asks, all the while sighing heavily and standing up. Though unnecessary at this point, he still takes your hand. You try not to think too much of the gentle squeeze he gives.

“To my kitchen.”

Glancing over, he gestures with his thumb. “The place that’s like 3 feet away.”

You suck your teeth and shove against him. “Don’t be an ass. We’re gonna bake cookies.”

“Bake?”

“That’s what I said.” Though clearly skeptical, he follows you into the kitchen and watches as you start gathering supplies. “I spent a lot of summers with my grandma, and whenever either of us were having a bad day, she’d take us into the kitchen and we’d bake chocolate chip cookies. She’d always say there’s nothing a good chocolate morsel can’t cure.”

Reflecting on those memories, so fond and cherished, brings a despondent smile to your face.

His eyes fall on you, sensing the sudden sadness. “You miss her.”

“Every day….” Shaking your head, you make a conscious effort to not make this about you and your grief. “Now, we need music.” You settle on some random “cookout” playlist that aids in setting the playful mood. To your surprise, yet not surprise, Joe keeps up without struggle. He's a fast learner, easily following along to your detailed instructions and explanations. Things get messy at times, as one does when baking, but it only causes the two of you to share laughter. Especially when you ‘accidentally’ get flour on each other. For you, it was an accident. His was definitely intentional.

Still, between the laughter, light conversation, and New Edition serving as backdrop, it’s a sweet moment.

“And now we wait,” you announce, plopping down on the sofa. “Wrestler by day, baker by night. Who’d a thunk it?”

He chuckles. “I never knew you could cook.”

At that, you nearly choke on the water bottle you’d grabbed off the coffee table. “Me? Cook? No. Not at all. There’s a reason every thanksgiving, my family only asks me to bring the drinks. My mom is the cook. Grandma was the baker. I can make cookies and a few select items. That’s it.”

You can still hear your grandma’s voice in the back of your head, chiding you for never allowing your mom to teach you how to cook. It just never garnered your interest, even when they swore up and down you’d never find a husband without knowing how.

Maybe they were right.

He joins you in the living room, settling on the other end of the sofa. “Maybe I could teach you then.”

His words—and offer—suprise you. “You can cook?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” He rolls his blue eyes. Some days you love the contacts, others you hate them. Today is a love day. They make his beauty even more exquisite. “Because of the big age difference between me and my siblings, it was just me and my mom a lot of times. They were either out and about or had either moved out. She’d ask me to help her out in the kitchen, and I picked up on a couple things.”

“You’re a fast learner.” That much is very obvious, in several areas of his life. “Was it ever hard? Like, not really having them around?”

He seems to think about her question before answering. “Yes and no. The twins moved to Florida when I was like three, and we became close instantly. It was like suddenly having two new brothers. Obviously, they didn’t live with us, so they weren’t always around, and those times were hard, I guess. But the older we got, the more we did together.”

The Usos. Also wrestlers trying to make names for themselves. He really does hail from a legendary dynasty. “I get that. It was just me and my mom, and she worked a lot to support us, so that’s why I spent so much time with my grandma. And I loved it, but sometimes it got lonely not really having siblings.” You look over at him, studying this massive specimen of a man who seems so unsure of himself right now, unsure of his future. He’d hinted at such during their prep, but you bookmarked the comment to revisit. “It’s all gonna work out, you know.”

His gaze is on you, partially disinterested, mostly in disagreement. Joe knows what you're referring to. He chuckles, darkly, “you sound sure.”

“I am,” you counter calmly. Moving to sit on your knees, you continue, “no matter what it takes, you make them respect you. You can do it, and when you finally find your footing, you’ll be one of the best to ever do it. Mark my words.”

You’ve never been one to build up false hopes in anyone, far too familiar with the sting of disappointment. So every word leaving your mouth drips with sincerity. Joe is so much more than a “pretty face” or someone who got lucky by being born into a wrestling dynasty with a golden spoon in his mouth. He’s worked his ass off, you see how he works his ass off, so the last thing you’d want to witness is him become his own worst enemy by getting too into his head.

“You’ll see. They boo now, but pretty soon they’ll be cheering.” Moving to your knees, you lift your arms in a theatrical display. “Roman, Roman, Roman.” You yelp when his strong arms pull you into his lap, legs spread on either side of his thick thighs. “Would you let me hype you up? Like, damn.”

His smile, so beautiful and genuine, warms your soul. His spirits are lifted, and that’s all that matters. Joe’s hands are on your hips, palms massaging you through your shorts. You move your arms around his neck, resting on his strong shoulders “Thank you.”

It’s at this moment, you foolishly allow yourself to wonder. Wonder what it would be like for this to be the norm, for him to always return to your place when he has time off or in between shows. Wonder what it would be like to consistently be this safe space for him, to be in his corner and not just in the shadows, but in the light. To be supporting him ringside. To be his.

And for a second, you pretend. You pretend that you are his, and he’s yours. That this is your man, and you’re his girl. Just the two of you. Nobody else.

But the comedown from that is devastating, like a boulder sitting on your chest, a butcher knife to your heart. Because he isn’t yours. He never was, and he never will be.

Mood sullen, you lower your arms to separate yourself. “I should…” You clear your throat, climbing off of him. The air is suddenly too stuffy, the room too small. You need space. “I should go check on the cookies.”

Joe’s not stupid, far from it. You know that he has to pick up on your 180 in mood, yet he doesn’t pursue you, doesn’t ask questions, and you’re thankful for that. You need to not be around him right now, not so close, not so connected, not so in love.

You need to let him go. ________

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Joe’s in the midst of sliding his shirt over his head, sitting on the edge of the bed when your voice, low and quiet, stops him mid movement. “What?”

“I said.” You blow out a big breath, unsure why your chest suddenly feels so heavy. “I can’t do this anymore.”

At that, he angles his body so that he can look at you, assess your face. He’s a big eye contact person. “What are you talking about?”

Irritation piques. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Joe.” Gesturing between the two of you, you kick the blankets off and quickly reach for your t-shirt that got discarded last night. Being naked in front of him suddenly feels uncomfortable. “This. It’s done.”

He pauses for a second and then shakes his head, resuming his dressing. “Okay.”

His tone is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe you. Like he thinks you’re playing around. Of course he would be in one of those moods, where he’s more irritable, less receptive and fucking stubborn. “I’m serious.”

“I’m not doing this shit with you right now.” Joe gets up and continues dressing himself, prompting you to climb out of bed and move in front of him.

He can’t avoid his way out of this. You won’t allow it. It’s time to finally rip the bandaid off.

You’ve sat on this for the last two weeks, since he last left your apartment and you realized you’d stupidly allowed yourself to fall for this man. Fall for a man who walks around with a wedding ring on his left hand, who’s always had that wedding ring from the moment you met him. You’re not upset with him, not as much as you’re upset with yourself.

You grew up the product of an affair, felt the stinging pain of being rejected by a parent whose selfishness resulted in the creation of life, a life he wanted no part of. Seen how your mom literally begged your piece of shit father to be in your life, to play some role. Heard how he cruelly rejected her, rejected you, calling you your mother’s bastard. A mistake.

It devastated you so deeply that you still can’t really talk about it without getting emotional.

And yet, you idiotically found yourself playing the same role you used to judge your mother for: the other woman.

It’s a role you stepped in, and one you must now step out of.

“There’s nothing to do.” You run your hands over your face and shake your head. Choosing to have this conversation at almost 4 o’clock in the morning probably wasn’t the best move, but you also know that if you give yourself more time, you’ll find a reason not to do it. And you need to do this. “You have a wife, Joe. A whole ass woman who loves you and would probably let you fuck her just as much as you like to fuck me. Go be with her, and if not her, find someone else, cause I won’t be that for you. Not anymore.”

You’re not exactly sure what part of what you just said registered with him, but it’s obvious something did by the change of tone he takes. “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s coming from where it should have come a long time ago,” you answer, crossing your arms over your body. “This was never right, and I refuse to partake in it anymore. I won’t be your whore anymore.”

You didn’t expect hurt to flash in his beautiful eyes nor for him to move closer to you, that hurt intensifying when you back away. He can’t touch you. You can’t allow that, because all it takes is only touch, one longing gaze, and you’ll be putty in his hands. This has to end. “Is that really what you think you are to me?”

“I don’t know what I am to you, Joe,” you answer, honestly. It’s something you’ve battled back and forth with for nearly three years. Just what is it about you that keeps him coming back, keeps him in your bedroom, inside of you. At face value, it’s the sexual compatibility between you. Below the surface level though, there’s maybe more. You’ve never allowed yourself to venture there, and you’re certainly not about to right now. You know how you feel about him, but you refuse to really ask yourself how he feels about you. “And truthfully, it doesn’t matter, cause it doesn’t change anything.”

“So, that’s just it?” His voice is wounded, handsome face painted into a mixture of scowl and a frown. “Almost three years, and you want to throw it all away, for what?”

“For what…..Joe, you are married. You have a whole wife at home. Whatever issues you have that cause you to step out, work that shit out. Learn how to be with her. Cause I’m not doing it any more. I—I can’t.” Emotion imbues your voice toward the end, and you hate that shit. You don’t want him to see, to know, how much this has been eating you up as of lately. “I’m gonna be 30 in a few years. I want to be married. I want to have a family. I deserve that, and I’ll never have it as long as I’m messing with you, so I’ve gotta let you go.” You swallow the deep lump in the back of your throat. “And you’ve gotta let me go.”

This time, this time you can see the part that wounds him, that digs into his chest. You’ve gotta let me go.

Joe is fast, fast enough to move directly in front of you, large hands holding your face. He says your name, desperate almost. “Tell me what to do, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Just….” He stops, and you close your eyes, refusing to see if it’s his own emotions coming up. You can barely handle your own cascade of feelings right now and refuse to take on his. “I can’t lose you.”

What you want…..

What you want is for him to never leave. What you want is for him to stay with you, to be with you. What you want is for him to have never met Jadah, never married her, never committed his life to her.

What you want is for him to be yours and only yours, but what you want….is also what you can never have.

“I—I want you to leave, Joe.” The words burn your lips, scorch your throat, ache your soul. “And this time….don’t come back.”

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, to see the result of your heartbreaking, even if honest request. It’s because you know seeing him hurt will only cause your resolve to crumble, and you can’t have that. You have to be strong, have to be the woman your mother couldn't.

So, you remain there, remain silent as he steps away from you, his touch vanishing. There’s such an emptiness in his wake.

It’s only when you hear the front door of your apartment shut that you finally feel it, the caving of your stomach, the heavy lump move from the back of your throat, the release of the loud sob you didn’t realize you’d been keeping at bay.

It’s when you finally allow yourself to feel all of the emotions of a woman who just told the only man she’s ever loved to leave.

If only you knew his departure was just the beginning of the rest of your life.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #black writers #wwe #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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hoseoksluna · 4 months ago

Text

SMOKE, i. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. bangtan)

genre: angst

word count: 6.8k

summary: everything that begins also ends.

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join

warnings: suicide ideation, yoongi has deep feelings that he hasn't felt in a long time, sexual innuendos, yoongi has brief dirty thoughts, alcohol consumption, talks of alcohol, social anxiety and feelings of anxiety in general, jungkook has mint hair, covid and the pandemic, talking to a dead loved one, jealousy, envy, anger, crying, yoongi's bad shoulder.

note: welcome to the brand new yoongi series! i can't believe this baby is alive and ready for you to read. i struggled with this a lot, since it's written in a way i've never tried before. yoongi's pov, first person—like what? i thought this chapter was pretty shitty as i didn't feel comfortable writing in this style, but i pushed through, felt like it was meant to be—which is why i need tons of your validation. i was also kinda sad today, so please send your love. :( fyi, jungkook may be a huge part of the beginning of this story, but this is not steam pt 2. jungkook won't be present as much later on. no polyamory here. *spoiler* he just brought oc to yoongi and then he will lovingly go away, dw. :) enjoy this first chapter, i can't wait for many more! kisses.

side note: happy bday to us! mwah.

It was a bang, what happened in our group.

A bomb that blew off in Jungkookie’s trembling hands when he shared the news. A decision that wasn’t really collectively discussed, not even privately with Namjoon—but an information that erupted among us as we sat in the lounge room of the venue, refreshing ourselves with snacks and drinks after the tough soundcheck we had. I had a bottle of Hennessy in my hands myself, about to pour myself some liquid courage in order to chase away the bitter ire I had swirling in my veins, but hearing his words made me forget about the nectar right away.

He was bringing along a female friend for the tour.

The ire turned sour in my bloodstream.

He must’ve lost his mind.

And what’s worse, I was the only one who looked at him as if he were a lunatic. The members squealed and hollered, clapping their hands, shouting different variations of words of, “Jungkookie got a girlfriend!” that made him blush so profusely that he wasn’t able to reciprocate any of our eye contact.

Especially not mine.

I was fuming, taking breaths that hurt my lungs. The bottle of liquid courage damn nearly broke, but I didn’t feel a thing. How could I—when amidst the ruckus and the soft smiles of our staff my feelings parted and melted into a crossroad that I began to stand in the middle of.

One way led to selfishness, the other to the very polar opposite of it.

Jungkook didn’t deal with the pandemic well. His skin was invariably lined with a certain sensitivity towards forlornness and when the mandate forced upon him a pressure of being abandoned—by us and by his long time flirt that was the driving force behind his creativity, besides Army themselves—he didn’t take it well. Crawled inside himself, even deeper within when our management canceled our Map of the Soul tour and we had to stay bricked up inside our homes for a full year.

He was crestfallen and despondent, a decaying human. No girlfriend, no Army. No band members to slap his back, cook him food and distract his mind from the loneliness.

Except for me.

I was the one who made time for him. Who visited him, despite our management’s strong disliking for it. I went around them and did it without anyone’s knowledge but Jungkook’s. With a mask and health in perfect condition that I took care of more for him than for anyone else. Our relationship blossomed to highs that overgrew the bricked walls of our mandatory, artificial castle. A peach honeysuckle vine that we watched as much as we could while I wrote poems to him in my heart to alleviate his ache. It was spring and one, singular hummingbird would fly in to listen to my words while inhaling the sweetened perfume of those pale orange flowers or the fragrance of the natural honey I would buy him and pour over the pancakes I would make for him. A comfort food, a symbol of our secret meetings. A butterfly would sit on the small creature’s back, just to look over its wings and be a witness to a mind’s mending, an afternoon’s tea mixed with dark liquor that would always fade to noraebang.

The key to Jungkook’s heart.

I don’t know how the little fella found us, but I wish his wings would sense us here. There’s no windows for him to look out of, but the craving in me for it to fly in and save the day, remind Jungkook who’s been here for him this whole time, blossoms in me just like those peach flowers.

The castle has collapsed a tiny bit, but the honeysuckle remains untouched.

Or at least I hope so.

The other, non-selfish way is simple. Our work had been put off for so long and now that we’re able to pick it back up—in a way that isn’t as satisfactory as I’d want it to be, of course, for the only faces we’ll be seeing beyond the stage are the ones of camera lenses, not the ones belonging to our beautiful Army—there’s a distraction, an external person who could never understand the gravity of that pain we all went through.

This was supposed to be a precious time shared between us. Another mending of some sort—as our job is the chambers of our hearts.

And now as I look at her, I feel her playing with those strings of my heart like a harp. And I have that terrible feeling that she will open the doors to each chamber and ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for.

In spite of the fact that she didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a gut feeling that consumes me and I can’t do a thing about it, not even admit that it gives me the tiniest hint of a thrill that I’ve been craving for so long.

Jungkook wasn’t the only one affected by the loneliness that came with the mandate. I gave my all to him and always walked out of his door empty—with no one to refill me.

Performing again was supposed to do the job, but it seems as though she’s come in to hijack it.

Announcement, the ruffling of his hair and multitudes of teasing aside, we had an hour and half left until the beginning of our first show in Seoul. Jungkook left us, with cheeks as darkened as poppies in the summer, with a staff member and our bodyguard to pick her up at a designated meeting spot nearby. He hadn’t eaten all day—not before our dismal soundcheck and certainly not during our hair and makeup session. A ribbon of worry curled tightly in my gut that unfurled once he filled his plate with hotdogs after introducing her to us.

No shaking of hands, only Jungkook’s hand pointing at each member while his mouth gave life to their names. And she didn’t nod her head, not even once, as she moved to greet and smile at every face, which caused me to think that she either already knew of us, either due to our popularity or due to Jungkook’s stories—or both.

But when it was my turn, her smile faltered.

I didn’t see much of her face, for she wore a black mask. And the only part of her features I was able to see spoke to me in a foreign language I was too pissed off to decipher.

Feline eyes.

Round and wispy, so terribly cat-like that it cut through my heartstrings she played with and then abandoned. She held my gaze so unfathomably deeply and it wasn’t until she whisked her eyes away that I realized she, irrevocably, clutched time in her hands. It had stopped during that brief moment and resumed as if nothing happened.

It unnerved me.

As did my strange feelings as I took in the personality of her outer form.

She wore a long silky dress, as black as her energy and her hair nearly akin to the length of that garment. Its hem brushed against her ankles with every movement she made and her feet were shod in a pair of heels that would puncture my heart if she so much as wished so. Over her shoulder hung a matching, leather purse and I noticed something that bruised, most peculiarly, my flesh.

The clasp of her chain strap had a chubby Grookey Pokémon caged as a keychain.

I found it as adorable as absolutely dangerous. Still do as my eyes can’t help but to watch it twirl.

She’s a dangerous black cat, with her claws tucked in. And the entire night coils in her eyes, dressing her in innocence and a simultaneous seductiveness that make my lungs swell.

A quintessence of beauty, she is.

After the introduction is over, Jungkook pulls out a chair for her beside him, sitting down and not wasting a second as he stuffs his mouth full with one of the hotdogs. The monkey bounces with her movement and it’s only now that my brain puts two and two together. The monster almost matches the minty tinge of Jungkook’s dyed hair with its plump, green body.

None of them know that I match him, too.

A leaf of the same plant swirls in my glass of whiskey.

And the notion of iciness that it adds to the bitterness of the liquid turns to ash in my mouth as I take a sip. I, myself, sit on the armrest on the couch, alone—but not alone physically. Hobi rests, leisurely, next to me and she’s stolen glances at him more times than I like. Looked at him while completely avoiding the ring of protectiveness I’ve conjured around myself.

She does good, but it spreads fire to the strangeness of my feelings that I can’t name.

Is she throwing a rope around another one of the boys? Her claws itching to rise?

Who’s next?

I sigh as she laughs, softly, at something Namjoon says and it deepens my ire. Namjoon should’ve made order as the leader of our group. Should’ve said no to Jungkook at the unfolding of his news and keep the number of our group to seven. Especially when our time together is this precious.

Not chatting her up and coaxing that wonderful sound out of her.

“Can we get you anything to drink?” Namjoon asks, waving his hand in the direction of the alcohol station out far in the left corner of the lounge room. A mint plant mocks me as my eyes flick to it while I take another sip. The reason why it’s there in the first place is because Jimin likes his mojitos.

He sips on it like it’s a Capri-Sun as I swallow the dark liquid after swirling it in my mouth for a moment, the bitterness doing nothing to stifle my ire.

“No,” she says, feebly, brushing her fingers down the length of her ebony hair before tossing it over her shoulder, giving me a perfect look of one singular strand that has been dyed in the same pale green color that is suffused all though Jungkook’s hair. The shade, but darker, more sinister, imbues my blood with envy. It’s not that soft color, redolent of spring meadows, by any chance. It’s an ancient, vague memory of a forest once in full bloom that is now withering and dying at dusk. How long has he been seeing her that they reached this base? “I don’t drink hard liquor, but thank you.”

Namjoon licks his lips, spreading his arms over the two empty chairs beside him. “Ah,” he laments, smiling at her, gently. “You don’t drink at all?”

Jungkook lifts his head from his plate, laughing through his nose as he chews his food, his mouth forming into that bunny smile of his. He knows something I don’t and my green blood boils.

The cat girl grins, her head twisted in Jungkook’s direction when she laughs, the skin under her chin rounding out, and my chest tightens in endearment at the sight of it.

The cutest fucking double chin I ever have the eyes to see.

Fuck.

“Oh, she drinks,” Jungkook says, his words muffled due to his full cheeks, the food inside showing as he continues to be all smiles.

The cat girl pinches his arm, but owing to the thick fluffiness of his jumper, she doesn't reach skin, and therefore doesn't inflict the pain she intended. Jungkook pretends to moan in pain, anyway. My chest tightens again—this time for a beat longer.

An oddity flies through my vision, slicing through my envy.

Her claws sinking into my bare skin as I let her playfulness out—

I shake that picture out of my head as quickly as it arrives, running my fingers through my strands that had fallen in front of my eyes. The girl helps my effort by speaking, distracting me from the faint rush of lust that begins to course down my body.

I can’t get hard.

“Yeah, I only drink wine,” she reveals, coyness entwining around her tone, and she kneads her hands, struggling with her straight posture.

Another distraction, one that softens, most peculiarly, my lust.

If I were born with deaf ears, I would’ve known she was fighting through her shyness by one glance at her body language and I don’t blame her.

She doesn’t have only seven pairs of eyes watching her. She’s the apple of fifteen more if I include our staff, sound engineers and our management.

If I weren’t the person I was and if this wasn’t my job, I would have run the first chance I got. A certain admiration envelops my heart the more I study her toy with her fingers, soothingly, because of a reason that aches to admit.

A reason far from plain.

She’s the same as me. Uncomfortable by and disliking any public event with people involved, especially if you’re put in a position to talk.

A bond forms and I can’t stop it. I can’t rip it apart even as I willfully try in my headspace to cut off that red string tied around my heart, leading to hers. I can’t because she eventually slouches, giving up, her spine protruding towards me through the open back of her dress, for she’s turned her body towards Namjoon, who sits at the head of the table, but I figure she did it in order to be closer to Jungkook to gain some comfort from him. The skin of her back is refulgent and tanned, scattered with little blemishes that connect, like constellations, to a night sky full of birthmarks, and that only add to her beauty.

Her whole back is filled with them, stirring my wonder. And, unknowingly, she let me see by sweeping her hair to one side. I wonder if Jungkook has seen them and appreciates them as much as I do—

Jungkook burps, obscenely loudly, setting down Hobi’s unfinished can of Sprite that he left on the table. I’m sure Hobi’s regretting making that mistake, but when I look at him, he’s smiling so widely that I can see his gums and I’m so astounded by that view that I’m thrown off my balance.

Even more so, when I check the reactions of the other members and begin to feel shame descending down my own spine like cold sweat. Jimin has hearts thumping in his eyes, raising his hand in the girl cat’s direction, connecting with her as he says he loves a good bubbly. Taehyung, sitting on the direct opposite side of Jungkook by the table with his arms crossed and his face flushed intones that tonight after the show he will break his sobriety streak. Jin joins the table and flicks Taehyung’s forehead, tells him he doesn’t have to break anything while taking a huge bite of his banana. And Namjoon… he laughs, hands intertwined upon the back of his head.

The whole table laughs, in fact.

Hobi does beside me, too.

I’m the only one who doesn’t, steeped in my uncertainty as I am.

They all bask in comfort and gaiety. There’s no awkwardness, no unspoken words or silence that hangs heavily in the air. There’s no need for our hummingbird; no need to change directions, play pretend or act accordingly to the new situation because there’s absolutely nothing new about the atmosphere I find myself to be in. Everything is as if it were just the seven of us.

Making jokes, lighthearted energy, connections lengthening and digging deep…

I haven’t seen that, been a part of that in so long.

I was wrong—and the shame, stemming from my wrong impression and unwarranted fear, washes out the envy from my blood. It stands, arm to arm, with my life-long emptiness and I bow my head down, licking my lips.

I wish to exit myself out of this room.

I wish my heart wasn’t so sensitive.

I wish—

“It’s her birthday today and I bought so many bottles of champagne and wine,” Jungkook says, running his tongue over his teeth, and my head lifts; my heart enlarges before it shrinks, painfully, magnifying my shame until it grazes the flesh like a shard. It’s her birthday? “I’ll need your help, guys. We’re not celebrating here tonight. After the show, we’re going to my place.”

It’s not peach honeysuckle that I’m thinking of. Not pancakes. Not our hummingbird and butterfly as the boys cheer all over again, wishing her happy birthday.

It’s her that I’m thinking of.

And how much I messed up.

He brought her here to make her birthday special—to be with her on the day that carries her name, not to replace me.

It explains why she’s so magnificently dressed up; why she’s putting her feet through so much pain in those heels of hers.

Just for one night. And I’ve managed to ruin it so majestically with my energy. No wonder she won’t look at me; no wonder her eyes won’t even sweep past me en route to Hobi’s chocolate fountain that his eyes emanate.

Mine are nothing but death. I don’t blame the decline of her smile as her pools met it. A kitty cat that looked at the face of a skull. It symbolized the end of time and now I perceive that it epitomizes the end of me.

The longer she’s present, the more I loosen the consuming negativity that I’ve lived for so long in compliance with—because now I’m soft.

I’m gutted I made her feel awful to be here with my dark energy.

“Jungkook, you should’ve told us that was the reason why you brought her along. We would have welcomed you with a happy birthday song,” Namjoon says, his palm lifted towards Jungkook and her while his other hand reminds behind his head.

I can’t see her smile. Not even a hint of it in her eyes, for this time around she doesn’t turn around to steal a glance at Hobi. And I wish she would, with a strength that I’m in awe that I’m even possessing, because I find myself yearning to look at her face, amidst my softness.

I misjudged her so terribly that the yearning doubles as she presses her hands against her cheeks amidst the overbearing attention. Becomes a need—a need to fix what I so unfairly have broken.

And jealousy thunderstrikes in my system when Jungkook bumps his shoulder into hers, gently, his head tipped low, fixed in her direction as she struggles, once again, in her shyness. Straightens her spine just in time for Jungkook to curl a finger around her ear and take off her black mask.

I’m so jealous everyone else gets to see her face fully that indignation supersedes my past ire and my softness and I’m quickly up on my feet, ready to walk out to breathe in some fresh air but something else steps into my plan.

And it’s not her.

It could never be her.

Staffs members circle around us, guiding us out of the room to wire us up. But I stall my time, purposefully staying behind so I can look at her. I pretend to exercise my pain from my shoulder surgery by rolling it and making a face. Jungkook whispers something to her, her face pointed upwards as he stands before her while she remains sitting and I’m so bothered by it that it calls out the pain, incites it to come haunt me again.

Everyone else had something to say to her—and yet I still haven’t, owing to my foolish mistake. Self-hatred fastens to my anger and I can’t breathe, my lack of knowing what to say to her when the time comes worsening my feelings.

The boys leave the room and it’s just me and her. The staff member knows not to push me, but the pressure in her eyes is the driving force that takes my legs to the kitty girl.

She sits so awfully forlornly in her chair, reminds me so much of Jungkook, her spine back to slouching, that marvelous pillar protruding again and my lungs do that thing they seem to automatically do whenever I see that part of her.

She hears my footfalls as I approach her, but she doesn’t turn around. I ignore the way it makes me feel, the heaviness that comes with it, too. She, in most probability, thinks I’m walking out of this room without saying a word to her, but I’m not capable of that.

Not anymore.

I call out her name and, in surprise, she lifts her spine. Turns around, at last, the sleek fabric of the dress adding swiftness to the movement and I see her face. Her full mouth that compliments, most perfectly, her big feline eyes. And I think about how much her dark, sensual energy doesn’t mirror her personality, her coyness that hides inside until someone speaks to her. Her chin is so small that my fist would still be empty if I held it in the way my body asks for, but the look she gives me diminishes the lust that slowly begins to crawl again within me.

It’s one that bears a different kind of shyness. It’s fear-induced respect and the hatred towards myself thickens.

I don’t want her to feel this way, but I molded it in her.

It’s my fault.

It’s why I think twice before I tell my fingers no, for they ache to drum against the top edge of her chair in effort to linger in her proximity. I won’t encourage her discomfort when I yearn to wipe it clean. But when she inhales my prolonged silence and raises her thin brows in waiting, the tiniest sliver of a smile quivering on her lips, she doesn’t know it—but she somehow gives me the words I was lacking.

“Did Jungkook tell you where to go?” I ask, softly, fearing her knees will turn away from me, her body language divulging to me the depth of her uneasiness around me. But she remains put, the pillows of her lips balancing at last as they stretch out in a small grin that I don’t deserve.

Her slender nose crinkles.

My heart forgets to beat.

“No, he told me to wait here and that Min-ji will take me to a room where I can watch you, guys, perform on the TV,” she says, her grin making it difficult for her to get the words out and she blushes. There must be some other, silent language shared between our bodies because I discover myself smiling, too, even though there’s nothing from her sentence that can possibly be the cause of it.

The energy shifts, devastatingly, and heat clings to my skin, dispersing relief down my nerve endings.

All while buzzing tingles chase it, hastily, grabbing it by the back of its shirt and consuming it.

It’s strange, so terribly strange to be consumed by nervousness when I’ve been used to nothingness and emptiness for so long.

And her eyes seem to grow bigger, despite the irrepressible dynamism of her fear. Is she gaining thrill out of it—to be staring at the face of breaking death like the small kitten she is and knowing it’s her power that influences me?

Those eyes. If my ears weren’t bombarded by Hobi’s sound effects wafting down the hall and into the lounge room, mingling with the rise and fall of Jungkook’s voice as he warms it up, I swear I can hear the song of swallows in them. She’s a manifestation of a summer evening in her fear and nervousness, when those birds go mad in the tender blues and pinks of the sky—and I don’t know why I like it so much. Why I want to seize it in my hand and squeeze it.

And she’s about to be all alone here with it while I go join the rest of my brothers.

It’s something that doesn’t feel right.

The staff member taps me on my back. Time is against me—why doesn’t she control it? I swivel behind me to catch her nodding her chin in the direction of the hall and I sigh, quietly.

“Wait with her until Min-ji comes to get her, so she’s not alone here,” I tell her, then look down at the kitty girl again.

Her raised brows create wrinkles on her forehead and once she sees that I’ve noticed, she relaxes, wetting her lips. Doesn't want me to see the surprise that comes from what she created in me.

How cute.

“Enjoy the show,” I murmur, moving my feet towards the exit. I gaze back at her, catch her lungs shuddering, and the words slip off my tongue before I scramble the courage to stop them. “And happy birthday.”

Her blush reaches her neck and it’s all my vision consists of—even when I’m performing.

Our interaction was too short. Too, too short. And my anger took on a new face.

Hers.

Every word I rapped as I stared into the camera, I felt it dissolving in me and transforming into a yearning so great that my verses gained new meaning. A yearning to see her again, talk to her, pinch that fear in my fingers and fling it away, make space for something in her that had the vigor to surprise me and make me soft again. And in my concentration, I didn’t have the fight in me to put a stop to it. I was doing my duty for the happiness of our Army and while I thought about her, it seemed right. Those two things went along and it spurred a pleasant feeling in me that was warmer than the adrenaline sticking to my inflamed body from all the performing.

It didn’t hit me that she was watching me the whole time until my eyes regarded her unperturbed, flaccid posture in that white plastic chair, wading in my thoughts as I was. Her grin and the flecks of light in her eyes illuminate the room with orange, blazing fire. She’s barefoot, her heels kicked to the side, crooked, elegiac, yet still sensuous. Our show is being rerun on the TV and she’s watching it, transfixed, not realizing me and Jungkook were the first to come to her out of the group.

A mental connection clicks in my brain at the sight of it. The peach blossoms of the honeysuckle, Jungkook and the genuine love I carry for him. It is that orange color—it’s a home that keeps it safe, the atmosphere that she exudes through her evident elation and I don’t really understand why I feel this way.

I haven’t even known her for a day.

And it’s forced to collapse when her pools don’t find mine, but Jungkook’s once we walk in, joining her. She holds up her hand in the air, curling down her middle and ring fingers in while the rest of her digits remain erect, small and slim as they are. Her nose crunches up in the way it did when our bodies spoke in that secret language. And when she laughs and the corners of her eyes crinkle, I realize she’s mimicking his gesture that he so often does on stage while showing off his Army tattoo.

The finger-fucking gesture.

Her blush beams on her face, even more so when she does a stroking movement with her curled fingers, and I can’t help but wonder, briefly, if that’s how she does it to herself when she’s all alone and the night sinks inside her skin to get a refill of her juices, only to smear it across the sky.

It’s what I need to focus on, so I don’t explode in anger that she ignores me.

Jungkook cackles, sticking out his tongue and doing the gesture. I hide my face in my towel, getting rid of the sweat coating me—but it pours out of my pores again when I hear her giggle.

And I need to leave, my imagination no longer strong enough to withstand the jealousy that poisons my blood all over again.

I fling the towel out and away from me, not caring where it lands.

I don’t meet any eyes as I walk out, keeping my sight fixed on the gray floor, streaked with black lines from the hundreds of wheels of carts that have drove down the hall and from all the sneakers that have walked past. I follow them and I don’t know where they take me until I’m suddenly face to face with the gaping night.

And it’s not her.

It’s my wound.

No stars for a naked pupil to see. Merely an abounding canvas of blackness that stares back at me and questions me, questions my feelings when it knows full well how hard I’ve wept, many times, in its airy embrace.

I sit against the wall, needing something solid to support me, the spaciousness of the roof enveloping me, but not tightly enough. There, but never close enough—always a safe distance apart, as if afraid of me.

Everyone is so always fucking afraid of me.

And when they lean in and graze my heart, they get repulsed by me.

It’s an ouroboros that my life, like my legs, follows. Like a dog chasing its own tail—and it’s such a perfect comparison because I’ve always been alone, save for my brothers. Distracted for a while, then alone again.

I’m weary of it, despite the fact my body tends to wait for the thrill of the attention, longs for it, even when I dislike it. I’m an oxymoron that won’t cease and I have to live with it.

And I can’t exit out of it because I have millions of lives that depend on me, plus six more.

I sigh and I think sucking on a cigarette, numbly, while I crawl on my knees through the forest of my thoughts and feelings would be a thing of perfection. But I can’t afford that. Not when we’re working again. Not when our boss lurks at every corner, has eyes everywhere. Jungkook has had his last hotdog for a while and I…

I swathed my broken strings around someone he brought into my life.

Through a little hole my brothers let me see by forcing her to sit through a conversation that was a pain for her. A moonlight stripe of her personality, encased by her social anxiety and shyness. One that has awakened my body to emotions it hasn’t felt the touch of in a long time.

Why am I not fighting it?

Why am I not coercing my soul into submission, into that abyss of emptiness and hostility?

Why am I letting myself feel?

She’s just a girl that he’s seeing. Many stories like these have been written before and we’ve read the lines, recognized words that limned us, only for the love interest to disappear into thin air after some time like she never existed. And she’d just be another character in his love chronicles, if her persona hadn’t spoken to me so much.

If her body hadn’t spoken to me in a language no one knows—not even me.

I can’t begin my sentences about her with ‘she’s just a girl’, because she isn’t.

And I don’t understand how that’s come to be.

It happened so quickly that I fear I wasn’t present enough.

My wound tilts its head as my world does the same thing—slants on its axis. Coos at me, seeing me, seeing through me. Reminds me of what happened the last time I felt.

The passing of my girlfriend gave me the gift of a gun to my hand—gave me the face of death that I’ve been carrying ever since because it nearly made my dream of time ending come true. And the kitty girl… standstill hangs off her fingers like a pearl necklace that’s too long. And I find myself wanting to wear it. Because it’s her decision, her consciousness, her will.

Not mine.

And it will bring me closer to my Sun-mi.

My wound begins to cry at the memory of her, raindrops pitter-pattering on the tin ridges of the rooftop and I cherish that she’s remembered and honored by such vastness, by such picturesqueness that I’ve always considered the night to be. And when the wind brushes along my fidgeting hands, I almost feel her touch all over again.

Feel.

I feel.

And in my heart, I tell her. I sail to her, attaching myself to her again. Tell my Sun-mi that I am capable of feeling and that I don’t know how it came together in me. And I ask her, in utmost respect, to guide me on this unknown path.

Because I am alone without her. Adrift, without rhyme and reason. No wits to me, no rationality, no clear perception of right and wrong.

There’s only grayness to me.

Maybe that’s why I, unknowingly, dyed my hair this color before the start of the tour.

And it dawns on me, now that one chapter has closed in my life, that the passing of my Sun-mi a year and a half ago is the reason why I’ve clung to Jungkook so rigidly. Because I couldn’t spend my time on her, I spent it on Jungkook. Because I had all this love for her and I couldn’t give it to her, so I gave it to Jungkook.

And the kitty girl has put a stop to it.

Sun-mi graces me with the tepid, yet fuzzy impression that it’s good—that it was meant to happen. And I believe her.

And with my belief, the rain thickens.

A thunder rolls forward from a far-away corner of the canvas of the sky that I can’t see. And I dwell in the pool of the fountain of the love I still have for her and forever will continue to have. Kneel in it. Search for her.

I imagine her. The button of her nose, the curl of her top lip whenever we ridiculed aegyo by doing it together and doing a good fucking job while at it. I imagine her small fist at her round cheek, but she connects my memories to the kitty girl.

And she consumes me, wholly.

Sun-mi makes me imagine her doing a cat-like aegyo and as the corner of my mouth lifts, a particular fear devours my gut.

A fear of closeness.

A fear of doing something with her that I did with Sun-mi, even when she okays it in my spirit.

A fear of reliving something so painful again.

The rain inches towards me and I scurry to my feet, my hand trembling as I open the door to the staircase. And when I shut out the sound of hard rainfall and prevent the traumatic memories of my accident from slinking into my mind, it’s the only strength I have left.

And I crumble.

I mirror the rain I abhor so much.

I sit on the top of the staircase and I sear my hands with my acid-suffused tears. Sob so devastatingly that I don’t recognize myself, drenching the denim fabric over my knees. And when I pull on my hair, numbness is all that I detect within me.

Good.

No feelings; only emptiness.

I steel myself by taking a few deep breaths, letting the oxygen settle that deep in me. And I unattach myself from my Sun-mi, promise her I will get back to her soon. Go back to who I previously was before I scraped the skin of my knees raw on the hardened soil of my emotions and thoughts.

Alone death.

But Sun-mi doesn’t sail away back to heaven. Doesn’t let me go. She stomps her foot on the wet grass of my heart and I understand why. I asked her to guide me and what I didn’t know was that she would break the laws of heaven in order to do that. She wouldn’t whisper words of wisdom into the chambers of my heart. She would take my hand and show me wisdom, pointing me to the right decision.

That is my Sun-mi.

I let her because I need her. I bow to her and I would stoop to my stomach on this dirty, metal staircase floor to divulge my respect and gratitude to her if I didn’t hear a voice echoing up towards me.

A familiar male voice calling out to me.

Sun-mi pulls me to it and tingles vibrate down my legs as I fly through the stairs, skipping the bottom ones in order to get me faster to my brother. Sun-mi pumps blood into my heart, refreshing the grass she lays upon, and lightness descends upon my shoulders.

Her work of art.

Heaving, I meet Jungkook in the doorframe, glancing up at me, disappointment lidding his eyes. But I don’t fear, not when Sun-mi is with me. He opens the door wider for me to step through, but I remain fixed on my spot, panting, ringing piercing through my hearing sense.

Too much adrenaline at once in a season of drought. My body is unable to catch up to the new acclimatization.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my throat raw from my crying and I clear it, so there’s no evidence of my sensitivity. Sun-mi caresses the wall of my heart to soothe me and tears burn at the back of my eyes—from the simple fact that I can feel her.

I’ve felt her only once before. A week after she died, I prayed to her, loudly, until I lost my voice. Begged her to come back to me.

And she did.

And it felt nice until it didn’t—so I made it my habit to attach and unattach myself because of my fragility. It is only a matter of time before the logic of your mind distinguishes a real person from a ghost. And the parting of that vulnerable mist, in the middle of your agony, isn’t for the faint-hearted.

But Sun-mi, at this very moment, feels more real than she ever has. As if she truly was hidden in the rooms of my heart like a little doll, like a little angel that has the task from above to guide me.

And because I need it, I’ll let more time pass through this transcendental connection.

Jungkook flattens his lips, tightly, the tip of his tongue poking out to play with the thin metal pierced through his bottom lip. He’s changed back into the clothes he came in, minus the fluffy jacket. A black T-shirt, black pants and sneakers. It makes the green of his hair stand out—just like the wisp of the same color on that singular strand of the girl kitty’s hair.

They have a tendency to match and shame boils in me, that Sun-mi is a witness to the jealousy I feel. I haven’t told her and I don’t know if I want to. In my momentary cowardice, I hope that she can sense it and validate it.

But I gain nothing from her.

Silence.

One that Jungkook breaks.

“Staff said that we have to wait until the storm passes.”

My stomach sinks, the memory of the rainfall faint in my ears. “Good.”

Jungkook pauses before he voices out the question that I can visibly see rising in him. Nibbles his bottom lip, the metal tilting to the side like my world. “Where did you go?”

My breath shivers as I inhale, tasting my half-false words before I speak them. “I felt hot and I needed some fresh air.”

I felt jealous that you made dirty innuendos with your friend, I don’t say. It led me to seek my dead girlfriend because I feel inclined to fraternize with that aforementioned friend.

Jungkook frowns. “You went out in the rain?”

I pass through the gap between his body and the doorframe, not able to stand the position I’ve been put in, anxiety prickling my fingertips. Jungkook lets the door shut behind him with a loud thud, following closely behind me until he falls in step beside me.

“It felt refreshing until it didn’t,” I decide to mutter. Typical words of mine—I can’t stand them either.

Sun-mi is still silent.

Maybe I should unattach myself, protect myself from further pain. It was a moment of weakness, anyways—

Jungkook rubs my shoulder, gently, the fixed one, barely touching me, but the gesture is there. And I grasp why I love him so much.

His gentleness is everything to me.

“The rain will stop,” he says and I take those words to heart, giving them the meaning that they are the wisdom I needed to hear, the wisdom I sought from my quiet Sun-mi.

The rain will stop.

The sensitivity will stop, too.

And time will stop soon, one day.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff.

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year ago

Text

MORNING ROUTINE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. boyfriend!gojo, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: satoru gojo's morning routine is waking up next to oc gojo girlfriend and making her coffee before he leaves for work. AUTHOR'S NOTE: thanks for the love on my last two posts. here's the start to satoru's day with oc gojo girlfriend. 🥹 counting from 1-5 while pouring my coffee creamer is something i actually really do, so i thought it would be cute to add in. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

your boyfriend’s morning alarm started to ring. you furrowed your eyebrows as satoru sighed himself awake. he had his left arm behind his head and his right arm around your shoulders. you removed your hand that rested on his chest to rub the sleepiness from your eyes. satoru stretched his long legs and arms. although you shared a king sized bed, it sure didn’t feel like one with how tall satoru was.

“morning babe,” satoru whispered softly in your hair.

you smelled like your orange hibiscus shampoo from your freshly washed hair last night. he sat up on his side of the bed. he didn’t dare open the blackout curtains in your bedroom, he knew you hated that.

two things that weren’t allowed in the early morning routine: stealing blankets and opening the blackout curtains until you woke up for the day. luckily for you, you didn't have to go to work at jujutsu high until later in the day unlike your boyfriend.

you watched him sleepily make his way to the bathroom. the light from the bathroom crept into your bedroom as he didn't shut the door all the way. you curled up in the duvet covers, his warmth still there between the sheets as you stole the duvet completely to your side. you could see his soft smile as he turned on the bathroom faucet to brush his teeth and wash his face. you had told him many times that lukewarm water was the best way to wash your face so that your skin wouldn’t got into shock. before he met you, he was always washing his face with cold water to “wake up”. there were a lot of little things he learned to do after he met you.

you reached your arm out, feeling around the glass nightstand to grab your phone. 6:07am. you plopped your phone down on his side of the bed and closed your eyes until you heard satoru shuffle over to the closet. he was shirtless, wearing his gray sweatpants. that was his form of “pajamas”. god, you were lucky he was your man because he was beautiful. his arms were toned and his abs were well defined. it was a shame it was always hidden.

“you like what you see?” satoru teased as he grabbed a black t-shirt to shove over his head.

“shut up,” you giggled from the bed and admitted, “i watch you change every morning, babe.”

“creepy,” he teased and chuckled as he changed into his work pants and put on his way too large jacket, “but you’re my little creep.”

you always told him his jujutsu high uniform was too baggy, an opposite from when you were students. he liked to say he was hiding his body so that no one would try to steal him away from you. that always earned a playful, soft slap across his chest. he knew he would never entertain another woman’s attention. he loved you deeply. hell, you were the only one who put up with him besides principal yaga and shoko. they gave you thank you cards every year for dealing with him.

satoru made his way to the kitchen and started up the coffee maker. he had spent a hefty price tag on this coffee maker to replace your single cup coffee maker when you moved into the apartment. satoru’s morning routine looked like this: get up, get dressed, make coffee for the both of you, kiss you goodbye, and teleport to work. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

the warm embrace of coffee scent started to fill the kitchen. you could smell it from the bedroom since satoru left the door open. you knew that you could get an extra hour of sleep if you tried right now, so you closed your eyes.

in the kitchen, satoru poured himself a cup of coffee and added far too many sugar cubes and more than enough creamer in his. he sipped it slowly while he stepped outside onto the apartment balcony to check his surroundings quickly before he left for work. he shrugged after finding nothing and walked back into the kitchen to pour you a cup of coffee.

fortunately, you and satoru were the same when it came to coffee tastes. you both liked extremely sweet coffee. he took out your favorite coffee creamer and counted from 1-5 as he poured your coffee. another little thing he learned while dating you. you had told him counting to 5 would give the best amount of coffee-to-creamer ratio. he stirred your coffee while smiling at that memory and made his way back to the bedroom with your cup and his.

satoru kicked open the door gently, announcing quietly, “good morning, sweetheart. satoru’s special delivery.”

he sat down on your side of the bed, grinning as he handed you your coffee mug, “coffee for mi’lady.”

you glared at the mug he gave you. it was a gag gift from the jujutsu high employee white elephant gift exchange last year. satoru ended up getting a mug that said “best dick ever”.

“thank you, my king,” you joked back. you grabbed the dumb (but funny and correct) mug from him and sat up in bed.

he leaned down to kiss you, but you backed away from him, covering your mouth.

“nope. i have morning breath.”

“baby, we have been dating for years. i'm over that stage.”

“well, i’m not and i don’t think i ever will be.”

“if you loved me, you would let me give you a kiss before i leave for work.” satoru laughed.

you and him went through this every morning. instead of a kiss on the lips, he’ll settle with multiple kisses all over your face. he kissed both your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and lastly, your forehead.

you took a sip of your perfectly made coffee and looked him straight in the eyes, “and if you loved me, you would let me sleep in in the mornings.”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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m1ckeyb3rry · 5 months ago

Note

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first.

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind.

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first.

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you.

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say.

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways.

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume.

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be.

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say.

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said.

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter.

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky.

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding.

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by.

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say.

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says.

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.”

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently.

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up.

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality.

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you.

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized.

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #fake dating #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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servicpop · 5 days ago

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Which one of your oc reacts from the worst to the better one when s/o actually break up with them?

Make it nsfw? I wanna see some s/o getting pinned down and got punish lol

cw : slight non-con(?) and my ocs might be a bit toxic . . .

Adrien definitely acts the worst. He's obsessed with you remember ? The moment you go to him and tell him that you don't want to continue this little game of yours and you want him to leave you alone . . . sure , he'll respect you for a bit. But after a day or so and you're not texting him , not even looking at him , he'll go back to his old ways. Skipping classes , getting into fights and he swears he's going to crack the guy you smiled at's skull apart. He fully goes insane and after a week , he's blowing up your phone , chasing down your friends who are honestly surprised that he even knew of your existence. And when you finally agree to see him again , he's tearing off his clothing and pushing you up against the wall not even a foot away from the front door , groping at that soft flesh he missed so much. His words are an unintelligible mess of 'please take me back' and 'I'll fucking kill anyone you talk to.' Man is crazy about you !! He'll fuck you right outside the bedroom , pushing you up against the wall and pound into you because he's missed you way too much to wait any longer !

Vallen simply doesn't let it happen. You come up to his office with a nervous look on your face and when you spill the news he glances up through his reading glasses ( his eyes are getting sore from looking over so many documents >< ) and simply hums, curling his finger at you, instructing you to walk over to him. The moment you do , he pulls you onto his lap, gripping at your thighs as he stands up , letting your back fall across his desk. He's cruelly slow, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against yours so hard that his pens rattle on his desk. "Found someone better than me?" He'd mutter before slowly pulling out just to ram himself back in. "I doubt it." He's too mean about it, slapping your thighs everytime you try and justify your reasons why you'd break up with him ! He's rich, gives you everything, loves and cares for you, why would you want to break up with him ?

Cole accepts it fully. He acts like a kicked puppy when you break the news to him. At first he'll ask you what he did wrong , if you weren't happy with him , if it was your job that make you break up with him. He tries his best to understand , especially since you're his first ever relationship with a man ! He won't stop going to your shows , won't stop sending you letters and flowers , but he does it all without showing his face ! He thinks you wouldn't want to see his face so he still shows his love through gifts and notes. It's not long before you cave in , all the gifts and letters still marked with paw prints and his signature at the bottom just pile up in your room and you miss him. Miss his caramel smile too much. Unlike the others , Cole doesn't jump to sex , he takes it slow by cuddling you , the limit of intimacy being kisses on your stomach ( he'll still believe you hate him until you reassure him 200x )

Callahan is exempt from this since he was never really in a relationship with you , but ! If he doesn't see you for an extended period of time ( basically breaking up ) he'll work even harder to track you down , asking for leads , retracing steps and finding you back at that motel where you two always seem to end up after every confrontation. He'll put you in cuffs , blabbering on some lie about how he'll put you in jail but just ends up stuffing your head in the pillow and pounding into your ass like he missed you ( which he did )

#servicpop — talks #servicpop — ocs

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cornyforjk · 5 months ago

Text

Your quite treason | JJK

ᥫ᭡pairing: married exbsf!jungkook x female reader

ᥫ᭡genre: ex best friends, forbidden love , angst rating: 16+

ᥫ᭡warnings: drug and alcohol usage, mentions of cheating, swearing, depressed, obsession, crying and all that stupid stuff.

ᥫ᭡word count: around 20K (ik it's too much but i couldn't control my feelings 😩)

ᥫ᭡summary: Your love for Jeon Jungkook was ruining your life.

ᥫ᭡inspiration: Fortnight by The Motherr Taylor Swift (ft.Post Malone)

ᥫ᭡listen to: Fortnight by The Motherr Taylor Swift (ft.Post Malone), happier by Olivia Rodrigo

ᥫ᭡Author's note: AHHHH, okay, woof. This is the first ever fanfic I'll post, tho I've written many but never posted. Please bare if there's any grammatical mistake and if my writing feels too much.

Show some love and your suggestions are welcome in the comment section 😗

____________________________________

Hello Mrs. Park, how have you been?" You turn around to find Minji, speaking to you while watering the flowers of her front garden.

Minji, Jeon Minji. She always made you feel like the worst person, tho she never meant it. In fact,she's the sweetest and the kindest person you've ever known. And that's why, she's in the position you've always dreamed to be in. That's why she has the man you've always dreamt of.

And the fact, you can never be her nor in her position, makes you feel like the worst person on this earth.

"Hello, Mrs. Jeon, I've been doing just fine. How about you? " Tho your tongue burnt on the feeling of reffering her by the title,you still held up a smile. A smile behind which no one could see the pain. "I'm great, actually! But you, Mrs. Park, you look unwell." You sensed the concern to be genuine and you hated that. "Oh yeah, just tired from work. Yk it's too much these days." You replied, not wanting her to noticing anything wrong with you. "Ah, I understand. Work can get stressful, but I'm sure everything will get tell well soon." She smiles at you, and you see another reason why she's deserves the title more.

You smile back at her and thank her before leaving towards your house, your insides burning with the urge to kill her right then.

"There's a new couple shifting in the house behind ours" Jaehyun, your husband says while he's eating his breakfast. "Oh, in the Jung's? Didn't think they'll actually sell it" You reply, as you pack your lunch, not really caring for the fact. You forgot about it and the new info never crossed your mind once in the day.

It was when the bell rang and you opened the door only to face the new neighbors. Him, Oh god, It's him. Your excitement died the next second when you saw a very pretty women standing right beside him, her arm wrapped around his. "Oh-Oh hey Y/N. I totally didn't expect you! " His face evident with surprise. "You know her, babe?" The woman asked him. "Yeah, hun. She's a college friend. " That's when you felt your heart clench tightly.

Jeon Jungkook, the guy who you've been loving since your collage days even when you got married. The guy you thought of every night before you slept, the guy you thought about when woke up in the morning, the guy you thought about everytime when you ate icecream. Jeon Jungkook, was your friend who you trusted with your life. But now, he was just a stranger you know everything about. (Stranger by the loml Olivia Rodrigo, but the oc isn't over kookie😩)

"H-Hi. How are you J-Jungkook." You couldn't believe it. You've cried so many nights for him. Praying to get back in his arms, have him in your life as anyone, if not a lover. But now that he comes back, he's married. And very happily, you can see.

"I'm doing very well, Y/N. This is Jeon Minji, my wife. We have just shifted in the house right behind your backyard. So nice to see you again." You could feel your eyes pinch with pain, but you tried your best to pull up a bright smile. You can do this, you're very good at hiding feelings. Come on Y/N. "

I'm so happy to see you too. And hello Minji, nice to meet you. Well come in you both. " You move aside for them to come in but the refuse by saying, " It's fine, Y/N. We were just her to Introduce, but guess we don't need to do that. " Minji chuckles and continues, "But we'll see you soon. Have a good night. " She smiles at you, and you feel your legs tickling with jealousy. "You too have a good night, and please don't hesitate if you need any help in shifting. Both me and my husband are willing to help."

You fail to notice Jungkook stiffen as he's reminded that you're married too. He doesn't know why but he's always been uneasy with you being in a relationship and he has no idea why.

Both of them agree and leave after a short goodbye. You shut the door and you suddenly feel all the strength leaving your body. You collapse against the main door, still not believing everything that happened. All the memories that you were burying, we're now out of your control . You could hear his voice, feel his touch and his warmth. Tears made their way out of your eyes as you cry silently.

You unlock the main door to your house as you get inside. It's been so long since they've moved but you can't get yourself to move on. You reach the kitchen to grab a can of bear in an attempt to calm yourself down. But nothing seems to work, every drink or drug, leaves only a temporary effect. You continue loving jungkook even when you're high. You decide to take a cold shower when you hear the main door open again, only to see your shitty husband entering.

Jaehyun, both as a husband and a person, might be the worst guy you've ever met. You don't understand how he's able to lie on your face so smoothly. If you had control, you would have never married him. But fate and your parents had a different plan for you.

Around 2 months ago, your friend Sarah sent you a picture of Jaehyun with a girl sitting on his lap, and they were heavily making out. You didn't feel any pain in your heart but only shame, it felt like he had stepped hard on your dignity, your self respect. He made you feel like the most undeserving person, and he definitely did that intentionaly.

Ever since then, you've never started and conversation with him, disgusted to even look at him. And you guess, it makes it easier for him to leave the house whenever and stay at the girl's place. But you don't bring yourself to care, your mind always drift to jungkook and his very happy married life.

They're living their best lives, the typical rom-com like love life. Jungkook never leaves without a kiss with his wife. And Minji is always ready to welcome him by door when it's time for him to return.

When you had the same time routine, you always witnessed them being the happiest around each other and you had to change your timings. You couldn't bare seeing them being all lovey-dovey, so you leave for work earlier and arrive back home later.

"Y/N? " You were too drunk to hear him calling you. He called you out a few times before his hands reach your right arm to turn you around. "What the fuck!" You slurred, your drunkenness now evident to jungkook. "What are you doing here Y/N?? " He asks you with a strict voice, which soon melts when he sees you pout. "Kook, oh it's you thank god. I thought It was some guy again. " You said slowly as you moved closer to him. You were too drunk and high to remember the argument you had earlier. "Let's get you home Y/N. Don't you have morning classes tomorrow,hm? " He speaks very softly, as is talking to a kid. You mover your side to side, disagreeing with him and then you say, "Noo, let's have another drink and dance. I missed youuu" You wrap your arms around his neck, as your pouts grows even more. He chuckles while holding your waist just as tightly as you're holding him.

He agrees with you and empties the red cup you were having rum and coke in. Both of you weren't a fan of frat parties but whenever you're both together, everything feels the best. Jungkook's breathe fans over your neck as you both dance along On the floor by JLo.

When the chorus of the song starts you along with most of the other girls turn around to twerk along, as if it's a mandatory ritual. Jungkook's cheeks and ears turn bright pink as your ass grazed his crotch a few times while dancing and he wishes you don't notice. You turn back around to hold him again because when you weren't, you felt a certain type of coldness even when you're in bw so many people. His warmth was something which can get you just as high as a joint.

Both of you melted in each other's arms and stayed that way for so long, you didn't even know what song was playing now. "Mhmm, kookie can i kiss you? Just once I promise. " Jungkook wanted it, he wanted you to kiss him forever but he knew it's not safe for your friendship. He can't let his feelings over take him because he knows you only see him as a friend (who you might kiss sometimes 🤭) but how can he say no to you, especially when you're being so cute and adorable. So he decides to fuck it and bend down to kiss you. He captures your lips in a kiss as you both make out in the middle of the crowd. Jungkook felt like the luckiest person ever to have you like this. He has always been so happy that you're open to him with your feelings and uhm.

And you felt similar, just as euphoric and wanted this moment to last forever. Oh, how you wish to have him in all the ways possible. Even pray for it at every 11:11 you notice. And everything feels so good with him around. You were so in love with him but you knew he wasn't.

He has always been the best friend, the bestest you could ask for. But best friends can never be together, thec can never have feelings for each other because it always results in heartbreaks.

And so it did, both of yours heart broke quite terribly. When jungkook had to leave for USA after he got a job placement but he told you about it just 2 days before. Out of anger, you didn't talk to him neither did you come to see him off at the airport. Both of you were hurt, and you both had your reasons.

Next morning when you were returning from a morning run, you ran into Jungkook by the mail box. "Good Morning, Y/N" He wishes you and you just wanted to jump in his arms. "Oh, Good Morning to you too Jungkook! " You wished him back trying to match his level of energy. "How have you been? " You ask him further.

"I've been great, what about you? "

"I'm doing well too. " You reply, knowing you always feel well around him. "Good to hear that. The weather has been terrible these days" He says, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah, ikr. It's so hot these days,even when it's just February." You both continue talking about random things when he invites you and Jaehyun over for dinner.

"Thank you for the invite, but i don't think Jaehyun will be able to make it, he comes back late these days. " You say and Jungkook could sense your hesitation on the topic of your husband. And ofc, him being the kindest human being , he asked, "oh, btw, is everything fine between you both? Minji mentioned you being very stressed these days. You know you can always reach out. " with concern evident in his eyes.

It became difficult to maintain an eye contact because you both know how terrible you're at lying to him. "W-well, yeah everything is fine between us" You say, your eyes roaming everywhere but jungkook. He knows that's not the truth so he persuades, "Y/N, yk you can't lie to me so tell me what's up? " When you finally meet his eyes, you feel like crying.

He thinks your misery is because of your husband but who's gonna tell him that he's the reason. He's why you're suffering, he's why you're depressed and he's the reason of your misery. You give him a little smile, and when you're about to continue, you get a phone call from your husband. "Uhh, I'll have to take this up. " You tell him and he says, "okay Y/N, I'll get going but please ask for any help that you need, hm? " With that you both smile at each other and leave.

"What? " You ask Jaehyun. "You're not at home? Where are you? " You turn around and see him at the main door. You scoff realising that he's coming back from that girl's place and you want to kill him right there.

It had been a week since you met him and now you were walking towards their house around 10pm. Your dad had been calling since morning but you couldn't answer his once . Though you're high as fuck but you can't find your phone, and that's why you're going to jungkook's place to ask for any of theirs phone.

You ring the bell and wait there for a few seconds. The gate opens and you're met with a just out of shower Jungkook. Your breathe hitches and you feel your cheeks burning. He's just as hot. "Umm, hi Y/N.all good? " He speaks, breaking your trance.

"Oh hellooo" You give him a 90° bow which startles him "I'm good how are youu? " Your words trail of as your brain suddenly feels numb. "Wait- are you drunk? " He recognises your drunken voice but you deny him by saying,

"Noooo. I'm not drunkk I'm Highh hehe" You start giggling and it confuses hi even more "I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but i need your phone." You pout, and jungkook feels like he's floating. He knows how it is, but your pout still softens him. "Come inside, it's cold. "

"Your wife isn't at home? " You ask him to which he replies, "no she's out with her friends for drinks."

"Oh cool"

You get inside his house and are amazed how pretty they've made it. This place screams jungkook and it feels so much like home. "So what brings you here? " He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ohh yeahh my phone was calling and I need to call him back but i can't find my dad" You pout again. This time he chuckles, laughing at your words.

"You can't find your dad?" His lips pulling into his iconic bunny smile.

"Yeahh, I can't find my dad. Can you give me your dad so i can call my dad, pleaseeee"

"Here you go, here's my dad" If you both were still young , he would've have teased you a lot. But you both have grown up and even though he wanted to, he couldn't.

"Thank you so muchhhh" You busy yourself dialing your no. when he asked you, "where's your husband tho? "

You were trying so hard to dial your no. correct, that you didn't realize when you said, "he's probably at his girlfriend's. "

"What"

"Holy fuck"

"Shit shit, you didn't hear anything" Your eyes widen with horror and you scolded yourself internally. "Wait fr? Jaehyun's cheating on you? And you know that?? " His eye balls almost out of the sockets, shock evident in his voice.

"Uhh, no no, Yk I'm-im drunk, don't mind that" You tried to play it off but jungkook wouldn't even budge. "Y/N, ik you're telling the truth, you don't have to lie to me. " His eyes full of concern and once again you feel your brain going numb. And you were starting to feel sober, which was even worse.

"Uhmm, I'll have to take your phone over so i can listen to my phone ring. " You ran quickly in an attempt to save yourself from further embarrassment.

Later in your room, you find your phone in your bathroom floor (you have no idea why) And now you have to return jungkook's phone back to him.

You gather so courage and reach his house. You plan on giving it to him and leaving right after thanking him.

And you did so, but after you turned around to leave, he held you arm in an attempt to turn you back. "Y/N, please talk to me. How long have you known this? " You see genuine concern in his eyes and feek like hugging him and crying on his chest.

"Uhh, just let it be jungkook."

"No, tell me. " His voice stern now.

"Why do you even care. It's nine of your business"

"But i just can't see you get hurt. " His voice soft again.

You looked in his eyes, and scoffed. "You can't se me hurt? Of all the hurt I've ever experienced, you have been one reason every fucking time. And you can't see me hurt? Wow"

Jungkook's face falls,but that doesn't stop you. "You fucking hurt me more than anyone does. I don't even care jaehyun's cheating one. It doesn't hurt me. But you do. You hurt me so much that i can't even feel any other pain. " Your voice now louder. Your eyes pinch with pain, tears threatening to fall. But no, you can't do this, not in front of him at least.

"How do i hurt you? " His voice low like a whisper. "Good question Jungkook. You wanna know how you hurt me? How don't wanna know since when you've been hurting me? "

"Y/N you're still mad at what happened almost 10 years ago? " A frown appears on his face and his tone makes you feel as if you're at fault.

"I wouldn't have been if it didn't affect me so much. And why do expect me to not? You told me fucking 2 days before you were leaving for Florida? You never called while you were there. You were living your life and here I was dying. I was suffering." Years finally rolled down your cheeks. And jungkook wanted to wile them down and hug you to make you feel better.

But he was feeling the similar frustration you were feeling. And it became evident when he said, " You weren't the only one Y/N! I was also hurt. You didn't even come to see me off at the airport even when I texted-begged you over text. I wanted to apologize you that day and tell you something important. But you decided to be egoistic and didn't come. And that's why I never called. Even when I was in utter need of help and support, I couldn't call you. Because I lost the level of trust and I knew you won't even pick up. "

His word felt like slap. He's right, you were being a bitch when you didn't meet of on the last day, but you were mad too. "I would have, I was missing you so much, I would have definitely. I would have caught the first flight to Florida only to be with you again." Your words were now slurred due to your crying, when you finally broke and jungkook felt like crying too.

"I know it's wrong, it's so so so wrong but I can't help myself. I can't control myself" You covered your face as you cried even harder. And when you felt his arms engulfing you, you couldn't hepl but wrap your arms around him too. Jungkook stands there caressing your back while he himself cries silently.

"It's so wrong I still can't move on-" Jungkook's heart picks up speed. He's not ready for this. You suddenly pulll away from him and wipe your tears. "I'll get going jungkook. " You left before you could do something that maight ruin not one but many hearts.

And for the next few weeks you so neither jungkook nor his wife and you were very glad for it. It was untill one Tuesday morning when you swa both of them in front of their house. And they were not kissing or anything but arguing? You heard Minji saying, "what has happened to you? You're so distant these days kook. You don't even kiss me a goodbye??" To which jungkook replies, "it's nothing baby, I'm just stressed with work and things are getting lost in the back of me brain. Come here lemme kiss you" You were shocked when you heard Minji saying "No, you're first gonna tell me who else you're so in love with"

"What the hell, Minji? Why would you say that? " Jungkook was just as shocked. You didn't want to hear anything further so you stepped out of the fence and that's when Minji calls you out. "Mrs.Park! Good morning!"

And hearing your name from her mouth, Jungkook's eyes light up and he turns around quickly to look at you. He couldn't control but then he blurted out, "Nice sweater, Y/N."

Minji called you out to check something and she was right. She was right. "Oh Good morning, Jeon fam. And thank you Jungkook. Hope you guys have a nice day!" You wished them and hurriedly left.

And so did Minji. Jungkook was left standing there.

It took him 2 minutes to finally understand how he reacted and complimented you which was totally out of his mind.

And he finally realises how fucked up he is.

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