#SHUT THE FUCK UP ITS MIDNIGHT I WANT TO SLEEP

[youthguk]

Private schedule | Idol!Jungkook ff | jjk(m)

 idol!jungkook x idol!reader 

He had everything—global fame, relentless attention, a calendar too full to feel anything real.Then you appeared.Untouchable. Unbothered. And suddenly, the only thing he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Wc: 10k

author's note: there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)

Jungkook leaned back in the shadowed corner of the studio lounge, one AirPod in, cap tugged low, hood up like armor. The others had already left, the room still humming with leftover bass from their last rehearsal. He should’ve been gone too. Shower. Dinner. Sleep. Repeat.

But the screen kept playing.

You walked out onto the stage like you owned oxygen. The lights caught you first—spilling down your legs, your collarbone, the cut of your jaw sharp enough to slice through the silence. And then you moved. Not like a trainee, not like someone new. You moved like hunger. Like the music owed you something and you were here to collect.

“Who the fuck is she?” he’d asked three days ago, eyes glued to the monitor in their dance studio.

Taehyung had just shrugged. “New girl group. Seraphim or something.”

“Seraphim?” Jungkook muttered now, tasting the word. It felt too light, too ethereal. You were no angel. You were war wrapped in sequins.

Onscreen, you spun, hair catching like wildfire, voice bruising the silence with its raw edge. You didn’t smile when you sang. Not like the others. You burned.

He adjusted the volume, thumb pausing over the playbar, then tapping back ten seconds. Again. Your voice rose, cracked just slightly on the high note. Perfect. Not polished. Real.

The performance ended, but he didn’t blink.

A low chuckle slipped out. “Fuck.”

He’d seen idols come and go, watched them debut, fade, reinvent. But you? You walked in like a warning. And somehow, he couldn’t stop waiting for the next one. The next clip. The next moment where you’d let the world tilt just slightly off its axis.

Later, in his room, the lights off, his screen lit with the blue glow of yet another fancam, he watched you laugh during an interview. Head thrown back. Nose scrunching. No media-trained giggle, no fake eye-smiles.

“So, who’s your biggest influence?” the host asked.

You paused, eyes gleaming. “I don’t know. I think I just wanted to scream loud enough to be heard.”

That was it. Jungkook sat forward like your words had grabbed him by the collar. You weren’t performing. You were surviving.

He started noticing things. The way his fingers twitched during choreo when a lyric reminded him of your song. The way your name showed up in his search bar without him typing it. The way the corner of his mouth curved when staff played your track in the hallway speakers.

“You keep watching that girl,” Namjoon said once, half-amused, half-concerned, walking past as Jungkook hit replay.

“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, but didn’t pause it.

It wasn’t about love. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But it was about gravity. Yours pulled harder than his own, and he’d been living weightless too long.

Some nights, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to meet you backstage. Not at an award show, not on camera. Just you. Barefaced. Sweaty after practice. Maybe you’d bump into him in a hallway and not even flinch.

“Do I know you?” you'd say, brushing past.

And he’d smirk, teeth catching the inside of his lip.

“No,” he’d answer. “But I know you.”

And that would be the beginning of the end.

The idea came to him around midnight, somewhere between the ache of his fourth replay of your acoustic stage and the bitter fizz of a half-empty Coke can warming on his desk.

It was getting pathetic.

You were everywhere—on his screen, in his playlists, in the tightness behind his ribs when he saw your face on digital billboards—and yet never where he could reach. No overlapping schedules. No shared rehearsals. Not even a hallway moment. It was like fate had a personal grudge.

Jungkook dragged a hand through his hair, groaning under his breath. He wasn’t seventeen anymore. He didn’t chase. He didn’t ask.

But then his eyes drifted to the notification on his phone— Jaeha 🐣: Hyung, we’re performing at the same showcase tmrw! Let's catch up after??

Jaeha. Rookie golden boy of OBSIDIAN, the boy group everyone was calling “the next big thing.” Jungkook had taken a liking to him—bright, humble, fast learner. They’d trained together once for a special stage. And more importantly… OBSIDIAN had filmed a variety show with your group last month.

He tapped out a reply.

JK: Let’s do it. Got something I need your help with anyway.

Backstage the next day, chaos reigned as stylists darted between dressing rooms and staff shouted over the thrum of sound checks. Jungkook leaned against the wall in a dark corner of the corridor, mask on, hood up, watching the clock. OBSIDIAN had just wrapped their rehearsal. Jaeha would be walking this way any minute.

Sure enough, there he was—flushed from dancing, hair tousled, laughing at something one of his members said before spotting Jungkook. His smile widened.

“Hyung!” he called, jogging over. “Didn’t expect you to actually—”

Jungkook pulled his mask down just enough to smirk. “I said I needed help.”

Jaeha’s brow furrowed, just a flicker. “Yeah? With what?”

Jungkook kept it casual, eyes flicking to the hallway behind them, making sure no one was in earshot. “You know Y/N, right? From Seraphim?”

Silence.

Jaeha blinked, once. Then laughed—tight, forced. “Uh. Yeah. We… we shot something together last month.”

“I saw,” Jungkook said. “You two seemed close.”

The younger idol rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering away. “We talked a bit. She's cool.”

“I want to meet her.” Jungkook didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “Not weird or anything. Just… a real introduction. Off-camera.”

Jaeha went still.

Then: “Right. Sure. I guess I could, like… bring her over after your stage or something.”

Jungkook studied him. The stiffness in his shoulders. The too-careful tone.

“You like her,” he said quietly. Not a question.

Jaeha looked away. “Doesn’t matter.”

A beat passed. The air thickened.

“It might,” Jungkook said, not unkindly. “You don’t have to do this.”

But Jaeha shook his head, already forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, hyung. I got you. What are friends for, right?”

It was the kind of night that didn’t feel like work—just music and warm lights, a borrowed studio with scuffed floors and a couch that had probably seen more legends than cleanings. Someone had set up a dim corner lamp, and pizza boxes were already stacked on the table. The Bluetooth speaker hummed quietly, low-volume hip-hop threading through idle chatter.

Jungkook sat near the edge of the sofa, one leg folded beneath him, absently strumming a beat on his thigh as Jaeha laughed too loudly at something across the room.

There were only six of them. A small crowd. Familiar enough not to question the gathering, but not close enough to lower every wall. Someone had invited a producer’s younger sister. Someone else had brought beer no one was drinking. And Jaeha—Jaeha had brought you.

You slipped in behind him like moonlight through a half-open curtain. Hoodie oversized, hair tied back, makeup minimal—just enough to keep your stage face out of the room. You didn’t look like the girl Jungkook had seen strangle a live mic with her voice. You looked… normal. Which somehow made it worse.

“Oh hey,” someone said. “That’s Y/N, right? From Seraphim?”

“Yeah,” Jaeha said, too casual. “She was near the area. I told her to drop by.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped his soda and watched you do the slow scan idols do when entering a room full of half-strangers. It was instinctual: locate the exits, assess the vibes, calculate the risks. You nodded to the group, exchanged a quick hello, then lingered by the empty keyboard bench. Not hiding, not quite blending.

His name didn’t even cross your lips.

Interesting.

“Hey,” Jungkook said eventually, chin tilting just enough to acknowledge you, not claim you. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

You gave him the kind of smile people wear in interviews. Polite. Noncommittal. “Neither did I.”

“I liked your last stage,” he added, voice lazy. “That stripped-down remix of ‘Velvet Bullet’—you pulled it off.”

You nodded once. “Thanks. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Still yours now,” he said, and that pulled the corner of your mouth just slightly. Not enough to call it a smile. Barely enough to count as a crack.

Jaeha returned with drinks, sliding between the two of you with practiced ease. “She’s being humble. They only picked her because the vocal coach said no one else could carry that version.”

You shot him a look. “Jaeha.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? It’s true.”

Jungkook watched all of it. The way your eyes cooled when Jaeha spoke for you. The subtle lean away. The tension so thin and fine you could slice it into silk ribbons.

You were cautious. Reserved. Like you’d walked into this room not quite sure why you were here—and already suspecting the answer.

A while later, when the lights dimmed and someone passed an unplugged mic around for impromptu freestyles and jokes, you stayed near the wall. Observing. Laughing once or twice. But your gaze never lingered.

And still, Jungkook kept returning to you.

“She’s not as loud as I expected,” he murmured later to Jaeha, just loud enough to be heard.

“She’s not for your expectations,” Jaeha shot back, tone sharp, then softened it with a tight-lipped smile. “But yeah. She’s quiet. Until she’s not.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Is that from experience?”

Jaeha looked away. “You tell me, hyung.”

And just like that, the dynamic turned. Unspoken, but taut. Like a room filled with smoke but no fire—yet.

By the time the night ended, you’d said less than thirty words to Jungkook. And yet, he couldn’t stop replaying them on the ride home.

He liked puzzles.

And you? You didn’t just hide your pieces. You built new ones mid-game.

***

It wasn’t even supposed to be a real party.

A housewarming, they’d called it—casual, small, low-pressure. Just friends, someone had said in the group chat. A few drinks, some music, maybe someone would play the piano or pass out on the floor. Jungkook hadn’t planned to stay long. He’d even driven himself, a quiet promise to slip out early if the vibe felt wrong.

But the second he walked through the door and heard your laugh ring out from the kitchen—light, unfiltered, reckless in a way he'd never heard it before—he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

You were perched on the counter, legs swinging, chopsticks in one hand, a soju cap in the other. Jaeha was beside you, grinning like he’d won the lottery just standing near you, and you were roasting him in front of the others—something about his tragic playlist and the way he fake-mourned his ex like he was scoring points for drama.

“You’re not deep,” you said, giggling between sips of cider. “You’re just bored and horny.”

The room howled with laughter. Even Jaeha laughed, cheeks pink.

Jungkook froze in the doorway, one foot still on the welcome mat.

This was not the version of you he’d met weeks ago. This wasn’t the careful, clipped idol who weighed every word like it might cost her a contract. This wasn’t the girl who sat near exits and kept her arms crossed like a shield.

No. This was something else entirely.

This was you, bare-faced and bright, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, socked feet tapping the cabinet as you licked sauce off your thumb and rolled your eyes like you owned the air. This was you, full of teeth and teasing, the magnetic pull of someone who didn’t even know she was the center of the room.

Jungkook had the sudden, irrational urge to make you laugh like that again—because of him.

“Hyung!” someone called. “Come in! There’s still beer!”

He blinked. Forced his body forward. Pasted on that easy grin he’d mastered a decade ago. But his chest felt strange. Tight, like something had turned inside him, and now he was trying not to show it.

You spotted him eventually. Your gaze swept the room and landed on him briefly—just long enough for a flicker of recognition and a small, unreadable smile. Not cool. Not cold. Not polite. Just… real.

You hopped off the counter without a word and disappeared into the other room, and Jungkook hated how disappointed he was.

Later, after someone hooked their phone up to the speakers and dimmed the lights, the makeshift living room became a dance floor. Someone passed a bowl of drinks around. Someone else lit a cinnamon-scented candle and claimed it was “for the vibe.”

And you?

You danced like no one important was watching.

Jungkook sat on the armrest of a couch, bottle in hand, too focused on pretending to listen to a story to hide that his gaze kept falling back to you. You were in the middle of the room now, hair a little messy, sweatshirt riding up as you twirled, fingers snapped to the beat. You were off-tempo and off-balance, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t care.

You laughed when someone tried to copy your moves, swatted a friend’s hat off, and spun again—completely unchoreographed. Completely alive.

God.

You were funny.

You were chaotic.

You were nothing like he’d expected. And that was the moment Jungkook knew.

He was in trouble.

Because this wasn’t about intrigue anymore. This wasn’t about fascination, or even lust. This wasn’t about you being a rising star or having a voice that haunted his dreams.

This was worse.

He liked you. Actually liked you.

Liked the way you danced without rhythm. Liked the way you teased Jaeha with merciless affection. Liked the way you rolled your eyes at compliments and threw gummy candy at people who tried to flirt.

“Hyung,” Jaeha said, sliding beside him with a red cup. “You’ve been staring at her for like ten minutes.”

Jungkook didn’t even deny it.

“She’s different here,” he murmured.

Jaeha’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. She is.”

But Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore.

Because you were laughing again—head thrown back, hands in the air like you were weightless. And all he could think was:

I want to be the reason she looks like that.

He didn’t realize he was smiling until someone nudged him.

He didn’t care.

He was already falling, and this time, it didn’t feel like a mistake.

The message comes at 1:37 a.m.

JK: You up?

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering. The dorm is quiet, lights out, a humid stillness hanging in the air. There’s no way you should say yes. You don’t know him—not really. Not the way fans do, not the way the industry whispers you should. And yet.

JK: Come for a drive.No pressure. No questions. Just music and air.

You hesitate. Then pull on your hoodie, shove your phone into the pocket, and slip past your sleeping members like a secret.

His car idles at the corner, matte-black and gleaming under the streetlight like some coiled animal. The door opens before you can knock.

You slide in. The leather is warm, the cabin smells faintly like cedar and something clean. He doesn’t look at you right away, just taps his thumb twice against the steering wheel, cueing the playlist.

Low synths and soft percussion ease into the space like breath.

“Hey,” he says after a beat, eyes on the road. His voice is quiet. Scraped raw at the edges.

You nod. “Hey.”

That’s all.

No where have you been, no you look tired. No one trying to impress or be interesting. Just the soft hum of tires over asphalt and the city lights flickering like ghosts through the windshield.

He drives without destination, weaving through the sleeping veins of Seoul, windows cracked just enough to let the night in. A breeze slips through, carrying the distant scent of rain on concrete and something floral from a street vendor long gone.

You don’t speak. Neither does he.

It should be awkward. Tense. But instead—it settles. Like water finding its shape.

It’s twenty minutes before he breaks the silence.

“I can’t sleep anymore,” he says, softly. “Not unless I’m moving.”

You turn, watching the way the passing neon draws lines along his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth.

“You mean like… driving?”

“Or flying. Or running. Anything. As long as it’s not still.” He taps the wheel again. “Too much noise in stillness.”

You nod slowly. “I get that.”

And he glances at you—just once—but it lands like lightning. He wasn’t expecting that. Understanding. No follow-up questions. No digging. Just... recognition.

The silence that returns is different now. Not empty. Full of unspoken me too.

He flicks on the right indicator, then turns down a quieter road—one that snakes along the river, where buildings fall away and the dark opens wide.

“You ever feel like you’re only real when no one’s watching?” he murmurs.

You exhale, the answer curling out of you like smoke. “Only all the time.”

Something shifts in the car. It’s subtle, unspoken, but you feel it like gravity—that click of shared loneliness, the kind that doesn’t need translation.

You look out the window again, the river glittering beside you like a secret being kept. The wind tousles your hair. The music plays on, some dreamy track you don’t recognize.

You don’t ask where you’re going.

You already know the point isn’t the destination.

It’s this. This quiet. This motion. This strange, tender night with a boy who carries the same kind of weight behind his eyes.

And for the first time in months, you feel like you’re breathing easy.

***

The rooftop door creaks open with the hush of something conspiratorial. You step through and the city unfurls beneath you—glittering and infinite, Seoul’s skyline scattered like crushed glass across black velvet.

Jungkook is already there.

He’s sitting on an old fleece blanket, legs stretched out, one hand propped behind him, head tilted back to the stars like he’s trying to memorize them. A hoodie hangs loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up. A small paper bag and two thermoses sit beside him like a picnic he tried to pretend wasn’t one.

He hears the door, doesn’t look. Just lifts his voice, low and casual.

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

You pull your hood down, walking toward him. “I didn’t think I would either.”

He turns then, and the look he gives you is brief—but it lands. Like warmth. Like welcome.

“No pressure. We can just sit. I brought snacks.” He lifts the bag. “Not bribery. Just… information well used.”

You raise an eyebrow as you settle beside him, cross-legged. “You remember what I like?”

He shrugs with a grin. “Radish kimchi, right? And the peanut crackers from the trainee vending machines. Oh—and peach soda, but only if it’s cold.” He gestures to the thermos. “Had to get creative on that one.”

Your chest tightens. It’s stupid, really. You’re used to people watching your content, memorizing your answers. But there’s something quieter, gentler, about him remembering the unrecorded details.

You take the thermos, fingers brushing his. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says, “yet. I might ask you to share.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. For real.

For a while, you just sit there, picking through snacks, trading stories.

He tells you about his first time trying to cook for the group—how he nearly set the kitchen on fire trying to flambé eggs. You laugh, genuinely, picturing him panicking in bunny slippers, flour in his hair.

You tell him about the time you fell asleep during practice and got filmed mid-snore by your leader. He nearly chokes on a rice cracker.

“You snore?” he grins.

“Once,” you protest.

“Sure.” He leans back, arms behind his head. “You’re way cooler than I expected.”

You glance at him, half amused. “You expected cool?”

“No,” he says, turning his head to face you. “I expected untouchable.”

The word lingers. You break eye contact first.

“Can I ask you something?” you say.

He nods.

“What are you afraid of?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. His gaze returns to the stars. You think he might dodge it. Joke it off. But then:

“Disappearing,” he says. “Not from the industry. Just… from people. From their hearts. From mattering.”

You’re silent.

“I used to think love came from attention,” he continues. “From applause. Now I think it’s the quiet stuff that counts. The way someone holds space for you when you’re not trying.”

You swallow around something thick.

“My turn?” he asks.

You nod, unsure what he’ll say.

“What about you?”

You think of the silence after stages, the ache in your spine that no one notices. You think of the way your members fall asleep in vans, heads on shoulders, and how you always end up staring at the dark.

“Being misunderstood,” you say softly. “Or worse—understood, and still not chosen.”

The quiet that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s honest.

Jungkook shifts beside you, reaches without a word, and tugs his hoodie over his head. He hands it to you, and his voice is soft.

“It’s cold.”

You hesitate. “I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “I’m not. You look cold. So wear it.”

You slip it on. It smells like detergent and something warm and woodsy. Like the inside of his car. Like him.

“Thanks,” you say, voice barely audible.

He doesn’t look at you when he replies.

“Anytime.”

And you know he means it. Not just the hoodie. The anytime. The anywhere. The you.

Something solid shifts between you. The space closes—not physically, but emotionally.

You’re not just sitting on a rooftop with Jungkook-the-idol anymore. You’re here with Jungkook.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you think maybe you don’t have to be alone.

***

The building was mostly dark by the time you arrived, its heavy doors locked to the world, save for one back entrance Jungkook had somehow charmed access to.

The studio itself was stripped bare—no lights, no lenses, no stylists fluttering like moths to a flame. Just an echoing space that smelled faintly of sawdust and lavender detergent, with one soft lamp glowing in the corner like a moon.

You paused in the doorway, your shoes catching on the edge of the mat.

In the middle of the room, laid out neatly over the polished floor, was a thick, quilted blanket, two cushions, and three takeout bags still steaming, their paper tops folded with care. There was music playing—low, jazzy, something instrumental with slow piano and sleepy brass.

Jungkook stood near the far wall, pulling off his jacket, sleeves rolled up, eyes already on you when you looked up.

“You came,” he said, like it wasn’t the third time this week.

You toed off your sneakers. “You keep inviting me.”

“Guess I’m hoping that if I do it enough, you’ll stop being surprised.”

You walked toward the blanket, letting your gaze wander. The food smelled familiar—shockingly so. Your favorite noodle soup, the side dish you always ordered from that one place in Hongdae, and—your brows lifted—cherry rice cakes. The kind they stopped selling months ago.

“Where did you get these?” you asked, sitting down.

His grin curved soft and a little proud. “I have a friend who owes me favors.”

You picked up a rice cake, turning it in your fingers before glancing up. “You really remembered everything.”

“Of course I did,” he said. “You notice things when you care.”

The words landed lightly. But something about them thudded in your chest.

You ate in silence for a while, comfortably tucked side by side on the floor, passing containers back and forth. His knees brushed yours once, then twice, and didn’t move away. When you spilled sauce on your sleeve, he handed you a napkin without a word.

When he accidentally dropped a dumpling, you laughed, full-bodied, and he looked at you like he’d waited a lifetime to hear it again.

“Do you ever wonder how long this lasts?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself.

He turned his head toward you. “This?”

“Fame. Attention. Relevance.”

Jungkook leaned back on one hand, the other cradling his bowl. “Every day. But I try not to live there. Doesn’t change anything but your anxiety.”

You studied him. “You’re so good at sounding like you’ve figured it out.”

“I’m good at sounding,” he said. “Not always at believing.”

He glanced at you, something quieter in his expression now.

“I think I just want to be seen. Not… watched. Not managed. Just seen.”

You let the words settle between you.

“I get that,” you said finally. “Sometimes I feel like no one’s really looking at me. They’re just looking at the version they need.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “And who are you, then?”

You smiled, small and careful. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Later, you were lying side by side on the blanket, your shoulders barely touching, legs curled toward each other in a kind of lazy symmetry. The food had been pushed aside. The lamp threw long shadows across the floor.

He told you about the time he almost quit—how he’d stood on the balcony of a hotel in Tokyo and wondered what life would feel like if he just disappeared. Not died. Just stopped.

You didn’t speak. Just reached out slowly, fingertips brushing his knuckles.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

His throat worked around the answer. “I remembered that kid who auditioned barefoot. Who shook all the way through his first dance lesson. I didn’t want to abandon him.”

You blinked against the sting in your eyes.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a pickup line. It wasn’t flirtation. It was safety, offered in the softest tone.

But it hit you like thunder.

“I am scared,” you whispered. “Not of you. Just… what it means to let someone see me. What happens when they do and decide I’m not what they thought.”

He turned onto his side, facing you fully.

“Then they’re idiots,” he said simply. “And you’re better off.”

You looked at him. Really looked. The sweep of his lashes. The curve of his lips. The faint scar above his eyebrow.

And just like that—something tipped.

The distance you’d kept so carefully began to vanish. Not with a kiss. Not with a confession. Just with a shared breath. A soft silence. A trust you didn’t expect to feel so soon.

You reached for another rice cake, half-smiling.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you murmured. “I’m still deciding if I like you.”

He grinned, wide and wicked. “Take your time. I’m very charming.”

And you were already starting to believe him.

***

The sky breaks open without warning.

One minute you’re walking through a quiet side street, shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook after grabbing late-night snacks from a convenience store, your laughter echoing off brick walls as you argue about the superiority of shrimp chips versus honey butter. The next—crack, boom, whoosh—rain slashes down in thick, merciless sheets.

You both freeze mid-step, blinking up as the first drops smack your faces. Then Jungkook curses under his breath, grabs your wrist, and pulls you toward the nearest shelter.

It’s a rundown bus stop with a rusted roof and crooked bench, empty save for a torn-up ad for a language app and a crushed soda can someone never threw away. The metal covering barely holds back the downpour, but it’s enough. You duck under it, breathless, soaked to the bone in seconds.

Jungkook’s hair clings to his forehead, his white T-shirt nearly transparent now. He’s laughing. Really laughing. That deep, contagious sound that starts in his chest and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“You look like a raccoon,” he says, shaking water from his bangs.

You shove his arm. “Says the guy whose shirt just declared war on modesty.”

He grins wider, then squints at you through the rain. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Because it’s chaotic,” you say, wiping water from your cheeks. “I love chaos.”

He watches you then—really watches you—soaked hoodie, flushed cheeks, eyes lit with something wild. You’re not composed. Not styled. Not protected by lighting or wardrobe or PR. You’re you. Messy, drenched, laughing—and somehow more luminous than you’ve ever been.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he says softly.

You blink, your breath catching slightly. “Like what?”

“Unfiltered,” he replies. “Like no one’s watching.”

The air shifts. Not cold, but charged, the kind of quiet that exists right before something gives in. You swallow hard. The rain’s still coming down, thunder grumbling far above, but your focus is tight—locked in on him, on how close he suddenly feels.

You step forward, slowly, until there’s barely a sliver of space between you.

“This feels dangerous,” you whisper.

He doesn’t move away.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can keep pretending this isn’t something.”

His breath catches. He looks at you like you’re saying everything he’s been holding back.

And still—he doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, he lifts a hand, touches your hair, wet and clinging to your cheek. His thumb brushes it aside, fingers tracing the edge of your jaw so lightly it almost doesn’t feel real. Then he cradles your face, like the whole world’s gone still around this one fragile thing.

You lean into his palm before you realize it. Eyes fluttering shut. Just for a second.

And when you open them, he’s there. Right there.

Not kissing you. Not crossing the line. But waiting.

Your chest is tight. The yearning is no longer curiosity, no longer new—it’s anchored. It hurts, in the way only things that matter do.

“We’re not ready for this,” you say, barely a breath.

“I know.” His voice is hoarse. “But I don’t think I can stop wanting it.”

You’re both soaked and shaking under a bus stop at the edge of the city, and somehow it feels like the most honest place you’ve ever been.

You don’t speak again. Just sit on the bench beside him, thigh to thigh, hands close but not touching, the sound of rain drowning everything but the thrum in your chest.

And that’s the moment it truly shifts.

Whatever this is, it’s not a game anymore. It’s not light. It’s not passing. It’s real. And it’s already too late to walk away.

***

The room is humming with leftover adrenaline.

Outside the dressing room, you can still hear the muffled chaos of staff shouting, heels clacking, someone’s ringtone going off again and again. The afterglow of a live show always lingers like static in the air—sweaty, electric, a little surreal.

Jungkook closes the door behind you with a soft click.

It’s not just the two of you in theory. It’s the two of you in reality now—tangled in the moment you’ve both been skating toward for weeks.

He leans against the door, chest rising and falling beneath his all-black outfit, strands of damp hair stuck to his forehead. His in-ears hang around his neck like dog tags, and there’s still smudged eyeliner beneath his eyes, like war paint no one bothered to wash away.

You don’t know why you followed him in here. You just did. Your legs moved before your brain caught up.

Now the silence feels alive, pulsing between you.

He watches you like you’re a song he doesn’t dare press play on. And you stand there, fists curled slightly, still wearing your mic pack, your lip gloss smudged from the water bottle you grabbed backstage.

“You were insane out there,” he says. His voice is lower than usual—raw.

“You too,” you reply, barely above a whisper.

He steps closer.

Slow. Deliberate.

“You keep doing that,” he murmurs.

You blink. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like I’m not real.”

You laugh under your breath, eyes falling to the floor. “You don’t feel real most of the time.”

He’s in front of you now. Close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the faint trace of vanilla and sweat clinging to his collar.

“But this is real,” he says, lifting his hand, not quite touching your cheek yet. “Isn’t it?”

You nod, slowly.

That’s when he touches you.

Not urgently. Not with lust. Just his fingertips against your jaw, feather-light, tilting your face up so your eyes meet his. He’s searching your face like he’s memorizing it. Every eyelash. Every unspoken yes.

You don’t pull away. You don’t breathe.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, eyes flicking to your mouth.

You don’t.

He leans in. And kisses you.

Softly.

At first.

It’s the kind of kiss that feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long. The kind that doesn’t ask for anything—just offers.

But when your hands slide up his chest, and you step into him like you can’t stand the space anymore, it changes.

The kiss deepens—urgently, hungrily, like weeks of tension just snapped at the seams. He tastes like sweat and soda and something undeniably him. His hands cradle your waist, then your face, then the back of your neck like he can’t decide where to touch you first.

You gasp a little when he pulls you tighter, and he swallows the sound like a secret.

This isn’t sweet. This is inevitable.

When you finally break apart, it’s not with regret. It’s with breathless silence and wide eyes and foreheads pressed together in the dark.

You laugh, a little dizzy. “Took you long enough.”

He smiles, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “You think that was slow? You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, heart pounding through your ribs, and suddenly—everything feels simpler.

There are still a thousand things unsaid. Still rules. Risks. Consequences.

But for now, in this tiny dressing room, after the noise and the lights and the pretending— You have him. He has you.

And for the first time, you don’t feel alone in it.

***

The room pulses with something soft and golden—music threaded low through the speakers, the bass thumping like a second heartbeat beneath the floor. Fairy lights hang limp along the ceiling, tangled with paper lanterns and leftover streamers from someone’s birthday three weeks ago.

It’s the kind of party no one planned. Just a half-spontaneous gathering of familiar faces, mutual friends, and people who know how to pretend they’re not watching each other.

You sit perched on the arm of a sofa, one foot tucked beneath the other, nursing a half-finished drink as someone passes a bottle of soju around like a crown. Laughter spills from the kitchen. A game of cards crashes somewhere behind you.

And across the room, Jungkook is watching you.

He hasn’t stopped. Not since you arrived.

He’s wearing all black again—oversized tee, chain at his neck, rings catching the light when he lifts his drink. His hair’s a little messy, lips curved at the corners from a joke someone told, but his eyes aren’t really smiling. They’re focused. Heavy.

Every time your gaze flickers to his—he’s there. Not pushing. Just waiting.

You laugh at something you don’t hear. Pull your hoodie sleeves down over your wrists. Feel the flush creeping up your throat that has nothing to do with alcohol.

Someone next to you nudges your arm. “You always vanish when Jungkook does.”

You blink. Turn toward them. “What?”

A few heads turn. Smirks follow.

“Seriously,” a girl across the room adds, swirling her drink. “It’s like—boom, both gone. Like clockwork.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but Jungkook’s already pushing off the wall. The smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

Jaeha watches it all from the kitchen doorway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo jacket. His jaw’s tight. His mouth doesn’t move, but his stare lands hard. He hasn’t said much all night. He hasn’t had to.

Jungkook doesn’t look at him. Not once.

He just moves.

Across the room. Around the bodies. Through the low light and lazy shadows until he’s there, right in front of you, close enough that his presence drowns out everything else.

You tilt your head up, not breathing. His hand brushes your forearm, fingers grazing barely-there. You can smell the faint cologne he always wears, sweet and woodsy, like a memory you haven’t named yet.

He leans in.

His lips don’t touch your skin, but his breath grazes your ear when he whispers, voice smooth and low and intentional:

“Come with me.”

You don’t answer right away.

You don’t have to.

He steps back, just a little, and your eyes meet his in the dark—the room around you blurring, the noise dimming, the world narrowing down to just this.

Just him.

Just yes.

And your legs are already moving.

The silence between you in the car is so thick it starts to feel like a third presence, one neither of you dares to acknowledge. It sits heavy in the air, woven through each shallow breath and every twitch of your fingers against your thigh.

Jungkook drives like he always does—one hand firm on the wheel, eyes focused on the road ahead, the sharp line of his jaw flexing every now and then like he’s chewing down a thought he’s not ready to voice. There’s no music playing tonight, no soft hum to fill the space. Just the quiet hum of the engine, the occasional sigh of tires against wet asphalt, and the rhythmic click of turn signals blinking through the hush.

Your eyes flick toward him—twice, maybe three times. Not to study, not to search, but to feel something solid in a moment that’s unraveling at the edges. The sight of him, rigid and unsmiling, jaw set like he’s clenching back everything he hasn’t said since the party, grounds you in a way that only makes things worse.

You shift slightly in your seat, thighs pressing together, toes curling inside your sneakers as the nerves crawl beneath your skin. You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in your tongue. It’s too quiet to pretend it’s not happening—this tension, this ache, this near-violent awareness of him.

And then, at the longest red light in the city, it happens.

He glances at you. Quick. Sharp. Like a magnet being pulled too close.

Your eyes meet in the stillness, and the look that passes between you doesn’t need translation. It holds no playfulness, no invitation, no smirk. Just heat. And caution. And something that feels a little too much like longing.

He looks away first. But the air doesn’t return to normal.

The light turns green. The world continues. But you don’t feel like it does.

By the time the car glides into the parking garage beneath his building, your breath is shallow and your throat is dry. He parks with precision—calm hands, familiar movement—like everything inside him hasn’t been fraying from the inside out since the moment he touched your arm hours ago and asked you to come with him.

The engine dies, and the silence that replaces it is impossibly louder.

Neither of you moves right away. Neither of you breathes too deeply.

Then, quietly, Jungkook opens his door and steps out. He circles the car without speaking, the soles of his shoes echoing softly in the empty garage. When he reaches your side, he doesn’t just wait—he opens the door. Stands there. Looks at you.

And that’s when you hear him.

Not loud. Not bold. Just barely above the hush that fills the space.

“You can still say no.”

His voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it—something careful, something restrained. Like he’s holding the door open not just to the car, but to a choice he refuses to take away from you. His shoulders are tense, and he doesn’t smile this time. He doesn’t reach. He doesn’t coax.

He simply waits.

And it’s that—the restraint—that undoes you.

Because you could say no. You could laugh this off, slide past him, head home and bury this night in the vault where all dangerous things go.

But instead, you shift forward. You let your foot touch the ground. You rise slowly, meeting his gaze the whole way.

You don’t answer aloud. You don’t have to.

The way your shoulder brushes his as you pass him says enough.

The way he exhales quietly behind you—like he’s been holding his breath since he first whispered those words—says even more.

You follow him through the quiet lobby, neither of you saying a word, but every step you take together echoing like a promise waiting to be made.

The door clicks shut behind you with a sound that feels far too loud in the stillness that follows.

His apartment is dark, save for the low golden wash of a lamp glowing near the window, its light catching on matte black picture frames and the edge of a glass table. The space is sleek but lived-in—soft shadows, clean lines, everything in its place. There’s a scent in the air you recognize now, something warm and low—cedarwood, vanilla, and the quiet echo of his cologne clinging to the fibers of the couch.

You step out of your shoes and pause just inside the hallway, heart beating a little too loud, fingers curling loosely at your sides as he moves past you. He doesn’t turn on more lights. He doesn’t ask if you want tea, or water, or time.

He doesn’t ask anything at all.

He just turns. Slowly. And walks toward you.

There’s no hesitation in his steps now, no shy glances or tentative pacing. Only silence, only the sharp pull of something that’s been held back far too long, stretching thinner and thinner each time your eyes met across dim rooms, each time your fingers brushed then pulled away.

When he reaches you, he doesn’t speak. He just cups your face with both hands—firm, trembling slightly, as though he's not sure where the urgency ends and the desperation begins. And then he kisses you.

Hard.

Deep.

Like every second you weren’t touching him before this was a wound that finally needed closing.

Your hands reach for him instantly—fisting into the hem of his hoodie, dragging him closer until there’s no space left. The kiss is unpolished, breathless, teeth knocking slightly before it melts into something slower, then fast again, like neither of you can decide whether to savor it or devour.

Your back hits the wall. Then he breaks the kiss just long enough to tilt your jaw up with his thumb and meet your eyes, his pupils blown wide, his breath unsteady against your mouth. And then he’s kissing you again—lower this time, his lips dragging down your throat as you arch into him, head tipped back, mouth parting on a gasp.

You laugh for a second, half-drunk on the heat of it, tugging at the fabric clinging to his chest.

It dies quickly. Becomes a sound that’s softer. Needier.

He lifts you without effort, gripping your thighs, and you cling to his shoulders as he carries you through the open space, past the dining table, straight to the kitchen.

He sets you down on the counter like he’s done it before in his mind. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, holding him there, hips tight against his. Fingers roam under clothing—gripping, dragging, claiming—until you’re both breathless and tangled, and his hoodie is half off and your shirt’s already forgotten somewhere on the floor.

His mouth finds your collarbone, your shoulder, the place just beneath your ear that makes your spine curl—and it’s too much. And not nearly enough.

And then—buzz.

The first vibration is subtle.

Then another. And another.

His phone lights up against the marble counter near the sink—flashes of blue and white casting shadows across his cheekbones.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Text. Call. Notification. Again and again. Like the world is pounding at the door, demanding to be let back in.

You freeze—not fully, but enough. Enough that he feels it.

Your breath catches against his mouth.

His hands still.

And then he pulls back—just slightly—forehead resting against yours, fingers slipping up to your jaw again, grounding you.

He doesn’t look at the phone.

He doesn’t even glance.

His voice comes out quiet, rough, like the words have been scraped raw before they ever made it to his mouth.

“Nothing matters but you tonight.”

A pause. A breath. His eyes meet yours again, and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them.

“I need this,” he whispers. “I need you.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t move.

You just let it wash over you—the weight of it, the truth of it, the way his words settle in your chest like a secret only the two of you are allowed to carry.

Time doesn’t move in a straight line after that.

It melts, curls, loops back in on itself as mouths find skin, as hands forget hesitation. The world becomes narrowed to this apartment, this couch, this night where nothing is held back anymore.

Your knees straddle him on the cushions, thighs pressing into his hips as he sinks back, one hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your hair, grounding himself like he’s terrified he’ll wake up and none of this will be real. His hoodie is long gone, and your shirt was dropped halfway across the floor. Now it’s just heat and skin and the wild, unspoken pull of everything that’s been building between you for months.

The kiss deepens—slower now, but heavier too. Like you’re both drinking from something bottomless. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the length of your throat, pausing just long enough to taste the salt at your collarbone. When you arch forward, he groans low in his chest and wraps both arms around you, burying his face in the space between your breasts like he needs to catch his breath.

Then—his mouth moves lower.

There’s nothing hurried about it. No teasing, no distance. Just reverence.

He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks gently, lips warm and wet, tongue circling until your breath catches and your hips grind down involuntarily against him. One of his hands moves up your spine, steady and slow, while the other dips lower—past your waistband, past caution, until his fingers slide between your thighs and find you already aching.

You gasp. His name stutters out of you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even smirk. He just kisses your chest again, again, until your breath turns ragged and your fingers claw into his shoulders.

“Lie back,” he murmurs, voice husky, cracking at the edges.

You do.

He kneels between your legs on the floor, pushes your thighs apart, and lowers himself like it’s instinct—like he’s worshipped you in dreams before and now, finally, he gets to do it with hands and mouth and breath.

When his tongue finds you, you shudder—every part of you splintering open.

He’s slow at first. Focused. His hands firm around your hips to hold you steady as he learns what makes your thighs tremble and your hands grasp the cushion behind your head. You moan his name, sharp and breathless, and he groans into you like he’s the one falling apart.

When you reach for him, desperate, he rises, mouth glistening, pupils blown wide.

He kisses your stomach like it’s sacred, slow and deliberate, as if each inch of skin he touches is being committed to memory, mapped out so he’ll never lose it. You’re laid out before him on the couch, limbs loose, spine arched just slightly, and every part of you is trembling with the anticipation of what’s next.

His hands don’t rush. They move with care, reverence, as though he’s waited too long to ruin it with haste.

You feel his fingers first—just his fingertips—brushing up the inside of your thigh, tracing invisible patterns along your skin, dragging goosebumps in their wake. He doesn’t go straight for it. No. Jungkook studies your body like it’s asking him questions he doesn’t want to answer too soon. He wants to learn—every shift of your hips, every catch in your breath, every place you melt under touch.

When he finally reaches you—truly touches you—you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath since the moment you stepped into his apartment.

His fingers glide through your wetness with a kind of quiet wonder, like he already knew you’d be this ready for him but still can’t quite believe it.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice cracking with awe. “You’re so wet for me.”

You can’t even speak—just nod, back pressing deeper into the couch, thighs parting further without conscious thought.

He draws slow circles around your clit first, barely-there pressure, testing, coaxing, watching. He watches everything—your face, the way your lips part, the way your eyes flutter shut when he gets the rhythm right.

When he slides one finger into you, your mouth falls open on a gasp.

It’s not just the stretch—it’s the deliberateness. The control. The way he curls it slightly, searching until he finds the spot that makes your breath stutter.

And then he finds it.

He adds a second finger, and your body reacts before your mind catches up. Your hips roll toward his hand, chasing friction, chasing more. He lets you. He gives it. He curls and pumps, mouth parted slightly as he watches you lose composure, his thumb catching your clit in slow, deliberate strokes that build and build and build.

“You like that?” he murmurs, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. “The way I touch you?”

Your voice is a broken whisper. “Yes—God, yes—don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He won’t. Not until he’s pulled every breathless sound out of you. Not until your thighs shake and your nails grip the couch cushion in desperation.

“Look at me,” he says softly, fingers still deep inside you. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”

You do.

And when you come—slow, then sharp, then completely undone—it’s not a scream. It’s not a performance. It’s a raw, breathtaking surrender. His name on your tongue. Your body clenched tight around his hand. Your chest rising and falling like you just survived something you didn’t want to be saved from.

He doesn’t pull away right away. Just slows his movements, eases you down, until you’re shaking and boneless beneath him.

Your body is still trembling when he lifts his head, and the look in his eyes when he rises between your legs is unlike anything you’ve seen in him before—nothing cocky, nothing proud. Just reverence. Pure, breathless reverence, like he’s seeing you naked for the first time, not in skin, but in something far more dangerous.

His hands trail up your sides as he kisses a slow path back up your body—your inner thighs, your hip, your stomach, the valley between your ribs. You feel his heartbeat in every press of his mouth, unsteady and urgent, like it’s racing to catch up to something that’s already been decided.

When he kisses you again—finally, finally—it’s not rushed or ravenous. It’s full of all the things he hasn’t said. It’s the kind of kiss you fall into and forget where you are.

He lines himself up against you with one hand, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking the edge of your cheek like he’s still asking, even if you’ve already answered.

You open your legs wider for him, one hand curling around the back of his neck, and whisper something too soft to hear—his name, maybe. A breath. A plea. An invitation.

He pushes in slow.

And your eyes lock.

The stretch is slow, molten, real—your body molding around him inch by inch, and he groans low in his throat like he’s trying not to fall apart too fast. His forehead presses to yours. Your hands clutch at his shoulder blades. Neither of you speak.

And when he’s fully inside you, buried deep, he doesn’t move. Not yet. He just holds you there, body to body, heart to heart, like he’s afraid movement might ruin it.

His lips brush your ear, his breath shaky.

“I don’t want this to end,” he murmurs.

You wrap your arms tighter around him, voice barely a whisper. “Then don’t stop.”

When he begins to move, it’s slow at first—long, deep thrusts that have you gasping into the crook of his neck, your nails dragging soft crescents into his back. He moans your name into your shoulder, the sound rough, reverent, almost broken. Every roll of his hips feels like a confession, every snap forward a prayer.

It’s not hard or fast or frantic. It’s close.

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing tight, and he presses it to his chest, right over his heart—just like before. Only this time, it’s not symbolic. It’s everything.

“I need you to feel this,” he breathes. “All of it. I don’t care how messy this gets. I just need you to know—this is real.”

You nod, because you feel it. Every inch. Every word.

Your body arches into his. The rhythm deepens. Your name spills from his mouth again, and again, and again like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

And when it happens—when the peak rises so fast it steals your breath—you look at him.

Your eyes meet in that final moment, and you see each other.

Really see.

You come with a cry that’s not just pleasure but release—months of tension snapping loose in your core, his name caught on your lips. Your thighs tighten around his hips, and your body locks down around him so hard you feel him shake.

He follows seconds later, buried deep, mouth falling open in a groan that’s equal parts worship and surrender. His hands grip you tight—your hips, your waist, your face—like he’s anchoring himself in you.

You ride the waves together, slow, breathless, trembling.

And when it’s done—when he collapses onto you, still inside you, both of you slick with sweat and flushed and shaking—you don’t pull away.

You just hold him. And he holds you.

Not as something temporary. Not as a secret. But as something neither of you can walk away from now.

The silence that follows is the kind that only comes after storms—heavy with what’s just passed, but somehow still tender, like the world knows better than to interrupt what’s just been broken open.

You lie curled into him, legs tangled beneath the sheets, the damp warmth of his body pressed close to your back. His arm is a weight around your waist, heavy and unmoving, like if he lets go, the room might vanish. The sweat on your skin has cooled, leaving behind a sheen that catches faint light spilling in from the hallway. The air is still, but charged in a different way now—after.

On the nightstand, his phone lies face-down. Silent. Still. But you remember the buzz. The rapid flurry of messages that lit up like warning signals right in the middle of your undoing. You hadn’t asked then. You didn’t stop.

But you haven’t forgotten either.

And now, in this quiet moment, in the dark softness of his bed, you wonder.

You wonder who was calling. You wonder what couldn’t wait. And why he let it.

Your fingers twitch against the sheet.

But then—his breath ghosts across your shoulder. Slow. Warm. Steady.

He shifts closer behind you, the edge of his nose brushing your neck, his chest pressed to the curve of your spine like he needs the reassurance of your body to anchor him.

Then, in that liminal space just before sleep swallows him whole, you feel his voice more than hear it.

Low. Barely-there. A secret meant for no one else.

“I don’t want to wake up without you.”

Your eyes close. And your throat tightens.

Because it sounds like a dream. Because it feels like a promise.

You can’t sleep.

The room is too still, too quiet, too heavy. His breath against your neck once felt grounding. Now it feels like a weight you didn’t agree to carry.

Jungkook is fast asleep, arm slung across your waist, mouth slightly parted, skin flushed from the heat of everything that happened. He looks peaceful. Untouched. Innocent.

But your mind won’t stop spinning. Not after those vibrations. Not after the way his phone lit up and lit up and lit upwhile you gave him your body like it meant something.

Careful not to wake him, you shift.

His arm slips away easily, his body warm and still behind you. The hardwood floor chills your feet as you rise, bare legs brushing cold air, heart racing for reasons you haven’t said out loud yet.

You spot it on the nightstand.

The phone.

Face-down. Silent now. But you remember the chaos it held before.

You pick it up. Your hands shake.

The screen unlocks too easily. No password. Just trust—or maybe arrogance.

And there it is.

The first message you see. The one that splits you clean down the middle.

Jaeha: So you fucked her already? Guess you win the bet, bro. Congratulations.

Your breath stops.

Everything else disappears.

The walls fade. The bed. The lamp. The softness of the sheets. The warmth still lingering on your skin. All of it turns to ash.

You scroll up—searching for context, for a lie, for a reason, for anything that might undo what you just saw.

But it’s all there.

Clear. Cruel.

And it wasn’t just a fuck. It wasn’t just sex. You know what it was—you felt it, the way he touched you, the way he held your hand to his chest like it meant something. You believed him.

And now— It’s not just betrayal. It’s humiliation.

Your knees lock. Your lungs collapse. Your hands tremble around the phone like it might catch fire.

Behind you, the bed creaks softly.

He stirs.

“Mm—what time is it?” His voice is rough, dazed, still half-asleep. “Babe?”

You don’t answer.

You’re standing there, frozen, phone clutched to your chest like it’s the weapon that killed you.

He pushes himself up on one elbow, squinting through the dark.

“Y/N?”

Then he sees your face.

The color drains from his.

Your mouth opens—but nothing comes. Your voice is buried beneath the shock, the ache.

“Hey,” he says, softly now, rising, confused. “What’s wrong? What—what happened?”

Your eyes flick to his. Red-rimmed. Wet.

You look at him—at the boy who held your face like it meant something, who whispered I need you like a promise— and your voice finally breaks, quiet and shaking as the phone slips from your hand and lands between you both like a loaded gun.

“Was I ever real to you, or just the prize?”

.

.

there’s a second and final part already finished and available exclusively now on my private telegram channel (through paid subscription)

[lesbiansanemi]

If they do not shut these motherfucking tornado sirens off………..

[boxwinebaddie]

oh freckle, freckle⠁.. what makes you so s p e c i a l?

[crescentfool]

never in my life did i think i need to makeout with a piece of software so badly but here we are i guess

[eatfishies]

Intoxicated By Your Sweet Taste 🔞

summary: Zayne thinks he hasn’t given you much attention due to his work.

or

Pussy drunk! Zayne can’t get enough of you.

word count: 2k tags: NSFW, zayne x reader (afab), no plot just filth, oral sex, oral fixation, cunnilingus, clit play, swearing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, coming multiple times, domestic fluff at the end, pet names, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship fish notes: as always, pls heed the tags ~ nevertheless, this fic was inspired by this twt here ! hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

It was past midnight when the door creaked open, revealing a tired looking Zayne. She was already in bed, snuggled up with the plushies her dear lover got for her. Zayne smiled at the sight before striding towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

That action caused her to stir, fluttering her eyes open to look at her partner. “You’re back.” She mumbled sleepily.

Zayne gently stroked her hair, lulling her back to sleep. “Go back to sleep, love.” He said as he continued to play with her hair.

“I’ll only sleep if you do too.” She replied, which earned her a small smile from Zayne.

Once he had finished showering, she couldn’t help but marvel at his chiseled chest, glistening with droplets of water, running down ever so slowly. She tore her eyes away, feeling a little bit flushed.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by her observant lover though as Zayne pointed out, “Weren’t you half awake earlier? It seems like you’ve got your attention elsewhere now.”

She didn’t even bother to attempt and deflate herself because it’s true. She is enjoying this view very much.

Just like that, she hoisted herself up and had her eyes solely on him. Desire and lust coursing through her veins. “Yeah… you’re not wrong. It’s because you’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

A chuckle rumbled out of Zayne, a little surprised by her bold declaration, considering how sleepy she was earlier. “Ah, so that’s what caught your attention?”

Before she could even reply, Zayne is already making his way to the bed. Her eyes widened slightly as he pushed her down gently, making her gaze up at him.

“Have I neglected my darling? Am I not pleasuring you enough?” He spoke as his face inched closer. She felt her breath hitched in her throat as the pit of her stomach coiled with pure lust.

The words she wanted to say were caught up, speechless by the sudden mood change. She bit her lip, “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Thick, strong fingers found its way to cup her face, “Then I shall take it upon myself to satisfy you until all your needs are met.” Without any hesitation, Zayne closed the distance between them and passionately kissed her.

She gasped as his other hand went to grab her hips, keeping her firmly in place as his tongue explored her mouth. Every ounce of sleepiness she had in her quickly vanished, instantly replaced by a primal hunger for him. She needs, no, she yearned to be one with him. To feel him in every way possible.

“Don’t… hold back.” He murmured in between her lips before he moved to trail kisses down on her neck, eliciting moans and whimpers. She closed her eyes shut, taking in the pleasure she’s receiving as he continued to suck and bite on her neck, leaving behind marks.

It was just a pure coincidence that she decided to wear a nightgown but she’s thankful nevertheless since it gave Zayne easy access to slip his hand up and caress her soft skin, feeling her up. She can feel her pussy growing needier and wetter with each touch he makes.

She sucked in a deep breath when his fingers began to rub against her slick, “Someone’s excited.” Zayne remarked as he suddenly pulled his fingers away and moved down to crouch in between her legs.

Instinctively, she spread wide open, staring down at him. “So wet for me… you really want this, hm?” She nodded eagerly, “Please… I need it.”

The once impassive doctor morphed into something else entirely. His expression held a plethora of emotions behind them as he felt his own hardness beneath his towel. “Very well. Scream for me princess.”

Any sort of thoughts she conjured up turned into nothing the moment Zayne licked her drooling pussy. His tongue expertly flicked her clit as she laid back down on the bed and writhed in intense pleasure.

“F- fuck! Zayne… hghh!” She moaned out as Zayne lapped at her needy cunt, savoring all of her wetness, wanting to taste all of her.

Her hands immediately tugged onto his hair, pulling him closer to her crotch as she screamed out his name repeatedly. It was too good that she could barely keep still, Zayne held onto her thighs to stop her from squirming.

The familiar pit in her stomach intensified, itching her closer to release. “Hahh…! Z- Zayne! I’m close, I’m so close!” She whined out, to which he kept tonguing her entrance vigorously until she arched her back and came all over his face.

Zayne pulled away slightly and licked his lips. There are traces of pussy juice on his mouth but he didn’t care. Not when his precious sweetheart tastes so divine. Before she could even beg him to put his hard shaft inside her, she gasped once she felt Zayne’s tongue on her folds again.

“W- wait! I… I just came!” She exclaimed, feeling like her legs were gonna give out from pleasure. But Zayne paid no mind as he resumed his ministrations on her sopping wet cunt. Even after orgasming, her pussy still throbbed for more.

At this point, she’s pretty sure she’s on cloud nine, especially when Zayne sucked on her nub, making her tremble. Green eyes observing her movements, watching as she moans and whimpers. Looking beautiful like this, Zayne wanted to keep this memory etched into his mind forever.

It was unbearable, she tried to push him away but he kept a strong grip on her legs, his tongue relentlessly flicking her eager pussy, swallowing all of her juices. He can feel himself getting intoxicated by her dripping cunt. There is nothing more rewarding than coming home everyday and getting to lap at her entrance like a starved man whilst also relishing her delightful sounds.

“C- coming!” Her hands scrambled for purchase as she came undone. Zayne lifted his head and spoke in a raspy voice, “Did you feel good, honey?”

There was no single coherent thought in her mind right now. She couldn’t even think properly, it’s all a muddled mess, too foggy with pleasure. Sensing her pliant demeanor, Zayne moved to her side, brushing off the strands of her hair from her face.

“You’re so good for me, dear.” Was the only thing she heard before Zayne trailed his fingers down to caress her inner thighs, igniting goosebumps all over. She weakly muttered, “What are you doing?” Instead of responding, Zayne leaned down and pecked her lips. “Are you a good girl for me?”

His finger easily slipped in her gaping pussy, thrusting it in and out, earning a mewl from her. She bit her lips, “T- too sensitive... Zayne…” She clutched onto his arm, looking at him with glassy eyes.

“I said, are you a good girl?” Zayne repeated his question but this time, he inserted another finger in, taking away all of her last resolve.

“Mhmm… ah! Yes! Yes!” That further drove Zayne to keep plunging his fingers deep inside her gummy walls.

It has been hours since Zayne has been pushing her far off into her limits. Sleep be damned as he is now lapping up at her loose, dripping cunt. She could only let out soft mewls and moans whenever he skillfully buried his head in between her thighs. No amount of protest could get him to stop. It’s like Zayne has been possessed by an insatiable lust demon or some sort, at least that’s what she thought.

Tears stained her cheeks as she stared at Zayne who was lazily eating her out. “Zayne… please…”

He gave her pussy one last lick before meeting her teary gaze, “Please what?”

“Please… fuck me…” She pleaded, her hands reaching out to pull him on top of her. “You’ve been torturing my pussy non-stop… I want to make you feel good too.”

“Ah, I see. So, my needy princess wants it that bad?” He spoke as he discarded his towel. It’s kind of amazing at how he managed to hold back his desire to mount her completely, especially since she looked ravishing like this. Blissed out and glowing from the amount of orgasm she lets out.

She nodded eagerly, “Give it to me, please? I’ve been so good.” To emphasize, she wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to close the gap between them and feel his body against hers.

“I guess someone deserves it, after all.” With ease, Zayne lined his cock on her entrance, sliding it in and immediately began to thrust.

While their love-making session was always tender, albeit sometimes a bit passionate, it was never really like this. Intense and unrelenting with vigor as Zayne continued to pound into her deep. Her cunt spasming and clenching tightly around his cock. “Fuck… you feel so wonderful around me, sweetheart.”

Even if she wanted to say something, each thrust made her eyes roll back. Her mind is running into an overdrive as Zayne picks up his pace, unfaltering and burning with the need to come inside her.

Noticing Zayne’s furrowed brows and his eyes closed shut, “Come for me. Come inside me, baby. Want you to breed me.” She spoke, her voice laced with urgency and desperation.

At last, Zayne thrusted inside her hard before stilling, heaving and burying his face in her neck. She smiled at him dazedly as she cards her fingers through his hair. When Zayne pulled out, he watched in fascination at how her cunt drooled with cum. The sight alone made him want to ravage her right then and there, but he knew, they both had to sleep.

So, instead, Zayne helped clean her up and cuddled her as they both drifted off to slumber.

Something was wet… and there were sounds of shuffling. When she woke up, her eyes widened as she saw Zayne languidly circling her clit with his tongue. “H- huh?” She uttered out, confused and yet, Zayne only mumbled out, “Lay back. Let me please you once more before I leave for work.”

How could she refuse when her lover had asked so sweetly? She did as he instructed and laid back down on the soft bed, letting him spread her wide open. At this point, she had lost track of how many times she came, especially from last night.

This time, Zayne made sure to take his time, flicking her folds ever so slowly. One part of her felt like he was torturing her but another part of her couldn’t help but preened at how good it feels when he’s savoring her like this.

The morning sun casted a soft glow around the room, making this even more enjoyable as she focused on Zayne, tasting every drop her cunt oozed, not letting any of it go to waste. The slurping sound reverberated across the walls as she flushed.

Despite coming so many times, the familiar pit in her stomach still lingered, coiling and intensifying as she neared her climax. “Hghh… Zayne… baby, I’m so close.” She meekly mewled out, her legs shaking. Zayne sucked on her nub and sneakily thrusted a finger into her cunt, scissoring her whilst he ate her out.

Just like that, it was enough to drive her to the edge. She came, hard on his face. Her vision blurs and she shuts her eyes closed, letting the euphoria wash over her.

She faintly heard Zayne uttering a soft, “I love you” to her before getting up and tucking her in bed.

The second time she woke up, she found that Zayne had already left for work. She groggily got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. There, she found a plate of breakfast ready made for her and a bouquet of flowers.

Her body was sore all over but this gesture made it all worth it. Smiling, she walked up to the table and picked up the bouquet, smelling the flowers before sitting down and stuffing the food, the tiredness fading away and was replaced by hunger.

Luckily for her, she had a day off today and was able to cozy up at home until Zayne comes back. He gave her a fond smile as he placed the bag on the coffee table, “I got you macarons from the cafe. What do you feel like having for dinner? Let me cook for you.”

Safe to say, she is indeed a lucky girl to be able to love and be with Zayne.

[starrydragoness]

Content: Jiyan x F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI! More under the cut

Content: soft sex, creampie, cockwarming, pretty vanilla tbh, live laugh love dragon man, wrote this sleep deprived and didn't proof read, so if there are any grammar errors I'll fix them later, trust.

“Come up here-” 

Jiyan panted, breathy words falling from his lips with effort as he fought down soft sounds of pleasure as he grinded his hips into yours. His hand cups around your nape and brings you into his lips, reddened and bruised as they were - he needed more, more of you, more of your taste and touch and love. The unending well of need is insatiable, always open to welcome you in and swallow you whole, cradling you against his chest.

A thin sheen of sweat sits on top of his skin, his chest rising rapidly with each short breath, and you slowly squirm, pushing his shoulders down so he is now laying on his back and you throw one leg over his hip, effectively straddling him. From here, you have quite the sight of the General of the Midnight Rangers, lying beneath you, and so pliant to your affections, but most importantly - he is your dear husband, one you missed too much and all of that love is coming to boil over at this very moment. 

You lean down, kissing across his collarbone, climbing your way up to his neck and you can feel him suck in a breath as you graze your teeth across his pulse point. Your teeth leave faint little red marks across his pale skin, lips sucking here and there until purple blooms in soft petals. His hands are pawing at your sides, feeling your warm flesh in his palms before he claws down at your hips, pushing you  down against his length that is stuck between your two naked bodies, your naked cunt grinding against it. It feels like it has been ages since you began teasing and feeling one another up, taking off clothing, piece by piece until both of you were desperate for more and more.

“Love- hah.. “ Jiyan curls his fingers into your hips, his head thrown back onto the messy bed with covers strewn about.  “Let me feel you- no more teasing” he whispers into your ear and you couldn’t agree more. Sitting upright you gaze into those eyes of molten gold, looking up at you as if you were the work of finest marble and divinity. Embodiment of beauty and peace.

Jiyan’s lips parted slightly, eyes glued to yours until your line of sight led him down to your wet hole. He swallows the lump in his throat as you take his shaft in your hand, pushing yourself up to your knees before guiding his tip to your hole, all while his hands anxiously massage up and down the  sides of your thighs, anticipating eating him up alive. And once you finally sink down his eyes roll back into his head, eyes fluttering shut as he feels your warm walls squeezing him and welcoming him in. A guttural moan rumbles through his throat and he can’t help but buck into you, and the next thrust has your hands sprawled ontop of his chest, searching for stability as he began to fuck himself into you.

He was nothing if not careful, attentive, he still wanted to appreciate you and show you how much he has missed you too, yet as both of you began to lose yourselves in carnal desires, he found himself getting rougher. 

Each thrust had your tits bouncing, right in his face. Your pretty and glazed eyes looking down at him with all adoration one could hold, and your flushed  face and reddened lips threw him in a daze. He was hypnotized. Enarmored.

“My love- you feel so good, you have n-no idea how much I missed you” he groaned  after pushing himself into you to the hilt, simultaneously pulling you down and for a moment he went still, savoring the fluttering of your walls around him. You moaned his name, lust clouding not only your vision but your thoughts as well. So drunk on him.

One of his hands travels up your sides leaving warmth in its wake, trailing all the way up to your shoulder and then down to cup one of your hands in his, pulling it up, towards his lips until he could kiss your palm. He ruts into you all the while, another lingering kiss following the first one before his teeth nip at the inside of your wrist. 

You can feel your insides burning, slick oozing out of your hole and coating his shaft with each thrust. You can feel him so deep within that it drives you mad, making you cry out for him. And he hears you loud and clear, half lidded eyes drinking you in like the finest liquor. 

The hand that held yours flew down to where your bodies joined together, finding your clit and rubbing it in the rhythm of your thrusts, sending electric shocks up your core, all through your spine and up to your shoulders and down to your toes. Whining you squirm on top of him, both of you losing your rhythm as the tension in your bellies threatens to burst.

“Mmm- I’m so close, Jiyan” you mewled, and goodness, your voice alone was enough to make him chase that high with even more fervor. 

“I know, love, I know- come with me..hah.. look at me. Oh, how beautiful you are-” he muses out loud, a flicker of a smile lighting up his lustful eyes as pounds into you from below, pushing moan after moan out of you, making you sing for him.

Your orgasm blinds you, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins as your muscles seized and your walls spasmed as Jiyan filled your greedy hole, spurting deep within you until he had nothing more to give. His face became more red before he released a throaty groan, his own muscles finally slacking from the intense orgasm, just in time to wrap his arms around you after you collapsed onto his chest. His cock remained buried within you even as it grew soft, comforted by the heat and slick. 

The two of you panted, working slowly but desperately to catch your breath. His calloused hands traced up and your naked back,  holding you close to him. 

“I love you.. mm.. I love you so much” you coo at him, picking your head up only to place several kisses along his jaw before kissing his sweet lips. A kiss he gladly returns despite the faint burning in his lungs. “I love you too, dearest” he breathed back,  watching you settle your head against his chest, hearing the quick drumming of his heart. 

Ⓒ starrydragoness. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[kissitbttr]

pregnancy was never easy. if it was, fathers could do it.

and truly it was something that toji had learned throughout being married to you and seeing your belly swell with your baby girl. the constant mood swings, back pains, cravings and all. but toji is a wonderful husband. for that, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

anything you want, you get even if your midnight cravings hit. toji will still get up and get dressed before drive to the nearest store that has your favorite red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting.

but being pregnant also means that toji has gotten far more protective than usual. more staying by your side, more checking up on you through his phone, more hiring security cameras and guards to keep you safe. despite your protests, he still thinks it’s necessary.

“sweethea—what the heck?” toji grumbles, eyes almost popping out of his sockets to see you’re not beside him. eyes glancing left and right and that’s where the panic begins to seep into him. “fuck” he scrambles out of the bed, seeing the clock hits at two am,

“no, no, no—“ he feels bead of sweats racing on his temples before slipping on his shoes and a shirt over his head. thinking that something might have happened to you.

god, i can’t go through this. not again. not you. please, please, not you.

toji may not have been the most religious man that has ever walked on earth. but he will beg on his knees and plead to the man up above to never take you away from him,

and just as he about to grab a gun off his safe, he hears the refrigerator door shut downstairs. the sounds making him halt as he quick to whip his head to the source of it.

his eyebrows then furrowed, putting the weapon down carefully before stepping out of your shared room. sometimes he curses himself for buying a home far too big because now he feels like it’s an eternity coming down the stairs. but again, he bought it for you.

the living room lights are already turned off, the only dimmed light he could see is from the kitchen. not only that, but he could hear the metals clinking. so slowly, with ever so confusion written across his face, toji approaches slowly

and there you are ever in your glory, body draped in your favorite pink silky robe sitting on the floor with your back against the fridge. a plate of not one but two red velvet cake slice in your hand as the other forks your way through the delicious treat.

toji heaves out a breathe of relief, knowing that nothing had happened to you. and the noise is loud enough for you to stop chewing and look up. eyes widen at your husband’s figure standing only a few feet away,

“hi” your voice sounds small. almost like embarrassed because you feel like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie off the jar,

“sweetheart” the nickname falls from his mouth like he’s happy to see you after being a part for so long. “what are you doing?”

your mouth slowly begin to chew, a cute smile making its way as your eyes glinting with innocence that toji can’t deny but feel like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

“the baby is hungry” is the only thing you can muster to a response, like it’s an obvious thing. “she wants cake” you giggle quietly,

oh yes, he is definitely falling harder for you again

“the baby is—“ he sighs, hands coming up to rub his face up and down. not because he’s upset but rather amused. “she wanted red velvet cake?”

“mhmm!” you nod vigorously, taking another big bite of the dessert. “and cream cheese frosting!”

and for the first time in a while, toji laughs with his head shaking at the sight of his beautiful wife eating cake at two am. “she told you that?”

“yes! i heard her whisper to me before i go to bed ‘mama.. can we eat the cake? but wait until dada goes to sleep’ because she knows how dada doesn’t allow mama to eat cakes” you smile at him, doing your best of baby voice. licking the cream off the utensil,

toji is grinning so hard he feels like his cheeks are hurting, his eyes are full of love when he looks at you and the little girl you’re growing in there,

“well dada is just taking care of mama so she will be healthy. she needs veggies and whole foods” he takes another step closer, sliding next to you. his eyes never leaving yours, looking at you so lovingly by the way you eat. “i thought something happened to you.. i was panicking”

you pout, not wanting to cause anymore distress on him. “i’m sorry i shouldn’t have done that. but i couldn’t wake you up, you looked exhausted”

he frowns, bending his knees close to his chest. “you should’ve. i would gladly grab the cake for you hence you asked, baby” he leans forward and kiss your temple,

a grateful smile places on your lips, humming in a contentment at the feeling of his soft mouth on your skin. “hmm, i know—“ you cradle his cheek with your free palm, thumbing against his cheekbone and down to his scar.

he used to be so insecure about it until you made him not to be. giving so much praises and kisses about the scar that you think look so hot on him.

“want some?” you extend a spoonful of the cake towards his mouth, in which he opens almost immediately, biting onto the sweet goodness. “how lucky i am to have you, mr. y/l/n”

he laughs, wiping the walnut crumbs off the corner of his lips. “i should be the one saying that to you, doll”

maybe second chances do exist. and it’s a privilege for a person to earn one. toji may had done very questionable things in the past that would make a person think twice in befriending him, let alone married to him but change is real.

and the flaws are what makes it him. it’s one of the reason you are drawn to this beautiful man. because despite every negative seed he may have in him, he still tries. trying and trying to be the person you deserve and the father that your baby girl deserve.

it upsets you to no end knowing that everyone can’t see that. they just see him as a cold, reserved, selfish man who keeps himself closed from the world to see. they don’t see the tears he had shed almost every night for failing to be perfect, they don’t see him having a small banter with you because he wanted to take your last name, they don’t see the amount of times he locked himself in his room because of people talkinh, they don’t see him always rushing out of his office on fridays because he wants to get home before you do just so he can cook your favorite dish,

they don’t see all of that but toji doesn’t care. he doesn’t need their validation nor approval. he just needs yours.

because it’s you he always comes home to. you are his salvation. you are his peace. you are his dream came true.

you, you, you, you.

before you could protest, he presses his lips against yours and move his hand down to your bump,

“happy doesn’t even begin to describe how grateful i am to be your husband”

[hgfictionwriter]

Midnight Satisfaction

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie wakes up flustered and needy one night and you catch her relieving her frustrations alone. You tell her there’s no need. You’re there for the taking - whether you’re awake or not.

Warnings: G!P content. Free-use reader. Consensual borderline somnophilia. Masturbation (J). Language.

A/N: This combines two requests I received. Thank you to those anons. This is not connected to Control or Discovery.

Jessie stirred from her sleep, fidgeting in bed slightly until the tightness in her boxers warded off all residual drowsiness. She glanced down and even in the darkness of the room could see evidence of the arousal that had woken her from her sleep.

She exhaled a bit roughly in frustration. Not only at this nocturnal need she'd awoken with, but at the loss of sleep. She had an early practice and needed all the sleep she could get.

She huffed again and turned onto her side, closing her eyes as she tried to find sleep once more. Instead, she was sorely distracted by the throbbing between her legs, any movement doing nothing more than making the need more unbearable. Normally, it would pass on its own, but this particular instance persisted and she felt impatient.

She peeked over her shoulder to look at you. She could hear your breathing, so she should've known you weren't awake; still, when she saw you cuddled up in the blankets fast asleep, it disappointed her anyway. Sure, there was no guarantee you'd be interested in helping her with this particular hardship, but with you asleep there wasn't even a chance. Now, frankly, the erection straining in her boxers was merely a nuisance.

She released a muffled growl of complaint as she quietly tossed the covers off, careful not to wake you, before she padded over to your ensuite bathroom. She closed the door behind her and turned on the light, wincing and screwing her eyes shut for several seconds until ready to brave the bright lights again. She opened one eye, then two, still frowning heavily as her vision adjusted.

As she approached the toilet, she glanced down and was met with the sight of the blatant tent in her boxers from her arousal. She sighed once more.

Lifting her phone in one hand, she unlocked it and began to navigate to her hidden photos. A lazy smirk crossed her face as she accessed them and saw thumbnails of various photos of you in lingerie or fully naked posing for her. Her favourite of all were the ones of you touching yourself, positioned on your back, legs spread.

Her mouth opened in appreciation of the photos and she slipped her other hand into her boxers to pull out her hard cock, it standing stiff and erect now unencumbered by the fabric. She reached out to grab some lotion and returned her hand to her cock, wrapping her fingers around it and massaging the lotion along her length. She lingered at the tip, circling it with her thumb and couldn't help but picture your skillful tongue doing the work instead.

She moaned softly at the vision in her head.

Returning her attention to her phone, she opened up one of the photos. She'd caught several glorious shots of you masturbating. In this one, your hand was between your legs with two of your fingers spreading your lips while a third pushed inside you.

"Fuck," Jessie whispered as she began to stroke herself more fully.

The next image was you rubbing your clit, your head tossed back, sprawled on the bed you two shared. She began to slowly rock her hips into her waiting hand as her mind delightfully reminded her of how good it felt to be inside of you. God, she loved how tightly you hugged her, the sounds you made - the ones that came from your mouth, and the ones that came from between your legs - the way you scratched up her back. It was incredible.

Her shoulders rounded as she ran her fist up and down her length, focusing on pumping just the tip for several seconds before thrusting all the way down and back up.

She wanted more.

She flicked over to a short video you let her take. A loud moan briefly echoed off the bathroom walls before she quickly lowered the volume so it was barely audible.

Her chest rose and fell as she took in the sights and sounds of you pleasuring yourself.

"Jess."

"Oh my God."

"Baby, I need you."

You chanted over and over for her to hear.

Her breath started to hitch as her hand pumped hard and fast around her cock, her hips jacking into her fist as the telltale tightening between her legs began to culminate.

A series of muffled grunts emanated from her throat as her jaw grew slack and her climax hit. Her whole body tensed as ropes of cum shot forcefully from her aching member.

"Shit," she grunted, lost in and distracted by the video of you she wasn't paying attention when she started to cum and the first few spurts hit the lifted lid before she redirected.

A couple more soft grunts fell from her open mouth as her fist travelled up and down her length a few final times, coaxing out the last drops of cum from the tip.

She sighed heavily as she shook herself out and took a moment to rest. She let go of her cock and it slowly began to relax, the tension it previously held now relieved. Her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled once more before cleaning herself up. She flushed the toilet, tucking her now dormant member away into her boxers and washed her hands before quietly returning to bed.

She got under the covers and settled in, her eyelids now heavy in the wake of her orgasm. It wasn't long before she drifted off to sleep.

-----------

The next morning, Jessie quietly got changed, no need to pack her bag as she'd prepped it the night before and it sat ready by the door. You were still asleep and she was about to leave when you spoke, startling her.

"Did you have a good sleep, baby?"

She jolted, nearly dropping her phone.

"Shit. I didn't know you were awake," she breathed as she turned to you. A hint of a playful grin pulled at your lips.

"I don't think you knew last night either," you said, your smile now full-blown.

"Huh?" Jessie asked innocently, though she suddenly stood pin-straight and her face began to feel hot.

You rolled more fully towards her, now planting your elbow on the bed and propping your chin in your open hand.

"Was someone a little frustrated last night?" You asked cheekily. Jessie's face burned hotter and she deflected with a frown though she couldn't hold your gaze.

"No. I don't know what you mean," she mumbled before forcing herself to look back at you and doing her best to appear nonchalant.

Your eyes drifted meaningfully towards her pants and back up.

"Okay," you said lightly. "Well, I'll just say that if you ever find yourself in a," you looked up at the ceiling in contemplation, "compromising, position again, I would be very happy to help."

Jessie pouted, nearly scowling at you even though everything you said was welcoming and encouraging. She huffed and folded her arms, finding herself suddenly very intrigued by everything around the room other than you.

"You don't need to hide it from me," you went on gently. This drew her gaze back to you. Still, she set her shoulders.

"Well, you were asleep. I wasn't about to wake you," she said, her tone borderline complaining.

"You can wake me, you know," you said before you cocked your head, contemplative once more. "And honestly? I'd welcome you waking me up with your," you glanced at her crotch again, "midnight or morning frustration."

Jessie flushed deeply all over again.

"No," she said adamantly with a stern frown.

"Why not?" You countered. You sat up, your eyes bright now. "It would actually be really hot."

She found herself getting flustered; conflicted between what she felt was right and what her mind was conjuring up along with how her body was starting to react. She shook her head in dismissal.

"No, I can't," she said.

You sighed in disappointment. "Fine. But, for the record, I would find it really hot to wake up to you filling me, pumping in and out of me."

"Fuck. Babe," Jessie complained as she shoved her phone in her back pocket and retreated to the bedroom doorway. She pushed away the vague realization that blood was starting to fill her cock and she could feel a partial erection forming. "I'm going to practice," she said tersely.

"Okay, baby," you said, a hint of apology in your tone. "Have a good practice. I'll see you later."

---------

Jessie was less than focused at practice that day. She'd be in the moment on second, following along, keenly alert and aware, then all of a sudden she'd fallen behind or lost track of discussion because her mind was drawn back to your earlier comments.

Her imagination was having a field day.

When she got home, she still felt a bit frazzled and unsettled. You, on the other hand, acted like everything was normal and fine. She half expected you to bring up the conversation from this morning, but you didn't. In fact, she was hoping you'd bring it up again, but sure enough, you didn't say a thing about it and the evening carried on.

She'd debated all night whether or not she should just get up the courage to mention it herself, but the right opportunity never seemed to come around and she didn't know how to broach it otherwise.

Before she knew it, you were both getting ready for bed. You each followed your routines, closing out with Jessie filling your water bottle and setting it on your nightstand before she navigated to her side of the bed and got in.

"Thanks babe," you said, as you plugged in your phone, leaning out of the bed to do so and the blankets slipping off slightly as you moved. Jessie wouldn't have though much of it except her eye caught a glimpse of your body naked from the waist down. She did a double take.

You never wore shorts or pants to bed unless if you were staying with her family or friends or you were out camping. However, that didn't mean you went to bed without underwear. That is, until tonight.

You talked idly to her as you checked your alarm and you had to repeat yourself because she was so distracted.

Yet, despite going to sleep with no panties on, you wished her a good night and just rolled over and went to sleep.

"Y/N?" She whispered after several minutes; sure enough, you were out.

She sighed wearily and reached over to turn off the lamp. It was going to be a restless night.

------

After struggling to initially fall asleep, it came as no surprise to Jessie when she woke up a few hours later, fresh from a vivid, luscious dream, to find herself straining in her boxers yet again.

She grit her teeth and pushed the back of her head into the pillow, burrowing in as she worked to distract herself so she could find some relief, and hopefully, sleep.

The minutes passed and she blew out a huff as the dull throbbing in between her legs persisted and gnawed at her. She cursed herself as she allowed one hand to snake down and begin caressing herself through the fabric.

Instead of finding relief, it just made her hungrier for more. She should’ve known better.

She opened her eyes to stare blankly up at the darkened ceiling. Her eyes shifted to look over at you to see your silhouette. She could hear your slow, steady breaths, but her eyes remained trained on you as your comments from the morning ricocheted back and forth in her mind.

You were direct and explicit with the consent. You repeated yourself, even. But did you really mean it? Just because you said it in that moment didn't necessarily mean anything.

She thought back to the flash of skin she saw as you leant out of bed.

It had to be an invitation.

You knew her too well.

She reached through the slit of her boxers to free her cock from the confines of the garment. She exhaled silently through her lips as her fingers traced along her length, her thumb settling on the head and finding a bead of precum.

She contemplated a moment longer before she committed, rolling gently onto her side and shifting closer to you. You were on your stomach facing away, your far leg up and bent at the knee and your arms tucked under the pillow. Jessie's heart raced as she tentatively reached out and very gingerly rest a hand on your hip. You didn't stir, and it also confirmed for her that you were most definitely not wearing underwear.

Feeling a touch more bold, Jessie very gently began to run her hand down your bare thigh, her fingers barely touching your skin. You still didn't react as she drew her hand back up to your ass, her thumb idly grazing your skin.

She examined your sleeping form once more and between the feel of your curves and skin under her hand and the prospect of being inside your warm, inviting pussy, her cock was now painfully hard.

She moved carefully once more as she allowed her hand to wander downward and soon her hand could feel the heat radiating from your core. She swallowed and slowly brought four fingers to very gently cup your heat. A pulse of arousal went through her at the initial contact.

She watched you closely, your breathing changed, but you didn't stir. She remained entirely still for several seconds as she debated whether or not to continue or retreat. When your breathing grew audible once more, she slowly drew her fingers back towards your entrance.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes fell shut as her fingers were met with your slick juices that pooled there. The pulse that went through her just moments before repeated ten fold at the sensation and she couldn't resist the urge to circle your entrance with her thumb, your tunnel so wet with arousal that her digit easily breached it and slipped in to her first knuckle.

Her eyes flew open as something akin to a subtle moan escaped you and you shifted against her. She froze, but your reaction - subconscious or not - had stoked something inside of her and after a moment she withdrew her thumb, before pushing in slowly again, this time coupled with two fingers very gently circling your clit.

She watched as you very subtly stirred, a faint moan leaving your lips and your body pressing itself further into the bed just so.

Minutes prior, Jessie had been concerned about getting lube without waking you, but based on how absolutely soaked you were, that wasn't going to be a need for worry.

She flexed her muscles and very delicately lifted herself off of the mattress to position herself better and gingerly lowered herself so she was lined up with your entrance. She grasped her length and softly ran it along your slick lips, allowing your juices to coat her. She felt your folds part for her as she gently pushed the head of her cock through them and across your clit with her hand as a guide. She drew back and pushed through again.

A slow smile formed on her face and she did it again with greater confidence. She did it a few more times, each time drawing further back until each time her tip nestled against your dripping entrance. She resisted the urge to slip inside and instead kept stroking your lips and clit.

She saw your shoulders flex and your head lolled into the pillow. Your breathing changed once more and you shifted further. Her pulse quickened once more as she realized you were waking and she paused mid-stroke.

She saw you blink in the dark of the room before your eyes fell closed once more, not even bothering to look back at her, and you simply rolled your hips against her hardness.

Jessie took a sharp breath at the gesture and she drew her hips back, her hand still guiding her cock, but this time when her head slotted into the inviting dip of your entrance, she gently pushed the tip inside.

You moaned quietly and she smiled as your head rolled against the pillow further.

Encouraged, she pushed in slightly before drawing back so her tip was stretching out your entrance, threatening to slip out, before pushing fully inside.

This time you moaned fully and deeply, your back arching as she slotted home. No longer needing to guide herself, she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer to her.

She rotated her hips back, her cock withdrawing partially before rotating forward and massaging your walls as she filled you up once more. A moan muffled by your pillow reached her ears.

Not worried about waking you any longer, Jessie began to thrust into you with increasing pace and intensity. She held your body in place as her firm cock hit that pillowy sweet spot inside of you again and again.

Your whimpers and moans grew louder and she heard the twisting of fabric as you clutched the sheets into your palms. You shifted your far leg higher up the bed, inviting her in further and she wasted no time.

“Mm, Jess.”

You opening yourself up and moaning her name dismissed any and all lingering reservations she had.

She lifted herself up more, consequently pushing you flatter onto your stomach, her hands braced on the small of your back. She began to lift her hips high, her tip nearly slipping out before driving quickly into you, her hips bouncing off of your ass, the clapping of skin now echoing off the walls.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered as you white knuckled the sheets further and buried your face into the pillow.

“You feel so fucking good,” Jessie said, voice shaking in time with her quick, skillful thrusts. “God. It’s like you were made for me,” she praised, digging her fingers into your skin over the thought.

You let out a small cry and spread your legs further apart, pulling an appreciative growl out of her. She slowed her pace slightly and dug her hips into you even deeper, and angling to hit your g-spot more firmly. You clutched the pillow now, holding onto it with a desperation that fuelled her.

“You’re such a tease. Climbing into bed, pussy on display for me, knowing what that’d do to me,” Jessie voiced as she pumped you into the mattress.

You let out a wanton moan, but flashed an impish look over your shoulder at her.

“Waking up to your cock teasing me is as good as I thought it’d be,” you relayed with a breathy laugh. You moaned again as Jessie sent another jolt of pleasure through you. You arched your back further into the bed. “Next time I want to wake up to you fucking me. I want to wake up with your cock stretching me out.”

“Oh Jesus,” Jessie groaned as she fucked you harder, drawing a gasp from you. “Oh shit,” she hissed as her orgasm rapidly approached and her strokes grew fervent.

Soon the pace was relentless and you let out a cry into the pillow, gripping it tightly to your face. You writhed beneath her and a rush of liquid poured out of you and onto the sheets. You began to spasm around her and continued to muffle your cries with the pillow.

“Oh fuck,” she panted, letting the sensations overwhelm her as she slammed into you one more time, releasing her seed as deep inside of you as possible. She grunted through her orgasm as she felt jet after jet of cum rush up her length and out the tip into your waiting heat.

“Oh my God,” she said breathlessly several moments later as she finally drew her hips back unsteadily, stuttering forward as her orgasm tapered off.

She collapsed on top of you, cock still buried in you, fully warmed and embraced by your walls. Her chest expanded and contracted as she tried to catch her breath. She laid a kiss on the back of your shoulder.

The primal haze of your fucking still lingered and she spoke as she gently stroked your arm.

“Forget safe words, if you don’t want to wake up with my cock inside of you going forward, wear your underwear to bed. Otherwise, if I wake up wanting you, I may just have to take you.”

You shifted beneath her restlessly, your tunnel tightening and gripping her as you moved - whether intentionally or not. “Mm, Jess. You’re going to work me up again. And I made a mess of the sheets already.”

She smirked. “Exactly. So what does it matter if you do it again? I’ll gladly do the laundry if it means I get to make you squirt all over this bed with how good I make you feel.”

“Oh Jesus,” you breathed, rolling your hips once more. Jessie was already growing hard inside of you again.

“And,” she kissed your other shoulder, “when I’m done. I might just fall asleep inside of you. Might as well if I’m going to fuck you as soon as I wake up.”

[evie-sturns]

ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: you're staying at your best friend's house, the sturniolos, for the weekend, until one night you can't sleep, so you decide to go for a dip in the hot tub.. but matt's already there.

contains: smut, virgin!matt, teasing, hot tub sex, semi-public?

----------------------∘°∘♡∘°∘∘ ∘°∘♡∘°∘--------------------

i roll over in bed, the clock on the wall reads, 11:57pm. i've been lying here for 3 hours with my eyes shut, but im too energised, i mean, the sturniolos and i have had a crazy few days, resulting in me staying the weekend.

i hoist myself up out of bed, flicking on the lamp as i dig through my tote bag for a small bikini, afterall its almost midnight, none of them would be in the hot tub at this time.

i open my bedroom door, tiptoeing past chris, nick and matts room down the stairs.

i creak open the backdoor, stepping out into the icy air which hits my barely covered body. i turn the corner to the hottub,

matt's sitting inside, his head tilted back, his eyes shut.

hes shirtless, wearing nothing but swim shorts. he doesnt notice me yet, but im just kind of.. admiring him?

the way he looks tonight is just different, ive known him for a few years but ive never felt like this towards him.

"matt?" i ask softly, being careful not startle him.

his eyes open slowly, looking up at me.

his cheeks instantly flush red, he opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. "can i come.. in?" i ask, my eyebrows furrowing as matt just looks me up and down.

he quickly runs a hand through his hair before nodding "yeah yeah!" he says frantically.

i climb in next to him, matt just looks straight ahead. "are you alright?" i ask, adjusting the strap to my bikini top.

-

we've been talking and laughing for about 15 minutes, matt's still been nervous.

"and my friend, lana, she went for a job interview and came out of it with the job all because she blowed the manager off" i laugh, my straps accidentally slipping down again teasingly.

matt looks down at his lap before shifting uncomfortably, he clears his throat. my eyes dart down, its hard to see through the water, but matts got an obvious tent in his shorts.

"im sorry.." matt mumbles out in a whisper.

"why do ya think thats happened?" i ask casually, my hand dipping underwater and grazing his thigh.

matt stays silent, he looks horrified with himself.

"im so sorry just give me five minutes in the bathroom i can come right back-" matt rambles but i cut him off but straddling his lap.

matts breath hitches in his throat "oh-"

"do you think you got hard from.. me?" i say seductively, looking down at him.

"i'm sorry." matt says, his eyes fixated on my chest.

"was it from.. these straps?" i say, pulling down the straps on my bikini.

matt nods nervously,

"you can take them off if you want, i mean we are alone." i whisper.

matt reaches his hand out from the hot water, pulling off my bikini top, his tongue slides out of his mouth to dampen his lips as his cheeks go a dark red.

"why are you so scared matt, its not like youve never seen tits before" i joke, but matt tenses under me.

"matt..?" i say, dragging out the 'a'.

"uh.. i'm a virgin so.." matt says, his voice barely audible.

my eyebrows raise, a silence fills the night air.

"i know, we don't have to do anything.. i dont want to make you.. teach me?" matt rambles again, i cup his cheeks and pull him into a gentle kiss, shutting him up.

"you ramble when you're nervous.." i say, toying with the strings of his shorts, i get off his lap and sit next to him. the water is still and clear, illuminated by a blue led light.

i tug at the waistband of his shorts, revealing a small section of his base.

"oh fuck." matt quietly whimpers out.

“i’ll take it gently okay?” i assure him before pulling down his swim shorts,

i never knew matt was this big.

my cheeks flush as i climb back onto his lap, sitting just on his thighs as his dick rests on my stomach. i put my hands on matt’s damp shoulders before hovering just above his tip.

“please..” matt says, his voice hoarse

“please what?” i tease, pulling off my small bikini bottoms and discarding them somewhere in the water.

matt grips my waist, his hands firm against my skin. “please ride me..” matt says, clearly embarrassed.

i slowly sink down onto him, the warm water sloshing around us. matt’s grip on my waist tightens as he lets out pathetic noises.

“you- you okay?” i ask, burying my head on his shoulder as i slowly start to bounce up and down.

“i’m-..” matt struggles to speak, i let out a soft laugh.

“you don’t have to answer now sweetheart.” i whisper into his hair, picking up the pace.

it’s only been a few minutes, but i can tell matt’s close, his fingers are digging into me so harshly i know i’ll have bruises tomorrow.

his groans fill the night air, along with small splashes coming from the water. i clench around him, “i’m so close..” i warn, the knot in my stomach snaps as i orgasm around him, i feel matt tense so i quickly pull off of him, stroking him as he paints my hands with white.

“oh my god.. fuck” matt says, squeezing his eyes shut, he reaches out a hand and grabs my shoulder for support.

i run my thumb over his already sensitive tip, earning a gentle moan from matt. i pull up his swim shorts slowly.

“shit..” matt says, his eyes peeling open slowly.

“you okay?” i ask again, tying up my bikini.

“i’m-.. really good?” matt says, rubbing his eyes.

-

after a few minutes of talking and joking around, i stand up, climbing out of the hot tub onto the cold deck.

“same time tomorrow?” i smile jokingly back at matt.

----------------------∘°∘♡∘°∘∘ ∘°∘♡∘°∘--------------------

was a full task to bring myself to finish this 😭😭 hope y’all like it though

I also genuinely can’t tell if it chris or matt in the first picture by the title, but you get the point

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼: 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸

Stepdad!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1979 and it's the summer after graduation. You want to make the most of the vacation, but going to shady dance bars is a lot harder now that your new stepfather works for the DEA.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, cops and raids, stepdad trope and all that comes with, minor DUBCON, big juicy age gap [reader is 18/19 when she meets Javi, Javi is in his mid 40s], reader wears a dress, petnames, mommy issues ™ , alcohol consumption, mean!brat tamer!dom!Javi then soft!Javi, brat!reader, rough sex, “virginity” loss & minor mention of blood, sex in the woods on the hood of Javi’s car, mentions of F masturbation, some reader x oc, Javi gives reader her first orgasm, major size kink [Javi is bigger than the reader, can rough house with her], degradation, dumbification, reader is insanely horny, satanic levels of dirty talk, finger sucking, choking, spanking [with a belt and hand] , a few slaps [as always], fingering, unprotected P in V [be better!!], creampie. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I am impossibly excited for this stepdad trilogy. This is part 1/3 so it’s only 1/3 the fun and debauchery. Few Easter eggs thrown in.. see if you can spot em 🤭.This is set up after the events of season 2 and before the events of season 3, in a year where Javi is taking a break before Cali, but feel free to imagine otherwise. Enjoy!!

Masterlist

​​Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

Once I had a love and it was divine

Soon found out I was losing my mind

It seemed like the real thing, but I was so blind

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

You stood at the entrance, one foot tapping restlessly on the wooden floorboards. In an effort to keep your head down you fiddled aimlessly with the clasp on your watch, knowing full well you weren’t going to be paying attention to anything but the time that flashed on its face. An older, blonde woman came stomping onto the patio, swinging the wooden door behind you so hard on her way the rattle it produced when it slammed shut knocked the flimsy “BAR” sign right off. You jumped, then took another step away from the establishment.  

You could almost feel the bass of the engine thrumming in your chest as it got closer. The tires crunched against the gravel as it neared. You still couldn’t see it. You hoped it was her. 

It wasn’t long before a red convertible was nearing, the number plate sending a shaky, relieved sigh hurtling past your lips. Agitated, drunk and anxiety ridden, you ran towards and then jumped into Lorrain’s car– hoping and praying the ride would give you a beat to sober up. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d had to sneak back into your room well past midnight. It was so much of a habit you could sell a course on how to accomplish it with the utmost skill and precision. What was rare, however, was having to perform the task while shaken up so severely. The side of your small, once welcoming home seemed more alien than ever, your bedroom looking far higher off the ground than you remembered. 

Nevertheless, a few missteps and about 10 minutes later you stumbled through your open window, quickly stripping to your underwear and shoving your dirty, alcohol laced clothes under your bed. You cursed your “parents” at the fact that you still needed to do this shit like a fucking highschooler. 

The sound of feet padding towards your bedroom door startled you, and you jumped to pull on your sleep shorts before what you knew was your stepdad coming up the stairs. 

You hoped and prayed he hadn't caught wind of the way you screamed when your foot missed the ledge below your window, or worse, that his partner hadn’t given him a call to inform him of the familiar face he saw at the shack that night. 

No matter how many times you liked to imagine he would bend you over his knee and discipline you, how many times you imagined it was him with his hand under your skirt or head between your legs as some clumsy 20 year old rutted against your thigh, you knew full well if Javier actually ever caught your antics, the consequences were going to be a whole lot less ideal than that. 

As you jumped under the covers you recalled the way Agent Steve Murphy had cocked his head at you back at the bar. The way your stepfather’s partner had squinted his eyes at you in confusion, doing a double take at your skimpy outfit, short dress and boots, the way the men at the bar had their hands all over you. 

You prayed it wasn’t too late before you turned your head away, that it wasn’t too late before you swiftly moved out of that bar, before he could be sure it was you he was seeing. 

Because if he was, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

—

One summer, when you were maybe eight or nine, you developed an absurd obsession with riding your bike up the slope that led away from your small town. Eventually, the uphill roads veered away, twisting and turning into a thousand different rocky paths that converged at one point only a few hundred metres from the large sign that welcomed people into the town. The singular, welcoming road led straight into the woods. Back then, it seemed endless, providing a warm, hospitable buffer for the hills that loomed over the town with a somewhat protective intimidation. Like the woods were watching over your every move. 

Everyday, for three months, you’d bust out your front door at 18:00 on the dot and make the journey uphill. Exhaustively pushing your bike past that sign and into what was nature's much welcome respite from your mothers neglectful cruelty. You collected rocks by the stream that ran through those woods, leaves and flowers to keep in your room. It was like they were magic. Like they wanted to get to know you, be your friend. The trees formed a canopy over you, like they wanted to shield you from the winds and the setting sun, and most importantly from the town below. 

One day you remember hearing some rustling coming from up the stream. You didn't think much of it, must have been a deer or something of the sort. You continued foraging for little flowers and rocks, that was until you came across something that didn't really belong. A piece of white lace. It looked new, but dirty, there was cotton under half of it. It seemed like it was part of a dress. Someone must have lost it up there. You didn't investigate. Things were calm and quiet again as usual, but it wasn't long before the rustling from upstream got louder, just slightly, and you heard the clatter of a metal rod to the ground, followed by a heavier, louder thud. 

You turned on your heel and away from the stream, it took you four minutes to find the welcome sign to your town again. By 19:00 you were home. 

You never went back to the woods again. That August your mother informed you you were going to school in the city. 

— 

To say you were unhappy to come home from boarding school to the news your mother was marrying a cop would be an understatement, and while you tried not to be too judgy and give him a chance, to say you were surprised when he turned out to be a complete authoritarian would be an even bigger understatement. 

You knew of Agent Peña, he was somewhat of a local celebrity. You’d seen him on your summers home since you were sixteen- picking up beers at the convenience store, smoking cigarettes outside the petrol station. You and your friends would often drool over him, wait for him to show up at a neighbourhood barbeque, or catch him taking a walk around the block. 

Eventually, you grew up, and outgrew your little hallway crush on the, now, mostly tiresome Agent Peña. Because soon you weren't sixteen. And his holier than thou, saviour complex, and affinity for order only made you roll your eyes. In fact he was quite annoying. He made little effort to contribute to the community, still riding his high from his days in Colombia. 

You wondered why those people revered him like he was taking bullets for your town. 

You were absolutely flabbergasted when you found out your mother was marrying him. At first, a little bit jealous for the teenager who once fawned over him, but quickly more concerned for the fact that he was actually someone who you’d have to interact with, and not just a piece of eye candy you could appreciate out and about. 

Hell, he was becoming family, and your stepfather no less. It was torturous. You did not need another person to worry about in your home. 

“So.. What’re you studying?” He crossed his left leg over the right, and asked you. His hand reached out to receive the glass of whiskey your mother poured him. He hadn’t been in your house for ten minutes and you already couldn’t stand his guts. Besides the fact that he was a cop, he had this air about him… what exactly, you weren’t quite sure. A superficial, macho exterior that felt like a bigger slap in the face than the fact that he was sitting on the nice, upholstered, expensive, armchair your father had paid for. 

Unsurprisingly, Agent Peña often indulged you in riveting conversation about the dangers of indulging in alcohol and drugs at a young age as he puffed on his cigarette, and lectured you, in what you knew as truly your mothers fashion, about how young people these days didn't know a thing, and that they must always respect and follow the lead of their elders. 

Much like mother dear, he paid little attention to you other than to reprimand you for whatever it was you weren’t doing correctly; for when you didn’t do the dishes on time, or were staying out too late, as if it was any of his business to even begin with. He seemed to really enjoy the protective dad role. It fit in well with the rest of his pathetic persona. 

No wonder they got along.

You remember almost gagging when he boasted about the college you were set to attend, one arm slung across your shoulder, at the party your aunt threw for your graduation. Like he had absolutely anything to do with it. You excused yourself partly to avoid the embarrassment and partly to roll your eyes. A small part of you enjoyed his proud boasting, but you were not ready to unpack that yet. 

In the time the couple weren’t circle jerking about their views, you were lucky enough to be the recipient of snide comments that were so obviously meant for your late father. To his credit Javier Peña didn’t involve himself in the conversation. You couldn’t say the same for a lot of your mother’s previous lovers. 

Since you were ten years old you had been making your own decisions, doing what you wanted and living on your terms. To return to your home for the summer after graduation, now 18, and have to abide by someone else’s meaningless regulations, was a rather harsh slap in the face. Not to mention this someone had been in your life all of two months, and really enjoyed acting like he knew anything about you, or your family. 

Sometimes, when you’d climb down the stairs of that quaint suburban home, the home that once belonged to your family, in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water or a snack, you’d see him sitting out on the porch, hunched over a whole bunch of shit you couldn’t bother caring about, with his ashtray dangerously close to all that flammable paper. 

His shirt stretched deliciously over his back, his hand reaching out to ash his cigarette every once in a while. You were glad he was infuriating, had he not been such a prick it might have revived the little bit of a crush you had on him. 

Sometimes you felt a little bit bad for rolling your eyes at him, or shutting down his attempts to initiate group plans. If you were being honest you were surprised when he didn’t blow up at you for talking back or being rude– that was when your mother wasn’t around. When she was, he didn’t have to. She would jump at any chance to start a fight. You were even more surprised when Javier tried to diffuse the situation. 

You figured soon enough that perhaps the Javier Peña you met a few months prior was putting quite the show on for his overbearing, obnoxious lover. Of course, you were sure he hardly saw her that way. He was perhaps a lot smarter than you gave him credit for. 

Javier often chided your mother when you spoke back to her, rather unexpectedly calling out her bad parenting and the behaviour she “modelled” for you when you were a child. You overheard them argue after a big blowout, from your room. It upset you that he was even getting involved. He tried to talk to you about it later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Obviously, you knew your hatred of them both had something to do with your psychologically deprived childhood, but it baffled you how neither of them, especially wannabe father of the year Javier Peña, didn’t realised your isolated anger would perhaps be diminished if they stopped trying to meddle in your life, the one neither of them seemed to care about unless something about it upset them. 

If he really cared about your wellbeing he’d take his wife and get the fuck out of your life. You were an adult, one that wasn’t going to listen to anyone, especially not the mother who packed you away all those years ago, and her hypocritical, infuriating husband. 

Thats why, despite having almost gotten caught and having your ass handed to you less than forty eight hours prior, you were back at the shack, drink in hand, stupidly forgetting exactly what had you scrambling to get out there in the first place. 

Who could have even blamed you? Your mother had been especially annoying that particular morning, and Javier and his buddies had colonised the house for a barbeque in the afternoon. In what even you recognised as somewhat juvenile rebelion, you decided the universe owed you some fun after having to endure their patronising, senseless chit chat all day. 

It wasn’t even that late, but you were already feeling it, the effects of the countless drinks you had downed over the course of the few hours you had been dancing at the bar. Nothing unusual in that, men often offered to buy you drinks, handsome ones at that, and you didn’t have the money to live extravagantly. Besides, if you weren’t going to use your charm what was it even there for? 

Was it Timmy? Tommy? You couldn't even recall his name by the time he was tossing you onto the counter in the bar’s bathroom. To be honest you couldn’t really figure out much of your surroundings, letting yourself get lost in the delicate, dizzy, tipsy haze as his hands slipped under your skirt to squeeze at your thighs. Your regular drunk hookup, or rather someone you disappointingly rolled around with till he finished and left you to roll your hips against your pillow wishing your hands were your Stepfather’s. 

His lips brushed your neck, sloppily planting kisses up and down your skin, nipping at your collar bones as he pushed himself between your legs. You closed your eyes and imagined he was Javier. The thought made you moan and you reached for his collar to pull him closer. He didn't smell like Javi, wasn't as big, his chest wasn’t as firm, his arms didn't envelop you like Javi’s did. 

You felt him swell against you, and you pushed against him, mind once again drifting to Javier standing at the grill in your backyard. His white linen shirt unbuttoned far too low, rolled up sleeves drawing your eyes to his forearms. He’d had a hand on his hip, a sliver of skin right above the band of his shorts just barely visible. 

He smiled at you, and you had worried he’d caught you staring. You revelled in the image. You recalled how he leaned against the edge of the pool with the afternoon sun beating down on his golden skin. You imagined his hands moving under your bra to squeeze your breast. 

You were rather embarrassingly enjoying the little montage of your stepdad that was playing in your head. You had almost forgotten it was tommy, or timmy rolling his hips against yours. If a loud, wall rattling thud hadn’t interrupted you, you would've enjoyed your little delusion even longer. 

To say you were startled was an understatement, you practically leaped right off the counter. Unable to really gather your bearings in time, you barely registered timmy, or tommy, scrambling to fix his shirt, you yourself rushing to cover up and fix the top of your dress. 

From the corner of your eye you caught a hand grab him by the shoulder and shove him towards the door, dragging him out of the bathroom and towards a building commotion outside. You heard people yelling, but couldn’t really make out what was going on. 

When you looked up and found Javier looking dead at you, instead of your little fling, you damn near collapsed. He looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack. In a second he was shutting the door behind him, and flicking the lock. You would’ve ran, but its not like you could go anywhere, besides, hed gotten a good look at your face gawking at him, like a fucking moron. 

It was over. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” you hopped off the counter and tumbled into his chest.  He took you by the arm and dragged you right to the back of the bathroom, you struggled to remain on your feet but he didn’t really care. Much of your dizziness was thanks to your new found anxiety and had little to do with the vodka you’d been downing all night. This was definitely not an ideal situation. His grip on your arm tightened, and made you wince. You liked the sting, not so much the rest of the whole ordeal. “This where you’ve been fuckin’ going?” he seethed, coming close enough that your noses almost touched, he shook you lightly by the arm as he spoke. 

You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he pulled you closer. “None of your fucking business.” Sure, you weren’t on your best behaviour, but did he really think he could boss you around? 

“Sure as hell’s my fucking business.” he took a look behind him, then turned back to you and leaned closer. “‘DEA agent’s step daughter dancing at illegal drug club’ sure gonna make a sweet headline.” His fingers dug into your flesh. Only then did it hit you why exactly he was in your dingy shack to begin with. You heard Timmy arguing with someone outside. You felt your palms become impossibly clammier. 

“Just fucking turn me in then, asshole.” you got closer, and you were sure he could smell the vodka off your breath. You wished that sounded as courageous and bold out loud as it did in your head. His eyes jumped to your lips, and he rolled them, huffing in frustration. You felt your own eyes burn, and your vision became blurry. You didn't want to cry in front of that bastard. You looked away. 

“To whom? Myself” his thumb smoothed over your skin, and his grip lightened. “Not gonna arrest you, fuckin’ idiot.” he rolled his eyes, then dropped your arm to put his hands on his hips. He looked down and sighed, massaging his temple and then glancing behind him again. 

“Riskin it all for that fuckin’ looser?” He let out a half hearted laugh, looking somehow both disappointed and smug. You wanted to punch him in the face. You would have, if he didnt happen to be the only thing between you and one dozen other narcs outside. 

He glanced at the ground for a second, then back at you and fixed the strap of your top that had slipped down your shoulder. “Get in the car.” he pointed behind you, and you looked in the direction to see a small, open window. 

“Know you're good at climbing outta windows.” you felt your cheeks heat so much they burned. Your heart hadn’t really recovered from his big, surprise entry yet. You couldn't stand to look at his frustrated, let down face. 

Javi cocked his head and raised his brows, whispering a strained “go”. You had no choice, you turned away from him and towards the window. 

—

“Where are we going?”

He didn't look away from the road ahead. Hand gripping the steering wheel with a renewed annoyance. “Better stop asking questions before s’ too late brat.” You opened your mouth to speak, but quickly shut it right back up again. You decided it was probably a lot smarter to just shut up and not bother him any longer– regardless of the thousand questions and worries you had swimming in your head. 

If you were lucky, he was going to drive the both of you right off a cliff, because if your mother caught any wind of what you had been doing, your plans for going to college, and living out of your house would fly right out the window. Not to mention the torture that would insue when she demanded to know your whereabouts all day everyday for the rest of the foreseeable future. 

“Don't want ya hangin’ round the countryside, in these barns, nothing good happens in there.” he looked over you momentarily, 

“Oh what? Are the cows joining in on the drug trade?” 

“Newspaper boys, going missin’. Found him in the lake, about two miles from here.” you pressed your lips together. 

The car ride thus passed in a painful, tense silence. Javier was clearly unhappy with the whole situation, but had decided not to immediately blow up in your face? Everything about that unsettled you. He was so shocked he seemed to be in denial. You'd much prefer if he just yelled at you and got it over with. 

What else was there to do? Surely he wasn’t going to turn you over to the cops, he had his chance to do that already. However Javier never missed a chance to reprimand you, maybe he wanted to get a few words in before ruining your future. 

You wouldn’t put it past him anyway. 

The empty streets gave way to a narrow, winding road that cut through the woods. The familiar landscape of your small town faded away, replaced by shadowy silhouettes of trees that loomed closer and closer to the edge of the road. The headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the dense foliage– closing in around you. The road twisted and turned, each bend bringing you deeper into the night, and further away from any civilisation. 

Beginning to zone out, you kept your eyes ahead, now unable to recognise left from right, and importantly, exactly how far out from town you had come.  It wasn’t long before the “farwell, drive safe” sign that stood at the edge of the woods was swiftly moving past your right shoulder. A pit was quick to form in your stomach, the lowered window by Javi’s side let the cool breeze in. It wrapped around you and made you shiver. The smell of the woods soon overcame you. 

Eventually,the car came to a stop in a small clearing. You watched Javi, but he paid no attention to you. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of branches swaying in the wind. In the distance, an owl hooted, its call echoed through the trees. You felt like a child about to be reprimanded after getting in trouble at school. You could hear the ticking of the cooling engine, each sound amplified in the stillness of the night. The dark woods pressed in on you. 

After what felt like an eternity, he opened his door, stepping out and gesturing for you to do the same with his head. Still absolutely clueless about what exactly he was doing, you decided just to follow along. He wasn’t going to actually kill you or anything. Probably just wanted to scare you. He had always thought he was a lot more scary than he actually was. At least that's what your brain was telling you. Your heart had other plans. 

You watched from inside as Javi began to cross in front of you, for a good three seconds he stood directly ahead of you, facing you in the beams of the headlights. The sight made you shiver. He took a step out of the light. Taking a long deep breath to psych yourself up, after a short moment you opened your door. Javi placed his arm on the top of said door, leaning against it to watch you get out. 

You almost tripped, but Javi caught you by the arm and manhandled you to the front of his truck. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, and when he turned you to face the hood it blinded you. 

The scrape of your shoes against the damp soil, the crunch of the leaves– it was pretty much all you could really register. The moon shone bright, shining through the trees, but your eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. “These woods are fucking haunted.” A bug landed on the side of your face and you jumped, shaking your head and swatting it away. Javier laughed behind you and you rolled your eyes. “Ghosts the least of your worries right now, bunny .” 

“Fuckin gross.” He shook you by the arm, his voice now a tad bit more annoyed than it was a little earlier. “Oh really?” He pushed you against the hood of his car, your back now facing it. You couldn’t see his eyes, any part of his face at all, you could barely see anything. You wondered how he moved so confidently in the dark. He must have practice. 

“I ain’t sneakin’ out to be a slut every night.” His hands moved to grab your waist and your heart jumped. You swallowed, feeling more defiant yet sceptical by the second. “Sorry you’re not getting any, but it's not my fault, dirty old man.” Before you could even gauge his reaction your head was snapping to the side, a sharp burn spreading across your cheek as Javier’s hand made contact with your skin. 

“I'm not getting any?” he laughed, then took your face between his fingers and squeezed your cheeks together. You winced, and your vision got blurry. You felt your panties dampen embarrassingly. “I ain't the one lettin’ stupid boys rub up on me, bunny.” He shook your face gently, voice so seething and cruel you whimpered, somehow more desperate for him than you were before. 

“Desperate little slut.” He grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you around, and promptly told you to “shut that whore mouth” when you screamed that he could fuck right off. His fingers left tender spots all over your arms and waist, and you winced when he manhandled you into bending over the hood of his car. 

He placed a hand on your back to press you down, the other held your waist in a death grip and you felt him press up against your ass. Your dress had ridden up, and surely left little to the imagination. The denim of his jeans rubbed against your upper thighs, and the tips of your shoes barely scraped the ground with how far up the hood of the car he had thrown you. You whimpered and he shushed you with a hand squeezing around your throat from behind. 

You knew you had to be unjustifiably wet by this point. You felt yourself throb when Javi put his hands under your dress and grabbed the waistband of your panties. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt his bulge through the fabric. 

The jingle of his belt sent a shiver down your spine, every hair on the back of your neck standing up at attention. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, still undecided about how exactly you felt about this entirely new development. 

Your heart jumped when he ran the leather across your skin, slowly, perhaps to catch you off guard when he finally struck you with it. You lurched forward, the pain so sharp a tear was quick to roll down your cheek. He struck you again, holding you down with his other hand. The sound of each slash, and your whines that followed echoed in the distance. 

“Think you’re fuckin cute, don’t you.” It was horribly embarrassing to be bent over the hood of his car, both palms on holding you up as best they could whilst he landed spank after spank on your bare ass. “Like bein a wild child?” Your scream echoed in the woods when his belt made sharp contact with your flesh. Your knees buckled but Javier's hand on your waist held you up before it was retreating to land another slap on your ass. Tears were dampening the neckline of your dress already, rolling down your neck and rendering you a bigger mess with every sharp spank of his belt. 

“Yeah? You get off on all those men touchin’ ya? Like being passed around like a cheap whore?” He gripped your hips so tight you didn’t even bother trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Should take ya to the office sometime, hand ya off to Steve, let him have some fun with you.”

You shook your head at that, there was only one man in the DEA offices you wanted, and unfortunately it wasn’t anybody that could actually be with. You clenched your thighs. 

“Knew you were a fuckin’ nasty little girl.” He wedged his hand between them, pushing them apart and slightly spreading your thighs. His fingers rubbed over your clothed cunt, your panties now damp from all that had ensued. You shivered, then pushed back against his digits. 

His fingers found your clit and you moaned. “Did ya cum?” he asked, referring to your little escapade at the bar. Suddenly, you were a whole lot less bold than you were a few moments ago, it wasn’t ideal to admit what you were going to, and it seemed almost impossible without sounding rather pathetic. 

He stopped moving his fingers and pinched the inside of your thigh. “Answer me.” You whispered a “no” bracing yourself for whatever embarrassing comment Javier was going to throw back at you in response. “Huh.. No one fucked this tight little snatch before? Savin’ yourself for me?” he ruminated on the thought, sounding far more pleased than you would have desired. He wasn’t exactly right, but he definitely wasn’t wrong either. 

When you remained quiet he leant beside your ear, lips ghosting the skin on your neck. “Hmm, that right? “Wish it was me instead of that stupid boy?” You groaned at his smug voice, then when his fingers slid under your panties and between your dripping folds. “Wished his finger’s were mine tonight, didnt you?” He cursed under his breath at how wet you were. “How many times d’you cum dreamin’ bout your stepdaddy fuckin your tight lil pussy…” 

“Haven’t” You pressed your face against the metal of his car, cheeks on fire at your admission. He remained silent behind you for a beat, then gently lifted you to press your back to his chest with a hand around your throat. He pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss against your neck, and the hand that was between your legs slid under your dress to plam your tit through your bra. “Ever?” 

You gasped as he pulled it down, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You shook your head and pressed back against his hard cock. The buckle of his belt dug into your skin and you could almost feel the sting against your ass once again. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, hand returning between your legs. 

He rubbed your clit in slow circles and then pushed two fingers into your entrance. “Full of surprises, aren't ya?” you gasped at the stretch, his fingers were surely far bigger than your own, or any others that had been anywhere near your pussy.  “don't blame ya’ bunny , nothing like the real thing, huh?” 

You bit your lip harder to keep from moaning, already far closer to finishing than you had ever been before, especially when he stroked your walls, mercifully scissoring you open in an uncharacteristic show of thoughtfulness. 

“So fuckin’ wet, bunny .” he curled his digits, reaching that sweet spot inside you as he thumbed your clit. You pushed back against him, feeling yourself continue to gush around his hand. “Gonna slide right in at this rate.” 

He yanked your panties down with so much force you heard a few stitches rip in the silence. Javier groaned, and you leaned back against him when his hand moved away from your pussy to slide his hard cock between your thighs, his hips flush against yours. He squeezed your tit in his palm as he pulled back a little, sliding against your swollen cunt again. 

You felt your arousal smear against your thighs. He muttered a strained “Can’t wait much longer, bunny” . You, yourself thought you might have gone crazy if he waited longer. He pulled his hips back again, notching the head at your entrance and pushing in in a single, slow thrust. 

You winced and then moaned, body unable to adjust to the sheer size of him so quickly, yet still hungry for more. You hadn’t felt quite so full ever before, you could feel his cock deep inside you. Your hand covered his on your chest and you mewled and whimpered when he moved his hips, replicating the sharp thrust again, and then again. 

It wasn’t long before he was pushing you back down against the hood of his car to get a better grip on your hips. He twisted your wrist as you reached out for him, holding both in one large palm as he found a steady rhythm. The almost unbearable stretch slowly melted away into a delicious, burning need, and in only a few moments you were pressing back against him, pleading for him to pick up his pace. 

“You rub your pretty little cunt thinking ‘bout my cock splitting you open?” You moaned a “yes” every part of your body now hot with need as he kept fucking into your warm, wet, heat. 

“How?” When you didn't answer he landed a spank to your ass, this time with his hand, and right over the spot his belt had left its sting on not so long ago. You yelped and surged forward. His hand on your hip pulled you back. You pulled yourself up, craving the heat of his chest against your back. 

“On my- oooh” your palm landed over his, fingers wrapping around one of his larger ones as you cut yourself off with a moan “On my pillow.” The memory made you throb harder, and the hand that was holding Javiers guided it away from your hip and closer to the cut of your thigh, craving the feel of his fingers on your clit. 

He squeezed the flesh of your thigh and chuckled, hot breath fanning against your now sweaty skin. “Thought as much. My little slut. Knew I heard ya..” he took your earlobe between his teeth for a moment, nipped and then licked a stripe up your neck “tryna make yourself cum. Couldn't figure it out yourself huh?” 

You shook your head. “horny little girl, need me to do everything for ya.” You had indeed, countless times rather ashamedly. The thought that he’d possibly heard you long enough for it to be a problem, had likely fucked your mother at the thought, wishing it was you under him in her stead was a thought that would live in your head for all eternity. 

He kissed your cheek, then pushed you back down. “S’why ya keep spreading your legs for the whole world huh?” He put a palm on the middle of your back, holding you down as he continued to thrust inside you. “Chasin’ cock all day long.”

“Can’t help this whore cunt huh? So desperate to cum.” holding yourself up on your forarms you raised your head, turning back to get a look at him fucking into your desperate pussy. 

“Knew it the moment I fuckin’ saw you. Dumb slut got nothing to her name besides this sweet pussy. No one taught ya any manners, how to be a good little girl.” His thumb brushed over the cut of your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks. His index and middle fingers swiped your lips, and they instinctively parted to let him push them in. You sucked and drooled around his digits, doing little to contain your moans as he continued to fuck you from behind. The taste of your arousal sat heady on your tongue. “Always knew ya wanted it, stupid little slut.”

“Runnin that whore mouth all day like you're payin’ for the house.” his hips snapped towards yours, his cock buried deep inside you. “But it aint your house, bunny .” With the way your tits were pressing against the smooth metallic finish of his stupid pickup truck you were sure they were going to leave a mark. 

You released his fingers with a pop, and he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you around, hurriedly tossing you onto the hood of his car till your feet were also planted firmly above the bumper. Before you could even register the movement he was slipping back inside you, you felt yourself pulse around his cock. You hoped and prayed no one was remotely near, your wailes and whines loud enough to travel far into the distance. 

“Get that in your fuckin’ head” He tapped his index gently against your temple and you nodded, frantically pleading yes after yes. You felt him throb inside you, each drag of his cock building the tension in your belly. You felt your pussy squeeze around him, and you wiggled your hips closer to chase the feeling. 

Your head turned side to side, your whole body buzzing at the heat between your legs. You don't think you’d ever felt anything like it. Sure, it felt good to touch yourself, but this, the feeling of his cock inside you, against your wet walls, it was entirely different. 

The tension only built in your hips, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you hurtled closer and closer to the edge. Your palms squeezed your breasts, seeking purchase on any part of your body. 

You lay your back down completely, watching the light hit him right in the face, falling against his features to create sharp lines of contrast. You’d take a good long look at him on top of you to save for later, but he was quickly pressing his lips to yours and your eyes fluttered shut. 

The weight of his body on top of yours was enough to make you cum on your own, but the feeling of his lips was what really did it. For how rough and quick he was splitting you open, his mouth moved gently against yours, his warm tongue parting your lips and gliding into your mouth. You moaned against him and he bit your lip, sensing how close you were. 

“Wanna see that face when you cum for me.”  his palm tilted your face upwards, and while the rest of his fingers continued to squeeze around your neck his thumb slipped between your parted lips. Instinctively, you closed your mouth around him, drooling and moaning around his thumb when he hit the sweet spot inside you over and over. Your pussy clenched around his cock and you tried to whimper his name. You felt another word bubble in your throat but you closed your lips around his digit to push it away. Your eyes fluttered shut at the intensity. 

“Cum for me, lil bunny” his words made you tumble over the edge, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his cock, your back arching off the hood of his car. His fingers squeezed around your neck, holding your face in place so he could get a good look at your eyes rolling back into your head. 

It was like a blackout, your ears rang so loud and your lips loosened around his thumb, going slack as you rode out your high. You felt him throb inside you at the sight. You felt the ache deep inside you, all the pleasure bursting in a single climactic second. Your lips fell slack around his fingers, whole body twitching at the sensation. 

Your climax set him off, and it wasn't long before he was burying himself inside your hot heat. His cock pulsed against your wet walls, painting your insides with his spend. He groaned and squeezed around your neck just a little harder. You sucked his thumb gently and heard him curse under his breath. You tried to keep your fluttering eyes on his face, watching intently as the aftershocks subsided and Javier's brows knit closer with his final few thrusts. 

After a few moments he stilled inside you, taking a moment to catch his breath. He pulled his thumb from your warm mouth to brush your bottom lip, then let his own lips take their place. You felt him pull out and you winced at the burn. He put both your legs up on his shoulders and leaned between your legs. 

You watched as his head disappeared between your legs to place a kiss to your inner thigh, and pull your panties back up your hips. You reached for him and he pulled you up to his chest. “Gotta clean up a lil bit, bunny..” he fixed your dress and lifted you off the hood and into his arms. “Ain’t nothing to worry about.” You already knew your painties were ruined for good with a red stain by that point. 

You rested your forearms on his shoulders, quite liking being held in his arms. “Knew you were always to much of a fucking perv to be a good cop.” He smacked your ass again for good measure and placed you on the ground. “You aint’ too much of a slut to fuck your stepdaddy aint it?” 

He stepped aside and you watched him do up his belt again, walking towards the driver's side of the car. You looked behind you and towards the expanse of the woods. The trees rustled, and you heard, presumably, the same owl hoot from the distance. A small crackle in the foliage had you swiftly walking to the passenger side and yanking open the door. You hopped inside and slammed it behind you. 

Javier was reaching in the glove box to stash away his gun. “Please” You swallowed, looking towards him. “Please just don’t tell her. She's going to have a freak out.”

Javi glanced at you momentarily, then murmured a dismissive “yeah yeah” as he started up the engine. That wasn't good enough for you. “Please, she’ll give me hell, I can’t deal with it.” You shook your head, then shifted in your seat. He muttered another “yeah”, checking his pockets for the keys to your front door. God forbid they slipped out while he was fucking your brains out. 

You turned towards him in your seat, both hands on the centre console. “Please.” Javier grabbed the keys, hooked them to his belt loop and dropped his head in a sigh. He turned towards you, taking a moment to reach over and buckle you into your seat. 

���‘Ain’t gonna tell, so stop askin’ before I change my mind.” He knew he didn’t need to ask you to keep your mouth shut– perhaps the most humiliating part of this all. 

“Okay.. yeah..”  The headlights flashed as you began your journey back home, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. You sank back, twisting in Javi’s direction, now curled up in the seat. His eyes remained on the road ahead. “Don’t do this shit again.” 

“Just wanted some adventure.” your voice grew thick, and you yawned. “Next time ya want adventure watch a fuckin’ hitchcock film or something.” He reached out a hand to cup your cheek, engulfed it and patted it gently. 

”Ain't always gonna be there to save your ass, bunny.” 

— 

PART II

In between

What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine

Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind

If I fear I'm losing you. it's just no good

You teasing like you do

Eeek! Hope you enjoyed!! I’m very excited for this series, and I hope you are too! Please let me know what you think! Thank you to everyone who interacts with my work! Your comments and reblogs keep me writing 💗🐝

[emilys-bangs]

my sleepless night, my winless fight | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, use of petnames, no use of yn, sleep deprived emily, this is so soft omg

Summary: Emily can't sleep. She comes and joins you on the couch, hoping to find sleep with you.

Word count: 1.3k

You’re on the couch, reading with the lights dimmed, when Emily shuffles in. She’s wrapped herself in a midnight blue blanket, her hair trapped under it as she plops down next to you and immediately curls into your side.

“Aw, hey.” You greet, setting your book face-down on the couch next to you. Your girlfriend is painted golden in the soft light of the lamps; you smile at the shadows of her lashes on her cheeks. She shifts to sit sideways onto your lap, just like you knew she would. “Does my little baby want a snuggle?” You coo, your arm automatically hooking around her waist to keep her close.

“Shut up,” Emily mutters, her words holding no weight with the way she burrows into you. Her nose nuzzles under your jaw, her legs spreading over your lap; the tips of her socked toes nudge against your book.

“Mmm, you’re just like Sergio,” you whisper, threading your fingers through her soft hair. It’s trapped beneath her blanket so you free it, letting it spill down her shoulders in waves of black. “I live with two clingy cats, it seems.”

“It seems like you want your clingy privileges revoked.” Emily shoots back, her voice muffled into your skin. You stifle a shiver at the vibration of it, warm and rich through your body. The skin of your neck loses its warmth as Emily comes out of her hiding spot, half-heartedly glaring at you with gold swirling in her eyes.

“No, your highness, I’m sorry,” you say solemnly, tucking your hand into the burrito she’s made herself into and searching for her own hand, freeing it and bringing it to your lips. Her knuckles are cold, and you make your kiss linger. “Stay here as long as you like, baby.” Your voice is soft this time, sincere, and Emily doesn’t even protest the nickname. 

Her fingers curl around yours. She smiles, soft half moons curving in her cheeks. “You can be sweet when you’re not being a little fuck.”

You grin, “Ditto.”

Emily pokes her tongue out and you chase away the petulant expression with a kiss, your playful dispute dissolving with a sigh. Her cold hand—how is she always cold?—cups your face, fingers parting around your ear and pulling you down into her. Your neck cranes, your back protests, but her lips are the sweetest balm, soft and tasting like the purplish blue of frustration.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask against her mouth.

“No,” she grumbles. Her lips brush yours and she takes them in another kiss, slow and unhurried like she’s trying to soothe herself to sleep. You let her have it, tangling your fingers in her hair and gently scraping your nails against her scalp while she presses soft kisses to your mouth. 

Eventually her breath puffs across your chin in a low inhale. Emily leans back into your arm, trusting you to hold her weight as she rests her head on your shoulder.

“Keep me company?” You skim your knuckles along her pale cheek.

Emily’s mouth pinches at your unnecessary question. “Why else would I have come here, then?”

“Smartass,” you chide lovingly. “Just answer the question. God, you’re cranky when you’re sleep deprived.”

Suddenly her brows knit together. “Don’ mean to be. Sorry, amor.” She whispers, her eyes turning doe-like with regret.

“Quit that,” you murmur, gently kissing the tip of her nose to show her it’s alright. She’s not convinced, so you kiss her frown; the scrunch loosens beneath your lips. “We both know I’m just as bad when I’m hungry. ’Least this you can’t help.”

“I just don’t know why.” Emily huffs, a frustrated pout curling her lips downward. “I’m so tired and I’ve been trying for hours, I just wanna sleep already.” Her voice is the tiniest bit whiny, but with the dark circles under her eyes, you think it’s justified.

It breaks your heart to see her like this.

You nudge her off you. “Here, scooch a little.”

Emily frowns deeper. “You’re kicking me off?” She sulks.

“No.” You kiss the tip of her nose. “Just get up a little, you’ll see what I wanna do.”

She does so reluctantly, retracting her legs from your lap and standing up. As you situate yourself on the long end of the couch, she watches while chewing on her lip, her eyes bleary as she toys with the edges of her blanket. 

You place two pillows behind you and spread your legs straight, adjusting your book next to you before holding your hand out for Emily. She takes it and you tug until she reaches the edge of the couch. You tug again and she gets the hint, carefully climbing on your lap—on top of you, really.

It takes a few seconds before she adjusts herself, slipping an arm around your waist and fitting a knee between yours. When she stops shifting you ask, “Comfy?” into her hairline.

“Yeah,” Emily whispers. “Thanks, dolcezza.”

“You’re welcome.” You kiss her forehead. You wrap your own arm around her back, securing her and her fuzzy blanket to your chest. “Just stay here with me, alright? You’ll get bored enough that you might fall asleep anyway.”

“Never bored when I’m with you,” she murmurs into your neck. Her lashes are wispy on your skin, ticklish as she blinks.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Ah, cranky Emily is gone, time for lovergirl Emily?” You pick up your book again, holding it open with one hand and keeping the other on Emily’s back. “Welcome back, sweetheart, I missed you.”

Emily sighs into your neck; you can’t tell if it’s frustrated or not. “You really are somethin’.” She says, her voice like warm honey.

Regardless, you kiss her forehead. “You are, too, babe.” Of its own accord, your hand slips into her hair again. Emily sighs as you lightly drag your nails over her scalp, the warmth of her breath sinking into your neck.

“Read to me?”

“Sure.”

As you open up Jane Eyre, your eyes skimming the passages you’d read countless times, a thought comes to you.

“Hey, Em?” You rake your fingers through her hair.

“Hmm?”

“You know, you remind me an awful lot of Jane.”

A small, huffed laugh escapes her. Emily’s hand slips under your shirt, finding your warm skin underneath. “Why’s that?” She asks softly. Her voice is close to drowsy, so you make sure to continue your rhythmic scratching along her scalp.

“I’m not sure. Think it’s ’cause she’s so blunt. Makes me laugh.” You kiss her hairline, gently trying to nudge her into sleep.

“Honesty is a virtue.” She replies. “One I definitely have.”

“One you definitely do.” You agree. “Can I read now?”

“I wasn’t the one who interrupted you,” she retorts.

“Okay, well, hush. The sound of the dressing-bell dispersed the party.” You begin. Your voice is hardly the most melodic, but you try anyway. “It was not till after dinner that I saw him again: he then seemed quite at his ease.”

As you continue reading, Emily grows heavier on top of you. The circles she’d been rubbing on your stomach start to slow, then they cease entirely as her breath evens out. You still continue reading out loud, your voice a low whisper, still continuing to play with her hair long after she’s gone to sleep.

When drowsiness starts to force your own eyes closed, you fold the corner of the page and toss the book somewhere on the couch. Emily doesn’t stir and you wrap both arms properly around her now. She’s warm enough that you don’t need an added blanket despite the winter, and you brush your lips along her forehead in another kiss, your whisper of, goodnight gone unanswered.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[tan1shere]

Breathe

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: it's 3 am and I just thought of this. This is so rare for Ms tann to have motivation omg. Anyways enjoy !

Summary: you had been working yourself to the bone, flat out. Causing your girlfriend to worry about you.

Warnings: bit angsty, reader is stressed, panic attack, but fluffy ending MUAH

Masterlist

Frantic.

Your movements were frantic your whole brain was frantic. Speeding up with what you had to get done. It's as if time crept up on you. It was midnight and you couldn't sleep, all because of this thing you needed to do for work. You didn't want to get fired or anything. And that's the constant thing rattling round your brain.

'You're gunna get sacked.'

'You'll loose your spot.'

'They will think you're pathetic'

"What're you doing up love?" You then hear your girlfriend yawn. "Sorry Bills I didn't mean to wake you." She rubs her eyes adjusting to the light you had on in the living room. "You didn't babe. Why are you up this late?" You scatter the papers on the floor trying to find the one your after. "Bubba?" She then says a tad bit louder. "Hm? Oh, I needed to get this done, go back to bed billie-" "You come back to bed baby. You needa sleep." Your head just shakes. "Can't. I have to get this done." She lets out a sigh. "Please come to bed once your done." You mindlessly nod, still focusing on your work.

Days pass where this kept going on. Midnight, daily. She was getting really worried. Concerned. "Baby, it's your day off." She says looking at you scribbling something down on a piece of paper at the kitchen table. "I know but I forgot to do this." She sighs, her worry increasing. She goes to sit next to you. "Sweetheart." You hadn't heard her, too caught up with your burning thoughts. "Look at me." And you do, but not for long. Only to let her talk. "Your running yourself down, you need to take a break. Please." She pleaded.

But she knew deep down you wouldn't budge. You were definitely a hard worker. You didn't want her to worry either, you were fine. Right? "Its ok Bills once I'm done with this I will." "And when is that because it's been days." You continue to write. "Just a few more days." She sighs, standing up and leaving the room.

It was bad, truly bad. You haven't slept in 4 days, nearly 5 once the clock struck 12. You hadn't eaten. It's as if something was wrong with you, you had never done this before. Until the sleep deprivation kicked in. You felt it, feeling your lids slowly close. Your head going along with it, knocking out on the table. You hadn't even realized. That was until Billie came down, ready to shoot some sense into you, when she saw you dead asleep. She was so thankful. Tip toeing around to shut your laptop, when you wake back up again. "Fuck." She curses under her breath.

"Shit!" You say. "How long was I out for?" You ask her, that franticness coming back. "I dunno babe, you-" "No no no." You look at the clock. "It's 12. No..." Her eyes scan your face. Her worried look still evident. "Baby." She says sternly. Sensing what was approaching. "Oh God." You grab your chest trying to stay calm, but with the lack of sleep mixed with the lack of hunger your body just couldn't. A panic attack started to form.

Billie was quick to you, wanting to grab your face to get you to look at her, but truly not wanting to overwhelm you anymore. "Bub, please look at me." Tears build up, your breathing unsteady. "Baby, hey." Her voice was soft. "I-" You begin, feeling your chest tighten. "Can I touch you?" You finally look at her, nodding frantically, feeling like you're going insane. She was quick to grab your hand putting it on her chest. "Do your breathing. In.. and out." You shake your head but she just nods.

"Yes, in and out." Your eyes shut, trying so damn hard to focus on her voice. Then slowly your breathing comes back slightly. "There you go, that's it. Feel how still my heart is?" You nod, feeling her gently place her hand on your chest. "I want yours to be the same. Deep breath in, through your nose." You do so feeling a little bit calmer. "Then out." You breathe out, feeling the exhaustion finally hit you like a wave. "Few more times." She then says, feeling it still beating a bit fast. You nod, fixing your breathing until it was normal again. Things were silent. Until she spoke up.

"Talk to me sweet girl." Her thumb rubs under your eye, moving to the other. "I had to finish this stupid thing which I'm now coming to my senses was for no reason, I had time I don't know what got into me." That was a lie, you do know. And it was your evil coworker. She knew how hard you worked, knowing how intent you could sometimes be, she's the one who riled you up. "Bub." She knew you were lying too, she knew you better than anything. "Fucking Hannah. She's a stupid bitch oh my god. I absolutely hate her and the way she gets to me so easily." Billie grips both your hands in hers.

Making sure you're staying calm. "She bugs me too, I think you need to tell your boss because if anything she should be getting fired. Not you, because you haven't finished something in the right time. But her for being an evil fucking cunt." You sniffle, a small laugh to be heard. "Billie." "What! She is." You smile at her. "Thank you." You then say. "What for angel." Her hand comes to put any loose strand of hair behind your ear. "For being here, I feel like I've been awful." Her head shakes.

"So far from that, you've been working so hard even if it was worrisome. You were so determined and I admire you tons for that." Her words made you smile. "But I really do advice sleep, please." You nod. "Yeah.. I agree with you, I'm definitely feeling it now." She nods. "Dare I say good, its like you were a frozen statue over the past few days." You sigh a bit. "Sorry baby." She squeezes your hands, in an 'it's ok' way. "And Missy. You needa eat something." She then gets up grabbing a small snack from the fridge.

After that you get into bed with her for well needed rest. You turn to face her as her arm slings over your waist. "I missed you." She then says. "Missed snuggling with my girl."She finishes off. You give her a smile. "I'm sorry again, I truly am Billie I never wanted to worry you or for it to get so out of hand like it did." Her hand lands on your cheek so delicately. "Come to me in future my love, talk to me. That's what I'm here for yeah? I'm here for you always." Your body moves to cuddle hers, wrapping your arms around her. She holds you tightly. "From now on we talk hm?" Your head nods as you feel sleep taking over again. "We talk." - "Good." She kisses your forehead.

"I love you." You then say.

"I love you so much more."

[w0rmm1lk]

Texting.

Reader: not mentioned.

characters: all characters i write for (besides kota and eri)

type: can be read as both platonic and romantic

sumarry: how i think the mha characters would text.

warnings: possible swearing, denki being denki.

👾Mina Ashido👾

she abuses her emoji privledges. like nobody will ever receive a message from her that doesn't have an emoji. lots of all caps.

👓Tenya Iida👓

oh you were texting him? bitch writes as if he's writing a formal email. your ass is lucky that he doesn't start that shit off with "I hope this message finds you well.". not even kidding will proof read every message he sends at least twice.

♾️Ochaco Uraraka♾️

will end every message that isnt on a serious topic with :D. its so sweet tbh.

⚡Denki Kaminari⚡

this man uses so many abbreviations that even if you think you use a lot just know you're learning a new one everyday. not even kidding makes up his own shit. once sent mina "lmkiydthesicci" and nobody could figure out wtf he meant. lowkey flirting with every mssg he sends. every single person in the class, girl or not has received a message from him that just says "hey bbg ;)". he received a very long lecture from iida and a very confused reply from todoroki. todoroki didn't actually know wtf bbg meant. thought he misspelled bbq at first.

🪨Kirishima🪨

unironically sends messages that just say "rawr". uses the :} face a lot bc he thinks it looks like his unbreakable.

🐙Mezou Shoji🐙

i feel like he has such a low screentime that if anyone needs to text him he's only available for like an hour a day. accidentally leaves ppl on read. messages seem very bland usually.

❄️Shoto Todoroki🔥

another bland person but tbh hes the worst out of them all. like he can look at a whole paragraph asking him if he wants to go to the movies with the rest of the class and all he will reply with is just "ok." uses periods at the end of every message but I swear he's not mad.

💥 Bakugo💥

if he receives any messages past 8pm the "reply" will be you getting left on delivered even if he's still up, or a message just saying "shut the fuck up and go to bed.". also bland but he's more of a "k" bland rather than a "ok." bland.

🥦Izuku Midoryia🥦

he will not even kidding receive a message that just says "hi" and will send a whole paragraph that is basically just a lengthened "hi! how are you?". uses the smiley emoji a lot.

💫Momo Yaoyorozu💫

lots of ! at the end of messages, you can feel the happiness through your phone screen. uses heart emojis at the end of messages and memorizes the meaning of each color so she can use them accordingly.

🖤Shihai Kuroiro🖤

another :} user, sometimes uses :] but mainly :}. only ever texts ppl at hours like 2-4 am. you cant convince me he gets enough sleep.

👔Neito Monoma👔

you think hed text you?/j kinda just an average texter, any message about class 1a will be in all caps.

😈Dabi😈

oh look. another bland ass texter, at least he takes the time to actually type out "okay," only sends emojis if he's talking about how weird the emoji looks.

🔪Himiko Toga🔪

uses :] all the time. not :}, or :). just :]. if anyone texts her, even if its just a simple "hi." and she isn't busy, congrats you've agreed to a 3 hour face time call.

✋Tomura Shigaraki✋

he leaves everyone on read. if you question why he left you on read all you're getting is an "if its so important then talk to me face to face."

🃏Mr. Compress🃏

so you know how earlier i said you were lucky Iida didnt start with "I hope this message finds you well,"? your luck ran out. he writes it like you're a long distant friend who he is sending some fancy ass shit letter to. not even kidding ends each message with "--Compress."

🪽Hawks🪽

types so fast his phone doesnt even register his hands. half his messages be looking like "se tht ouds ood". he doesn't even bother to edit it or correct himself.

👁️Aizawa👁️

he texts like a dad. texting this mf be like:

"ok👍"

"*photo of a weird boat*"

🌙Midnight🌙

miss girl uses so many ;) that its hard to tell if shes suggesting something weird or not. ended every greetings message with that one kissy emoji.

🙂Mirio Togata🙂

uses the 🙂 all the time because he thinks it looks like him. it does.

🌀Nejire Hado🌀

lots of !!! and :D, also uses the :> a lot lol. lots of blue heart emojis aswell.

🦋Tamaki Amajiki🦋

sends articles about different butterflies he likes or thinks the person he sends it to would like along with a message along the lines of "I think this fits you :]". rarely texts first but when he does he clicks send and sitts on the other side of the bed as his phone while staring at it intensely, just waiting for the reply notif. wont actually read the reply for a good minute.

🐈‍⬛Hitoshi Shinsou🐈‍⬛

sends photos of random animals he sees while out and about. usually just cats. (no way this man doesn't feed the strays around ua) another person that only texts at night time.

🛠️Mei Hastume🛠️

uses >:D a lot, shows blueprints of her new babies all the time, ngl they are usually rlly messy. texts are just :

"LOOK AT THIS NEW BABY IN PROGRESS >:D"

"* incomprehensible image of a blueprint *"

⭐Yo Shindo⭐

uses the thumbs up way to much but like in the passive aggresive way yk? but also if you send him a photo of something ur proud of he will reply with a simple "oh that's cool!" but there's so much fucking emotion behind it ur just kinda like ???

🛡Melissa Shield🛡

her messages are so sweet. sunset pictures of the ocean every other day. lots of :).

wrote this is one go and now my hands hate me. i think this was at least 20 characters-? idk I'm struggling to count.

[amongemeraldclouds]

sober solutions to drunk discoveries

After a drunken kiss blurs the line of friendship, you and Mattheo get in the way of your happiness, prompting Enzo to play matchmaker.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

Part two to nine shots of firewhiskey, can also be read as a standalone.

Content: fluff, slight angst, spicy but no smut, characters aged up

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist | 2.5k words

The faint smell of alcohol invaded your senses, growing more pungent as seconds ticked past. The moment you dared to open your eyes, regret flashed through you along with the bright sun that assaulted your vision, hammering drum beats into your skull.

You shifted, burying your face in the pillow, its softness welcoming you back. Except you shouldn't have spun so fast for the entire world itself spun around you. You could have sworn you've never been caught in a tornado before, yet that's exactly what it felt like.

You grabbed the first thing within reach: a muscular arm. It was enough to steady you, anchoring you in place. In the sudden calm, you could finally hear your thoughts: why was there a well chiseled arm wrapped around you? Why did it feel good? What were you doing feeling up someone's arm?

Oh, this arm belonged to Mattheo Riddle. Words drenched in alcohol dripped into your mind like lazy morning dew, "you don't want to fuck me?" You asked Mattheo last night, your eyes wide and body burning with lust and inebriation.

Now it burned with shame. Forget coffee and tonics. Never underestimate the unbridled force of humiliation to knock your senses back into you.

Not for the first time, you wondered which gods you had angered to have incurred another set of misfortune. It was bad enough to be that heartbroken girl who got stuck in detention, sunk her grades, and nearly got disowned by her parents. You also had to be the girl who practically begged your best friend to fuck you.

You shrunk, cringing inwardly as you inched away from beneath the blanket, careful not to wake Mattheo. You breathed a sigh of relief when you landed clumsily with a thud on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, reminding you to retrieve your blouse from where it lay crumpled on the bed.

A figure stirred from the other end of the room, a bleary eyed Lorenzo stared at you with his sleep-toussled hair. You instinctively wrapped your arms across your chest.

"You didn't see anything!" You whispered, trying to get ahead of him.

He blinked then repeated your words, "I didn't see anything."

"Stop screaming!" you hissed, moving away from Mattheo, blouse in hand.

"I'm not, I'm whispering!" Enzo shot back, arms raised.

"Well whisper softer!"

You turned around, fastening the blouse back on. You had been friends with Enzo long enough to feel his eyes roll from behind you.

"Just use my coat," he whispered and you nodded.

You turned back, "thank you, go back to sleep. I was never here. I'll return this later."

You snuck off, leaving behind the sleepy boy and the boy you love. It was too early to deal with the weight of your feelings. Feelings were reserved for midnight musings. When the sun was up, you had to lists to cross off, grades to earn back, a reputation to salvage, and feelings to avoid. For starters, you desperately needed a shower.

Enzo looked at the spot you just vacated then watched Mattheo, wondering what happened last night. It wasn't like you to sneak off that way, but he knew better than to get involved. You and Mattheo were bound to drag him into it anyway, the least he could do was be well rested for the chaos.

As he went back to sleep, Enzo smiled. You seemed back to your usual self, if a bit jumpier. It was still a win.

The second the bell chimed, you snapped your book shut and were halfway through the classroom, robe fluttering behind you in style. You were eager to be the first one out so you didn't have to run into Mattheo.

It did not add up. Mattheo was your safe space, your confidant, and partner in crime. And yet, something had changed last night. Insecurities swarmed through your head faster than you could outrun them.

What if Mattheo only said he'd be yours because he felt sorry for you? What if it was just a drunken illusion that vanished with sobriety? What if you were better off as friends? You couldn't risk another heartbreak so soon.

A sudden collision brought you back to the present moment as your books crashed onto the floor. "Sorr-" you started when you saw those familiar curls again. Except you now knew how soft they felt between your fingers and you ached to reach out. To be close to him again.

"Hey," Mattheo breathed out. Your eyes travelled straight to his lips, his usual smirk now skewed and awkward. You already missed how they felt against your lips, tender and wild. Your breath caught in your lungs. As luck would have it, you bumped into the very wizard you were trying to avoid. With all your effort to evade him in class, you had completely missed the fact that Mattheo had been skiving off.

You lowered yourself as a distraction and started collecting your books as you gathered your thoughts.

"Mattheo, I-" you started and reached out when he handed you your book. Without meaning to, your fingers brushed against his and your heart was picking up speed again, drumming to the beat of his name. It was too much to handle. "-have to go." You ended your sentence and walked away, resisting the urge to run.

"You have got to stop torturing Riddle," Enzo plopped down the chair beside you.

"I did no such thing," you shot back, your friendship long past the usual pleasantries of 'hi's and 'hello's. "What's he up to this time?"

"He's been prattling on about you at the Astronomy Tower, an entire bottle of firewhiskey in hand. We've got to get him back down," Enzo explained.

Concern spread through you like wildfire, but you hesitated, your insecurities weighing you down. "I don't know if I'm the one who can help him."

Enzo sighed, "What really happened last night?"

"We maybe sort of kind of," you began, "kissed."

"Fina-fucking-ly!" Enzo slammed his hand on the table, the bang echoing across the library. Annoyed faces were directed at him and the librarian's stern gaze burned through his skull. He smiled at them apologetically, turning on his charm.

"What do you mean?" You asked, bringing him back to your conversation.

"Oh come on, y/n," he rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows you and Mattheo are end game, even Cedric could see it too. Fuck that twat for how he dealt with it, you didn't deserve that. But you and Mattheo, it's bound to happen like snow in winter or snakes shedding skin."

"You did not just compare me to snake skin," you scoffed, the weight of his words sinking in.

"Stop deflecting, I said what I said. He likes you, you like him. I don't see the problem," he opened his hands wide to emphasize his point.

"Great, now I feel stupid," you exclaimed.

"And Mattheo's being a tosser up at the Astronomy Tower, you two were truly made for each other."

"Lorenzo Bekrshire, you're a wonderful friend, aren't you?" You replied sweetly, your words laced with sarcasm. "Come on, let's rescue that wanker."

You slowed as you reached the final steps of the Astronomy Tower, the evening breeze cooling you down while your heart pounded in your chest. There was no backing out now, certainly not after going up those long flights of steps. Your legs were jelly from the effort and the anticipation of facing your fears.

You looked tentatively at Enzo, who nodded his support. Just before you took another step, he gently placed his hand around your arm.

"This is where I'll leave you two to figure things out. Lay it all out and don't hold back. It's good advice for sharing your feelings and throwing up. You'll feel better afterwards."

Your eyebrows crinkled, "but I can't haul his drunk arse down the stairs myself."

"Just follow my advice, that'll sober him up. Except for the throwing up part, that one's for Riddle," he smirked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Enzo quickly raised his finger.

"No more stalling. Look, I've got this date tonight and I won't be back until tomorrow morning. So have fun, yeah? Tell Mattheo, he better not screw it up. I'm running out of coats." With that, he turned and started walking downstairs.

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself. It didn't make sense that your entire world just blew up months ago. Being with Cedric felt like a lifetime ago, and there in front of you, was your potential future.

Your heart ached at the memory of your kiss. A kiss more potent than nine shots of firewhiskey in the way it breathed life into your world again. A lonely garden now teeming with the butterflies in your stomach and the blossoming of hope and desire. Feelings you had nearly forgotten about.

You approached carefully, crouching down across him as he took another swig from the bottle.

"Oh there you are again," Mattheo slurred, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Your eyes followed the movement as you resisted the urge to reach out to him and kiss him again.

Before you had a chance to respond, he continued. "Of course you're there too, I was just talking to you here," he gestured to the empty space beside him. "I tried not to think about you, you know? You're my fucking best friend. To which I mean that as a cuss word, not that we're best friends who fuck, because we're not. Even though I want us to, which you do too!" He dramatically gestured to you and that space beside him again before going on.

"But you were drunk and I didn't know if you'd still want me when you're sober. And can I be honest? I didn't want to just fuck you. It sounds crass and I know that's ironic coming from me, but..." he trailed off as he stared at you.

"I'm sorry, look at your eyes! You're so beautiful and for the first time, I don't want to fuck. I want all the soppy bullshit poets write about divine dances and souls entangled. Load of bollocks if you ask me, but it makes sense with you. Why is that?"

You blinked, trying to catch up with his drunken ramblings. "So last night, you didn't think I was pathetic?"

"What? You are many things y/n, but never pathetic," he replied. "Anyone would have broken down if they went through everything you did and I wanted to hold you together, but you just got up. Day after day, you got up and you went on. You cried and you screamed and we drank, but then you went on. Do you have any idea how brave you have to be just to do that?"

Tears filled your eyes at his words. He was always more honest when he was drunk but it still caught you off guard how the boy with dark eyes and a dangerous smile hid an entire universe within him.

"No, no, no, hey hey," Mattheo reached forward as a tear slipped down your cheek. "I always fuck things up, don't I?" He said, cupping your face to wipe off the tear. "This is why we're better off as best friends even though I've liked you for a while now. I'll just drink my whiskey and talk to this imagined version of you."

You suddenly quirked an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. He was so adorable, you hated the roller coaster of emotions you were on but no longer wanted to walk away from. "Can figments of imagination cry?"

"Well they never did except for you, so that's new. Unless..." he trailed off, the gears in his head spinning albeit rusty from the alcohol. You watched patiently as his eyes widened and crimson flooded his cheeks. "You're real, aren't you?"

"Only one way to find out," you said as you closed the distance between you and kissed him. Of course it was a lie. There were so many ways to find out, but fuck it you just needed to kiss him. And there it was again, more potent than nine shots of firewhiskey. It was an eternity you could live in forever.

The weight of the kiss sank deep in Mattheo's bones, grounding him from the drunken haze in his head. Your kiss was sobering and intoxicating at the same time, a delicious cocktail of emotions that far outweighed the experience of drinks and drugs. You may have ruined it for him forever and he didn't mind it one bit.

Mattheo held you close as he kissed you, one hand at the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist as you straddled him. It was always inevitable, wasn't it? Falling for you. You with your beautiful face, the way you made him laugh, and how he felt at home with you. His heart never stood a chance.

For once, he wanted to move past his flaws and fears, so he could finally allow himself to want you. He felt it with the intensity at which he sucked your bottom lip, asking to be let in. You gasped at his boldness and his tongue darted in to explore your mouth. He may be good at fucking shit up, but for you he wanted to try.

A grunt escaped his throat when you rocked your hips against him and you were rewarded with the growing length you felt in his pants. Your fingers were wrapped in his curls while the other moved around his arm, feeling up his muscles again.

You needed to finish your conversation before you allowed yourself to go further. Reeling in your desires, you broke up for air. You were surprised when this didn't deter Mattheo as he kissed your jaw instead, planting delicate kisses down your neck. You sighed in pleasure, ready to let go of the words, but you needed to reassure him.

"Mattheo Riddle, my sweet Matty, you should know you don't just screw things up. You bring so much life and energy wherever you go and I'm so happy I get to be around you a lot. You're a firecracker, Riddle."

"For you darling, I'll be a fucking nebula," he said, his lips swollen and hair disheveled. You took a moment to drink him all in and admire your handiwork.

Tiny fireworks exploded in your chest at his words and you giggled at how sweet he was when he was drunk, both on alcohol and in love. "Now what was it you told me last night? I'm sober and I still want you so"

"I'm all yours," he completed the sentence, kissing you again.

In between kisses, you asked, "and what exactly did the poets mean about divine dances and soul entanglements?"

Mattheo gave a low chuckle, "oh princess, I'm no fucking poet, let me show you instead."

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist

A/N: This is the first time I've written a part two for a fic. Matchmaking Enzo is my fave!

[daydreamer-in-training]

✨OP Advent Calendar Masterlist✨

Door 6 - Under the Mistletoe Part 1

Eustass Kid x reader

Word count: 1.500+

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (NSFW)

Themes: fluff; kisses; a tiny bit steamy at the end; Is Kid in denial or just an Idiot ? Who knows?! It's the Kid Pirates so : foule language; Bit angsty at the end If you squint, but there will be a Part two on another day so its okay; hight difference

Notes: This wasn't supposed to be this long! 😄And I haven't been able to sleep much the past three nights, this also took me until midnight as well. But Hope that makes Up for Yesterday 🥺✨ Have a wonderful day everyone! This is also for @fanaticsnail to turn her frown upside down 🫂

Please Note that Englisch is Not my first languages and i am tired when uploading ✨

Advent Calendar Taglist: @jintaka-hane @chibinasuu @stuckinmymind22 @eustasscapitankid @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece

The Christmas Chaos was evident on the Victoria Punk. Glitter, twinkle lights, and cosiness stood in stark contrast to the usual decor on the Victoria Punk. Bubblegum and Killer pestered Kid about decorating for their annual Christmas Event days before it happened until he gave his okay.

“Do whatever the fuck you want, but leave me alone already!“

Then the two went ham and a few hours later, it looked as if Christmas had thrown up on the Ship.

It took Kid a moment to get used to it. When he entered his chamber, everything was normal, but when he had woken up a few hours later from his nap and opened the door, he was blinded by fairy lights.

Bubblegum in particular was fond of Mistletoes and the tradition surrounding it, so they hung them up everywhere. They had so much fun, smooching everyone when they got the chance.

The crew memorized the locations where the Misteltoes would be and avoided them. Everyone became very good at taking the long way to the kitchen.

As did Kid, he had just woken up from his midday nap. He did the night watch all week -due to a bet he lost against Wire- and so he slept during the day. Still in his sleeping pans, he jawed and scratched his belly, he could already smell the coffee Killer was brewing in the kitchen.

Tired and deep in thought, he didn't notice that you were sneaking up on him.

“Hey, Captain?” Before he even realised what was going on, you had already stood on your tiptoes and given him a playful kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Puzzled and dumbfounded, he looked down at you, his amber eyes wide with shock. The stark contrast to his usual frown made you giggle. You didn‘t know his eyes were able to be that round.

“Look, up there,“ he followed your finger with his eyes up to the ceiling where a Mistletoe was hanging. Before he could say anything back, you were already gone with a ‘see you later at the night watch!’

Bubblegum! He moved the mistletoe somewhere else, the arse.

Kid slowly lifted his fingers to his lips, where your brief kiss still lingered as a tingling sensation as he watched you bounce away with glee.

“Oh wow… That was your chance, but all you did was stand there like a statue“ The Captain didn’t even have to turn around and see, to know the wide grin Wire had on his stupid face right now.

Kid clenched his fist and huffed “Shut-“ Wires grin became wider “-ta fuck-“ The taller man took a slow step back now, chuckling as his old friend turned around and stared daggers into his body „UP!“

Laughter from Killer came from the kitchen.

As the redhead finally entered his destination, he was greeted by a Mug of coffee from his first mate and plopped his buttocks onto the bench in the corner and drank it in fuming silence.

The two commanders exchanged knowing looks - if one can call it that with Killer mask and all. They both had already noticed the soft spot the captain had for you. They noticed long before Kid did. That poor fella is still in denial, but the red hue his ear had become since you kissed him, would beg to differ.

The three commanders had made up a plan, starting with Heat transferring his night watch tonight to you. He was your superior and you wouldn‘t question it. The Mistletoe incident was a lucky coincidence just now.

Wire and Killer went after their usual business, Wire taking a seat as well and opening the newspaper and Killer was making some Eggnog for everyone.

“So… you gonna have night shift with them tonight, did I hear right?“, the first mate said nonchalantly as he stirred his ingredients together. Behind his newspaper, Wire peered over to Kid, who seemingly short-circuited. “What?!“ he grunted, coughing up his coffee.

It was all your fault! Why did you have to be so incredibly cute, so gentle and at the same time so quick-witted and competent? Eustass Kid would never have reacted so stupidly when you kissed him in the fist place if you hadn't always treated him so gentle and understanding.

He was about to give you a piece of his mind. Kid was already way too late, but he was also captain so he could get away with it. Still loaded, he trudged up the stairs to the lookout.

But when he saw you standing there, leaning against the railing, watching the stars, his anger was briefly blown away. His gaze travelled over your body and lingered on your lips. Those plush and soft lips.

And then he remembered why he was upset.

You snapped to attention when you heard his footsteps stop and looked towards him.

“Hey Captain… good evening! The stars are so pretty tonight!“ the soft smile on your face turned into an expression of shook when you noticed his angry scowl.

No, you are so pretty tonight! Is what he almost blurted out.

“And what do ya think ya doing?! Ya think its okay ta just kiss ya captain when he lets his guard down!?“

He bridged the distance between you with long strides faster than you had expected. You stumbled back and realised that the wall behind you was much closer than you thought. You didn't see anger coming as his reaction. Especially not after Wire had talked you into it.

Kid slammed his hands on the wall to either side of your face, which made you flinch.

“Kid- Captain I m-mean“ you blinked up to him, now caged between the wall and the broad figure, that was Eustass Kid, not finding the words to explain yourself properly.

Afraid to look him in the eye, you scrunch yours shut.“I- I overstepped-“ fear that you had ruined your relationship with him collected itself in the pit of your stomach.

“Ya didn’t. Now shut up an‘ look at me…“ his quiet and hoarse voice near your face made you open your eyes slowly. He was so close to your face now, your noses almost touched. “I‘m the captain… I‘m the one that initiates things…“, your eyelashes fluttered as he gently caressed your face with his right hand to tilt it up to him. „I call the shots, aye?“, he whispered into your cheek.

You nodded slightly and turned your face invitingly towards him. He had been longing to hold your smaller body in his arms for a long time. Kid's feelings for you were finally spilling over and he allowed himself to take a little piece of you.

Hungrily, he pressed you against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, a satisfied growl escaping his lips. You let him take control, you had no other choice as he devoured your lips with passion. Your hands found his broad shoulders and held on tightly.

Briefly gasping for air, he released the kiss and your fiery eyes met. He wanted more, now that he was allowing himself to show his feelings for you.

His eyes darted back and forth between yours, searching for an answer to his silent question. With the usual gentleness in your eyes, you slide your hand down his neck to bring him back towards you.

And so his lips met yours with more hunger than ever before. Kid slipped his tongue into your mouth, dominating the kiss completely as he lifted you up. Both of your legs wrapped around his hips, seeking support. While his metal arm held you up with ease, he ran his other arm up your thighs.

After what felt like an eternity, he broke off the heated kiss, not without pulling slightly on your lower lip. You looked into each other's eyes, both gasping for breath, a thousand questions arising in this moment and neither of you finding the words to express them.

You lovingly took his face in your hands and placed a kiss on the bridge of his nose.

He sighed softly and unintentionally at your loving gesture. And the Kid was reminded that he was your captain, your superior. And that what he was doing here was not okay. At least he thought so.

You wouldn't think Eustass Kid ever had any scruples when it came to lust. But he cared about his crew, he fucking cared about you. You're like family and there was no way he was going to jeopardise that.

So he carefully put you back on the ground. You looked up at him in confusion, which gave his heart a twinge. He leant down to you and placed a kiss on your forehead. ‘Night watch is over, go to sleep.’ he whispered into your hairline. Then he turned and left the lookout without looking back. If he had still seen the hurt and confused look on your face, he probably wouldn't have been able to leave you behind.

You really hadn't expected this result when you gave the Kid a kiss under the mistletoe.

.

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

MIDNIGHT TROUBLES

Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing, fluff (i guess?) angst, mentions to the giggidy (nothing actually happens), derogatory terms/names used

A/N: i was sleep deprived and cluelesss when writing this so enjoy :)

part two: meet me at midnight | part three: its not midnight anymore

You've been friends with Luke Castellan since the day you showed up at camp drenched in water and he showed you around. You've been inseparable since then - y/n and Luke. Luke and y/n, you were a package deal, wherever one went the other followed.

On this particular day you had seated yourself down on a sunny patch of grass to sing. Luke had settled himself a few feet away from you pretending not to listen as your lips parted and sound sweeter than any strawberry escaped your mouth.

His eyes shut peacefully as your song washes over him. He's always loved your singing, everyone does, your song can seem to stop time for a few moments. But Luke likes to think he loves it the most - he's your best friend, of course he gets that right.

Once you finish singing you open your eyes and Luke is staring at you with pure amazement and... something else you can't quite place. Whatever it is, it's gone in a blink. "That was beautiful, y/n," he smiles.

"Like you," you tease standing up and reaching up to ruffle his hair. "You do know you don't have to sit with me and listen every time I sing don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. But I want to," Luke says, standing up with you and pulling you into a side hug. "You've got a really beautiful voice y/n."

You brush it off and wrap your arm around his waist walking along with him. "Oh but its not as beautiful as yours," you joke and Luke's laugh vibrates through you sending a jolt of tingles and a wave of repressed feelings.

You watch as Luke laughs and can't help but smile yourself. You and Luke have been deemed the camp's Mom and Dad. If anything was wrong and you didn't want to take it to Mr D or Chiron the campers would go to you two, Apollo and Hermes cabin counsellors. That's when the rumours started. Luke and y/n are dating. Although you've both denied it several times the campers never listened and you were dubbed Mom and Dad.

Even though you denied it, a small- a medium- okay a pretty huge part of you wants it to be true. I mean who wouldn't want Luke Castellan to be their boyfriend? He has offers piling up every day from girls. You're pretty sure you've even seen someone offer him a fucking apple with the words 'will you go out with me' carved into it. Luke said no of course - she was a frigging psycho - but even then he never said yes to any of the offers, the ones that you knew about anyway.

"I got patrol tonight after the campfire," you sigh and break away from Luke to give a younger boy from Aphrodite a hug when he showed you his result from arts and crafts. Not noticing how Luke tenses beside you until the boy runs off to tell his friends you hugged him.

"I'll come with you, there's bound to be some shit heads sneaking off to go hook up," he rolls his eyes looking directly at some Ares camper who you've both caught several times. "And besides, gods know you couldn't handle the dark without me."

You scowl at Luke smacking him. "Haha very funny, a daughter of the sun god is afraid of the dark, it's hilarious." Luke just grins and catches your hand against his chest, holding it there, when you go to hit him again. Your laughter fades and you both just stare at each other for a moment neither of you wanting to break it but also wanting to admit to the other that there was something happening.

Luke clears his throat and drops your hand gently. "Whatever loser, you're the one stuck with me," you tease and kiss his cheek. Walking away before you lose your nerve. Holy shit why'd you do that? you scream inside your head. What the fuck? Why? Why? You couldn't have walked away normally, but noooo you had to kiss his fucking cheek.

You press the palm of your hands into your eyes and accidentally slam into someone. "Shit sorry!" you cry out looking down to see the poor camper you practically ran over.

"It's okay! It's okay!" Percy says looking up at you and then over at Luke who hasn't moved since you walked away. "Did you break him or something?"

"Or something," you mutter, helping Percy up. "Sorry again, Percy." You force a smile onto your face and sigh as you look at Luke.

"Yeaaah, you messed him up damn." Percy drawls. "Like really messed him up. Damn what did you do? Did you like, kick him in the balls or something?"

"Percy!" you shout shutting him up. He doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic when he says sorry and then scurries off when Grover calls out to him.

Sighing, you shake your head and grumble to yourself about its going to be hella awkward tonight.

~~~

Something was wrong with Luke's heart. It hadn't stopped beating wildly since y/n had kissed him on the cheek and he was trying to control his erratic pulse when he rises up the steps to your cabin.

He knocks twice on the door and takes a deep breath when you open the door and look up at him. The deep breath is cut short when he notices you're wearing his hoodie. You smile up at him and ask, "you ready to go catch some horny teens?"

He nods and lets you lead the way. "Sure, yep, let's go Sunflower." You both walk in silence for the first two minutes before Luke works up the courage to say, "nice hoodie, there by the way, it matches your flashlight."

You twist around and grin ignoring his dig at your flashlight - it's white with a bunch of sunflowers hand painted on. "Yeah, some super, cool, really annoying guy gave it to me." Luke's eyebrow arches and you roll your eyes. "Fine, I stole it from the guy, cause it's soft and smells nice," you mumble that last part and Luke tilts his head at you in question.

"What was that last part?"

"It's soft?"

"No, the other part?"

You're quiet for a moment before mumbling, "it smells..... nice."

Luke practically stops breathing, but covers it up with a smirk. "You think I smell nice?"

You internally slap yourself. "Yes," you quietly answer. Well you know what? When you thought it was going to be awkward earlier? That's nothing compared to the tension right now.

A loud moan comes from up ahead behind the trees and you sigh tugging the hoodie closer before running up ahead to break up whatever situation is happening.

"Hey!" you yell out to the two campers whose clothes are dishevelled and hair all mussed up. "Get back to your cabins! And when I say cabins I mean your own cabin." The two kids scramble away back to their cabins swearing.

"Fuckers," Luke mutters from behind you. "I swear they always choose the same spot."

You spin around and smile, "they'll be back don't worry, you can bust them next time."

After you both make your rounds, catching three other couples, you end up in a secluded spot near the lake.

"So," you start looking out to the water, smiling softly. "What do you wanna talk about?" You shove the flashlight in the front pocket just soaking in the moonlight - and besides Luke's here, he protects you from the dark.

Luke looks over at you and steps closer wrapping a hand around each of your - well technically his - hoodie's drawstrings. "I don't really know..." he trails off and then looks down at you, your eyes shining in the moonlight. And then something must've possessed him because he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

You look up at him in surprise. "What was that for?" You ask, noticing how Luke's eyes shine with affection.

"Just paying you back for earlier."

You both freeze then - not tensing up but just not moving. Staying in the small bubble that you two have created for yourselves. The comfort of the silence that surrounds you both covers you like a blanket.

Your faces inch closer, your breaths mingling as your eyes meet and you swear you can hear your heartbeat. Can Luke hear how loud your heart is beating? Like seriously? It's so loud.

Everything seems perfect before a loud laugh erupts in the distance. You sigh and pull away from him and start walking over to where the noise came from. Were you going to kiss just then? Holy shit. Was that actually happening?

Luke's presence at your side sends you into a tailspin. Does he like you? Or was he only doing that out of pity. You reach into the hoodie to pull out your flashlight but a hand wraps around your own and you skid to a stop, looking down at Luke's hand intertwined with yours.

Luke doesn't stop though, he just keeps walking, hopefully not noticing how red your cheeks are right now.

You both round the path and find a girl sitting on a fallen log hidden in the trees, she's wrapped in nothing but a blanket she must've brought from her cabin. When the girl sees you - well more like see's Luke - her eyes brighten up.

"Oh Luke! You're finally here! I was waiting for you." A frown instantly replaces the soft smile you have on your face.

"What?" Your voice is quiet and confused.

The girl shoots you a smug look. "What? Did you actually think Luke wanted to spend time with you tonight?" She smirks. "He was only killing time to spend it with me."

What?

You know what the girl is saying is wrong but when you look at Luke you almost start crying. He's quiet at your side staring harshly at the girl. He's not denying it. He's not denying it!

"Lukey and I have plans now bitch-girl, leave." Your teeth clench so tightly you're afraid you're gonna break your jaw. Why isn't Luke SAYING ANYTHING??

You stare frigidly at the girl. "Look, I wanna say Gina..?" she asks purposely misnaming you.

"It's y/n."

"Right that's what I said," she smirks. "Now unless you want to watch me and Luke roll around on the ground here I suggest you leave."

You stay put fighting your ground. Why is Luke not saying anything??

"Ooh we've got a bit of a slut on our hands do we? Damn Gina, I didn't know you were into kinky shit."

"I don't-"

She cuts you off. "It's fine I don't mind you watching like the whore you are."

WHY ISN'T LUKE SAYING ANYTHING?

The girl turns her eyes on Luke again. "I'm waiting for you Luke. Tell her to piss off. Or better yet, tell her that we've been sleeping together."

Luke stays quiet, his eyes locked on the girl.

What. The. Fuck?

The girl opens her mouth to start again but you turn around before she can say anything else.

"Y'know what? I'll leave you two to it," you spit, forcing the tears that spring to your eyes to stop.

"Wait y/n!" Luke calls out suddenly, but you've already launched into a sprint not caring what he has to say now. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it. He didn't deny it.

Tears blur your eyes and you struggle to pull out your flashlight, tripping over a tree root and stumbling to the ground. You face plant onto the ground and even though you're wearing long pants you can feel your skin being torn.

It's dark and cold

You have scratches along your face and arms - where the hoodie pushed up - everything burns your skin, your face, your eyes, your heart.

He didn't deny it.

You pat around looking for your flashlight. No, no, no, no, no. It can't be lost, no! Luke painted it for you, when you first came to camp and when he found out you were afraid of the dark.

Luke made that. Your Luke made tha-

Your face crumples.

Luke.

He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop her.

Your heart heavy as you do so, you stand up, fighting the new wave of tears that threaten to overcome you.

A chill hits you and you pull the dirty hoodie closer. It still smells like Luke.

And...

And its dark...

Shit.

Anger pools deep in your gut. She called you a slut and a whore.

That bitch better watch it.....

©strawberries-and-summer-days

a/n: lemme know if you want a part two!!