#You can have my copy with my notes on the inside if you ever want it

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[astrasng]

SCRATCH || BANGCHAN

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!chan x female!reader

summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.

warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing

author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

enjoy!

It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like. 

To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you. 

You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment. 

And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.

“Had fun today?” 

The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets. 

Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him. 

“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”

Now that just boils your blood. 

“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying. 

“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles. 

As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision. 

“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.” 

There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?” 

The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,��� He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach. 

“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”

Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself. 

“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.” 

“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. 

But Chan doesn’t give in that easily. 

You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.” 

You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge. 

When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and finally answer him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.

“I–I wanted to mark you!” 

And there it is. 

As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.

When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made. 

“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red. 

Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours. 

“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core. 

At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused. 

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.” 

With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement. 

He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..” 

“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”

“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye. 

With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”

“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. “But I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears. 

When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot. 

So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin. 

The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you. 

“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.” 

His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high. 

You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.

“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.

like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡

divider by:@enchanthings

[buck-star]

Your love | L.H

>> He’s a monster, he was made to be one, so why should you even think about loving him? But somehow you do it anyway, he doesn’t quite understand it, he doesn’t want to broke you, but he can’t be on distance with you either. <<

Pairing: Bestfriend!Logan Howlett x Bestfriend!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.711 Words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, Logan thinking he doesn’t deserve love, slight argument, crying, best-friends to lovers, love confession

Authors Note: It’s my first time writing for Logan, and it might be not much like him. But I wanted to give that broken boy a bit of comfort! Dividers made by me.

Events: Trick or treat [Logan Howlett, trick/treat, best friends to lovers, “I thought you will never say that.”], Seasonal-Delights Bingo: Fall Edition [Row Three-Three, taking care of each other]

Masterlist | Logan Howlett Masterlist

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?” He grumbled; his voice was low and deep, while his eyes darkened slightly. You kept looking at him with such a sweet, almost admiring expression, and he just couldn’t look at you when you did that.

Logan didn’t understand how someone like you could care for someone like him, but still, you looked at him with the softest, sweetest expression he has ever seen. And then the smile that was across your face, the kindest and most assuring one he thought possible.

“Like what?” You asked, not sure what he meant. You always looked at him like that, and he never complained about it. But now, suddenly, he did. You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head slightly to the side. The smile and the soft expression were still visible, and he cursed himself quietly.

“Like you actually care, like you could actually love me. A monster, the animal I was turned into. The one that’s still there, because you can’t... you can’t love it,” he groaned. Logan was desperate for love, for affection — things he never got but still craved. But on the other side, he was too scared to admit it — to let someone close — it was too dangerous that he could hurt that person. That Logan could hurt the one person who meant everything to him — you.

He ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. Logan needed a moment to breathe deeply, trying to calm himself down — or else he would be on his knees begging you for love. He let himself fall back on the couch next to you; there was still some distance, but you felt his weight pushing down the cushions underneath you.

“Just— please stop looking at me like that, like I could be more than just an animal,” he mumbled, loud enough for you to understand. Your heart felt heavy as he spoke those words. You knew he had trouble seeing the worth in himself, but you didn’t think he thought of himself as an animal and nothing else.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, a soft gasp leaving them. You were speechless; so many thoughts ran through your head, but none of them wanted to be spoken out loud.

You knew what he did, but you also knew that it wasn’t his decision that he was used for experiments. Used because he was a mutant; he was used by then so they could get his DNA so they would have been able to make more “of them." They tried to break him, tried to make his abilities as best as they could to copy him after. They just needed him as a weapon, as an animal who didn’t care, who just did whatever and whenever they told him to do the assignment.

“Logan—“ you got interrupted by his low growl. A cold shiver ran down your spine, and you liked him directly into his eyes, trying to understand why he wanted to push you away. His brown orbs were staring into yours while you tried to bring the thoughts into your head in an order.

���Don’t. Just don’t.” He shook his head; his expression was pleading — you have never seen him that pained and broken from the inside before. But the way he looked at you, pleading eyes that were watering slightly, your heart clenched, and you just wanted to reach out and assure him that he was way more than what he thought about himself. “Please, can you just stop looking at me like that, bub.”

You nodded slightly, not really liking the idea of looking at him any other way than you always did. Your smile faded, and you turned your face to look at the little table in front of the couch you were sitting at. Logan groaned next to you; he didn't like the idea of you looking away from him either, but he just couldn't let you give him the hope that he could ever be more than the animal he was.

“How do you want me to look at you?” You asked, your voice cold and caused a shiver to run down his spine. He swallowed thickly, unsure how to answer your question — he didn't know, he really didn't. “Do you even want me to look at you?”

His heart clenched; he wanted nothing more than you looking at him. Logan needed you to look at him, but on the other side, he just couldn't handle the thought of being able to break such an innocent and sweet soul like yours. He was rough, blood stuck to his hands, and he was a monster, but you? You were the sweetest, most adorable, and most precious person he has ever met. Logan couldn't allow himself to let someone like you be close to someone like him — he didn't deserve your love, and you would be safer when you didn’t give him hope to be more than just an animal.

“I–I want you, just…” He inhaled deeply. His heart felt so heavy when he saw half of your face. The light and happiness almost completely turned into darkness and sadness. He didn't want to hurt you, but he couldn't bear seeing you act around him like he was actually loveable. “I want you to look at me, bub. Just not with that sweet and innocent expression, because—”

You interrupted him when you turned your face toward him. And in the very moment he wanted to say sorry, to ask you to just forget about his ask. The coldness — just like he asked for — was visible in your eyes; as much as he tried to push the upcoming fear that he could have pushed you away now, he liked it better — not for himself but for your protection.

“Thank you for letting me decide who I think is worth my love and who isn't,” you said. Without another word or waiting for an answer, you got up from the couch, shaking your head. Your heart broke into pieces the further you walked to the door and away from Logan. His mouth dropped open as he watched you leave the room, knowing that you wouldn’t look back. His words were stuck in his throat, and he couldn't help but feel his heart breaking as well.

As much as he wanted to protect you from him, he couldn't handle your cold shoulder either. Plus, he did break your heart now anyway — so maybe he should have given you the chance to decide if you could love him. But only maybe, because deep down he knew he did neither deserve you nor your love.

Only when the front door of his apartment closed with a loud thud, he blinked again and let the air he was holding in out slowly. “Good job, Logan,” he mumbled to himself before running his hand over his face and trying to calm himself down. Maybe you just go for a walk and come back after?

“Bub, please,” he mumbled, hoping you would finally pick up. It’s the at least fifth time he tried to call you, but there was still no answer. You didn’t reply to his messages, and you didn’t pick up when he called. Logan just wanted to make it up to you; he wanted to take back all those things he said and just keep going to the point where you stopped before he asked you to look with a less lovely expression at him.

There was still no answer, and he was almost ready to break everything around him as he suddenly noticed the slightly shuffling coming through his phone. His abilities were good enough for him to hear your soft breathing through the speaker, and he immediately relaxed.

“I’m so sorry, Bub. Can we talk, please? I need you to listen,” he breathed out, his voice pleading, almost desperate already. He needed you to listen, to let him apologize, and maybe just forget about everything he said so you wouldn’t look so broken any longer — the picture of you so sad haunting him for hours already.

You hummed, not trusting your voice enough after all these hours of crying. You wanted him to know that you were listening and you wanted to say something, but you also didn’t want him to think he hurt you. Even though he did, he would only hate himself more for something he couldn’t change — for something you have to work through together. But Logan would blame himself for hurting you, comparing himself with the animal they told him he was.

“O-okay,” you mumbled with a hoarse voice, hating yourself for sounding exactly like you didn’t want to sound. And he knew immediately that you cried; Logan’s heart clenched, and he hissed. “I-I’m listening.”

“Are you crying? Please, don’t. I’m so sorry. C-can I come over? Please, let me just come over, okay?” Logan asked; his voice was shaking, and you tried to swallow another sob down that threatened to slip past your lips. Your heart was still hurting; his words were running through your mind, but yet you still needed to see him just as bad as he wanted to be around you.

The silence made him go crazy; he just wanted to hear you allowing him to come over. He just needed to hear your voice, to feel your small body pressed against his way bigger one.

"Please, can I? I need to see you; I need to hold you... so bad.” Logan’s voice was almost like a whisper while he was biting his lip, drawing blood.

“O-okay,” you said just as quietly before you heard him rushing through his apartment to get everything he needed — keys, phone and a jacket. You almost smiled softly as you imagined the way he rushed through his apartment, placing his keys in the kitchen to try and find them on the floor. His phone was most likely placed in the living room on the couch, but he was looking in the kitchen.

After the two of you hung up, you grabbed a glass of water, trying to take away the roughness in your voice that came with the soreness of your throat. And just when you finished your glass, you heard the keys in the apartment door, knowing that Logan broke a few tempo limits — but he didn’t care, not when he knew that you were waiting for him. That he could make it all up to you, that he at least would be able to apologize for saying those things.

When he took off his shoes and threw his jacket and keys to the side, you could already hear him stomping through the floor. The thick, smelly air of the amount of cigarettes he has the last couple of hours following him. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were just as red as yours as he stood in the doorframe of your living room and looked at you.

Logan may have a key; he could walk in and out whenever he wanted, but right now he just wanted you to feel comfortable around him — so he didn’t want to overstep anything in storming into your apartment without your permission. And the fear to scare you away was the only thing that stopped him from pulling you into his thick arms and holding you until he removed every little bit off the shit he said earlier.

“Bub, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, watching you intensely. You nodded, looking him up and down — he was a mess, broken, and hurt. Just like you, he looked just like you. He was the one who hurt you; he doesn’t think he has a right to be sad or hurt, but somehow he was still feeling it.

“Stop blaming yourself, okay? Your feelings are valuable; you’re allowed to feel them,” you said, your eyes moving to his face. You shivered as his intense hazel eyes were staring into yours, trying to read everything you could think or feel.

This time it was Logan who nodded. He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked closer, slowly. “I try, but we both know it’s in me. Can I?” He asked, pointing at the empty space on the couch next to you.

“It’s not just you, not just me. It’s a problem between us,” you mumbled, waiting for Logan to sit down. He placed his thick arm over the backrest, turning toward you. “It’s just… I hate that you do that.”

“Telling you to look less lovely at me?” The shaking of your head confused him. How could something else be the reason for you being mad when it was the very moment you turned cold as he said he didn’t want you to look at him with that sweet and lovely expression. “How can it not, Bub?”

“I don’t like that you want to decide who I can love and who not. That you try to push me away because you’re scared to hurt me,” you explained, making his eyes go wide. “You’re acting like you don’t matter, but you fucking do. For me, for me you matter, Logan.”

He watched you; his hand moved closer to you until his fingers brushed over your shoulder. “‘M sorry, bub. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… struggle?”

“Can we struggle together at least?” You asked, tilting your head to the side to place it on his muscular arm. You noticed his muscles tensing and the quiet sound of his claws coming out of his hands. You chuckled; a small smile was playing around your lips. “If you need to steady yourself, do it. But could you maybe not destroy my couch with your claws?”

Logan immediately looked at his hand, noticing his claws before he swallowed thickly and tried to calm himself so he wouldn't destroy your couch. His eyes wander back to yours; he loved the way your expression was so soft and lovely around him again. He couldn’t imagine you looking at him any other way; he didn’t want to think about your cold, broken look any longer.

“You know... I can’t help myself. I need to kiss you so bad, bub,” he mumbled, inching closer to you. Logan brought his other hand to your chin; his thumb brushed over your skin, and you sighed softly. “You’re just so—”

“Caring and lovely? You told me, Logan. But then I prefer that you kiss me instead of breaking the fabric of my couch,” you laughed softly. It was the sweetest laugh he has ever heard. “And stop looking at me like that. You may not believe it, but you deserve love, like everyone else — even more actually. And even if you wouldn’t, please let me decide if I want to lo—“

Logan interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence. His lips were soft as he pressed them with such a forever against yours. The feelings he tried to push away were overwhelming; whatever he would try, he couldn’t back off anymore — but he didn’t even want to. His lips were moving slowly against yours, not quite dominant but serious — he put everything into the kiss he could possibly show you.

“You mean like that?” He asked, grinning at you. You shook your head, earning a soft chuckle from Logen. “I love you, bub.”

“Mhm… thought you would never say that. Because I love you too. And not even you can stop me from feeling that way, Mr. Howlett,” you said, your forehead resting against his. You felt his breath on your lips, and it made you crave more of his soft but dominant kisses.

“I’m glad I can’t. Because your coldness wasn’t something I enjoyed, Mrs. Howlett,” he smirked before pressing his soft, plump lips against yours once again. Even though you weren't ‘Mrs. Howlett’ just yet, it was more than just a joke. It was a promise that you’re going to be his, completely. He was going to propose at some point; maybe he needed some time to get used to your love, but he knew that he would with some time and that he would return the love just as much.

Please comment and reblog to support your content creators.

I do not allow one to translate, copy or publish my work!

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber

[antiquarianfics]

You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗗𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗛 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗢𝗦

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N faces the terrifying experience of having four wisdom teeth removed. With her boyfriend, Matt, and his brothers by her side, Y/N goes through moments of anxiety, laughter, and confusion under the influence of anesthesia.

WARNING: Mentions of blood, pain, surgery, dentist, anesthesia.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The sun shone high in the sky as Y/N and Matt got into the car, ready to face the journey to the dentist's office.

"You're going to be okay, honey." Matt said as he arranged himself in the driver's seat, casting a quick glance of genuine concern in his girlfriend's direction, who spent the entire morning glued to himself, exposing her fear into emotions and complaints.

Y/N smiled small, buckling her seatbelt and moving her body above the upholstered so she found a comfortable position, trying to shake off the bad thoughts about the surgery.

"I hope so, but I can't promise I won't put on a little show in there." The girl joked, trying to relax the atmosphere, resting her hands on her thighs so that her slightly sweaty palms were in contact with the fabric of her jeans.

"I doubt you're the worst patient they've ever seen." The boy laughed as he started the car, turning his head to his right and sending her a wink.

Nick and Chris quickly settled into the middle seats of the car, each of them with a reassuring smile on their face. Nick held the camera firmly in his hands, lowering his gaze to the screen and changing a few settings.

They were like brothers to Y/N, and their presence there was comforting for her.

“Ready for the adventure, Y/N?” Chris asked with a mischievous smile, rubbing the palm of his hands before leaning his body forward and placing his upper body on the car console so that he could see the girl's reaction more closely, placing his right hand on the back of her seat to stabilize himself.

A loud curse from Nick was heard, the boy complaining that Chris was blocking the camera's view before forcefully pulling him back against his own seat.

"If by adventurous you mean a terrifying one, then yes." The girl sighed, ignoring their bickering while pretending to be excited before closing her eyes tightly, pressing the bridge of her nose with the index finger and thumb of her right hand, trying to relieve some of the tension there.

During the first few minutes of the trip, Y/N tried to remain calm, but anxiety began to seep into her chest, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. She looked at the clock on the car dashboard and saw that there were still twenty minutes until they arrived at the office, even though it seemed like they had already been inside the car for hours.

"Matt, I changed my mind. Can we go home?" Y/N interrupted Chris's yapping from the backseat, her voice trembling slightly as her hands balled into fists above her thighs, a result of her nervousness.

Matt glanced at her quickly before returning his attention to the road ahead, taking his right hand off the steering wheel briefly and moving it towards his girl, reaching blindly for her own, intertwining their fingers and giving hers a firm and comforting squeeze.

"You're kidding, right? We're already halfway there, my love. Look, it's going to be okay. I promise." The brunette murmured gently, trying to calm her nerves as he kept his attention on the road, frowning slightly in concentration.

"I know, it's just... I hate dentists so much, and I don't know if I want to take anesthesia." The girl admitted, shrugging her shoulders as she forced a small smile, squeezing Matt's hand back.

"Don't worry, girl, we'll be in the room with you the entire time." Nick said from the backseat, his voice sounding comforting, interrupting whatever negative thoughts Y/N's mind was creating at that moment, earning a weak nod in response.

The minutes dragged by slowly as the car made its way down the road. Y/N tried to distract herself by looking out the window, but the sight of buildings and businesses quickly passing by only increased her agitation.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do with your wisdom teeth after they're removed?" Chris asked suddenly, interrupting the tense silence as he kept his eyes fixed on the scenery outside the vehicle.

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden question.

"Well, I thought I'd ask the doctor to keep them for me. Maybe I could make a necklace-" The girl interrupted her own sentence, widening her eyes and turning her torso to her left side abruptly, gripping the side of her own seat with her right hand so that she could look at the back and the driver's seat at the same time. "No, wait, I can put it under my pillow, right?" The volume of her voice rose quickly, sudden excitement dripping into her words.

"Pillow? Why would-"

"For the tooth fairy, obviously! I'm going to remove four wisdom teeth. Do you know how much money I could make from that? I don't, but I know it's a lot!" She rambled, breaking into a big smile as her eyes went from Matt to Nick and Chris and back again.

"It's 40 dollars, Y/N." Nick responded in an amused tone, turning to Chris and letting out a silent laugh. The youngest shrugged, leaning over the space between one seat and another and taking the camera from Nick's hands.

"They can't give your teeth back, honey. When they take them out, your teeth turn to dust." Matt said as if he was speaking to a child, a hidden smile growing on his face as he kept his eyes straight ahead, raising them momentarily to the rearview mirror and casting an amused glance at Nick, who was already looking back at him, knowing he was joking.

"No! Babe, don't say that. Are you serious?" Y/N screamed, her eyes widening comically before tears began to well up in her eyes, shining against the sunlight, her mouth forming an involuntary pout.

"Oh no, don't cry. If you cry, I'll cry, too." Nick noticed her tearful expression, closing his eyes tightly and bringing the palm of his hands to his own, rubbing his blue orbs harshly, trying to shake off his own emotions.

"Oh no, Nick, don't you dare cry-" Chris's voice was interrupted by a loud sob coming from Y/N, which tore from her throat, tears escaping her eyes without permission.

Her ears quickly caught the loud laughter of Matt and Chris, and Nick's sniffles, while her boyfriend squeezed her hand tightly, trying to convey support and reassurance even though he was laughing at her sensitive state.

As they got closer to the office, Y/N's heart started to beat faster. She felt a mixture of fear and excitement bubbling inside her and knew that soon she would be facing the inevitable.

"I think I'm having a panic attack." The girl murmured, her voice muffled by the crying she had minutes before as her nose sniffled repeatedly.

"No, you're not." Matt said amused, rolling his eyes playfully before squeezing Y/N's hand one last time, slowly releasing it and taking his back to the wheel so that he could concentrate on entering the building's parking lot, parking the car in one of the free spaces closest to the main entrance.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she exited the vehicle with the help of her boyfriend. She knew she had a long road ahead, but with Matt and the triplets by her side, she felt like she could face the situation she had put off for so many weeks. And so, with one last sigh, she entered the office.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was already in the dental chair, nervously looking up at the white ceiling as the doctor prepared everything around her. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as her hands sweated nervously. Matt caressed her right shoulder firmly and carefully, conveying the silent support she needed so much at that moment.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Matt asked, tilting his head down so he could look better at her.

"Of course I am." She responded, swallowing hard, trying to force a smile while focusing her eyes on his, though her voice betrayed her anxiety.

Nick and Chris were a little further away, on her right side and close to the large wall of windows, their expressions a mixture of concern and unsuccessful attempts to hide their laughter. The fact that Nick knew what the feeling and procedure was like made him more amused by her present and future state.

As the doctor began moving equipment, Y/N watched curiously. She extended her right arm, allowing one of the nurses to attach the blood pressure and heart rate monitor to the correct location, feeling a shiver run down her spine. This was getting very real very fast.

"I feel like an astronaut about to take off." Y/N teased, biting her bottom lip lightly, trying to ease the tension out of herself.

"Well, at least there's no zero gravity to deal with." Nick chuckled softly, zooming the camera to the surrounding equipment before looking at the girl, offering her a reassuring smile.

Chris let out a laugh at his response, it echoing through the office and bringing a bit of lightness to the tense environment.

"I hate that sound. It reminds me of Grey's Anatomy, exactly when a patient is about to die." The girl said suddenly, pointing with her chin at the machine where the sounds of her heart were coming from.

"Hey, don't say that." Matt warned amid laughter, shaking his head while still caressing her shoulder, squeezing the area gently to relieve her muscle tension.

As the doctor began to prepare the IV, Y/N felt a wave of panic pass through her body. She looked at the thin tube with wide eyes and an expression of horror, watching him take off the cover and connect the wire to the syringe with the anesthesia.

"Matt." She muttered in a shaky voice, her lips trembling again as she clenched her right hand into a fist, accidentally letting the heart rate meter slip out.

"Hey, pretty girl, I'm right here. I won't leave your side, I promise. When you wake up, we can get ice cream from that ice cream shop you love, huh?" Matt curved his spine slightly so that his face was close to hers, holding her chin with his free hand and pulling it towards him, looking deep into his girl's eyes.

Chris quickly moved forward, taking her best friend's right hand gently and arranging the meter back into its correct place.

The doctor finished preparing the IV and approached Y/N with it, extending the girl's left arm gently and cleaning the injection site. Y/N forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on the blue ones she loved, Matt quickly acting to cover the exposed side of her head with the palm of his free hand, creating a covering over her eyes.

The girl her breath as the doctor inserted the needle into her vein, feeling it enter centimeter by centimeter, but to her surprise, it didn't hurt as much as she expected.

"It's not that bad." The girl murmured seconds after feeling the needle not moving anymore, feeling a little relieved, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to keep the tears away.

"See? You're doing so good, my love. My brave girl." Matt smiled big, tilting his face forward and kissing her forehead gently.

As the anesthesia began to take effect, Y/N felt a tingling sensation spread throughout her body. She blinked a few times, trying to get used to the strange sensation and regain her vision, which was becoming slightly blurred.

"When did the ceiling start dancing?" Y/N asked, interrupting what Nick was reporting to the camera, her eyes fixed on the ceiling that seemed to be moving erratically.

Matt laughed softly, his hand - still on his girlfriend's shoulder - shook slightly from the action, being followed by Chris and Nick, their laughter filling the office.

"I think the anesthesia is taking effect." Chris watched in amusement, crossing his arms and approaching, his voice sounding a little distant to the girl's ears.

Y/N laughed, feeling lighter than ever, blinking slowly.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm really enjoying it." She said groggily, her voice sounding sleepy as she gave in to the anesthesia.

"Baby-" Matt began, his speech being interrupted by his own laughter, his index and thumb fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in disbelief. "What's your word, love?"

But the answer didn't come, his girlfriend having given herself over to a deep anesthesia-induced sleep.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N blinked her eyes slowly, trying to focus her vision as the haze of sleep began to dissipate. She felt groggy and disoriented, but a sense of relief washed over her body when she understood that the surgery was over. She blinked a few times, trying to take in her surroundings.

“Hi, Y/N, how are you feeling?” Nick asked in a calm tone, leaning closer to her with a gentle smile, giving space for the camera in Chris' hands to capture the moment.

Y/N turned her head towards him, blinking slowly, her mind still clouded trying to assimilate that it was Nick there with her.

"As if I'd been run over by an elephant." She murmured, her voice sounding strangely loud to her own ears, shaking her head from side to side as fast as she could, trying to stay conscious.

Matt entered the room again, having gone away for some minutes to talk to the doctor about post-surgical care, his serious face lighting up when he noticed Y/N already awake.

"Look who's back! Are you okay, sweetheart?" The boy asked, extending out his hand and reaching for hers, holding it tenderly and firmly, stroking the back of her palm with his thumb.

"I-" As soon as Y/N opened her mouth to speak, one of the gauze that sealed the right side of her mouth above her gums escaped her lips. Her eyes instantly widened, a loud sound of surprise echoing through the room. "Oh no, my tongue fell out."

"Your-" Chris began, his own laughter interrupting his sentence.

Matt turned to the camera, laughing loudly as he closed his eyes tightly, keeping his hand on his girlfriend's shoulder, trying to hide his own reaction from her.

"That's not your tongue, baby." The brunette said while still laughing, shaking his head.

"It is! They made my tongue fall out and removed my cheeks." The girl fumed, rolling her eyes nervously as she tried to cross her arms, the loud alarm sound echoing from the heart rate meter machine abruptly interrupting her action.

"Y/N, you can't take out the meter." Nick warned in a firm tone, arranging the small equipment back on her finger with his free hand.

"I'm sweating, I need to take this off. It's making me overheat." The girl spoke again, ignoring the demanding tone Nick was using, waving her arm with the IV in the air, silently indicating that she was talking about her hoodie.

"But you love wearing hoodie, pretty." Matt murmured, frowning as he leaned over her upper body, lowering her arm gently.

"Not this one! I like yours. Mine is a piece of shit." Y/N exclaimed as if it was obvious, rolling her eyes again.

The sound of Nick's loud laughter echoed off the walls of the small room, as Matt stared at her in disbelief, widening his eyes and taking them from his girl to the camera and back again.

"Here, baby." The boy sighted, taking his hand off Y/N's shoulder momentarily so that he could pull his own hoodie up, passing the piece over his arms before arranging it on the correct side, leaving his own upper body covered only by a white t-shirt. "You can have mine."

Matt stretched the hoodie over Y/N's upper body, keeping it over her own hoodie, knowing he wouldn't be able to take it off due to the IV.

"Thank you, kind sir." Y/N genuinely thanked him, opening a big and childlike smile. "Oh no, take this one off and put yours on me, Matty." She spoke again seconds later after noticing that her boyfriend's hoodie was just resting on her body.

“No way, Y/N, you have the IV.” Chris answered for Matt, briefly pointing to his best friend's left arm.

"What... Wow, what is this? Am I a toy or something?" The girl's tone came out louder than expected, her eyes widening comically as she raised her arm again, seeming to remember just at that moment the small thread that connected the needle to the anesthesia.

"It's the IV, my love. It's harmless, I promise. Does it hurt?" Matt explains gently, leaning into her slightly and squeezing her shoulder gently, drawing her attention back to him.

"No... Are they gonna fix my tongue?" Y/N returned to the first subject in a matter of seconds, lowering her gaze and focusing on the piece of blood red gauze above, now, Matt's hoodie.

"That's not your tongue, Y/N. It's just gauze. Put it back." Nick spoke this time, zooming in on the camera to catch his best friend's next reaction.

"I can't do it. There's an electrical wire connected to me." The girl remembered, rolling her eyes and raising her IV-covered arm, focusing her eyes there for a few seconds.

"Then ask your boyfriend."

"I have a boyfriend?!" Y/N turned her face towards the triplets abruptly, her eyes filling with tears within seconds as her lips trembled comically, even though she herself had been calling Matt "baby" this entire time.

"Of course you do, sweet girl. I'm right here. Remember? I'm your boyfriend, Matt." Matt quickly responded, his tone coming out as gentle as never before. He crouched on the floor, resting on his bent knees so that he was at eye level with her, giving her a genuine smile.

"Oh my God, that's awesome! You're so pretty. How did I manage to win you?" Y/N asked excitedly, raising her right hand and bringing it to her supposed boyfriend's face, cupping his right cheek lightly, feeling the skin heat up beneath her fingers.

A sound of surprise escaped Matt's lips as the heart rate monitor preacher almost stabbed into his eye, a low chuckle following soon after.

"You didn't have to win me, I was the one that had to win you, babe." The boy declared, leaning closer to her and sealing the tip of her nose for long seconds, pulling away in time to see her close her eyes and wrinkle her nose cutely. "We'll go home soon, okay? I love you, sweetheart. You were so brave."

"You love me?" Y/N exclaimed again, the tears that had been in her eyes until that moment finally spilling over and rolling down her cheeks, leaving a wet, red trail behind, her skin reacting instantly to the intense emotions.

"I do, my love. I love you very much."

Nick and Chris watched the scene with eyes full of amusement, the camera capturing every second of the couple's interaction and the muffled laughs that the two emitted behind the lens.

"So, are you comfortable on that "chair"?" Chris asked suddenly, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Y/N snapped her head towards the youngest, opening her mouth slightly and processing his question for a few seconds.

"Yeah." The girl nodded slowly, removing her right hand from Matt's face and feeling the upholstery of the chair beneath her.

"Is it better than my gaming chair?" Nick asked then, smiling behind the camera, briefly remembering the times his best friend found refuge in his room and the two spent hours talking while she sat comfortably in his gaming chair.

"Do you have a chair?" She asked with wide eyes, tilting her head up to see Nick better, slightly pushing Matt to the side with her free hand, earning a laugh from Chris when he saw his brother almost fall completely onto the cold floor.

"Yeah, you have one, too! And so does Matt."

"I have a chair? For myself?" Her lips formed an involuntary pout, her eyes filling with tears again, the previous ones having stopped flowing only seconds before, her emotions acting on their own.

"Of course you do, baby! You study on it and play video games on my computer on it, too." Matt stated, nodding quickly as he returned to his previous position. "Now, do you remember who I am?"

Y/N turned her gaze back to Matt again, her orbs traveling over every detail of his face, her lower lip trembling slightly as her heart clenched tightly inside her chest. He was so beautiful.

"My baby, my baby-" A sob interrupted her speech, tears escaping her eyes like waterfalls. "You're my baby. I love you s-so much. You're- You're so p-pretty!"

"Yeah, sweet girl! Well done, I'm your baby, and I love you way more." The brunette replied in a bashful tone, pouting as he watched her cry like a little kid over something so simple, his own eyes welling with tears.

"You two are unbelievable." Chris shook his head, crossing his arms and looking into the camera lens with a look of "do you believe this?"

"Matty." The girl called again a few seconds later, ignoring the youngest of the triplets, closing her eyes tightly to wipe away the tears stuck in her eyelashes, her nose sniffling repeatedly. She took a deep breath and sticked her swollen tongue out of her mouth, trying to lick the tears that rested on her upper lip, even without feeling absolutely anything in the region. "I think my mouth is on its period..."

"Oh my God, baby, what?"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @iammattswife @xoxo4chrisss @imtalkinnonsense

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[artbiter]

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

[mothhball]

Beneath me

Pairing || professor!Jonathan Crane x student!Reader

Warnings || 18+ SMUT, NON-CON, DUB-CON, forced breeding, fingering, p in v sex, housewife kink(?), humiliation, dumbification, misogyny, unprotected sex, age gap (professor and student, everyone’s an adult), brief dacryphilia, condescending use of petnames, jon is a prick in this but gets better towards the end (if you squint hard enough)

Summary || The professor suspects you cheated on your exam, but you’re determined to prove him wrong.

Words || 3.7k

Notes || First ever fic and it’s smut because I love suffering. English isn’t my first language, so I hope everything makes sense. Please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned in the warnings

Afternoon lectures. The bane of many students’ existence, yours included. You’d been on campus since 9 am, trying to catch up on homework and study material for the most dreaded class of the day. Abnormal Psychology, presented by none other than Professor Jonathan Crane. Crane with his smart suits and piercing eyes. Crane with his condescending remarks and off-handed insults. Crane with his ridiculously handsome face and –

“Are you even listening to me?” The man in question is now standing in front of you, staring you down with narrowed eyes as his lips pull down into a frown. Yes, right. It’s 5 pm now, almost the end of the lecture and time to get your exam results back. You shake yourself out of your stupor, glancing down at the paper he left on your desk. But instead of a grade, you only see a bold red question mark which takes up almost a fourth of the entire first page. Crane clears his throat impatiently, and his mood sours more and more the longer he has to stand next to your seat.

“I said, you will meet me in my office after class. Is that understood? And I’d suggest you get your head in order until then,” he hisses, icy blue eyes filled with disdain. Your heart sinks, and you can feel the blood leaving your face as you manage to nod rather stiffly.

“Of course… Professor Crane, “ you murmur in reply, and upon hearing that, the professor quickly resumes his round around the lecture hall, handing back grades to your fellow students. As the first people pack up their things and begin to file out of the room, you slowly pack up as well. Your hands are cold from anxiety as you zip up your bag and get up from your seat. Meeting Professor Crane in his office was the last thing you wanted to do right now. The plan was to go home, grab takeout on the way and curl up in bed with a movie starring this forty-something year old actor you have the hots for. But God forbit anyone in Gotham wants to have a nice time.

Soon enough, you find yourself in Crane’s office, taking the seat in front of his desk and folding your hands in your lap to keep from fidgeting. The professor runs a hand through his hair, looking you over with a skeptical glare before he straightens his posture and gets to the point.

“I’m disappointed, shocked and quite frankly, I feel personally insulted.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can speak, he pulls out two stacks of paper, smacking them down on the desk. You quickly recognize one stack as a copy of your exam, but as you look over at the other, it feels like someone froze time for a moment. It’s someone else’s exam, but they wrote down the same answers. Not word for word, but in a way and structure that’s quite obviously plagiarized. Squinting at the name, you remember the guy sitting next to you, and anger bubbles up inside of your chest.

“He cheated off of me,” you mutter, trying to stay calm.

“Brennan said the same thing. Funny how that works, huh? And in case it went over your head, I don’t find it funny at all. But I will have to fail one of you. The question is, which one will it be?”

He takes his glasses off, gingerly setting the spectacles aside before he pinches the bridge of his nose. A little dramatic, but very much expected from him.

“Look, I’m not saying you were the one cheating off of Brennan,” He starts, sounding exhausted and absent at the same time. Like this is all beneath him. Like your future in his class has as much importance as the piece of lint he’s picking off of his sweater vest. “But there’s no real proof that he cheated off of you either. It’s a case of ‘he said, she said’. And it’s not like Brennan had much reason to cheat. He has had consistently good grades, whereas you-“

“I’ll prove it, “ you interrupt him without thinking, clenching your hands so tightly that your nails dig into the skin of your palms. Crane looks visibly taken aback, perplexed that you have the gall to intercept before he could expose your rather mediocre academic history in his class. You know you’re average. A face in the crowd; one of many names on an attendance sheet he barely pays attention to.

“I’ll prove it to you,” you repeat, swallowing dryly. Your mouth suddenly feels like you ate sand, and you really want to clear your throat, but you’ve done so thrice within the past five minutes, and you can tell it’s starting to piss him off. “Give me a chance, please. Please, Professor Crane. I know the material, I swear.”

Crane’s eyes briefly dart down to your lips, and his eyebrows furrow in thought before he nods slowly, thoughtfully. He’s making a show of it. Portraying himself as the generous teacher while you’re desperate for even the smallest chance of passing this goddamn class.

“Alright,” He sighs, and the weight seems to lift off of your shoulders. A smile begins to spread on your face, and –

 “Get out a pen. And paper. You’re going to write an essay.”

Eyebrows raised in confusion, you tilt your head a little. You almost feel stupid to ask.

“What, right now?”

“Of course, right now. At home, you’d get the chance to cheat again, wouldn’t you?”

Again. He’s still convinced you were the one to cheat on your exam. His tone is bitingly condescending and he doesn’t bother to elaborate further as he gets up from his chair to head over to the almost overflowing bookshelf next to his desk. You’re still sitting there, hands in your lap until he lets out an exasperated sigh, signaling for you to get a move on. Not wanting to incur even more of his wrath, you dig through your bag to get out a pen and some loose sheets of paper.

In the meantime, Crane has chosen a book from his shelf, and he’s wordlessly flipping through the pages until he lands on a fitting topic for an essay. He snaps the book shut and returns to his desk, fixing his tie as he nods to himself.

“Alright. I want 5 pages on fear conditioning. If you truly studied for the exam, this should be a piece of cake. If you didn’t, this will be an embarrassing little lecture you’re in dire need of learning.”

Your eyes widen, and you stammer for a moment, unable to find the words while staying respectful.

“That many? But it’s already –“

“Five-thirty pm? I hope you didn’t have any plans for tonight. And you should be grateful that I don’t have plans either. I’m staying late for your sake. Because you convinced me to give you a chance. I don’t have to do this, you know? I could just fail you and go home. So, I think a little gratitude would be more than appropriate.” There’s an odd expression in his eyes. Halfway between hunger and conflict. He’s usually so composed. You must really be testing his patience.

“Thank you, Prof –“ “Thank me by getting to it already.”

You nod meekly, grabbing the pen and beginning to jot down the date and your name in the corner of the first page. While you’re focused on the introduction part of your essay, you miss the way that Crane folds his hands on the desk, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white. His icy gaze is focused on every twitch of your muscles, every swoop of your handwriting, every time you softly bite your lips in thought. If only you’d look up. You’d see the way his jaw is set and his pupils expand. You’d realize the situation you’re in. A bunny with its neck in the jaws of the wolf.

You’re about two thirds done with the first page when he wheels his chair around the desk, closer to yours. Once his arm brushes against you, you pause to lift your gaze, looking at him with equal parts confusion and curiosity.

“Uhm… professor? What are you doing?”

“Checking on your progress,” Is his curt reply, but he leans in even closer, staring down at your half-baked essay. “Eyes on the paper.”

You comply, getting back to writing after a short second of sorting your thoughts. It’s more difficult to write with him basically breathing down your neck, and your heart skips a beat when he scoots even closer. Despite this, you keep on writing. Until his hand lands on your thigh.

You tense, looking up at him. Your lips part, and you’re about to say something before he speaks first.

“Eyes. On. The. Paper. We’re going to simulate a stressful, distracting environment. Not unlike a lecture hall during an exam. If you can keep your cool, I’ll know you didn’t cheat.”

You bite your lip, hesitating.

“Or I could fail you right now, and you’ll prove me and my suspicions right.”

Back to writing it is. Your hand is a little shakier during the next few sentences while the warmth of his fingers seeps through the fabric of your skirt into your skin. But you get back into the motions, almost able to ignore him until his hand flexes and begins to wander. A shiver runs down your spine as his touch slips underneath your skirt, feeling the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh.

“That’s it. Keep writing. Try to show me how smart you are.”

Crane’s voice is a snide whisper right next to your ear. His breath sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep your focus on the essay. Well, at least some of it. Once his fingers brush over the crotch of your panties, your breath hitches as heat builds in your core. But you can’t even get a word in.

“Run your mouth and your final grade drops to an F. You’re on my time now, understood? Not a fucking word to anyone or else a failed class will be the least of your worries.”

You’ve never heard him curse before. The man sitting beside you, the man with his hand under your skirt isn’t the professor you’ve known throughout the semester. No, at this point, the mask is slipping and the difference is startling. Crane pushes your skirt up with one hand and your legs apart with the other, letting out a low, appreciative hum at the sight of your wet panties.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through the lace, aren’t you? I didn’t even touch you yet… Are you always this easy? Almost adorable… Keep writing for me.”

His words make your ears burn with embarrassment, and you bite down on the inside of your cheek as you get back to your essay. It’s getting harder to think. Especially once his fingers slip underneath your panties, running between your glistening folds. Crane quickly finds your clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves for a deliciously brief moment before he moves his hand further down to your entrance.

“Now you’re being grateful, hm? Is this what you were thinking about while everyone else was making an effort during my lectures? While everyone else was busy doing their work… you were getting worked up in your seat thinking about me. Thinking about me playing with your little cunt.”

The corners of his lips pull up into a self-satisfied grin as he plunges a finger inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure. You’re so wet that he’s not meeting any resistance from your sweet pussy, so he quickly adds a second one. The slick noises are obscene, and you duck your head in an attempt to hide your flushed face and focus on the essay, but it’s futile. You’re writing complete and utter nonsense at this point, and he knows it. Crane scoots his chair even closer, pressing up against your side as he works his fingers inside of you, caressing that spongy spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. As he looks over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your writing, he scoffs out a laugh.

“Goodness, sweetie. That’s what your pretty little head managed to come up with so far? All this talk about wanting to prove yourself, and you deliver this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more pathetic attempt at an essay in all my years of teaching.”

Tears well up in your eyes at the harshness of his words, and the sight of it makes Crane’s cock harden in his slacks. He licks his lips, curling his fingers inside of you with a little more urgency as he leans in to whisper into the crook of your neck.

“Let out those noises. I guarantee they’re worth more than every brainless contribution you’ve ever made in my class.”

It’s an order, not a request, and you find yourself unable to keep quiet anymore as his thumb comes up to rub your clit again. Your wetness is starting to drip down onto the seat below you while you let out a breathy moan, and you begin to doubt yourself. Maybe you really are as empty-headed as he says. To your dismay, this thought only causes the tension in your core to build up even faster.

“There we go. Close to cumming from being fingered by your professor. You’re so needy, so eager for the slightest bit of attention. A toy that needs to be played with 24/7. Aren’t you ashamed?”

You let out another moan of pleasure and humiliation, clenching around his digits as he stretches you open. When did you forget how to speak?

“Trying to play in the big leagues while you’re just a dumb little fuckpet for my enjoyment,” he hisses, before he sinks his teeth into your earlobe, causing you to squeak. It hurts. But that’s the point. You’re so close to the edge, toes curling inside of your shoes. And then suddenly, he withdraws his hand. You catch a glimpse of his glistening fingers, and you turn your head just in time to watch him lick your juices off of them. He lets out a groan, satisfied by your taste.

“Get up. Hands on the desk.”

You scramble to get up, standing on wobbly legs as you bend over Crane’s desk. The professor wastes no time, grabbing onto your sopping wet panties and ripping them off of you. The fabric shreds beneath his hands, leaving your skin stinging where it cut slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, exposing your rear to him, and he moans out another sound of appreciation. His hands come up to grab onto the meat of your ass, spreading them apart to allow him a perfect view of your dripping cunt.

“Lord knows you’re not made for higher education.”

Crane leans in, licking a stripe up between your folds, and you bite down on a knuckle to keep in the pathetic moan that hangs on your lips. Your body is desperately begging you to just let him take what he wants from you, but your mind clings onto the last shred of dignity you have. When the sound of his belt being undone tears you from your thoughts, you turn your head, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Wait –“ You start, suddenly struck by the reality of it all.

Crane chuckles at the expression of wide-eyed apprehension on your face.

“You’re not braindead already, are you? What did you think was going to be the logical conclusion of this? Of course, I’m going to bury my dick in you. Fuck, if you were this tight around my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock….”

“No, I –“

“Shh, no need to worry. Judging by your essay, you don’t have the mental capacity anyway.”

Crane roughly grabs a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down until your cheek meets the wooden surface of his desk while he hurriedly unzips his slacks. He’s painfully hard at this point, straining against the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a relieved hiss once he’s finally freed himself. He leans over you, pressing his weight into your back and aligning himself with your tight hole before he pushes his hips forward. You’re immobilized under him, squished against the desk as he fills you with his length. Crane’s lips find your pulse, licking and nibbling at your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, shuddering from the sensation of your plush walls around his cock.

“Good girl… you’re so wet. All for me, huh? Yes… just for me.” He moans through his teeth, leaning back a little to watch as your pussy stretches around him when he begins to slowly thrust into you. You let out a soft whine in response, not quite adjusted to him yet. But if you know anything about him at this point, it’s that he doesn’t care.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s a lot. Just relax – shh, shh, that’s it. You feel so good, squeezing me like a proper toy. All obedient and sweet… you really were built for this.“

He lifts his hand, landing a smack on your ass before he pulls out all the way and pushes back in, letting out a condescending laugh at the way you shiver. You can feel how deep he reaches, hitting every spot while he stretches you out with calculated thrusts. His pace begins to speed up, and his other hand wraps around your throat to keep you close as he pounds into you. Coherent thought becomes difficult for you, and even if you did want to say something, it’s suddenly made impossible when Crane pushes two fingers into your mouth, almost making you gag.

“Needy little thing. Bent over and babbling like a whore. But you -fuuuck - you take me so well, don’t you? All tight and sopping wet for my cock to stretch you out...”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, yanking you back by your hair to make you lift your torso up from the desk. The carefully crafted persona of a calm, reasonable Professor Dr. Jonathan Crane has completely slipped from his face now and shattered by his feet like Fine China. His hands move quickly, urgently as his rhythm begins to stutter. The fingers that are now soaked with your saliva make their way back between your legs to circle your clit while his other hand leaves your hair to tear open your blouse, sending the buttons flying everywhere.

His teeth find your neck again as he grabs at your chest, kneading your soft breasts as he marks you up. Hickeys, bruises, bite marks. He leaves them behind to claim. To own. Your climax hits you like a truck, knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks you through your orgasm, not faltering for a second. Stars fill your vision for a moment, and you’re only vaguely aware of the kisses that he’s pressing to your cheek. Your walls are clenching him tightly, causing him to curse under his breath.

Crane swallows heavily, rasping into your ear between shallow breaths.

“Tell you what… No more thinking about essays. In fact, I don’t want you to think ever again. No more exams… no more studies. As if you’d ever be someone of importance in this field to begin with. No, no… I won’t let you waste your time on a silly little Bachelor’s anymore... Fuckpets like you only need to be bred. I’m gonna be generous and fuck a child into you.”

Your eyes snap wide open, and even with your cock-drunken brain, you realize just how serious he is about this. In an attempt to get away, you begin to struggle in his grasp, but he replies by kicking your legs further apart, forcing you down against the desk again. The wooden edge digs against your thighs, keeping your hips in place for him as he plows you into the piece of furniture. Your cheek is pressed up against your unfinished essay, reminding you of your failure on all accounts as you drool onto the paper.

Your hands are clawing at the desk, trying to find purchase when his own hands find yours, linking your fingers together in a frighteningly intimate gesture. Crane continues to moan your name, pressing his face into the crook of your neck before he pushes his cock as deep as he can into your poor cunt, filling you with his hot cum. He lazily rocks his hips back and forth a few more times, trying to push in his load as far as he can before he finally stills, panting against your skin. He stays on your back for another few moments, breathing in your scent and idly squeezing your hands with his.

Once his breathing has evened out once more, he straightens up, kissing the top of your head before he pulls out. Crane watches as his seed drips out of you, a glint of amusement and possessiveness in his eyes as he pushes it back into you with two fingers. You feel completely boneless, crumpled on the desk as you try to make sense of what happened and what will happen. The silence doesn’t last long before Crane speaks up again.

“In the morning, you’ll make me breakfast, and in the evening, you’ll cream on my cock. Like a proper little housewife. And I’ll get to see your tits swell and your belly expand as our kid grows inside of you,” He muses, running his hands over your shoulders and down your back, a gesture that’s more meant to ground himself than it is meant to soothe you.

His voice is soft, yet eerily determined. A man that’s planning the future out loud. Unbeknownst to you, he’s reaching into his suit pocket behind you, pulling out a small syringe filled with a clear liquid.

“And if you get bored again and your mind starts to wander, I’ll knock you up again and again until you know your place. Face down, ass up. Beneath me.”

[echobx]

Daddy? - babydaddy!JJ Maybank × pregnant!fem!reader

summary: y/n calls JJ "daddy" while talking to her baby-belly and JJ overhears and gets horny

word count: 621

warnings: smut, pregnancy, oral (fem receiving), daddy kink

author's note: dude, if I knew. it's short af is what it is.

kinktober masterlist

You are sitting on your bed, back against the headboard and head dipped to look at your rounded stomach. You're just about four months pregnant with your first child, and it starts to feel more and more real, especially with your belly finally growing. When JJ gets home and starts looking for you, he didn't expect you to be sitting in bed talking to yourself, or more to his child inside you. But when he hears you call him “daddy” he feels the heat rise in the pit of his stomach. “Hi, mama,” JJ greets you while walking into the room, heading straight for you and planting a wet kiss on your lips. “Hey,” you hum against him, your hands are holding onto his jaw and your eyes are fixed on his. “How was work?” “Same old,” he mumbles into another kiss, wanting nothing more than to devour you and hear you call him the D word again. You on the other hand have no idea why exactly he is being so needy, but you would never be caught dead complaining about it. With a few quick and precise moves, he has you lying completely naked in front of him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed and his knees planted in the carpet. His hands and arms are holding your legs in place, pushing them down to not have you move away from his touch. You're leaning up on your elbows, looking down at his lips kissing closer towards your aching cunt. JJ is like an addict when it comes to your pussy. He can't go a day without worshiping your cunt, especially not now that you are giving him a child. “I love you so much,” he breathes against your folds before kissing them, planting soft pecks all over you before licking a long stripe up your slit and stopping at your clit. You try to keep yourself up and watch him, but when his lips close around your clit, and he sucks it into his mouth, you are lost. “Oh God,” you moan, nearly screaming it as he starts to actually eat you out. Plunging his tongue into your core and brushing his nose against your clit. You can feel yourself getting close to your release, the knot in your stomach is growing tighter, and you feel like it could pop any second when JJ lifts his head and forces his fingers inside you, curling them up while looking at you. “Sit up, mama,” he says, and you try your best to do it too. Looking at him through hooded eyes and ecstasy that is flooding your brain. “Say it, and I'll let you come,” JJ demands. “What?” you're confused, unsure what he could mean. “What you called me to the baby. Say it again.” Your eyes widen, and the heat rises to your cheeks, as much as that is even possible with how much of a mess you already are. “Make me come,” you say, and he nods, “daddy,” you finish and he groans. “Fuck yes. And you better keep on saying that shit, baby.” He dips his head and sucks on your clit, while his fingers keep curling up inside you, working your poor cunt to her limit. You come with a scream, crying out his name as well as that “yes, daddy!” that he wanted to hear from you. And when you're done and lie there panting, he finds his place by your side, pulling you into him and filling your mind and soul with whispered musings, promises to be always there and be the perfect dad and husband to you, if you have him, and how could you ever say no to that. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24 @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi

[byechristopher]

Quiet.

– MATT STURNIOLO SMUT.

Author's note: Y'ALL. Shout-out to my Matt girls. This is my first Matt fic ever. I love everything about this fic – I love when women get ready when their crush MIGHT be there, I fucking love petnames and I feel like Matt definitely uses a lot too, I love movie nights and Matt would definitely finger his girl under the covers, I love dom but gentle Matt. I love it. Bye. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: long and filthy smut. Minors dni! Semi-public?, fingering, petnames, dom!Matt. Didn't proofread!

"So, can you swing by?" I hear my friend's voice through the phone.

"Absolutely. Heading to the market in a bit, grabbing some beers, and I'll be at your place by 9PM. Sound good?" I reply, rummaging through every drawer to find my wallet.

"Perfect, babes. See you there!" she says. After exchanging greetings, I hang up, sliding my phone into the back pocket of my pants.

Considering Matthew freaking Sturniolo will be there, I'm already dressed with makeup on, not wanting to waste a single second; I aim to be there ASAP.

Not that I'm trying to impress Matt (yes I am), but there's been a thing between us (I refuse to call it a "situationship") since we all started hanging out. I've been part of that friend group for nearly two years now, and from the moment I joined, Matt started being quite flirty. And ever since then, we just casually flirt, make-out, have sex.. very casual.

Now, after a few weeks of not seeing each other (though we talk on the phone almost daily), I want to be my best self. I've done my skincare, enjoyed a three-hour-long bath, styled my hair in loose curls, put on comfy clothes – the whole shebang. If I've done this for nothing, I'll scream. Internally.

None of this matters now, because I am outside my friend's apartment, clutching the paper bag of beers in one hand and my scarf in the other one. I knock on the door, patiently waiting but instead of my friend, of course it's Matt who opens it, dressed in his signature black hoodie, black jeans, his usual chain dangling around his neck and his usual rings decorating his fingers. He looks.. delicious.

"Didn't expect me to open the door." it's more of a statement than a question, so I smile and nod.

"Not really, no." I chuckle, not moving an inch.

"You told me you'd be here by 9. So I'm here." he says with that captivating voice, taking a step closer, slowly pulling the door handle without closing it.

Cupping my cheek, he moves in, rubbing my bottom lip with his thumb, gently 1smudging my lipgloss before leaning in for a kiss. I release my scarf to grab his free hand, tugging on his fingertips as I reciprocate the kiss.

"You look pretty." he whispers against my lips and I smile.

Before entering, I pause him, rubbing his lips with my thumb to remove my lipgloss from them. Chuckling at his knowing stare, I say, "come on, let's go!" gently pushing him inside.

God help me, he smells amazing.

After greeting everyone and putting the beers inside the fridge, I take off my scarf and my coat, heading to the kitchen again so I can help with the snacks and the beers.

"Guys, I'm sorry in advance but you're probably going to freeze your ass off. Something's wrong with the heating so I'll just give y'all a ton of blankets." our friend apologises but we all brush it off.

"Bitch, we used to hang out in dark alleys in WINTER when we were younger, literally shut up. We can take it." another friend says, rolling her eyes and I laugh. We are all living the same lives, it seems.

After deciding which movie we will watch, with the snacks and the drinks on the table and the blankets ready to provide us with warmth, we were finally ready. I did have my eye on Matt so of course, when he patted the spot next to him on the small settee while looking at me with a smile, I almost ran to make sure I secure my place next to him.

The movie has started already, Matt is sitting next to me and we have two blankets covering us – his hand is on my thigh and my thigh is over his leg. His thumb is rubbing my leg through my pants and it's much more distracting than I could ever imagine. I do make sure to curl up against his side and he smiles, making sure the blankets are covering me properly.

Not even fifteen minutes have passed and I already feel the need to pee; that goddamn wine. I excuse myself and practically run to the bathroom, only to come back a few minutes later to see Matt almost laying on that settee. All the lights are closed but I know he can kind of see my reflection because of the big TV screen, so he can see the question marks all over my face – where the hell am I gonna seat?

He smiles and he pushes the blankets to the side, sitting up a bit and spreading his legs so I can sit in between them.

Well, fuck.

Sitting down in between his legs, I grab his thighs to support myself and make sure my whole back is pressed against him, leaning back to practically lay on his chest. I pull the blankets over us and he pecks the top of my head, almost as if it was a reward.

Seeing where all of this is going, I thank whoever is up there because our friends are quite far from us, all fully facing the TV. Matt quickly wraps his arms around my waist, resting them on my belly and I can feel how cold his hands are even through my shirt. Minutes go by and I can feel Matt playing with my shirt, his cold fingertips already touching my bare skin, raising goosebumps on it. He drags his short fingernails up and down my sides, making me smile because he knows I like that.

His hands slowly drag themselves up, pulling my shirt over my chest, my breasts now free, "love when you're not wearing a bra." he whispers in my ear and I chuckle.

My hands are on his knees and his hands are on my breasts, cupping them and caressing them, pressing small kiss on my neck, "you smell amazing.." he whispers, "do you think you can be quiet for me, pretty?" he pecks the tip of my ear.

"Yes, Matt.." I whisper back, getting comfortable on his chest, still pretending to watch that movie.

His hands are massaging my breasts, rubbing and pinching my nipples with his long fingers, tugging on them every now and then – it is hard to keep quiet but I've done this many times, I'm sure I can handle it.

Sitting with bent knees now, he hums, pressing another rewarding kiss on the top of my head, "keep playing with your tits for me, hm? I'm gonna take care of you." he whispers and I want to moan just by the words he says.

I nod and cup my breasts instead, massaging them gently as I feel his hands moving down to my thighs – he massages them and spreads my legs open gently, placing his legs on my feet to keep my legs in place. I feel his fingertips hooking around the waistband of my pants and panties, gently pulling them down as I slowly raise my hips to make it easier for him.

"You have to be very quiet now, okay?" he says and I immediately nod, desperately needing him to touch me there, "tease your nipples. I want to see you struggling." he chuckles, keeping me close to him.

I gently hit his leg and he can't help but laugh – I keep teasing my nipples, just like he ordered, keeping my eyes to the television even though I can feel his fingers dangerously close to where I need him the most. Finally, one of his fingers gently touch my clit, rubbing in circle motions as his breath fans over my ear together with the softest moans. I can feel him dragging his finger down, only to chuckle at how wet it is down there – I almost whine.

"God, I wanna taste you. You're so wet." he whispers and circles my entrance, collecting my juices and focusing back on my clit.

"Matty.. please.." I whisper back, my hands now leaving my sensitive breasts, grabbing his thighs instead.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he says and gently slaps my pussy, making me gasp softly.

I couldn't speak – all I can think about is his fingers inside of me. But I feel like if I open my mouth now, I won't be able to keep my moans in. I buck my hips, needing to feel more pressure on my clit but he's having none of it. He pushes my hips down and flicks my clit in the softest way possible, which makes me want to cry.

"You know how it goes. Use your words." he uses two other fingers to spread my pussy, making it easier for him to rub my clit with his middle finger.

"Please.. Matty.. I need.. your fingers inside of me.." I beg between shaky breaths, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"See?" he kisses the side of my head, "there's my good girl." he says and just by that, I almost lose it. But then he finally pushes a finger inside of me and I have to cover my mouth with the blankets.

His middle finger pushes in and out of my wetness and I squeeze my eyes shut, really trying not to let out the moans that have been threatening to come out this whole time. His other arm is wrapped around me, keeping me in place as he rubs my clit and fingers me at the same time with his other hand.

"I'm going to add another finger, baby. I need you to keep that pretty mouth closed, yeah?" he warns – the hand that was gripping my waist is now keeping my mouth closed, I nod anyway.

He slowly takes his finger out and instead, he rubs my entrance with two fingers. He gently pushes and I wince softly in his hand, "you can take it, baby, shhh." he whispers and I really need to fucking moan now. He finally pushes both of his fingers inside of me and I want to cry from how good it feels. My nails dig into his thighs and luckily (for him), he's wearing jeans otherwise it would definitely leave a mark.

He starts moving them in and out, slowly, still covering my mouth under the blankets with his other hand as his lips move to my neck. He starts sucking on the skin, licking it and biting it as he pushes his fingers inside till he's knuckles-deep.

"I wish I could kiss you right now – the way you would moan into my mouth trying to kiss back, turns me on." he takes my earlobe in between his lips, gently sucking on it.

His fingers start moving at a much faster pace and I'm sure that if the TV wasn't this loud, everyone would hear the noises my pussy makes from how wet he made me. He curls his fingers inside of me and I close my eyes, really struggling to keep my mouth closed now, "pretty girl. Do you think you can take a third finger?"

I wrap my fingers around his wrist and slowly move his hand away from my mouth, letting him know I have my moans a little bit under control now (not even close), "please, Matt.. I need it.." I whisper, my voice is trembling. Still, I grab his free hand and pull it closer to me, taking a finger into my mouth and I can feel his bulge against my back.

"Darling, don't do that.." he warns, "or I'll have to fuck you in front of everyone." he whispers and bites my neck.

Finally, he's pushing a third finger inside and I really need to cry. He's finger-fucking me at a fast pace, he's being rough but gentle at the same time, it's overwhelming, "touch yourself, baby. And don't stop."

I quickly move my free hand, rubbing my own clit gently as he fucks me with force – I am so close and he knows it, I can feel myself clenching around his fingers.

"Matty.. Matt.. fuck, I'm – please.." I am almost completely under the covers because I can try to keep my moans in, but my expression definitely cannot be hidden.

"Are you going to cum for me, baby? Come on. Come on my fingers." he's so gentle when he speaks but his fingers are merciless, and that contrast is what drives me over the edge.

"That's it, baby.. that's it." he whispers and I finally cum, trembling a little but I try not to make it so obvious.

He takes his fingers out slowly, caressing my legs in order for me to calm down before he brings them close to his mouth, licking them clean, "when this movie is over, you're leaving with me. I'm eating you out in my car."

He drives me crazy.

[stariikis]

tell my fortune

synopsis ; the story of how you manage to get an attractive waiter's number... in the most unexpected way possible.

pairing ; waiter!nishimura riki x customer!reader genre ; fluff, first encounters wc ; 1100 notes ; to indulge MYSELF, riki will be aged down in this fic. like 16 years old.

When your friend recommended a Chinese restaurant to visit, you were expecting the reason to be exceptional food. Pretty foolish of you, one reason being, you were in Korea – another being, when has Yoo Jungyeong ever suggested visiting somewhere, if not to ogle at attractive boys impossible to pull?

The first thing you notice as she holds open the door for you to step inside is the fact that it’s a pretty modern, fancy restaurant, not typical of a traditional Chinese food chain. What are you expecting though, in Korea of all places? Along the city streets, everything screams modern. 

The second thing you notice when a waiter that has her making heart eyes – gross – leads you to a seat, is how young the waitresses and waiters seem. Some seem shy of eighteen, while some look like plain teenagers coming to earn a little extra pocket money during the holidays. You don’t judge them though; you’d do that too if you had the luxury of time. 

Today’s an exception from having your nose stuck in piles of homework and assigned reading. After all, within the first week of the holidays you finished almost everything, so you’re free to take a break when you wish. Another reason being, you wanted to catch up with Jungyeong. 

But not like this, her eyes shining as she gazes dreamily at a guy whose uniform nametag states, ‘Sim Jaeyun’. 

“Will you stop staring?” You hide behind the menus to save yourself the embarrassment. “I think they’re noticing.” 

“Fine,” she huffs, but the glaze over her eyes doesn’t dissipate. “He’s really cute, though.” 

“Did you bring me here to have a good meal or to stare at delusion three thousand?” You snap, shoving her copy of the menu towards her. She finally rolls her eyes and flips open the menu. 

She points to a steamed fish dish, “This. This is good.” 

And after she recommends practically the whole menu to you, she looks at you expectantly, pressuring you into making a quick decision. You blink, because it all looks pretty appetising to you, and decide on the first fish dish she showed you. Anyway, you’re too indecisive. If you don’t pick now, you might stay the whole night. 

Since Jungyeong has returned to conjuring up fantasies of the waiter Sim Jaeyun across the room, you raise your hand and grab the attention of a young waiter, who seems the same age as you. He appears nervous as he approaches you with a notepad and pen. Is this his first time working here? 

“What can I get you?” He grins awkwardly, and you have to admit. He looks pretty cute trying to maintain professionalism though he looks like he’s crumbling internally. Smiling kindly, you guide him through your order as gently as you can. As you read out your order, he seems to relax progressively, nodding along. 

Just as he’s about to run off to convey your order to the cooks, he bows and thanks you sincerely. For some reason, your stomach flips in excitement at this, lingering tingles in your chest as he darts off. 

Nishimura Riki, read the nametag. He’s Japanese working at a Chinese restaurant in Korea. 

“So,” Jungyeong waggles her finger in front of your face teasingly. “He’s cute, huh?” She drawls, obviously trying to prove her point. 

You don’t buy it. “He is cute,” — you admit, and your friend raises her eyebrows — “but I’m not going to daydream about him the whole time I’m here. Unlike a certain someone…” You reach out to flick her arm amiably. 

Ironically, even though you say this, as Jungyeong starts to ramble about her life recently, your line of vision inevitably travels to the back of the restaurant, where Jaeyun and Riki are chatting. They seem to be quite close, as Jaeyun pats Riki’s back and laughs. Against your will, you’re interested in the way they interact with each other. Scratch that, you’re interested in the way Riki looks when he’s smiling. 

Out of the blue, the young waiter glances up and meets your gaze, just as Jungyeong starts to catch on that you’re not paying attention. 

“Dude, what a hypocrite,” she scoffs, but you ignore her. Riki quirks an eyebrow at you playfully, as if asking you why you’re casually staring at him. You don’t know why but your heart skips a beat. 

For the next five minutes, all you can focus on is the way your cheeks are overwhelmingly warm and probably look a fiery shade of red. 

Even when your food arrives, you feel sick to your stomach and can only bear to have a few bites before clocking out. Jungyeong looks at you, half worried and half with a tilt of the head that asks, is she going crazy? 

Eventually, you have to ask for a takeout container because your friend clearly can’t finish the whole dish by herself. 

You just think that you need to get out of there as soon as possible, so when Riki himself runs over, handing you both a fortune cookie wrapped in plastic, it comes as a shock. His fingers linger over the snack as he passes it to you, and you swear he’s gazing into the depths of your soul. 

Oooookay, this is uncomfortable. Does he want me to open it in front of his face or… is he being creepy? Or — this is where you panic — is he telling me he was also uncomfortable when I was staring at him? Should I apologise? Do I say something? What does he want from me?

Luckily for the overthinker emerging from you, he makes an unwrapping gesture and smiles silently, as if affectiona– okay, that’s too much.

You take the cracker out the wrapper, and snap it in half as quick as you can. Anything to get you out of this awkward situation. 

A glance over the table shows that Jungyeong has opened hers already, and nothing seems to be out of the blue. So what is Riki trying to get at? 

When you tug the slip of paper from the cracker, you don’t know if you go completely pale or grow even redder. 

A phone number in black pen ink has been written over the paper in an evidently rushed manner. 

You look up at the young waiter, who just shrugs and giggles at how clueless you look. How… did he… huh…? 

As you leave the restaurant in a hurry (mostly because Jungyeong is borderline screaming on your behalf), you swear you catch Jaeyun giving Riki a thumbs up in the corner of your eye.

more of my works >

guys i'm back after like a month of an unofficial hiatus. sorry to leave yall hanging like that! i'll get back to regular updates soon, i promise lawl. hope you didn't forget the plot of yitr...

BTW THX FOR 300

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍 𖥔

summary ; after getting out of jail, luke shows up at the house looking for jj, and more than just old feelings are brought out into the open when he stumbles upon your secret. 

pairing ; jj maybank x girlfriend!reader

notes ; profanities, pregnancy, mentions of consensual sex, abuse, and luke maybank ew. let me know if i forgot any !

i do not consent to any of my works being transferred, translated or copied to any other sites. it's stealing and that's not cute.

of all the despicable and outrageous things you had witnessed and heard about luke maybank, from robbing stores and abusing his son, busting a pharmacy only hours after being released from jail really shouldn’t have surprised you. and yet, as you opened the front door of the house he used to once occupy, you couldn’t help but be stunned when you saw him standing there, gasping for air with blood-stained knuckles.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you sneer, venom in your tone as you narrow your eyes at the older man.

“y/n...” he says your name with surprise and a look of disappointment. you were the last person he wanted to see right now. “i, uh, i didn’t realise you and jj were still... together.” he laughs nervously, knowing exactly how to get under your skin, before backing away.

it was no secret that luke didn’t like you, but it also wasn’t a secret that you felt the exact same way. you loathed the man for everything he had done to jj, and you weren’t afraid to let him know exactly how low you thought of him – that he was the scum on the bottom of your shoe, and you hoped and prayed that he would get what was coming to him tenfold.

“aren’t you supposed to be in jail?” you ignore his comment, reaching for the phone in your back pocket to make a point of how easy it would be for you to call the police if he wasn’t careful.

“about that... is – is jj home?” he peers over your shoulder, but you pull the door towards you to cut off his view of the inside.

though in your attempt to hide the fact that jj was just in the next room, he gives it away when he comes scuffling down the hallway. he doesn’t look your way as he races around looking for his other boot, forgetting where he had slipped it off the night prior.

“hey, babe, have you seen my other shoe?” he calls out, and before you could respond, he continues, “never mind. it was under the couch...” stopping in his tracks the second he sees his dad, and immediately rushes to step in front of you.

jj was very aware of your hatred for his father. he was always aware of the fact that you would stop at nothing to see the man rot in hell. even if it meant doing it yourself or getting him sent back to jail.

“what - how did you get out?” he panics, taking notice of the blood.

“work release. good behavior. can you believe that?” the man chuckles before looking down at his own knuckles. “busted a pharmacy window. busted that pharmacist too.”

“what the fuck, luke.” you shake your head, lip curling with disgust.

“look, i gotta get out of here. that pharmacist can id me.” he pauses for a second to scope his surroundings. “i gotta get off this island. so you’ve gotta help me. i'm taking malcolm’s boat, and i need to get to the other side of the island.”

jj grits his teeth and tries to close the door, but luke stops it before the lock can clasp and pushes himself inside, grabbing jj by a fistful of his shirt. you're knocked into the wall from the sudden outburst, and as you try to get luke to let go, jj raises his hand, stopping you from interfering.

“you’re really not going to help your own blood?” luke leers toward jj, and you shudder, knowing that there’s nothing you can do to stop him from manipulating his son that was going to end well.

“absolutely not. no. no way.” you try to shut the whole thing down.

“you do this, and you will never have to see or hear from me ever again. isn't that what you want?” luke sneers in your direction, and while the idea definitely intrigues you, you didn’t want to risk getting caught by the cops.

you could see the gears turning in jj’s head as he looks from you to luke, and then back to you, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. there was a glimmer of contemplation in his eyes, but ultimately, he looks to you for guidance.

this was something that could potentially ruin your lives if you were to get caught aiding and abetting him, but it was also something that both you and jj wanted – to have him out of your lives forever.

blowing a sigh through your lips, you take in a deep breath and shake your head, unbelieving of what you were about to do. through gritted teeth, you turn to luke, “fine. what do you need?”

“you’ll help?” he looks to you with the same disbelief, and though reluctant, you nod, and he releases his grip on his son’s shirt.

“before we do anything, i want to make one thing very clear,” you step toward him, putting a divide between him and jj, who grabs a hold of your arm for safe measure. “we are not doing this for you. we are doing this for us. so don’t for a second think that you’re in control of the situation because if you so much as step one foot out of line or lay another finger on jj, i have the stations number on speed dial. got it?”

you watch as the man tenses his jaw and fights back a snarl, but he doesn’t argue. he nods before making a beeline for his bedroom to grab anything he’ll need, leaving you and jj alone.

the second he’s out of earshot, a shaky breath escapes your lips, and you suddenly feel heavier. like the weight of the world had fallen onto your shoulders and not just because of luke.

for the first time in forever, you had more than just you and jj to protect, and you were scared as to how this was going to play out.

from your side, jj’s hand brushes across your skin, and he threads his fingers through yours. he pulls you towards him, arms wrapping firmly and securely around you, “i know how much you must hate this, so thank you.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“hate isn’t anywhere near a strong enough word,” you both fall into a soft fit of laughter. “but, i'd do anything for you. even if that means helping your convict piece of shit dad get off this island.”

“i seriously don’t deserve you,” jj smiles down at you. his fingers dance across your jawline before he straightens and looks toward luke’s bedroom. “i should go see if he needs help.”

he presses another soft kiss to your lips and starts to walk away, your fingers still locked together until he’s too far and they fall apart.

it's not long before the two of them re-emerge, luke with a bag thrown over his shoulder and jj heading straight out to the shed to find a torch and some rope. you stand there in silence, arms crossed over your chest, and the entire time you can feel the man’s eyes on you - as though to be studying you.

“y’know, you really shouldn’t get your hopes up,” he almost snickers, and when he sees the unimpressed look on your face, he adds, “i’m just saying, all maybank men have a tendency to run when things get... real.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you ask, irritated by his crypticness.

this time when luke speaks, he stops what he’s doing and stands up straight, “nothing. i just - i take it jj doesn’t know about the pregnancy tests hidden in the back of the bathroom cupboard. y'know, the ones with the two blue lines... clear as day-”

“that is none of your business!” you cut him off as the panic of him telling jj sets in, and a shiver of fear rolls down your spine.

“like hell, it ain’t. jj is my son and that thing growing inside you is my grandbaby.” he points to your stomach.

“no, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. this baby is going to have absolutely nothing to do with you. we’re making sure of that right now by helping you leave,” you argue, your heart racing as your blood boils. “and you couldn’t be more wrong about jj. he is nothing like you. he is strong and protective, and he actually cares about those he loves. he doesn’t sit around getting wasted and taking his anger out on an innocent child, and he will certainly be a better father than a deadbeat, good for nothing, piece of shit like you!”

“you watch your mouth when you’re speaking to me,” he steps toward you, anger seething through him just as jj rushes back in through the door and pushes his dad away.

“what the hell is going on?” he demands, looking between you both but directing his words at his father.

“why don’t you ask her?” luke nudges in your direction.

jj looks at you, confusion tangled in his features.

“your dad’s just proving he is what everyone says he is...”

“and what’s that darlin’?”

“oh, i think i already covered it.”

luke urges another step towards you, but jj holds him back, “okay, that’s enough. dad, why don’t you just go wait in the car.”

“gladly.”

the two of you watch as luke disappears out the front door and slinks his way towards your car before looking back at one another. jj pulls you into his arms once more, his hands nestling the back of your head into his chest, and he heaves a sigh.

“are you going to tell me what that was about?” he asks, his voice low and soothing as he runs a finger across his brow.

“it’s nothing,” you hold him tightly before pulling away, “now, let’s get this over with.”

the drive to the docks isn’t long, but it is silent as luke sits in the back, making sure not to be seen by any pedestrians. being that it was early on a weekday, most people were at work, and so getting through to the marina wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be.

once you pull to a stop, jj climbs out of the passenger seat and quickly checks the status of the dock to see if the coast was clear, leaving you along with luke once again.

“listen, i know you think you’ve got it all worked out, but i promise you, i'm right on this one.” luke inches forward from the back seat. “the second he finds out that there’s a baby involved, you may as well start looking for a new baby daddy.”

“you know nothing about me or jj, and what type of man he is. but what i do know is that he doesn’t give up easily. he's stubborn like that, and he’s going to be the best father for this baby. i promise you that.”

“you keep telling yourself that, princess, but we both know that whatever it is that you two have going on is going to fizzle out, and you’re going to wish you had listened to me. hell, you probably got yourself knocked up just do he would keep you around-”

the anger from before boils up within you again, and in a swift movement, you wretch your elbow back into the man’s face. watching as he recoils from the blow and tends to his noise, but before he gets a chance to react, jj gives the signal for him to make his move.

“get out of my car,” you smile passive-aggressively.

luke groans as he exists the vehicle, fingers pressed to his nose to stop the bleeding as he meets jj halfway down the footpath. he takes in his father’s bloody nose and looks at you with wide eyes despite the fact that he wasn’t really all that surprised. you simply shrug.

“hey, luke?” you call out before he makes his way to the boat, and when he looks back to you, you shout, “go fuck yourself.”

he turns on his heel to walk back towards the car, annoyance sprawled across his face, but jj stops him and pushes him in the other direction. and the second you’re alone, you let your head fall to rest against the seat as a large sigh leaves your lips.

fifteen minutes pass, and there was still no sign of jj, though you could see him in the far distance at the end of the dock watching as the boat disappeared into the horizon. despite knowing how much jj hated luke and how he wished he was dead, he was still his father, and having to watch him leave for good was going to be tough no matter the circumstances.

you clamber out of the car, pulling your hood over your head and make your way up to the docks as jj remains still, his gaze unwavering from the water before him. and when you meet his side, he smiles though his eyes are filled with sadness.

“you okay?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

he nods, a slight chuckle leaving his lips before he sighs, “y’know, it’s funny how badly i wanted this, and now that it’s happened, i just... i feel weird.”

“it’s always hard having to say goodbye, but if it makes you feel any better… you’ll always have me.” a soft laugh falls from both of you before jj lifts his arm up and around you, pulling you in front of him.

“y’know, before he left, he said something that really got me thinking, and i know it’s probably going to sound stupid, but i have to ask. otherwise, it’s going to literally eat me up inside.” he scratches the nape of his neck, a nervous smile present.

you already knew what he was going to ask, that your little secret wasn’t so much a secret anymore, and you turn away from him. you should’ve known better than to expect luke to keep his mouth shut, but he knew this would be his last opportunity to get back at you, and he took it.

jj notices your reluctance to look at him, and with gentle movements, he cups the sides of your face and moves your gaze back to meet his. running smooth circles along your cheeks, he stares you with curious eyes, “babe... are you... are you pregnant?”

tears pool in the corners of your eyes, the guilt inside beginning to claw its way up your throat. your heart speeds up, and breathing deepens as you stare into the eyes of the boy you loved and shakily nod your head.

a soft gasp leaves him and he licks his bottom lip as his brows furrow in the center of his forehead, “how long have you known?”

“a week. a bit more,” your tears fall freely now. “i’m sorry, j. i should’ve told you the second i found out.”

he nods in a way that was him processing what you had said rather than agreeing and then returns his gaze back to the water. he remains silent for a moment before a small chuckle leaves him, “i mean, it kind of makes sense now that i think about it.”

confused, you sniffle back your tears.

“you have been a little moodier lately, and you demolished an entire pizza, and garlic bread, the other night,” he says, laughing, and you can’t help but smile.

once the laughing dies down, you ask, “you’re not mad... or freaked out?”

“are you kidding? you’re having my baby!” he looks at you with glistening eyes. they're so big you can see yourself reflected in them as he brushes your hair from your face. “this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a sigh of relief sputters from you, and your eyes glaze over with tears. the thrill of it runs down your spine, all the way to your toes, and his hands come up to brush your cheeks. “you’re sure you want to do this?”

“of course, i do. there's nothing i want more than for us to be a family, and we’re going to be the coolest parents ever. oh my, god. we can teach them to fish, and surf, and take them on rides on the hms pogue.”

it's heart-warming to see him so excited about, but he quickly stops after realising he had been rambling on while you stared at him adoringly. he clears his throat and shrugs, trying to play it off nonchalant-like, but your giggle tells him that it hadn’t worked.

“come here,” he kisses your forehead before meeting your lips, and everything you had been holding back erupts into a long, passionate kiss.

when you pull apart, he wraps an arm around your shoulders once more, leaning his head against yours, as you watch the sunset, and after a moment, he chuckles to himself. “so, i must’ve been like really good in bed, huh?”

“oh my, god,” rolling your eyes, you shrug his arm off and give him a little shove. “the quality of your performance has nothing to do with the fact that you got me pregnant. but... for your ego’s sake... yeah.”

“my ego thanks you,” he presses a hand to his chest before intertwining his fingers with yours at the same time tiny droplets of rain begin to fall from the sky. “okay, c’mon preggers. let's get you home before it starts to pour.”

“as long as you never call me that again.”

“no promises.” he scrunches up his nose as you make your way back down the dock, leaving behind all of your worries and doubts, and stepping into the next chapter of your life knowing that you and jj were going to be okay.

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | Three

— Salacious Daydreaming

Series Masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

warnings: 18+ smut, bj, allusions to unprotected sex (don’t do that)

wc: 3.1k

You were the only one remaining in the meeting room, taking down last-minute notes, when you heard someone step in and close the door, drawing your attention to them. It was Carlos.

With a swift stride, he approached you, yanking your chair away from the table. He tilted your chin upwards, and placed his lips on yours. You didn't have time to say anything; only a gasp escaped your lips before your eyes closed and you instinctively wrapped your arms around him. While you remained seated in the chair, his own palms moved down your sides and he tightened his hold around your waist before lifting you up.

Carlos' lips remained on yours, claiming each gasp and moan that left your mouth, muffling the sounds for any potential listeners outside. Briefly losing yourself amidst his kisses, you were startled by the clattering sounds of the items falling to the ground that were once on the table. Carlos cleared your belongings to make room on the table before setting you down on it.

He pecked your lips again and then began to back away, causing a whine to escape your mouth. Your palms immediately clasped his cheeks, luring him in for another kiss. He chuckled at your antics, but still followed along. Attaching your lips together until you lost your breath to the point of potential dizziness, yet you would gladly give it up again and again just to become intoxicated by his kisses.

Carlos kneeled down in front of you, causing you to instantly spread your legs, placing one foot on the table's edge while your palm tangled in his hair.

You wrinkled your brows, unable to hear a word that came out of his mouth as he gazed up at you and said something. Then, you heard your name, but it wasn't spoken by Carlos.

You quickly blinked a few times after feeling a palm shake you by your shoulder and you realized that you weren't in a conference room with Carlos but rather with your regular media team amidst a meeting. You were thinking about Carlos even though he wasn't physically there.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" you asked and scanned over everyone for a brief moment, not knowing who actually spoke.

"Are you feeling alright?" One of your closest colleagues, Ava, asked instead.

You nodded, refraining from responding verbally while clenching your thighs together. Your cheeks had heated up in shame over having zoned out in the middle of the conference for the first time ever, but also due to the specific scenario you were envisioning in your daydream.

The meeting resumed as normal, with another member repeating her words from earlier.

"As I was saying..."

You tried to focus on her words, but your gaze focused on Carlos who was walking alongside Charles just outside of the room.

You believed that he could feel your gaze because he stopped walking and looked through the glass doors, easily spotting you inside. You were no longer paying attention to the meeting as soon as he made direct eye contact with you.

He raised his brows in question, wanting to know the thoughts running through your mind while sitting in a meeting, especially since your gaze on him remained unwavering. The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk, a little egotistical once he realized that all your attention was for him and only him.

Charles' didn't notice the little staring contest going on between you and Carlos since he was still sharing the latest piece of gossip he had heard earlier from Pierre. Similar to you, nothing that left his mouth was heard by Carlos.

His attention remained on you, disregarding his teammate completely. Carlos winked after he gently jerked his head in the direction of the corridor from which he had come, trying to communicate nonverbally.

In response, you furrowed your eyebrows briefly before raising them in confusion. He playfully rolled his eyes, and glanced at Charles to check if he was paying attention but saw him smiling while texting on his phone.

Again, rolling his eyes at his teammates' antics, Carlos looked at you. This time, he pointed his finger at you, then beckoned you to come closer.

Your eyes widened and you began shaking your head before stopping and thinking about the possible consequences of leaving a meeting in the middle, something you had never done before.

Fortunately, no one was sitting across from you which meant you had a clear view of Carlos. However, Ava was sitting next to you, which meant that she also had a clear view of Carlos.

She watched the silent conversation you attempted to have with him but she didn't understand a single thing. Instead, she nudged you again, quickly gaining your attention this time.

"What's going on?" She asked, her gaze moving between you and Carlos.

"Nothing, why?" You were tempted to shift your sight back towards Carlos, but didn't want to bring unwanted attention from anyone else.

"You don't look well, are you sure you're fine?" Ava muttered quietly enough, leaning closer towards you.

Resting your head against her shoulder, you sighed. This was the perfect moment to leave considering you also had a proper excuse, and you were beginning to contemplate it.

Your decision was made once you saw Carlos, in your peripheral vision, leaning against the wall outside the door by himself, waiting for you.

"Maybe I don't feel too well," you whispered. Lifting your head, you looked at Ava, "do you think I could leave?"

"Maybe she'll let it go, since you never left abruptly like this," she shrugged. You turned to look at Silvia, your supervisor, who was in charge of the meeting. You didn't even pay attention to when the slideshow presentation she was delivering began, so as you saw it, your eyes widened.

You realized Ava wasn't incorrect after giving her words some thought. She was unaware, though, that you were merely lying to her about your health and that Carlos was the true reason you wanted to leave. The fact that the conference was boring didn't make matters any better.

"Any questions before we continue?" Silvia's voice cut through your thoughts. She gazed at everyone one by one. Once her gaze landed on you, you fanned yourself exaggeratedly and pointed at the door.

Although she furrowed her brows for a moment since she couldn't see out the door from her standpoint, she nodded, allowing you to leave.

Nodding your head in acknowledgement, you began gathering your items to leave. "I'll come check on you later and give you the rundown of the entire meeting," Ava stated.

"The entire meeting? I was here for at least half of it," you muttered back a response, trying to remain quiet since the meeting continued.

"You were barely focused, now go before you distract me too."

However, as soon as you left the conference room, Carlos was nowhere to be seen. Shaking your head at his antics, you began walking down the hallway he pointed at earlier.

Once you reached the end of the hallway, a hand pulled you over to the right; Carlos. He pressed you against the wall, caging you in between as his hands rested flat beside your head.

"Hi," he muttered, his gaze always watchful, but a tad bit softer this time as he admired you.

With your lips turning up in a smile, you pressed your hands against his chest but without any intent to push him away. "You're crazy," you responded, watching how his eyes twinkled with delight.

"Me? You're the one who left in the middle of the meeting," he shot back, making you drop your jaw with a gasp.

"And who's fault is that?"

He pressed his lips together to prevent a smile, tilting his head to the side. "Are you saying that you left because of me?"

"Not at all, it was boring anyways," you replied, biting your tongue at the brief exposure of your thoughts that your words revealed.

He nodded, "no." You knew he didn't believe you at all, but you still smiled, not really wanting him to believe you either.

"You were standing outside like a freak, how could I not be distracted?" You reasoned, earing raised eyebrows from him.

"I don't blame you, I'm quite the view to look at," he spoke with a chuckle.

You slapped his shoulder playfully, "why'd you call me out anyways?"

He smirked, "as if you don't know why." Dropping one hand from the wall, he wrapped it around your waist, pulling you closer. "I want you," he added.

"You had me a few hours ago."

He dropped his head against your shoulder, sighing. You chuckled, knowing that you wouldn't deny him, especially as you were the one dreaming about him midday, but you simply wanted to spark a reaction out of him.

Ever since that one night you spent together in your hotel room, those daydreams of yours came more often. And, as it turned out, that one night spent together didn't remain as only one night. A lot of the following nights—even days—were spent in each other's hotel rooms, or his driver's room.

Once the restraint between you snapped that night, you began craving him constantly, and it didn't help that the chemistry you shared with him continued blooming. Neither of you planned on slowing down, avariciously relishing each intimate minute spent together. However, the more time you spent together, the excitement of ignoring the repercussions started to seep into your skin and only continued to fuel your desire.

You felt his lips graze your neck, lightly at first but then with more prominent kisses. You lightly gasped when he kissed and sucked at the spot behind your ear.

Before your mind filtered out all thoughts except of him and only him, you patted his shoulder. "Carlos."

He hummed to acknowledge you but didn't relent.

"Not here," you mumbled.

Even if you were in one of the enclosed hallways where people rarely passed, you would be visible if someone were to go by.

He lifted his head, looking at you with a fond smile, "then where?"

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but the smile on your face told a different story. "As if you don't know where," you imitated his words from earlier.

Stepping away from you, he exaggerated a bow, "well then lead the way, cariño."

Heading to his driver's room together, you chuckled and moved ahead of him. When you turned to look behind you and saw his eyes fixed on your ass, your suspicions about why he had asked you to walk in front of him were confirmed.

You were compelled to walk quickly because of the heat in his eyes, wanting to hide from potential bystanders and enjoy each other in private.

He followed you inside the room, closing the door behind. You stopped once you were standing in the middle of the room, glancing back and waiting for him to approach you.

Moments later you felt the heat of his body radiating towards you. His fingers skimmed over your sides, following your natural curves.

"I was wondering," he began, earning a hum from you, urging him to continue. "Did you miss me? Is that why you agreed so easily when I called you out?"

For a brief moment, you stopped, and Carlos sensed the tension entering your body. You turned to face him as he put his palms against your hips.

He moved his palm to your cheek, cradling it with such utmost care that all the tension dissipated into thin air. You scoffed at his question, a teasing smile making its way to your face.

"I didn't miss you." You trailed your fingers down his chest with your gaze following your movements.

Teasing the hem of his shirt, your fingers slipped underneath for a moment before hooking onto the waistband of his trousers. With your hands still moving lower, your eyes focused on his face. The corner of your lips turned up in a smirk once you saw his gaze unwavering from your hand.

The mere feeling of your fingers sliding up his clothed length already had him throbbing for the feel of your warm mouth wrapped around him.

The hand that had been on your cheek shifted to the back of your neck, drawing you in. By applying more pressure to his bulge and trying to wrap your hand as much as possible with the fabric in between, Carlos' jaw fell open.

"If you missed it that much, get down on your knees and suck it then," he muttered against your lips, grazing them but not kissing you just yet.

He dropped his hands from your body, but as soon as he did, he itched to touch you again.

You hummed, pretending to contemplate it for a moment even though you had already made your decision. "Say please."

He licked his lips, immediately drawing your attention to the motion. Your hand remained still on his crotch, and he knew you could feel his cock pulsing beneath the heat of your palm, longing for a satisfactory touch.

You would give him everything he wanted, all he had to do was ask.

Carlos whispered your name, hanging on to each syllable with such longing, and you almost gave in. When you didn't budge, he spoke your name with more assurance, then added, "please."

You pressed a peck to his cheek, "as you wish, darling."

You tugged his trousers down by hooking your fingers into the waistband. You were as eager as he was, but he lacked the restraint to hide how much he desired you.

You locked your gaze with his, unwavering even as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. You couldn't help but tease him a little more as you pressed open mouthed kisses over his clothed cock, now only his boxers remaining as a barrier.

He groaned, "c'mon baby, you look so pretty on your knees for me."

You chuckled, finally giving in because if you continued teasing him, it would be torture for you too considering you've already soaked through your panties while sitting in the meeting earlier. You've missed the weight of his cock in your hands, even if the last time you held it was only a few hours ago in this very room.

Discarding the last piece of clothing, you held his hardened length in your hand. Gathering a bit of saliva in your mouth, you stuck your tongue out and drooled over the tip, spreading it with your palm.

He attempted to keep his gaze fixed on you, watching as you lavished much-needed attention on him, but he failed and closed his eyes as you licked his cock from the base to the tip. In a steady manner, you ran your hand up and down the length while swirling your tongue around the tip. 

You placed the weight of his cock flat on your tongue before hollowing your cheeks out and sealing your lips around him. Taking him as deep as you could, you quickly felt his tip hit the back of your throat.

Your eyes quickly watered as you felt Carlos rest his hand on the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before holding it up in a ponytail.

"I know you can take more than that, cariño." He didn't urge you forward, but you placed your free hand on top of his that was resting in your hair, silently allowing him to do it.

Once you slid your hand away, his other hand rested on your jaw, stilling you as he began to thrust his hips, moving his cock in and out of the warmth of your mouth.

The obscene sounds of you gagging on his cock were joined by his groans and praises. His sweet words made you place your palm between your legs, over your clothed pussy, slowly grinding down on it to relieve some pressure.

With a few warnings from him and a couple thrusts later, his hot cum filled your mouth, seeping down your throat and dripping down your chin as he pulled back. You were still on your knees, and that's when he noticed your hand between your own legs.

He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, watching as you frustratingly continued grinding down on your hand, while you used your other hand and swiped your fingers through his cum dribbling down your chin before licking it off with your tongue.

"Let me make you feel good," Carlos said, reaching his hand out to lift you up as you stood up.

Briefly scanning the room, he decided to sit on the couch with you in his lap. His gaze passed over the massage table in the back of the room, and he made the mental note to remember it for the next time you found yourself in his driver's room.

Amongst giggles, praises, and kisses, you used Carlos' skillful hands and cock to bring yourself over the edge twice.

The day turned to evening by the time you stood with him just by the door before leaving. This time of day, there weren't many team members in the motorhome, but you should have guessed that Carlos' teammate would be close by.

Charles spotted you as he left his own driver's room on the opposite side, greeting you and Carlos.

"You're here? Ava was looking for you earlier, and said you weren't feeling well." You glanced at Carlos, who was attempting to hide a teasing smile behind his palm and if Charles wasn't standing right there, you would've smacked the Spaniard.

"Oh, was she? I didn't know." You remembered that she promised to visit you after the meeting was over, but you had forgotten that fact when you were on your knees for Carlos.

"Are you feeling better now?" Charles questioned, and you were relieved that he remained oblivious to the predicament that was right in front of him. Particularly when you and Carlos gradually started to undervalue the significance of maintaining the secrecy of your newfound situationship.

You nodded, but before you could verbally respond, Carlos replied, "trust me, mate, she's feeling much better."

"I think I should go find Ava," you stated, muttering goodbyes before parting away from the Ferrari drivers. You looked back at Carlos with widened eyes, shaking your head at his antics. He simply chuckled, then immersed himself in a conversation with Charles.

He wasn't wrong, however, you were in fact feeling much better than before. As you walked away, you could feel his cum leaking out of your pussy, staining your work trousers since Carlos had ripped your panties to shreds.

Taglist OPEN: @xoscar03 @pierregazly @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @lilymurphy03 @the-ghost-lovwr @ilovethefruits @lewlew44 @luvvtrent @hc-dutch @khaylin27 @lillyssh-tposts @thatgirlmj @ladyoflynx @tcfanmania @customsbyjcg-blog @sltwins @nonstopbookworm @glitterquadricorn @charizznorizz @mrs-bunny @moonliightbabes @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @teamnovalak @formula1mount @gaviymarcsbride @gotthemilk-69 @bwormie @llando4norris @ellesssssxzxz @arian-directioner @lou-bean28 @depressedgiftedburnout @halleest @amberpanda99 @borapsycho @cosmoscoffeee @mycenterfold @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sugarvibez @mehrmonga @aadu2173 @bokutos-babyowl @teenwolf01 @presidentdangdang @mrswolffs-blog @amyfelix14 @seasonswinter @amalialeclerc @amandadesantasworld @ystrolllll @xisab @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @pedrohoe04 @yagirlhayes @jadaaasworld @mmack23 @shimmermotorsport @darleneslane @mderby03 @jinimon-tr @landoslutmeout

[xazse]

JJK MEN X PUPPYGIRL!READER

Notes: Hi, This is for my lovely jjk enjoyers, and its pretty long

Pairings: Puppygirl!FemReader x Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji (Seperate)

Tags: They might be ooc, SMUTT, Fluff, Hybrid!Reader, Blowjob, Pussyeating, MeanMen!,Manhandling, and more!, NOTPROOFREAD,

Gojo

absolutely loves you so much, when it came to finding his perfect match he stumbled upon you. You were like his carbon copy in personality, all excited and jumpy: though at times it can be a little too much if he just got off work after a long day of the higher ups nagging him, but nonetheless he reveled in your attention.

He also loves how you jumped at the opportunity to give him the wettest kisses ever! Peppering kisses all over his face while telling him how you waited soo long for him. Though from him checking the cameras all you did was sleep the entire time and occasionally grab something to eat, then go right back to napping all cute.

Oh god Gojo absolutely adores teasing and leading you on. It riles him up to see you pout when he tells you a little lie, you just trust his word a little too much! But when he sees you on the verge of tears he’ll coo and bring you into a warm hug: while still adding fuel to the fire in a condensing tone: you don’t realize because ur a little.. well dumb!

NSFW:

On some days Gojo thinks you’re the one teasing him, you’re positioned in his lap, legs wrapped around his torso. Giving him such sweet kisses oh he loves it so much. One kiss on the corner of his lips and one directly on the lips: you obviously aren’t even aware just how much you’re riling him up. 

When you’ve decided you’ve had enough of kissing, you take to licking him softly, a gesture meant to calm and relax him: it does the total opposite he revels in it, feeling his cock stir in his pants. He was damn near excited when he picked up on you wearing the thinnest, tightest shorts, squeezing the outline of your cunt so lewdly, his money very well spent. Your pink tongue glides out to slide against the bottom of his lips to the top, he gladly and all too eagerly opens and latches onto your lips, already searching for your tongue and he starts sucking on it loudly, Gojo loves how within a few seconds you’re already mewling into his mouth, trying your hardest to not nip at him with your sharp teeth. 

Everytime you pull away with strings of saliva breaking, he pulls you right back in, you should know better by now not to give away when he’s trying to make you feel good.  

He takes it upon himself to shimmy you out of your shorts, no panties of course just the way he likes it. 

He lines himself up with your awaiting hole, gojo tries to be super gentle since he’s aware you hate the stretch of his thick length, it just overwhelms you too much. You’re whimpering in his neck as he brings you around him. Pitiful pleas fill the room, right until he has you flush against his torso, his cock twitching slightly in you, the warmth you provide has him near bucking his hips into you but he remains calm. 

Big strong hands grip your ass and before you know it, he’s lifting you up his cock slowly, only the tip inside before he slams you down using about only a fraction of his strength. You moan In pleasure and just a little pain. 

After awhile of gojo repeating this process, not even yet breaking his pace, You’re a mess, feeling his fat cock drag against your sensitive walls over and over. 

Nanami-

Nanami was a little different when it comes to selecting his favorite girl, he wanted someone calm and collected. At first he got what he wanted, you obeyed, listened so well, he loved you on your best behavior: staring up at him with star-stuck eyes when he gave you a direction. 

Until you started to get really comfortable with him, that shyness which was your shell had begun to open up and Nanami was in for a real hellstorm. You had began to get really really clingy, whining and pouting when he would have to leave, clinging to him at the door, practically in tears trying to persuade him to stay. He of course couldn’t stay and sadly had to leave you to your own: reassuring you that he could see you in the cameras and talk to you, with this Information you begrudgingly let him go. 

When he had checked the cameras sometime after you were on the couch laying down with his shirt being used as a pillow, your ears downturned in signal that you were not happy one-bit. When he spoke, rather low your ears perked and you jumped and quickly scanned the room, he slowly coaxed you towards the camera and he witnessed the cutest dopey grin on your face, you sat(pulled up a chair to sit near the camera) there and listened to Nanami talk just about anything. 

NSFW: 

Nanami’s favorite thing to do is focus solely on you, he just loves you so much, you’ve managed to implement yourself Into his daily routine. He won’t be complete if you aren’t cuddling with him at exactly 9:30, though his stoic nature will never let him say that outloud so he relays it by small lingering kisses. 

Nanami knows how easy it is for you to get horny, your ears and tails betray you when they tuck themselves under and you tuck your tail in-between your legs:  trying to hinder the painful throbs within your cunt, he knows it all too well, knows his goodgirl: you, wants him so badly but doesn’t wanna disturb his sleep incase he has to get early. 

Nanami always has to take the lead to touch you, so he makes his move, sliding himself inbetween your legs, and you happily obliged by moving your tail out of the way. 

Peeling off your panties is an easy task, Nanami wets his fingers before deftly swirling them around your clit, already attacking the source of your pleasure. You groan and move to grip his hair hard, he doesn’t mind at all. 

His skilled tongue collects your cum before spreading it everywhere, getting you nice and wet. His mouth moves further up towards your clit, giving teasing little licks, his large hands grab the back of your thighs and push them, giving him a more lewd view of you spread open just for him. Cute whines leave your throat as he takes the time to admire the sight  before him: cunt drooling just from a little foreplay. 

Within the next few seconds he’s sucking on your clit, absolutely loving the taste of you, you mewl his name shamelessly. bucking your hips onto his face for more. 

With all this nanami can finally slip two thick fingers into you, and that he does, he doesn’t wait till you adjust, simply fucking you with the digits while your head is thrown back moaning even louder, small pleas fill the air for nanami to let you cum. His fingers push the deepest they can go and you feel little pulses within you, awaiting before they finally get stronger and you cum right on his face with a loud moan, he’s already working on lapping up all the juices decorating your cunt.

Toji

Oh brother, Toji loves his pup SOO stupid, he wants her to rely on him completely, that’s where you come in, a dumb pliant thing, willing to let him do just about anything to you, and still have a blinding smile on your face. He loves the evenings where he can simply relax with you on top of him: belly flat, but he’ll never admit that outloud and especially not to you. It’s the time where he can softly stroke your hair and rub just behind your ears while you rest your eyes in complete content. 

Toji notices your drooling habit a bit late, he’ll catch you staring at a certain item with some type of newfound interest, with your mouth slightly open, but there’s a simple fix where he taps your cheek twice before all that attention is once again back on him: he revels In it. 

Speaking of you being too stupid, Toji does everything around the house, he can’t even trust you to wash a dish before that empty head of urs takes you somewhere else. So when he’s doing housework he’ll sit you in front of the Tv and throw on some cheesy romcon that’ll keep you busy: though it won’t even last two hours before your wandering around trying to find him. 

At times you can be kind of a thorn in his side when you want to be, maybe even giving him a little attitude when he asks something of you, it surprises him every time you shoot back a snarky remark because it’s just THAT rare. He’ll ask you to repeat yourself with a serious look on his face before you back down and just does as he says. 

NSFW: 

When you do decide to keep that stinking attitude of yours up, ur in a world of painful pleasure because toji is mean as hell. 

When he fucks you he likes to make it HURTTT, so when he’s balls deep in your poor abused pussy, slamming his hips against your ass repeatedly you can only mewl out apologies on how you’ll improve, Toji knows you’re lying of course you are, he can’t see your face but he can feel, feel the little quirk of your lip, but it doesn’t further frustrate him, no it drives him to push you even further, more than you can possibly handle. 

He switches positions to pressing you into a tight mating press, youre a whole mess, dried tears, hell even new tears take their place on your face. He begins his pacing starting off slow, but eventually speeds up to what he was giving you before. It feels so good you can’t help but slur into the air on repeat. Tojis hand moves down to your tail where he yanks on it as he moves, your reaction is quick, yelping to move your tail but his grip remains tight.

After a quick while of him using you like a toy solely meant for his pleasure, your habit starts to show itself, Toji groans at the sight, this just puts the icing on the cake for him at least.

He leans in and pressing his thick tongue into your mouth, you can’t deny him when you feel like you’re already on the edge of losing yourself, so he indulges, giving you sloppy kisses whenever he can while you tighten around his cock over and over. 

Toji lifts his hips up and slams back down into your already spent cunt, that’s when you start to attempt to away from your impending orgasm, he doesn’t let you move even an inch, letting you silently know that it’s gonna happen: and it sure does, he feels you spasm and twitch around him, pulling him in deeper while you cry out in pain, it hurts but the pleasure outweighs it by a ton, with ragged breathes you finally cum, your pussy contracting and convulsing while he still pounds away at you.  

Geto- 

Geto merely tolerates you, there’s no inbetween, he’ll let you do as you please as long as it doesn’t involve his work. But when said work is done all your attention is on him, it does feel nice to have a little stupid thing to do his bidding. You’re already on him as soon as he gives you permission, sliding yourself between his big arms and nuzzling into the crevice of his neck, it amazes him how you haven’t picked up on just what he does at work, do you know he's killed people? Of course you don’t and he’ll continue to keep you in the dark about that aspect.

When you latch onto his neck and begin to suck softly he doesn’t push you away like the first time, he had noticed a while back his pup has a habit of doing this every so often, quietly whining against him. You had mumbled to him it had something to do with your teeth, and needing something to keep you busy from the slight throb in them. He enjoys this much more than anything in the quiet space of the living room. 

You love when he begins patting your tail and ears at the same time, bonus when he slips a large thigh inbetween yours and slightly bounces you, encouraging you to not stop the soft suckling. 

Geto also loves cooking with you, by cooking with you he means you latched onto his torso your tail swishing back and forth so happily,  following behind every step, you absolutely do not let go, until everything is finished do you finally allow him to breathe, but as soon as your plate is cleaned you’re back on him. Deft fingers combing through his beautiful black locks. 

-Some days Getou has to leave for days at a time he’ll prepare some food while you’re sleeping worryfree. 

NSFW: 

Geto loves you in between his legs, loves when you see him spread open on the couch, practically inviting you with his happy trail on display. You show no hesitation when you crawl towards him. Your hands gripping on his fat cock, he hisses behind his teeth but continues to let you do your thing. 

Freeing his cock from their confines you take to slowly stroking him but also watching his expression with a new found-interest. After a while of gathering him up you wrap your pretty lips around his tip and suckle lightly. Geto has told you how he hates when you don’t just get to the point but right now he can’t seem to give a shit, right now want he wants is to fuck your throat till its raw. When he makes an attempt to help you, you call his name in that whiny tone, telling him to let you handle it. 

He doesn’t argue, but he does sit back to get more comfortable. You take him in your mouth; slowly taking him deeper and deeper inch by inch, sucking from the tip to his middle and suctioning your mouth, he groans, relaxing his head on the back of the couch. His thick hands go to knead your ears; to spur you to take more of him, you oblige and do what he wants, you can’t take all of Suguru, so both of your hands fill where your mouth can’t.

You completely pull off to suck on his neglected balls, he moans not really expecting you to do that, the heavy things fill your mouth, you continue to jerk him off while you remain down below. He feels his lower abdomen tighten and tighten and his panting speeding up,  before he’s spilling his thick load.

[cupidbedsy]

𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | 𝘫𝘩86 ୨୧

➪ summary: jack struggles after their breakup, and after a little talk with his mom, he's on his way to get his girl back

➪ warnings: fights, sad jack, broken glass, breakup

➪ word count: 2.8k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: this was the first ever jack fic i wrote and i went back and read it and forget how in love with it i was. i hope you guys are enjoying the reposts, i am hoping to be done with them in the next couple of weeks and then i can start working on new fics! anyway, i decided to use the old taglist one more time because i haven't gotten the chance to sort out everyone that has filled out the form so far. so..... if you haven't already, please fill out the taglist form if you want to be added to the new one! i love you guys so much, and i appreciate each and everyone of you

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

jh86 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

“Mom I think I really fucked up.”

Jack was in tears as he sat with his back against the door to his bedroom. His room was messy, with pieces of clothing scattered everywhere, suit jackets flung across his bed, and take-out containers on his nightstand, but the only thing he was focused on was the cardboard box that was set less than a foot in front of him. It had a card resting on top of it, his name written in the tiniest of letters. He could faintly smell her perfume on the sweatshirts and shirts that were left inside.

When he walked out of his room, the box was something he wasn’t expecting to see. It was resting in Luke’s hands when he walked out, proceeding to ask what it was. When Luke said it was from her, he grabbed it and ran back into his room, shutting and closing the door behind him. He had only managed to get one flap of the box open before he started crying uncontrollably. 

He had seen the gray material, the logo of his team branded on it. He had backed himself up against the door and tried to collect himself and failed. Deep in his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have the right to be acting like this, he had been the one to end it. Yet, seeing the aftermath without her made him realize what he had truly lost. 

The nights when he came home from a game that they won, she wasn’t there to congratulate him, to celebrate with him, to let him hold her. The nights when he came home from a game that they lost, she wasn’t there to console him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, to run her fingers through his hair. The mornings that he woke up and felt lonely and cold because she wasn’t in his arms, she wasn’t there to pepper his face with little kisses. She wasn’t there to wake him up in the middle of the night because she was hungry or because she had this genius idea. She wasn’t there to cook dinner for him and Luke when that was all they needed after a long day. She wasn’t there to help him pack and unpack for a road trip. She wasn’t there to help him pick out what suit to wear for the game. She wasn’t there at all anymore.

The thoughts plagued him, angered him, saddened him, hurt him. For some reason, these thoughts never came up before, never this strong. Seeing the things that had been hers, became hers, and weren’t his hurt him. It made him realize what he had done, and what he had done was real. He couldn’t help the new thoughts that came to his mind, the ones that called him stupid, the ones who called him an idiot, the ones that were dark enough that he hated himself for those too. 

When he found himself finding it hard to breathe he reached for his phone, calling Ellen. Ellen was not expecting those words when she picked up the phone. No one had known about their breakup, no one had known about Jack’s words that he said to her that night, no one had known about the way she tried to fight but he refused to even listen to her. 

Everyone knew that the two were off, however. Jack hadn’t been performing well, barely even getting a couple of shots on goal during games. He had gotten into a few fights, mostly because he was stressed and every little thing someone did set him off. He didn’t go out to celebrate with the team after a win, he distanced himself from everyone including his brother. 

She, on the other hand, hadn’t talked to anyone in the past two weeks. She never went to the apartment anymore, she didn’t reach out to Luke or the team at all, and she never drove Jack and Luke to games anymore, it was like she disappeared. In reality, she had been huddled up in her apartment, tears ending up on every piece of clothing she wore, they ended up on the sheets too. There was an abundance of tissues in a plastic bag that rested on the left side of her bed. Her TV had been playing nothing but sad romance movies; The Notebook, Irreplaceable You, All the Bright Places, The Fault in Our Stars, and Five Feet Apart were a few. She hadn’t moved from her spot unless she had to go to the bathroom.

Her main source of food was the snacks that she brought into her bedroom almost every other day. Sometimes if she was feeling up for it, she would order something and wait for it in the living room. She hadn’t attempted to cook, reminding her too much of when she did it for him. She hadn’t understood why he did it, what prompted him to do it, what prompted the thoughts, what she had done wrong to make him feel differently about him. She didn’t understand why he wouldn’t allow her to talk, allow them to talk it through. It was a messy night, his voice was doing the abundance of the talking. 

He had yelled at her for no reason. They had been sitting in the living room peacefully and she had commented on going out for dinner. It wasn’t the comment that set him off, he had been in his mind for the majority of the night prior to that moment. He didn’t know what brought these feelings on but he had to get them out. He had screamed for about ten minutes while she sat in silence tearing up. She had attempted to fight for them, saying she was sorry for god knows what. She had attempted to get an answer out of him but was met with silence. She had stormed out after 5 minutes of pleading, leaving Jack as alone as she felt. 

Jack receiving the package was the first form of communication they had had in two weeks. And that had really put things into perspective for him. He had babbled all of this to Ellen, having to take breaks a lot to control his sobs and breathing. Ellen felt absolutely heartbroken as she listened to her son cry. She knew what he had done wrong, it was painfully obvious, but the amount of tears that she could hear from him made her sympathetic towards him. 

Nonetheless, Ellen set him straight, not that he needed to be anyway, he knew he was wrong from the moment she left him sitting there. She had done her best to calm him down beforehand, Jack’s mind still in overdrive. He took in everything his mom said, agreeing with every point she made about him being wrong. She spoke in a gentle yet strict tone, letting him know that she felt sorry for him but what he did was horrible. He knew that and listening to his mom say it too made it feel all the worse. 

When Ellen hung up, Jack was once again left alone with the silence and his thoughts. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, yet he wasn’t in the right place to go and get her back. He thought he would just go over there and make it worse, make it so she would never want him back. So he walked out into the living room and looked at his brother who was watching TV, acting as if he had heard nothing. 

Jack plopped himself down next to him on the couch. He went to say something but he could feel another wave of tears coming. He went to stand up but Luke pulled him down, not wanting him to be alone anymore either. Jack buried his head into his younger brother’s shoulder and sobbed, slightly embarrassed but too sad to worry about it. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The next morning, Jack woke up with a pounding headache but he knew he needed to get his shit together. He took the box y/n had sent him and taped it back up, not taking one single thing out of there. He dressed in her favorite outfit of his, deciding he’d at least look how she liked him too. He even washed his hair, knowing how much she loved it when it was soft and looked like a fluffy mop on top of his head.

He knew that no matter how good he made himself look, it would have almost no impact on the outcome of this conversation. He knew how much he had hurt her and how much trust he had to earn back. He knew that no matter how many gifts he bought or made would ever make up for it, but that didn’t stop him from buying her favorite ice cream and flowers and making her a card.

He drove to her apartment and jumped out of the car as soon as he got there, running up the stairs as fast as he could. He knocked on the door lightly, waiting somewhat impatiently for her to open the door. It took a few minutes before he had to knock again and this time, she opened it seconds later, “What?”

“Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk.”

“Oh so-”

“Yes. “So now I want to talk.” Please y/n/n.” He cut her off, immediately knowing what she was going to say. His puppy dog eyes were out in full force and she didn’t know whether or not it was on purpose or a subconscious habit of his when he asked for something he wanted. 

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t stand his eyes any longer. She turned around and walked further into her apartment, waiting for Jack to follow her. When he stepped in, his heart stopped at the broken glass that lay in the kitchen. He followed her with his eyes as he shut the door. He watched as she sat down and wrapped a blanket around her.

Before he got there, she had been watching another sad movie, Kiss and Cry this time. She had been caught off guard when she heard the knock and only wished it would go away. However, when she heard it again, she got up and opened it, feeling both upset and frustrated at who was there. Hearing the way his voice broke when he talked also aided in her decision to let him in. She felt sad when he sat down next to her and reached out to place his hand on her thigh like an instant reaction. He retracted it as soon as it made contact with the blanket, nervous that she would yell at him.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath in preparation, “I’m sorry. And I know that no matter what I say, or how much I tell you I’m sorry, it won’t be enough. It won’t justify what I did, but just hear me out please.”

She nodded, allowing him to go on. The look on his face showed the gratitude he had for her response, “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Truthfully I don’t know why I said what I said. I think I must’ve been nervous about our future together but I feel like that’s just an excuse at that point. I don’t know what I was thinking, believe me. And I’m sorry I didn’t let us even try to talk it out, to let you talk. I- I just- To be honest, I really don’t know, y/n. 

“ I feel so lost right now, I hated you not being there. I hated not being able to come home from a game and celebrate with you when we won or have you comfort me when we lost. I hated not being able to wake up and you were the first thing I saw. I hated not being able to make dinner with you or play pranks on Luke or having you wake me up in the middle of the night because you had the most random epiphany.” He gave her a little laugh, “I hated not knowing that you were okay.”

She had been looking at the ground the whole time he spoke until he said that. She looked up and made eye contact with him, both of them harboring tears in their eyes. She knew that he meant it, she knew that he didn’t mean anything he said two weeks ago. At first, when she initially thought he would come to her apartment to plead for her back, she wasn’t going to accept the ‘I don’t know’ excuse, but she could tell that he really didn’t know why he did it. 

She reached out to hold his hand, toying with his fingers, “I believe you, Jack. And I’m not going to say it’s okay because it’s not, but I know when you mean something, Jack. I know that you didn’t have a reason to lash out.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “But it’s going to take a while for this to get back to how it was between us.”

“And I know that, and I’m willing to take it at your pace, and communicate with you more, and be there for you more.”

She nodded and turned away slightly to look at the TV, “You wanna finish this movie with me?”

He smiled and nodded, following her request to sit next to her. Jack had thought back to the moment when he walked into the apartment for the first time, and remembered the broken glass, “Are you okay?”

“Now I am, why?”

“Because there was broken glass in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah. I knocked it off yesterday. Maybe the day before, I don’t remember. Hadn’t had the opportunity to pick it back up.” 

Jack went over and picked it up in case she was to forget and got up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water. When he got back, she laid her head on his chest and played with one of the strings from his hoodie, “This is my favorite hoodie.”

He nodded again, rubbing her back, “I know.”

“And you washed your hair.”

He felt his face flush at the realization that she had figured out what he was trying to do, “Did you think that the way you looked would convince me to take you back?”

He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged a little, “A little.”

She sat up and kissed him, “You’re lucky it did, Hughes.”

They sat in a comfortable silence before y/n looked up at him, “Jack?”

“Yeah, baby?” The name was a force of habit and he went to apologize but when he looked down he saw her grinning at him. 

“When can I get those sweatshirts back?”

Jack let out a laugh, “They’re in my car, didn’t even take them out of the box. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes please.” He went to move her off of him but she clung to him, missing how warm he felt in the past two weeks, “You gotta let go of me baby if you want them.”

She shook her head, snuggling deeper into them, “You want this one?”

She just nodded and briefly let go of him, allowing him to take it off. He slipped it over her head and then opened his arms so she could lay back on him, which she did immediately. They continued watching and she felt a tear hit her head, looking up in worry, “Jack?”

“Hmm?” He sniffled and wiped his tears off his face with his left hand. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just missed you, is all.” 

She only smiled and hugged him tighter, both of them falling asleep minutes later with how comfortable they felt with one another.

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[sturnina]

Please. — c.s.

― tags;; angst with a sprinkle of fluff, aftermath of an argument, happy ending

― wc;; 901

― author's note;; feel free to take inspo, just tag me if you do and don't copy the entire thing + english is not my first language, so i apologise for mistakes <3

Chris Sturniolo doesn’t beg. Ever. For one, it’s not necessary; he can get what he wants without having to plead and implore for it. And he thinks it’s degrading, to show weakness through words that, in the end, don’t mean more than should he simply ask for something.

That is, until he finds himself outside of your front door on a Tuesday night, in pouring rain, a pathetic bouquet of flowers drooping in his hand. He’s holding onto it like it might pull him out of this situation, like it’s the last thing preventing him from breaking down right now, right here, on the porch of the house where the love of his life lives.

His thoughts are running wild, circling around the same moment again and again, and he wonders was this a bad idea? Is it too early? Should he come back later? Are you going to let him in; are you even going to look at him?

And then, in one swift motion, he does it, he rings your doorbell. He wishes he could say he nonchalantly leaned against the wall, holding the flowers like a gentleman, smiling at you, when you opened the door, but the truth is, he’s stiffly standing in the middle of the porch, now both of his hands clasping around the bouquet. The second he hears the doorbell inside of the house, he regrets it, and wants to turn around, to run back home. Matt and Nick don’t even know where he is, he should just…

You open the door.

Despite the reserved expression on your face, his shoulders slump with relief. You look him up and down, seeing the drooping flowers, the rain dripping off his jacket and hair, his pitiful expression.

“…Hey,” he finally croaks out.

Sighing, you cross your arms. The door isn’t fully open as if you were ready to close it any second.

“What do you want?”

Chris straightens his back and holds his flowers up. “To apologise,” he says a little timidly.

You arch an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He clears his throat and lowers his hands again as it doesn’t seem like you’re going to take the flowers just yet.

“I was stupid. I am stupid. I should’ve known how much it meant to you. How badly I hurt you, I mean. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I was busy with filming, I was tired, and exhausted, and…”

He sees your stern expression that seems to get colder with every word of his explanation, and quickly clears his throat.

“And that is not the point. The point is, I’m so sorry for forgetting about our anniversary date.”

“You didn’t just ‘forget’ about it, you ignored me the entire day! I tried calling you how many times, seven? I was worried!” you say, another wave of emotion bubbling up in your chest.

Chris internally flinches at your words, but he knows it’s all true. “I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. “I know, I’m an asshole, I worried you without reason, I hurt you, but can I come in? We can- I don’t know, we can watch a movie, order pizza- or sushi, I don’t care…” He holds out the flowers again, a helpless, pathetic gesture.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. “I’m tired, Chris,” you mutter. “I’ve been up all day, and I spent half of it worrying about or being mad at you.”

“For a reason,” he quickly adds, “I just think-”

“Chris.”

He stops and just looks at you.

“Not today.” You go to close the door, but he is quick to stick his foot in between the frame and the door.

“Please.” He sounds so pathetic, so weak, and you know you shouldn’t give in, you want to let him drown in his guilt just for a few more hours.

“Please, we don’t have to talk. I just want to cuddle, we don’t need to watch anything, just please let me in, let me try to make it better…”

He holds up the flowers a third time, and you can’t resist anymore. Hesitantly, you take the bouquet out of his hands and let the door handle go. He immediately opens the door wider, scared you’ll close it immediately again. But you don’t, you step aside to let him in.

The relief that washes over him is visible in the way his posture straightens the second he steps over the threshold into the warmth of your house. It is visible in his eyes, in the way he quickly scans your face to evaluate whether you’re still mad — which you are, by the way — and the way he immediately goes to hug you. The movement is clear but slow, giving you a moment to back off. But you don’t, and his arms embrace you. Chris buries his face in your neck and holds you tight, almost scared to let you go again.

“I’ll organise another date,” he promises, “tomorrow. Twice as good as the one we’d planned.”

“Twice?” you ask, your voice slightly muffled through the fabric of his hoodie.

“Three times.”

You can’t help but giggle slightly at that. Because, despite your cold attitude toward him, you missed him, and you’d been missing him the entire time. Still, you know you’re not going to let it be that he ignored you for an entire day.

masterlist

[finelinefae]

sunshine girl (tutor!harry)

synopsis: y/n struggles to concentrate and harry offers to help

word count: 6.6k

contains: reader has adhd, fluff, mentions of mental health, brief mention of medication, shy harry

a/n: i haven't written a soft girl sunday concept in a while and this was requested on wattpad quite some time ago. I personally do not have adhd but I've tried my best to research as much as i could in order to write this. if there's anything wrong or anything i need to change, pls let me know as I'm completely open to understanding and learning more !!!!! <333

. . .

Harry’s eyes darted to the seat next to his as the professor stood in front of the class to begin the lecture. His notebook was open, his pen in hand already prepared to take notes on the current book they were studying for their literature class. He chewed the inside of his cheek, his left foot adorned by a high-top, black Converse shoe tapping against the floor. 

His ears pricked when the door clicked open and his sunshine girl walked into the room, bringing the light in with her. “Hi,” Y/N blushed, bowing her head down in hopes it would divert people’s attention back to the professor and not to her tardiness, “Sorry I’m late,” 

The professor didn’t seem surprised but was no more impressed by her lateness. He shook his head and returned to his place in the presentation.

Harry stiffened as she slid into the seat beside him, catching the sweet smell of her perfume. It smelt exactly like the cinnamon latte he had that morning and the salted caramel ice cream he ate after dinner last night. All the sweet things he came across reminded him of her. 

Her baby pink ballet flat accidentally hit against the tip of his beaten, old Converse. He inhaled, sensing her attention on him and finally looking at her face. “Hi Harry,” She whispered, smiling. Her cheeks were still pink from how flustered she was walking into class. Her hair was in a messy braid, secured with a silk scrunchie on the end and she looked so cosy in the pink, knitted sweater and blue jeans she had decided to wear. 

“Hey,” Harry replied. He wouldn’t often find himself replying to people in class - not that he spoke to many people anyway - but he’d always respond to Y/N, always. 

Y/N grinned, pulling out her notebooks from her backpack and placing them on the desk. The corner of Harry’s lips tugged upwards when he saw each of her notebooks labelled in pink sharpie pen with the names of her classes scribbled across them. 

“Oh no,” She huffed, “I left my literature notebook on my desk,” 

Before she could even ask, Harry was already scrambling to tear out a few pages from the back of his notebook. “Here,” Harry offers, sliding the paper to the side.

“Thanks Harry,” Y/N beamed, taking out her pen which had a little charm dangling on the end and began to write the date in the top corner like she always did at the start of a new lesson. 

Throughout the lecture, Harry remained wholly focused on the professor who began to go through Act 2 of Shakespeare's ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Literature had always been his favourite class not only because he got to sit next to Y/N but also because he loved to read. It was all he ever did whenever he had a moment spare, a book was never out of reach wherever he was. 

Speaking of Y/N, Harry glanced across to see if she’d taken any notes during the lecture. He looked down at her piece of paper only to find her scribbling doodles along the lines and edges of the page he had given her. He wasn’t surprised, Y/N always seemed to lose interest midway through the lecture, but he was concerned especially since they were so close to exams. 

“Um, Y/N?” Harry whispered, her head darting in his direction, “Do you want to copy my notes?”

She frowned, looking down at her piece of paper and then over at his notebook where he had filled up three pages with writing. “Oops,” She murmured, “I must have drifted off,” 

“S okay,” Harry assured, “Y’ can take pictures of my notes if y’ want after class,” 

“Are you sure?” Harry could sense her frustration from the dip between her brow, “I’ll take notes for the rest of the lecture.”

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the professor, hearing Y/N’s pen scribbling against the desk as she vigorously took notes. Which lasted all of fifteen minutes. 

When the lecture finished, Harry caught Y/N gazing out the window, her attention fixed on the clouds drifting across the bright, blue sky. “You can collect your assignments on the way out,” The professor dismissed the class, chairs scraping against the floor as everyone made their way for the door.

“Um, Y/N?” Harry tapped her shoulder. 

“Hm?” She spun around, her big, pretty eyes looking right up at him.

Harry motioned to the front of the class where the students had emptied out, “The class is over,”

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room. She straightened her shoulders when she realised they were the last two people in the room like she had just snapped out of a daze, “Oh, already?”

Harry didn’t want to tell her that the class was two hours long so he just nodded. He waited patiently, even though he had another class to attend, not wanting to leave her behind. Y/N rushed to pack her things away, scrunching the paper he had given her which was covered in doodles and a few sentences as she tried to stuff into her backpack. 

On the way out, they both collected the assignments they had handed in before the weekend. Harry sighed in relief to see the big 95 written in red ink on his paper. He wasn’t one to struggle often with the literature homework but this one had been particularly challenging. 

“Oh no,” A tiny whimper escaped her lips as she held the paper in her hands.

Harry’s eyes looked down to see the 60 circled in the top corner of her paper. “How could this happen?” 

“I-it’s okay Y/N,” He was terrible at comforting people, “A 70 is good, you still passed.”

“Barely,” Y/N whined, creasing the edges of the paper from how hard she was gripping onto it. “What am I going to do? I can’t seem to focus at all during the lesson, maybe it’s Newton being so boring but everything seems to go through one ear and out the other.” 

Harry watched her flail her arms as she explained how much she struggled in all her classes, especially literature. He had noticed how she’d often drift off somewhere in her own head whenever they had a presentation or how she’d forget things or turn up late because she was wandering off somewhere or getting completely distracted. 

Despite the little time he had on his timetable, Harry piped up, “I can tutor you, i-if you’d like I mean.” 

Y/N paused, “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have a free afternoon on Wednesdays.” It was his only free afternoon throughout the whole week. Harry always looked forward to his afternoons off on a Wednesday which he dedicated solely to spending time doing things he enjoyed or relaxing. 

“Are you sure? You must be so busy already with all your other classes and clubs,” His cheeks warmed, wondering how she knew he had very little time and whether it meant she watched him as much as he paid attention to her. 

“O-of course, I really don’t mind.” Which was the truth.

Harry had been secretly crushing on Y/N ever since she had stumbled into their literature classroom on the first day of University. She was like a fresh breeze that cooled the last bit of summer humidity as she walked straight over to the seat beside him in the lecture hall and introduced herself to him. He didn’t know how all of a sudden he’d find himself all flustered whenever he was in her vicinity but for someone who wasn’t really a ‘people person’, he enjoyed her company very much. 

“I can’t say it’ll be easy,” Y/N murmured, looking down at her shoes in what felt like shame or embarrassment.

“You can’t be that bad,” Harry joked but she just smiled awkwardly. 

“I have ADHD,” She admitted like it was something to be ashamed of, “I-I’ve had it since I was little. It’s why I often find myself drifting off or forgetting things. I just can’t seem to focus on one thing. It's like my brain is constantly overlapping words and sentences and pictures and moments and I can’t organise them into their separate spaces.”

Harry’s face softened. He’d known people with ADHD before. A boy in his class back in high school who was constantly disrupting the class and was taken out of class whenever the teacher didn’t have the knowledge to know how to deal with it.  “I’m good at literature Harry, really I am. I just struggle to show it. I started the essay the night it was set but then I lost track of time and I didn’t pick it up again until yesterday.”

“Y/N,” Harry said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. ‘S not a bad thing, it’s just something y’ have to learn to deal with.” 

Y/N felt at ease at his words of comfort, a small smile curving on her lips, “Are you sure you still want to tutor me? It’s okay if not, I know I can be a little difficult but I promise I’ll try and remember everything and turn up on time and I won’t interrupt you when you speak or go off topic because I know I do that a lot. In fact, one time I was having a conversation with my roommate Lila and we were talking about what pizza toppings we preferred and I somehow ended up talking about women’s rights.” 

Harry grinned at her rambling, “I still want to tutor you, Y/N. We can start tomorrow? Is that okay?”

She nods, “That sounds good. Thank you, Harry. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Okay,” He nods his head once, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“O-Okay! Tomorrow,” She beams, “Oh! And do you want my phone number? Just in case,”

Harry’s lips parted, pausing for a moment to take in what she had just said, “S-sure, yeah sure,” He stumbled to grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. His fingers brushed against her soft hands as he passed the phone to her so she could type in her number, he watched as she put a pink heart next to her name. 

“Okay, I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later!” She grins and rushes to get to her next class.

Harry stands in the same spot for a moment, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his phone screen. He looks down at her name almost in disbelief that he actually had her phone number. He then notices the time and curses aloud, realising he’s fifteen minutes late to his next class. 

. . . 

From, Y/N:

Hey Harry, completely forgot to ask where we were planning to study tomorrow ?? x

From Y/N: 

That’s if you’re still up to tutor me. Totally okay if not !! x 

From Y/N: 

It’s okay if you have other things going on x

From Y/N:

It’s Y/N by the way x

Harry felt the vibrations from his phone resting right next to his head as he lay on his bed with his laptop propped open and an episode of Big Bang Theory playing quietly on the television screwed to his wall. 

As soon as he lifted his phone, the screen lit up and he caught a glimpse of the pink heart emoji on his lock screen. He shot up in bed, reading the text messages sent to him only five minutes ago. His pulse hastened at the little kiss at the end of each message, he wondered if she sent those to all her friends. 

From Harry:

Hey, it’s fine. I’m happy to tutor you Y/N :) 

From Harry:

We can meet up at the library, I can reserve one of the study rooms if that helps? 

It wasn’t long before he received a reply. 

From Y/N: 

Oh good !! The library sounds good. Thank you again for doing this Harry, I can’t thank u enough x

From Harry:

It’s okay! Honestly it is. Don’t need to keep thanking me love x

He didn't think twice before sending the message, and by the time he realised what he’d written, she had already read it.

From Y/N:

Thank you Harry xx

From Y/N:

Oops

From Y/N:

Can’t wait to see you ! xx 

Harry released a long breath after reading her last text message. He threw his phone across the bed and fell back, running his fingers through his hair a few times. 

He resumed his work on his computer, trying his best not to pick up his phone again as he eagerly waited for tomorrow to come. 

. . .

Harry was ten minutes early to the library even when he had tried to be right on time. 

The school’s librarian, Heather, was no stranger to his presence as he walked through the doors with his backpack over one shoulder and a tote bag on the other. He walked straight towards the study room he had booked last night for this afternoon in particular. 

It was nothing but a desk and empty walls with a window looking out to the car park. Harry had thought it best to minimise distractions for Y/N to stay focused. He pulled out the things he had packed in the blue tote he carried, highlighters and sticky notes and an old planner he had in his desk drawer that he scribbled her name on. 

Not long after he had set everything up, a small knock sounded at the door and in walked Y/N. She was wearing light blue jeans and a lilac hoodie that was covered in some kind of grey paint, “Hello,” She smiled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, “Sorry, I had a pottery class off-campus and didn’t have time to change,” She motioned to the stains on her clothing. 

“That’s okay,” Harry’s heart palpitated as she stepped into his vicinity- that sweet-smelling perfume replacing the dusty air, “I didn’t know you did pottery.” He didn’t know much about her other than what they had talked about in class, a rush of excitement overcame him at the thought of getting to know her more. 

Y/N sat down, putting her bag at her feet, “It’s just a hobby,” She shrugged it off, glancing at the things Harry had neatly laid out in front of her, “So what’s all this?”

A dusty pink glow spread across Harry’s cheeks, “I-I did some research last night,”

A dip formed between her brows, “Really?”

Harry nodded, “I spent some time researching the best ways for people with ADHD to focus and learn the best they can. A lot of it was setting realistic goals and breaking things down but it also helps to use colours which is why I bought my sticky notes and highlighters in case we have to take any notes.”

Y/N was pretty sure her pupils had carved into hearts as she looked at him and listened as he explained the things he had been researching. “I thought we could study for about an hour and a half today and work in twenty-minute increments with ten-minute breaks in between.” Y/N was at a loss for words. She couldn’t remember the last person who had gone out of their way to learn these things for her. 

Harry waited for her to reply, seeing the way her eyes glossed over, “I-is that okay? No problem if not, we can always find a different way of working-”

“No,” She placed a hand atop his, the tips of his fingers flinched and brushed the palm of her hand, “It sounds perfect.” 

Harry smiles, “Well okay, shall we start off with Midsummer Night’s Dream?” 

. . .

“Hey Y/N?” Harry waved a hand in front of her face. They were coming onto the last twenty-minute sprint of studying and Harry had noticed Y/N suddenly starting to zone out a little more. 

“Oh sorry,” She blushed, “I was thinking about the banana milkshakes they’ve put on the menu at the cafe where I do my pottery classes.” 

Harry closed his notebook, “They have a cafe?” 

“Mhm,” Y/N grins, “I can show you if you’d like. Maybe after we finish studying.” 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was their first time hanging out together off-campus. Something he had been daydreaming about whenever she sat beside him. He’d been mulling over the idea of asking her on a date for weeks and despite the fact she’d invited him to her favourite spot as a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement at the prospect of getting to spend even more time with her. 

Harry pretended to glance down at his watch, “Seems like we’re coming to the end already, w-we could go now if you want to?” 

Y/N closed her notebook shut, “Okay then!” 

Harry tugged on his jacket and piled all his books into his backpack. Following her out of the library and towards her pottery studio.

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as she walked with a slight pep in her step as they walked side by side. Harry had never been much of a talker but there was never a moment of silence between the two as Y/N rambled and wandered off into every topic of conversation she could possibly think of. 

“So I’ve started making plates for my mum’s birthday—oh, she got a new car, by the way! It’s an old, vintage blue Beetle. She sent me pictures the other day, and it’s so pretty. For a moment, I wanted to take driving lessons just so I could drive one, but I’ve got terrible coordination. Honestly, Harry, I can’t ever seem to tell my lefts from my rights these days and—oh, what was I talking about again? Yes, the plates I made for her birthday. So, I’m going to paint them baby blue to match the car and—”

Harry listened intently, hanging onto every word she said and mentally filing it away under her name. Occasionally, he would share his own stories, but for the most part, he was content to listen to her voice. In fact, it thrilled him to know how comfortable she was to talk about anything and everything with him. 

They eventually stopped outside of a small building with ‘Paisley’s Pottery Studio’ written on a wooden plaque above the door. 

Y/N pushed the door open, the bell chiming as she stepped inside with Harry close behind her. She offered to take Harry’s jacket to hang up on the coat pegs and switched it over for two aprons already covered in dried clay stains. 

“Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on,” Y/N said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she led Harry through the studio. The space was filled with shelves of pottery in various stages of completion, the air rich with the earthy smell of clay.

They reached a small workbench near the back of the studio where a few plates were laid out, each one uniquely shaped.

“Here they are,” Y/N said, picking up one of the plates. “This is the baby blue I was talking about. I’m trying to match it perfectly to my mum’s car. What do you think?”

Harry took the plate, admiring the soft, pale blue colour that coated its surface. “It’s beautiful, Y/N. You’ve done an amazing job. The colour is perfect.”

Y/N beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to get it just right. And look, this one has little daisies around the edge,” she said, pointing to another plate. “My mum loves daisies.”

Harry smiled, appreciating the delicate details. “You’re really talented. I didn’t know you were into pottery.”

“It’s kind of my escape,” Y/N admitted. “It helps me focus, you know? It’s one of the few things that can hold my attention for hours.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “I-I’ve been meaning to ask before we left to come here, did you find the study session useful today?”

Y/N immediately nodded, “I learnt so much Harry. I know you said I don’t need to thank you anymore but you’ve been so kind. My parents have hired tutors for me ever since I was little but they always got frustrated with me. I was worried you’d feel the same way.” 

“No one should make you feel like you’re not worthy of their time just because it requires more patience,” Harry says.

Y/N’s eyes shine with emotion, “You might be the kindest person I’ve ever met,” She says, “Which is why I wanted to bring you here. I’ve never shared my pottery with anyone.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, “Really?” 

Y/N’s smile softened. “Really. And now I get to share it with you. Do you want to try making something?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? I’ve never done pottery before.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N chimed. “I’ll teach you. It’s fun, I promise.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, “Alright, let’s do it.”

Y/N led Harry to a nearby pottery wheel, explaining the basics as she set up the clay. Whilst he sat on one side, she sat opposite him, straddling the seat and grabbing a thick, piece of clay in her hands.  “Just relax and let the clay guide you,” she said, her hands gently shaping the mound of clay on the wheel.

Harry watched, captivated by the fluid movements of her hands. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on the clay, feeling its cool, pliable texture.

“Like this?” he asked, glancing at Y/N.

“Exactly,” she replied but then placed either of her hands over the top of his. “Just keep your movements steady and even.”

Harry tried to remain neutral as the soft skin of her hand touched his fingers. He’d try to keep his attention on the way she moved the clay but every now and then he’d feel himself overwhelmed at the simple touch of the girl he had been enamoured with for far longer than he’d like to admit. 

Minutes turned into an hour, and Harry found himself enjoying the process more than he expected. The feel of the clay, the steady rotation of the wheel, and Y/N’s gentle words of encouragement. 

“It’s good!” Y/N held the clay bowl up in the palm of her hand. 

Harry scoffed but smiled, “You’re just saying that it looks more like a plate than a bowl.” His first clay creation was meant to look like a bowl but some might deem it to be a little more like a wonky flying disk. 

Y/N giggled, “At least you could still eat food from it.” She walked over and placed it on a tray with Harry’s initials carved into the bottom. “These will be put in the kiln later. I can bring it to you in class once it’s ready?”

“O-okay,” Harry nodded, “Or I could just come by and get it? I think I’d like to have another try maybe,” That and he wanted to spend more time with her even if it meant taking up a new hobby in the little spare time he had. 

Y/N didn’t mask the surprise on her face which gradually transformed into the biggest smile he had ever seen. He swore it hit him like an arrow piercing straight into his heart, “Really? You’d want to come back?”

“Of course, maybe I could teach you English lit and you could teach me y’ pottery?” He offered.

“I’d love that.”

. . . 

Wednesday’s had become Harry’s favourite day of the week. 

It was funny how quickly the days went by when you had something to look forward to. When it wasn’t Wednesday, Harry was always counting down the days until it was. 

In the afternoon, he’d meet with Y/N outside of the library so they could walk inside together to their study room where he’d tutor her for a good two hours. Afterwards, they’d walk down to the pottery studio in the nearby town where Y/N would teach Harry how to make clay pots. 

His own kitchen was becoming a museum of clay creations he had made and painted himself. Each one served as a reminder of a particular Wednesday he’d spent with Y/N, triggering a memory or conversation they had shared. 

His feelings only seemed to heighten the more they fell into conversation, talking about everything and anything they possibly could. He cherished every moment he spent with her and even then he couldn’t get enough. Whenever it wasn’t Wednesday, he craved her presence and the sweet-smelling perfume she wore. 

Harry was already heading towards the library one particular Wednesday afternoon when he received a text from Y/N.

From Y/N:

Hey Harry, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be able to make today’s session. I left all my work last minute and now I have three classes to catch up on before tomorrow. So sorry, I really wanted to make it xx

Harry frowned as he read the message, feeling a pang of disappointment quickly replaced by concern. 

From Harry: 

It’s okay! We can just pick up where we left off from next week. Is there anything you need help with? 

From Y/N:Hm, don’t suppose you’re any good at poetry? xx

From Harry:

I’ve dabbled here and there ;)

From Y/N: 

Dabbled? Perfect!! Would it be okay if you stopped by? I’m STRUGGLING xx

From Harry:

I’d be happy too 

From Y/N:

Okay! I’ll text you my address. Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver truly xx

Harry felt a thrill of excitement as he watched Y/N’s address appear on the screen. He quickly typed the address into Google Maps and began making his way towards her apartment, anticipation building with each step.

Along the way, he stopped by a flower shop, the words ‘Sweet Juniper’ written on the window and a large display of beautifully arranged flowers decorating the front. He found it rather humorous when he saw the tattoo parlour next door, the dark aesthetic completely differing from the pastel colours of the flower shop. 

Sometime later, Harry stood at the entrance, taking in the charming exterior of Y/N’s apartment building. As he pressed the buzzer, his excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. “Hello? Harry?” Y/N’s voice crackled over the speaker. 

“H-hey,” He said, “S me.”

“Oh! Stay there, I’ll come get you.”  He did as he was told, standing beneath the porch as he waited for Y/N. 

It wasn’t long before Y/N pushed the glass door open and stood in front of him. It was the first he’d seen of her all day and she looked so cosy and soft in her grey sweatpants and pink sweater, a pair of black slip-on shoes on her feet that she’d put on to come downstairs in. 

“Hi Harry,” She smiles, the sight casting away the grey clouds. 

“Hey Y/N,” He returns her smile and holds out the flowers for her, “I bought these for you, figured they might cheer y’ up.”

Y/N’s whole face lit up as she took the bouquet from him, “They’re beautiful,” She gasped, “I’ll put these in my room,” 

He followed her upstairs and to her apartment, making light conversation along the way. He laughs at something particularly funny she said about a conversation she had with her mother last night which reminded him he needed to call his own mother, who he hadn’t spoken to nearly as much as he should have these past few weeks. 

Closing the door behind them, Harry took in the exterior of her apartment. It was small, the perfect size for two people, most of the furniture was from the tenant who used to live there before they moved to France. 

“My roommate is away so it’s all good,” She says, leading him to her room. 

Y/N’s room was closest to the living room. As Harry stepped inside, he felt as though he was entering a cosy, intimate space that truly reflected her personality. The room was a soft haven of pink hues and delicate decor. The walls were painted a gentle blush, complemented by sheer white curtains that allowed light to filter through softly, casting a warm glow over everything.

“Sorry about the mess,” She cringed, kicking something underneath her single bed which was covered in papers and notebooks much like the small desk in the corner. She placed the flowers in an old vase on her windowsill, replacing the old ones that were losing their petals. 

“S okay,” Harry stood awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. 

Y/N made space for him on the bed, patting the spot beside her with a welcoming smile. Harry tried to play it cool as he sat down next to her, but inside, his heart was racing. The reality of being so close to her in such an intimate setting was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his excitement in check.

The bed felt soft and warm beneath him, a perfect match for the cosy atmosphere of the room. He glanced at Y/N, who seemed completely at ease and took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her presence was comforting, and he reminded himself to savour the moment rather than overthink it.

She grabbed a purple spiral notebook which she seemed to have ripped a few of the pages out of and threw them in the trash can beneath her desk, “I have to write a poem to present to my creative writing class,” She says. Her sock-covered feet dangled off the bed as they sat next to each other with their backs against the wall. 

“O-Oh and it has to be handed in tomorrow?” He asks. 

Y/N huffs, “I thought I had way more time so I’ve just been putting everything off. I’ve also been given new ADHD meds which I don’t know have been helping very much.”

A wave of understanding rushed over him. Harry had never been prescribed daily pills before other than the antibiotics he was given in the winter when he had a chest infection that plagued him for almost two weeks. Although he couldn’t relate to her situation, he knew having to take pills repeatedly was no easy task especially when they had an impact on your ability to carry out day-to-day things. 

He took the notebook and pen from her lap and ripped out a bit of paper to write on. “Well luckily for you, you picked just the right person to help you out.” He teased, trying to lighten the mood because he knew she was beating herself up over all of it.

Y/N’s lips quirked, “You’re that good at poetry?”

“I was writing poetry and putting them into girl’s lockers when I was seven years old. Let’s just say, I’ve had practice,”  

“Okay Bukowski, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Harry chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright, challenge accepted," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He took a moment to think, twirling the pen between his fingers as he glanced around the room for inspiration. The soft glow of the fairy lights, the cosy blanket draped over the bed, and the serene expression on Y/N’s face all seemed to meld together into a perfect moment.

He began to write, the words flowing easily once he found his rhythm. He stole glances at Y/N as he wrote, drawing inspiration from her presence and the warmth she radiated.

After a few minutes, he put the pen down and handed the paper to Y/N. "Alright, here goes nothing. Don't laugh, okay?"

Y/N took the paper with a playful roll of her eyes. "No promises," she teased, but her expression softened as she began to read the words on the page written in his scribbly handwriting. 

Every word she took in had her heart dancing within her chest. 

‘She is sunshine, light pours from her’ 

‘She is sweeter than my own solitude’ 

There was beauty in every line. Everything he had written pulled and tugged at her, evoking this feeling that flooded through her that she had spent the past few weeks trying to keep at bay until she reached the final line. 

‘I watch her hands create beauty from the earth’s clay, 

Does she know I also spin on the wheel, feeling her hands mould me, shape me, bend to her desire any way she wants?

“Is it good?” Harry asked, not enjoying the extended period of silence they were in as she read the poem. He had only tossed words together in hopes of creating something good enough for her to present to her class, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated it. 

But instead, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glistening with an emotion he couldn’t place. “D-did you write this about someone?” She asked.

Harry’s face heated, “U-um, not that I can think of,” He lies. 

Y/N nods, “Do you know a lot of girls who do pottery in their spare time?”

Harry’s eyes lock with hers, an invisible connection passing through them. The air thickened around them, his heart suddenly pounding against his chest, desperate for something he had been wanting for far too long now. 

“O-Only one,” He admits.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled looking like the fairy lights on the walls of her bedroom. Harry’s eyes darted down to her lips and then back up again. “Harry,” Y/N whispers, fiddling with the bit of paper with his poem written on it, “T-this is a really pretty poem.” 

“Y-you think your class will like it?” 

“I don’t think I want to show this poem to my class,” She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. 

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice lowered, “It’s not very good anyway.”

“That’s not the reason,” Y/N's lips curved into a warm, genuine smile, “I think I’d much rather keep it for myself, if that’s okay.” 

Harry's heart raced as he looked into her eyes, seeing the depth of her feelings mirrored in his own. "No, that’s okay.," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. 

She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. Her eyes searched his, “Harry?”

“Wha’s wrong?” He swallowed the air he breathed. 

“C-can I kiss you?”

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he searched for the right words, his heart pounding in his chest. Every moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, each breath feeling heavier than the last. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He knew he couldn't hide his feelings any longer, not from her. With trembling hands, he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch tender and hesitant. 

“H-Harry,” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

Unable to find the words, he leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest until their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet and gentle. Whilst one hand cupped her cheek, the other moved to her waist gripping it hard and tugging her in closer. One of Y/N’s hands gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in so she could deepen the kiss. 

He couldn’t help but smile the longer his lips pressed against the plush, soft touch of hers. Y/N felt his lips curve and smiled too, a breathy laugh escaping her, “What?” 

Harry shook his head, his eyes hazy and lips pinker than usual, “Nothing,” He shook his head but his smile never faded, “Jus’... I’ve been dreaming of this moment for what feels like forever.”

“You have?” Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” He kissed her again quickly, “I’ve liked you for so long.”

Y/N tugged on the sleeve of his sweater, fiddling with a loose thread, “I like you too Harry,” She admits and suddenly his world felt a little less lonely and a whole lot brighter.

. . .

“Sunshine,” Harry slurred against her lips as they moulded together. She was sitting on the table in an empty classroom with him standing between her legs. “We’ve got to get to class,” he murmured, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his hands roamed her waist and hers tangled in his hair.

Y/N’s legs brushed against his as she swung them back and forth. If they were to leave the comfort of the quiet classroom, there was no doubt people would know what they had been up to. They had been walking to their English Lit lecture together when Harry recited a line from the play they were studying. Without warning, Y/N had dragged him into the nearest empty classroom and kissed him before he even had time to register what was going on.

“But we could stay here?” she heaved, pulling away and pouting.

Harry smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, but we’ve got a test coming up soon.”

“And you’ve already taught me all I need to know,” she countered, her eyes twinkling.

Despite dating now, their tutoring sessions hadn’t ended. They saw each other every single day, spending time at each other’s apartments and trying to meet up whenever they both had a free period so they could sit and eat lunch together or make out somewhere. But Wednesday afternoons were still dedicated to tutoring, and then Y/N would take him down to the pottery studio afterwards where they’d decompress.

He still hadn’t mastered the art of creating bowls or plates in the same way Y/N had, but the cupboards of his kitchen were slowly filling up with wonky cutlery and multi-coloured dishes. 

Harry smiled lazily, feeling the cotton of her pink cardigan between his fingertips. “C’mon sunshine,” He murmured. 

“Fine,” She huffed, pressing another kiss to his lips before sliding off the desk. “Oh no, I forgot my notebook again,” She huffed.

Harry laughed, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together, “Don’t worry I bought an extra.” He always packed extra everything whenever he was with Y/N because it didn’t matter how many times he reminded her, she always seemed to forget. 

“Thank you,” Y/N grinned, “I swear I packed it with me last night when we were watching that movie which by the way you’re going to have to explain to me the ending because I was too busy,” Harry was going to remind her he had tried to get her attention back to the film but she was focused on playing a game on his phone the entire time, “Oo and tonight when you come to my place we can finally try that new ice cream flavour I bought from the store and- oh yeah the movie, so I basically stopped watching at the point where the girl falls into the water. Wait, what was I talking about before that again?”

Harry smiled, “The notebook,”

“Oh yeah, the notebook.” She rambled, continuing to explain all the places she could have left it even though Harry knew exactly where it was. 

By the time they got to class, they were ten minutes late. They took the walk of shame to their places in the back, holding hands beneath the table as Harry took notes and Y/N rested her head against his arm, rubbing her cheek against his soft, navy blue sweater. 

He smiled, kissing the top of her head and basking in the warmth of his sunshine girl.