#after growing my hair out for the past 3 years and never feeling like I looked quite how I wanted

[donnieisaprettyboy]

via goblinbutter on instagram

[jorvikzelda]

….Okay but what if I cut my hair off though

[awrkive]

tlp xmas special — jjk (m.)

hello awrkive nation!!! its late but merry christmas to those who celebrate!! sorry for being ia but heres a christmas gift from me to you 🫣 first of all i genuinely forgot abt the car s*x drabble that won that poll i made a few weeks ago which i promised you guys ISHDJDJ but here it is!! this drabble combines all of these three recurring requests for the tlp couple and this might also be the last drabble im doing for them (for now??) so do enjoy!!

pairing: tlp!jungkook x tlp!oc (main story)

summary: in which jungkook looks way too good carrying your sister's three-year old at her christmas eve party and you can't help but let your mind wander

w/c: 6k (ctfu)

warning/s: explicit sexual content (p in v s*x, car s*x, unprotected s*x, cre*mpie), oc having baby fever lol. genuinely not proofread sorry for any errors!

You find babies mesmerizing. They’re charming, they can be a handful, they’re irresistibly cute; so tiny, yet so loud. But to the core, they somehow manage to be a pure embodiment of joy.

Before Nayeon got pregnant, she shared something about having a “baby fever”. Of course you knew what it meant – but you never really felt it yourself. She said it was something about Minhyuk being such a good husband that she couldn’t wait for him to be a father. Well, you related to that specific part, at least; about your own husband being such a good husband. However, for the past year you’ve become a married couple, you never really thought about having babies. Or him being a father. Or you being a mother. 

It’s not like you don’t want to become a mother, like ever, or have a family with him. It’s just you thought you’re still way too young to be having babies. So you kind of just… gloss or skip over that idea – and for the record, Jungkook’s never brought it up, either. 

It’s not until your sister got pregnant for the second time, though, that you got yourself thinking. Seokjin and her had babies almost four years into their marriage, but it’s not very long until they decided to try again after Nari and now your sister is carrying her baby boy for seven months. 

It brings you here, gathered at their house for Christmas Eve. Your families haven’t arrived yet, but you and Jungkook decided to go earlier than the agreed time to help out with the – admittedly, big preparation. And currently, Jungkook’s got Nari – Seokjin and your sister’s 3-year-old – in his arms, asking for raspberries because Jungkook’s her favorite uncle. (Why wouldn’t he be? He spoils her a lot and carries her around when you come over.) He insisted on looking after her so Seokjin can help your sister out in the kitchen while you’re over at the counter island making some charcuterie.

Seokjin’s helping your sister take out the pies they’ve both prepared, with him guarding her and being extra with it because “my wife is pregnant and I’m growing white hairs because she wouldn’t just let me do everything”. Your sister is just so done chastising him for his overbearing antics, but you guess it’s cute, at the core of it all. You’ve always looked up to their relationship all these years. In fact, you kind of see Seokjin in Jungkook sometimes. Seokjin loves your sister the way Jungkook loves you. 

And then, the thought passes over your head like some form of looming possibility, unsettling yet intriguing. It lingers for a moment, uninvited but persistent, as if life is quietly hinting at something you’ve never truly considered before. The idea of a baby, of parenthood, feels distant but somehow more tangible now—like a door you never saw, now standing slightly ajar, waiting for you to decide whether to step through.

Would Jungkook be just as (lovingly) overbearing if you were pregnant? You imagine he’d be even more annoying about it. It’s rare for you to get sick, but when you do, Jungkook practically flips the house upside down just to make sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Takes care of you so seriously, as if the illness would never go away on its own in a few days. So what would it be like if you were carrying his child? Would he act like Seokjin does now, always hovering with a hand on your back, supporting your every move, scolding you if you try to do anything that requires even a little bit of effort?

The thought makes your lips curl. Because he probably would. You know he will. 

And as you look at him from across the room, carrying Nari around effortlessly against his body with one arm, with his red long-sleeve polo shirt pushed up to his forearms, white slacks, and freshly cut hair slicked to perfection for tonight’s occasion, he looks… delectable. 

Like a DILF. 

Except he isn’t a dad. 

But god, would you really, really like to fuck him. 

(And would he look way hotter if he – say – gave you a child?)

“Is it done?” Your sister interrupts your thoughts – thankfully, might you add. Because it’s going in a direction that’s way too inappropriate for a family occasion like this, and you need to be family friendly tonight for this Christmas party. 

When you turn around to see if she was talking to you, you find her looking at her husband instead, and with her stance and the tone of her voice, you know it doesn’t sound good. 

“Yeah. I think I just need to add a little more—” 

“Jin,” she says, sounding a little distressed. “Hurry. And make sure it’s perfect, okay? Everyone’s arriving in fifteen, and this is the first time I’m hosting Christmas and I really, really don’t want to disappoint your family and Jungkook’s parents and mom and—” 

“Hey,” You see Seokjin put a hand on the lower part of your sister’s back, effectively cutting her off. Gently, he tells her, “Everything’s perfect, alright?” 

Soft tunes of Christmas songs are playing all over the huge open space of their house, and you know you’re not supposed to listen in to the conversation given that they’re spoken in an almost hushed manner as some sort of discretion, but you can’t help but notice when she turns to Seokjin to give him a downturned smile.

“I just really want to give this my all…” 

He smiles down at her reassuringly. “You have, honey. Let’s not stress, okay? Not good for baby, remember?” Then, he begins to rub her protruding belly, and you see her visibly relaxing to his touch. 

You turn around quickly to not get caught watching, only to be welcomed with Jungkook making a beeline towards you, with Nari still in his arms. 

“Hi, baby,” Your sister automatically greets Nari, cooing at her, mood immediately picking up. The bright-eyed little girl lights up at the sight of her mommy, making grabby hands instantly. Laughing, Jungkook hands her to Seokjin, who receives his daughter and kisses her chubby cheeks with a smack. 

“What were you up to with uncle JK, little missy?” Seokjin says, swaying her side to side. 

Jungkook leans his elbow on the island while looking at the pair, smiling widely.

“Uncle JK said he’s giving me three presents! Three! I wanna open them!” She holds up three fingers, and you giggle at her cuteness.

Your sister softly laughs in response. “Your uncle likes to spoil you, sweetie. But we’ll open them later, okay?”

“Why not now?” She whines, and you smile at how seriously she takes it. “I want three presents!”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin laughs, “You’ll have lots of surprises when the grandmas and grandpas get here. But we need to change into your dress first.”

Nari giggles. “You? You’re gonna wear a dress too?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, why not?”

She shakes her head, still giggling, her pigtails swaying as she does so. God, she looks like a combination of Seokjin and your sister that it’s so uncanny sometimes.

“You’re so silly, daddy.”

Seokjin feigns shock. “Silly? Just wait, Uncle JK and I are going to be Ariel and Belle for New Year’s! Right, Jungkook?” He looks over at Jungkook, who widens his eyes comically.

You laugh, and Jungkook adds, “Well, I wanted to be Cinderella, but sure, I’ll be Belle.”

Nari gasps dramatically, putting her hand over her mouth. “But she’s my favorite, Uncle JK! You can’t be her!”

She’s such a cute kid – and you know everybody in the room agrees. No doubt her mom and dad think so, but when you look over at Jungkook, he’s cheesing really hard – with his nose scrunched into that expression of cute aggression. 

“These two boys are silly.” Your sister interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. She looks at her husband Nari, “Honey, take Nari upstairs and dress her up, please.”

“I can wear my new dress now?!” Nari shrieks, excitement showing with the way she wiggles in her father’s hold.

“Absolutely, baby, and the sparkly white shoes, too,” Seokjin nods. You all coo when Nari lets out an adorable, delighted “yay!” at the words, already leaning towards the direction of the stairs and telling her father to hurry. With a chuckle, Seojin turns to you. “Alright. And Jungkook, please help her with the food.” Seokjin’s gaze falls to your sister, a reminder before he goes completely.

“She’s so cute, I can’t.” Jungkook chuckles.

“Right… my sister was definitely not that cute when we were younger.” you tease, earning an arched brow to your way from your sister. 

“I was the cuter one between us, it’s an established fact,” she rolls her eyes. “When you two get a kid, it better look like Jungkook.” 

Maybe the remark sounded like such a throw-away comment that Jungkook just laughs it off as if it isn’t the first time somebody hinted at you two starting a family. Or maybe he just thinks it isn’t a big deal. Or maybe… maybe he likes the idea? 

You’re about to say something when your sister turns to you.

“You,” she takes you by the shoulders and you look back at her. “You might want to retouch your make-up. Party’s starting soon. And this charcuterie looks—” she looks to the side as if to check if Nari is still around, and when she deems she isn’t at all, she continues to say, “fucking perfect. I love you.” 

“Duh.” you reply, cockily showing off the board to her and to Jungkook who intriguingly looks at your work. 

“I knew you should have been a chef.” Jungkook comments proudly, grinning at you.

“Alright, man,” your sister says in a flat tone, making Jungkook and you laugh. “Jungkook, can help me transfer these to the dining table, please?” She points to the trays of food and Jungkook rounds the counter so he can do just as she requested. 

Before you can head to the powder room, Jungkook brushes past your waist – just one of the candid things he does to have some sort of physical contact with you when you’re not necessarily talking together or close to each other.

It puts a smile on your face as you enter the powder room. 

Inside, you make quick work of putting another layer of lipstick and pressing powder on your face, checking your hair before you stand upright and look at your reflection in the mirror.

You step backwards enough to see half of your body, and from there, you can see how beautiful you look in the outfit you’ve chosen for tonight. It’s a satin red dress with a halter neckline, the gathered drape cascading gracefully around your neck, exposing your shoulders. The silhouette fits at the waist and flows into a straight skirt that stops inches below your knees, and Jungkook may have had a hard time letting you go in your bedroom before you drove to your sister’s place – but you promised him a good time when you get back home so in the end, he had to tuck in a semi on the way from here.

Poor Jungkook. 

Though… you’re beginning to think poor you, instead.

Because you’re thinking about it again. Him in his outfit tonight; the silk polo so he can match yours, and the way he looked so good with a baby girl in his strong arms. 

You can already picture how good he'd look with his own child. He’d be the type of dad who looks effortlessly hot with a baby carrier, showers his kids with gifts because he can’t help himself, and simply excels at being a wonderful father because he’s Jeon Jungkook and he excels in everything he sets his mind to.

Now your brain’s going on a haywire. 

Because now it’s just Jungkook. Hot Jungkook. Jungkook with a baby. Jungkook looking smoking hot carrying his own baby – your baby. 

And wouldn’t it be nice? To carry a being formed by your mutual love? To have someone as adorable and smart and sassy as Nari? God. You hope she’d look like you, but have Jungkook’s eyes because they are your favorite part of him, and then his nose, maybe? And… and maybe have the mole under his lip too, if that was possible. Jungkook had a lot of hair when he came out of his mom’s womb, would your daughter have a lot of hair as well when you give birth to her? 

And why are you already thinking of the gender of your non-existent child? 

You think you’ve gone nuts, but the indulgent little devil on your shoulder is insisting that Jungkook would look so good with a baby girl because you know he’d be such a girl dad. There’s just absolutely no doubt about it, given how he treats Nari. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror again, and absentmindedly, you turn to the side, noting the very clear absence of a bump on your stomach unlike your sister’s. 

Would you carry a baby as gracefully as her? You know her struggles… but… maybe you won’t mind it with a husband like Jungkook… right? Just like she doesn’t mind with a husband like Seokjin. Because Jungkook takes really good care of you. He’d probably panic more than you about certain things. Be extra careful for the both of you. Fetch you your cravings. Love you more than he does now. 

You remember Seokjin rubbing a gentle hand over your sister’s bump, and it brings your own to caress the flat of your stomach over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Obviously no baby there. But… just imagine. You with a baby bump.

Hah. 

Weird, because it’s the first time the idea’s planted in your head and you kind of like it more than you thought. 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you continue to caress your tummy, not noticing the knock that came from outside. 

“Oh my—” 

“Baby?” 

“Jungkook.” Your hands retreat back to your sides. When you look at Jungkook, standing on the doorway, you let one hand clutch at your chest as you tell him, “You scared me.” 

The door clicks as he locks it behind him. Your husband arches his brow as he goes over to you. “What are you so jumpy for?” 

You ignore the question, looking back to the mirror again to fix your dress. But as you do so, you see his reflection – and you catch how he intently stares at you through the glass as well, walking behind you closer and pressing himself against you. His proximity suddenly makes you nervous.

“You should’ve knocked.” 

“I did. You didn’t answer.” 

“I didn’t hear.” When you turn around, Jungkook takes a curled strand of hair over your face and tucks it behind your ear. 

“You look beautiful. So gorgeous.” He says before he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a kiss to your lips, one that you welcome fully even though you just reapplied your lipstick. When you break away, you see some remnants on his lips… and realize you picked the wrong lipstick for tonight. You should’ve brought the kiss-proof lippy instead.

You wipe it off and Jungkook smiles before he ducks down, not caring, and kisses your cheek for good measure before he speaks again, “What were you doing in here?” He wiggles his eyebrows, as if he knows you were up to something before he barged in. 

You avoid his gaze and turn back around. 

“Nothing,” You say, trying to busy yourself with your hair again. But Jungkook can be really annoying when he wants to be, so of course he pushes, quite literally and figuratively. 

“What was it? I saw you…” He teases, pushing his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tightening his hold around you. 

“What did you– Jungkook!” You half-snort and scoff when Jungkook bites your neck playfully. You turn around to push him, but he’s insistent on keeping the nonexistent space between you and cages you in his big presence instead, trapping you in between the edge of the sink and the heat of his body. 

“This damn dress…” Jungkook whispers as he splays his hand over your stomach, which makes your breath hitch. 

Did he really see? See you pretending to have a baby bump at the thought of him impregnating you? 

But Jungkook doesn’t really say anything further, just lets an idle finger run over the curve of your hips up to your waist, until it stops at the exposed skin of your shoulder. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you in this.” He whispers in your ear, eyes meeting your gaze in the mirror, not subtle in the way he checks out your body after. 

You huff out a scoff, giving a little more force into the push that you give him this time. His more relaxed hold on you makes him stumble a little bit backwards, chuckling when you roll your eyes at him once again. 

“You’re not even gonna take it off me?” You ask as your turn on the tap, arching your brow at Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror. 

A sly smirk makes an appearance on his lips. “I don’t need to take anything off to make you cum, baby.” 

You turn around, leaning on the sink. “So you’re saying you’re not interested at all about my very elaborate choice of underwear tonight, then?” 

That catches him off guard, his brows furrowed in confusion and then realization.

“You minx.” 

You chuckle, swatting his hand away when he tries to touch you. When he whines, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, and Jungkook’s predictably eager to encircle your waist in his arms back again. 

“Later. We have to keep it PG for at least three hours tonight. And you can—” you push at his chest for leverage so you can lean down a little to ride your dress up your thighs. Looking at Jungkook, you watch as he stares at you closely, intently, but oblivious to what you’re doing. He clearly enjoys it, though, judging from the hint of a smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes when more of your skin gets revealed. 

Especially when he catches a glimpse of your white lace underwear that he bought for you himself.

He whistles, and you roll your eyes at the predictable reaction. Taking one of his hands off you, you guide it in between your thighs, earning an involuntary moan from you because Jungkook’s palm automatically cups your heat when he gets close. 

“Ah…” 

“Fuck…” Jungkook looks down where his hand meets your core. “Goddamn,” He says, then you feel him push your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger in your pussy. “Why the fuck are you so wet, baby?”

“Y-yeah…” You whine against his chest, gripping his wrist when he attempts to move again. “Kook, don’t.” 

Jungkook halts. He looks at you. Then, he nods. “Alright. Alright. Stop this here?” 

“Hm.” 

He looks down at you with an arched brow. “You started it, though.” 

“You were being flirty.” You say as Jungkook brings your underwear back in place, but not without squeezing your ass first. You nibble on your bottom lip as he rides down the dress, letting it dangle on your knees back again, smoothing the front for you to get rid of the wrinkles. 

“Not my fault you’re hot,” he snorts. “Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“I’m kinda hard…” He says, and you both look down to the bump on his white slacks. Certainly not his full potential (like… you’d know), but it’s still apparent in the light color of his trouser. 

“Poor baby,” you say, can’t help but pat it a little condescendingly which earns a chuckle from Jungkook, him playfully swatting your hand away. 

“You’re so…” 

“I’m so what.” 

Jungkook’s face is a mixture of frustration and amusement. “You always do this shit.” 

You giggle, knowing exactly what he means. But you act like you have no clue. “What?” 

“Get me horny then leave.” He shakes his head, then pokes your waist. 

Chuckling, you kiss him on the cheek quickly, making a beeline to the door quickly lest he tries to kiss you again (and you’ll have no choice but to make out in your sister’s powder room, during her big Christmas party, mind you) and then give him a wink before you go.

 

The ride on the way home felt like it took sixty five years, and it might just be true especially when you’re horny as hell and you got a husband behind the steering wheel looking effortlessly hot in his element. 

You’ve been hot and bothered for hours, and maybe it’s the champagne – probably has gotten in your brain or whatever – but Jungkook was not even done parking when you made a move to palm him over the console. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, clearly not expecting it at all. He had that wide-eyed look when he frantically turned off the engine, staring at you while your hand grew heavy on his crotch. “Here?” You bit on your bottom lip as you nodded your head. He looked beyond conflicted. “But baby, we’re just ten floors away from our u–”

“Please?” 

And what was he supposed to say? No? 

Absolutely not. Not when your glassy eyes looked so pleading the way they did.   

He just makes your insides churn, especially when you look at him. And for the past few hours, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dick inside you and most especially his cum. (Translation: You can’t stop thinking about him fucking a baby into you).

But… the thing was, you’ve only ever fucked in a car once.

Jungkook’s way too pesky about stuff like that, and somehow, even though he’s already been made aware of your exhibitionist tendencies (cue unprompted sex in public areas like that one time in the beach, window sex at a Ritz hotel back in London and… admittedly many more…) car sex was just… a least favorite. The first and only time you did it was when you were still fresh into dating; at a drive-thru cinema, but it was kind of a whack in both your opinions because it was too cramped up and you bumped your head and you almost got caught which is way too embarrassing of a memory to ever revisit. 

But now maybe that really doesn't matter anymore.

Not when your husband looks like that.

And bottomline is: you just really, really want him to cum in you. 

Oh god. What is wrong with your head tonight? 

“Baby, fuuuck,” Jungkook hisses as you speed up your rhythm up and down his cock. His boxers and slacks are pushed down to the middle of his thighs while his shirt is all but buttoned. Meanwhile, your dress is bunched up in your mid-section. 

You’re near tears on his lap at this point, already feeling your thighs straining at the force you’re exerting in every bounce – but you couldn’t care less. 

“Oh my god, baby– you feel so good,” you moan, eyes shutting close at the feel of his tip hitting that spot inside you whenever you go down.

For the first few minutes, Jungkook took it upon himself to guide your hips in every movement just like he always does when you ride him like this, pounding into you from underneath, but he eventually let you control the pace, leaning way back to the reclined seat and watches you work instead. He stares at you with hooded eyes as you push yourself up and down on his hardened cock, stiletto heels digging the side of his thighs occasionally.

While you pleasure yourself on him, he slides your dress up further, gets a little frustrated that it’s tight on the waist so he can’t push it past your tits. So he feels for your nape to find the zipper because he knows it’s there – he zipped you up in this dress before you drove to your sister’s place – and he delights when he finds the small, cold material, pulling it down blindly until you noticed and help him get yourself out of it. 

Jungkook sighs when the top comes down, snapping the clip of your sleeveless bra and getting it out of the way before he greedily fondles your now bare breasts in his huge palms. 

“Ohh,” you moan when Jungkook flicks your nipples, getting them even harder. You push yourself back, leaning into one elbow on the steering wheel as you begin to rock against him in a back and forth motion,

“Fuck—” Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, squeezing your tits tighter that makes you keen in want. “So fucking sexy, baby. Shit – damn – l-love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” you say, more like a whine, chasing a high he knows is impending. 

Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes. Your hair that was once tidy and neat three hours ago is now all over the place, the high bun loosening and some strands falling off your pretty face. Your lipstick smudged and he’s sure the remnants are on his lips, and with your mouth agaped in that erotic o-shape while you pleasure yourself on his cock, Jungkook feels like exploding. 

“Ah– shit,” he groans, feeling the warm crevice of your wet pussy swallow him whole. When you climbed over his lap a while ago after he fingered you, he was gonna take out a condom from the glove compartment but you insisted to not use it, and the picture of you looking down while he pushed your panties to the side and looked into each other’s eyes as you sank down on him is still playing in his head like a broken record.

God fuck damn, you’re just so unreal. The love of his life. His wife. 

He wipes your tear-stained cheeks, torn because he doesn’t like seeing you cry but he does like it when it’s because you’re so eager to bounce on his cock that even though you know you’re pushing it, you continue to do so.

Jungkook lets his hand travel from a boob to linger on your cheek, and he keens on the way you purr when you lean into his touch, smiling slightly when you open your mouth as his thumb nears it. 

You eagerly suck it as if verbally prompted, opening your eyes just so you can stare at his as you lewdly slobber over his finger while you expertly move against his cock, breasts jiggling up and down right in front of his face – the obscene squelches of your lovemaking filling the air of his cramped up benz. 

“You’re so perfect, baby,” Jungkook whispers. “Perfect girl. You love bouncing on my cock, love? Just couldn’t wait until we get home? Hm?” His tone is a bit condescending and cocky. 

When Jungkook takes out his finger from your mouth, you bite your lip as you nod, resuming your up and down motion again. Slamming down on his dick, your hands come up to grip his shoulders tight. 

“We are home.” 

Jungkook chuckles, a rich and dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. A snarky remark gets buried in your throat when you feel a certain zap of electricity coming from your toes to your spine, the hot coil in your stomach edging to burst.

“I’m cumming– oh my god, Jungkook– baby I’m cumming—” You say, speeding up your pace once again. 

With your breasts bouncing in front of his face like that, he couldn’t help but dive right into it, wrapping his lips around one nipple, nipping and sucking and licking, while he busies one hand with fondling the other. He alternated in between both tits, groaning and grunting when your pussy tightens around him, and one more slam on his cock gets you spiraling as you finally cum. 

Jungkook closes his eyes when he feels you gush around him, and he really wishes that he could lay you down, spread you out, and eat the slick right out of you just like how he likes it.

“That’s it, baby – fuck. Good girl, good girl.” 

A long, drawl-out moan slips past your lips, and Jungkook takes it upon himself to keep you bouncing on his cock when your energy dwindles down, rocking his hips upwards, just as eager to reach his high as well. 

You try to pick up your pace to help him, planting your palms on his bare chest to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuck baby, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” Jungkook says in a hushed whisper, groaning, squeezing your ass tight that you know will leave marks the next day. 

“I know, baby – cum for me,” You lean down to capture his lips, whimpering when you feel yourself still coming down from your high.

“Ohh fuuck—” Jungkook moans, a tell-tale sign of his orgasm. “Fuck, I’m cumming—” 

It’s almost second nature the way he looks down on your crotch, hand going over to where you meet – and you almost panic when you realize what he’s about to do. 

“Jungkook, no,” you stop his hand, and he looks at you with utter confusion, rightfully so. Biting your lip, you stare into his eyes as you say, “I want you to come inside me.” 

You watch as his eyes widen, then, “You sure?” He says with furrowed brows.

You nod your head frantically. “Please come in me. I want your come in me. Please, please—” 

“Jesus fuck—” Jungkook’s hips stutter, his grip on yours tightening, gaze darkening as he processes your words. “Fuck. Okay, baby. No need to beg, okay? Fuck. I’ll come inside you.” 

You speed up your pace and you can feel yourself getting there for a second time, and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, but your next words fall from your lips without much thought: “Yeah, yeah –give it to me, Kook. Want your– ah– want your babies.” 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, taken aback by your words. “Fuuuck…” He looks up at you, grabs your waist and makes you lean closer. “You mean that?” 

You nod your head, jumping on his cock up and down like your life depends on it. “Want your babies. Want you to cum in me.” 

“Shiiitt,” Jungkook sighs, and you feel him getting harder by the second. “Gonna– gonna fuck a baby in you, baby. Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me– shit, I’m cumming.” 

You both moan in unison when Jungkook finally releases inside you the same time you do so, his cock hardening in your walls, throbbing when you settle down on his lap with him still buried inside you. When the seconds pass, you feel the exhaustion wrapping around you, and you let Jungkook trail kisses up your shoulders and neck at the post-coital momentum. 

“Fuck, that was so hot.” He whispers against your lips, kissing your parted mouth. You sigh against it, all sweaty and fucked out. 

“Oh, baby…” You moan when Jungkook lifts you up and you feel yourself dripping from your cum. 

“Fucking hell, so beautiful baby...” Jungkook trails off, squeezing your breasts before pushing you gently to lean back on the steering wheel. You look down as you watch with a gasp when he slides his cock out from your heat, covered in white and slick, moaning lewdly when he pumps it out for more. 

Some of it spurts on your pussy, and you stare in awe when Jungkook inserts the tip once again in your heat, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the blurred lines between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Goddammit.” Jungkook sighs, gratified, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times before he grabs your hips again so he can kiss you on the mouth. It almost gives you whiplash when he looks at you with such sincere and genuine eyes as he says, “I love you.” 

“Love you,” you say, closing your eyes when his kisses trail to your jaw and his hands come up to fondle your tits again. His favorite fixation – his words, not yours. “Kook.” 

“Hm.” 

“Sticky.” 

He hums again. You keep your position like that for a few more seconds before Jungkook helps put your panties and dress back in place, picking you up slightly as you climb over the passenger seat. 

You watch as he pulls his boxers and pants back up, buckling his belt around the waist. He hasn’t fixed the unbuttoned state of his shirt yet before he looks at you again with a smile.

“Come here, you,” He says, beckoning you to come closer with his arm around your seat. You grin, crossing the console again to meet the kiss he gives your mouth. Then, Jungkook breaks the contact, caressing your cheek as he speaks. “Babies, huh?” He brings up, eyes so bright; delighted, excited. He has that unshakeable grin. 

And you can’t help but mirror it. 

“Do you want to?” You ask instead. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously wait for his answer that doesn’t really take that long. 

“Fuck, yeah. If you want to, then I want to,” he responds. Then, he adds, “And I really, really want to.”

“Okay…” you say, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. “But it doesn’t have to be now. Or I don’t know. I know it’s only been a year since we got married and all that—” 

“Baby, stop,” Jungkook says before you can finish your thought. “Doesn’t matter if we were one month into the marriage. As long as you’re ready, then I’m ready. Are you ready?”

A few beats. 

It was your horny-adled brain that got you in this position in the first place – but you think about how life with Jungkook would be like with kids added in the equation in the near future.

It would be so far from bad. 

The past year had been nothing short of bliss since you married him, and as you watched Jungkook, a thought warmed your heart: he’d be an incredible dad. The way he loves you, so deeply and selflessly, leaves no doubt in your mind that he’d go above and beyond for your child—or children. You’re certain he’d love them as much as he loves you, perhaps even more.

A smile spreads across your face, and you nod to his question.

“I want a family with you, Kook.”

Jungkook’s face lights up with a delighted smile, mirroring yours. “So, we’re doing this?”

You nod again, biting your lip to temper your excitement.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You blink at him in surprise. “Why are you thanking me?”

He shakes his head with a gentle smile and leans in to kiss you again. “Just… thank you.”

You furrow your brows, squinting at him in playful confusion. Before you can say more, he leans forward and nips the tip of your nose.

“Ow!” you exclaim, laughing.

“You’re cute,” Jungkook teases. “But we’ve gotta clean up and head home. Then, we can keep practicing putting my baby in you—on a nice, comfortable bed this time.” He winks, pecking your cheek as he buttons his shirt and unbuckles his seatbelt.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you do the same. “Admit it, you like car sex.”

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, his cheeky grin giving him away. You chuckle, shaking your head at him, love radiating in every moment between you.

[ylangelegy]

is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell. 

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you. 

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.” 

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily. 

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you. 

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument. 

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter. 

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.” 

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in. 

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—” 

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong. 

You break away from him. 

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?” 

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue. 

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that. 

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after. 

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff. 

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved. 

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night. 

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears. 

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely. 

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin. 

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face. 

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt. 

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low. 

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall. 

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets. 

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—" 

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to. 

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him. 

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear. 

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication. 

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there. 

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command. 

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back. 

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes. 

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately. 

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—” 

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts. 

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his. 

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words. 

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing. 

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little. 

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous. 

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.” 

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure. 

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you. 

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them. 

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane. 

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp. 

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you. 

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this. 

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems. 

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow. 

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night. 

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung." 

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol. 

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. 

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

 "You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone. 

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one. 

[evie-sturns]

signals - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after you accidentally reject your best friend chris, he gets upset with you because you gave him 'mixed signals'.

contains: angst, crying, bestfriend!chris, arguing, fluff

----------------------------------------------------------

chris lays on my chest as we both mindlessly scroll through our phones, no words have been said in the past 30 minutes, we've just been enjoying eachothers company.

suddenly chris speaks up,

"i can tell you anything- right?" he says quietly, putting his phone down beside him.

i let out a small laugh,

chris and i have been best friends since our childhood, we've grown up together, we know each other better than anyone else.

"of course you can." i say, sitting up against the headboard. i run my nails through chris's silky brown hair.

"i just.. i just feel like over the past like- couple years, we've gotten much closer." he starts,

"and i kind of hate to admit this, because we promised this wouldnt happen, but i really, really like you" chris blurts out, his pale cheeks flushed pink and his blue eyes staring directly into mine.

"what-?" i laugh nervously,

chris goes silent, fidgeting with his nails.

"what do you mean 'what'?" chris says, his voice small.

i inspect his facial expression for any signs that hes joking.

"you're kidding- right?" i say with a nervous smile on my face, my heart beating in my chest.

"obviously im not kidding- im trying to fucking confess to you!" chris grows frustrated, running a hand through his hair.

i grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, in an attempt to calm him down.

"i- only see you as a friend chris-" i say bluntly,

chris's face falls,

"what?"

i clutch his hand tighter, chris looks heartbroken.

"im sorry-" i start but he cuts me off,

"i dont understand, for the past 3 fucking years you've been doing shit like this-!" chris rambles, pointing down to our interlocked hands.

"you literally led me on to the point of me confessing to you, you keep 'kissing up on my face and shit and hugging me all the time-" chris continues to ramble on, he looks angry.

"im sorry- im just a touchy person." i interrupt him,

"just a touchy person? friends don't act like us," chris starts up again.

"you dont understand how confusing it is to have the girl i like- yo! touching up on me every. single. time. we see eachother? does it not say something that almost everyone we know thinks we're dating!?" chris raises his voice,

"dont put this on me." i state,

chris stands up, "you never fail to make me look like a moron."

i furrow my eyebrows, "chris, you're just upset right now." i speak softly,

"of course im upset- you've gave me mixed signals for the past couple years!" his voice raises,

"i havent," i state,

chris's eyes are glazed, he looks like hes on the verge of tears.

"chris c'mere." i mutter, patting the spot next to me on the bed, urging him to sit back down.

"what are you gonna do next? makeout with me when i sit down? then tell me that its a friendly thing to do!?" chris yells,

im taken aback by his yelling, chris never yells at me.

"you're a real bitch y'know that?" chris says, his hands balled up in fists at his sides.

"chris-" i try to interrupt his tangent,

"no!" he cuts me off, his voice shaky and his hair now dishelved.

i watch as a couple tears fall down his cheeks, which he quickly wipes away with the back of his hands.

"look i think you should maybe go home- and sleep on this for a bit." i sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

chris had planned to sleep over here, like most nights, but thats now been cut short.

chris covers his eyes with a hand, throwing his head back before walking out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

what. the. fuck.

"what just happened." i groan to myself, flopping backwards on the matress,

i hear chris lock himself in the spare room,

i feel uterlly overwhelmed, trying to process what just happened.

i dont know why i rejected chris so harshly.

i've never really thought of him romantically, its never been something that crossed my mind. but chris is a sweet boy, he gets along with my family, he's kind to me, most of the time.

hes also attractive, its embarrassing to admit, but my social media is constantly filled with stupid edits of him.

it wouldn't hurt to give him a try? give us a try.

-

(the next morning)

i dont remember when i fell asleep last night, but its currently 9:00am the next morning.

i groan as i peel open my eyes, the blinding sun shining through the curtain onto my face.

i sit up, standing up out of bed and walking into my bathroom,

i quickly brush my teeth, touch up my makeup, and fix my hair before walking out of my bedroom into the empty hallway.

my feet take me towards the spare bedroom, where chris is currently in.

i open the door, chris is laying across the bed, his phone in one hand.

"hey." i whisper softly,

chris glances up at me, his eyes puffy.

"im sorry about the things i said." chris mutters, looking up at me

i jump into bed beside him,

"ive just never really been rejected like that." chris says softly,

i nod,

chris looks like hes on the verge of tears again,

"you're allowed to cry, that was a pretty big night, wasn't it?" i speak to chris as though hes a child, which seems to calm him down somewhat.

chris nods, tears continuing to roll down his face.

"i just didn't sleep at all last night- and im so so embarrased." chris sobs, burying his face into my shoulder.

"shh- hey-" i whisper, stroking his back.

"you wanna hear something?" i ask,

chris nods,

"i thought about it last night, and i wasnt fair on you, ive never even thought about you romantically, but now that i know thats even an option ive realised that i think i do love you a lot chris." i start

chris tenses,

"maybe we could give it a try?" i ask,

chris looks at me and nods frantically, "y-yes! yeah!" he tries to play it off poorly.

i smile, "yeah?"

chris grins back, "yeah!"

i lean foward and pepper kisses all over his face, before placing a final kiss on his lips.

chris smiles against my lips,

god, this felt so right.

-----------

a/n: just felt like it tonight!

@starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 9 9 @sturnthepot t t @zayyluvz z z @realuvrrr r r r @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs s @riowritesitall l l l @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll l @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour r @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnn n @sturnioloxlver r @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya a @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney y y @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry y @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees enxtrees @certifiednatelover r r @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast t t t t @yomamaslays4lyfe e @peachmelbaesunpostre @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 9 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc c c c @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise se e @sturni0l0tripletzz z 0 @ratatioulle @sturnsforlife v @mattsonly @justalittle47 7 @sunsetsturniolos s @downbad4reid @strniololoverr @obvisturns

@ellizzyy @colorthecosmos444 @mattspolitank @sturnblog @gabssturniolo @mattstromboli @sierrraaaasturn @milliegvrl @sturniolo-wife @ilovecats0402 @zayyluvz @urfavmattgal @eyelovedher89 @ireadstoriss @princesseva @edgemaster696 @itztimeeee @savvyratatouille @yourmama1 @kaisturni @angel4matt @arianatheway @mattsfavbigtitties @livelovelaughlanadelray @iheartblueyesxoxo @gloomy-ghoulz @megamorgan44 @stasiesturn @sturnzyolo @enemiestolovershoe @yomamaslays4lyfe @sturniolostrawberry @lizzysmith110 @jetaimevous @sturniolotripletsfandom @m4rriii @mayax2o07 @stellasturnzz @venusxsturnio @ana-sofia00 @flouqiis @lovekaiya @stayingstromboli @sturniolo-luv @theyluvme-2315 @annedebeijer @ashleysturn @flouqiis @bellaloves-drpepper @tpvmz @mattsbrowser @sturnrn @starchrisnam @rafecameronsbitch @zosturns @ashlishes @skysturniolo @littlemisswhore @olivialovessturniolo @1c3b4th @jmendez04 @melschapstick @starsturniolos

[motherlvr]

just friends?

she fell first, he fell harder

wc: 2.2k

pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: In the early years of your adolescence, you made the grave mistake of asking Miles to ‘practice kissing’ for future suitors. That mistake would come back to bite you every following day.

Warnings: cursing, childhood friends to lovers, friends that kiss, jealousy, started off the fic with a bang cuz i dont believe in small talk, possessiveness

A/N: what happened to hello? what happened to how are you?

----------

Your current predicament was straddling Miles' lap as you both kissed like this would be the last time you ever did. His hands grabbed onto your thighs that encased his legs. Pulling away for a second, you watched as a small string of saliva binds both of your lips.

Looking down at him, you asked out of breath, "We're still just friends, right?" The question caught him off guard. But he responds with a teasing smirk, "Yeah, yeah ma. Just friends." You nervously bit your bottom lip, nodding at his response. Wrapping your hands onto his braids, you smashed your lips against his yet again to ignore your conflicted thoughts.

It's times like this when your past mistake comes back to haunt you. And he made sure you never lived it down. The mistake in question was made on the playground with Miles when you were both ten. Being the young and innocent child you were, you proposed to 'practice kissing' for potential lovers in the future. As all kids do. He accepted and it all sprouted from there. You were each other's first kiss.

That first kiss was only one of many to come. You both had urges, after all. Since your younger days, it turned into something a bit more than just practice. But you never gave it a second thought. Until of late. What used to be a silly playground crush on Miles only grew stronger as the years passed by.

In all honesty, you had no clue where you stood with Miles. What were you, friends that kiss periodically? That was how it was, you suppose. But what you did know was that you'd stay by his side no matter the circumstance. Even if it meant that your friendship would never develop into more. Although occasionally you wished you never initiated to 'practice kissing' with him in your naive and prepubescent years. That would solve your problem at its roots and prevent the rapidly growing feelings you had for him. It was no doubt a mistake in your mind.

Separating your lips for a second time, you pulled away again. He stared at you in confusion. You looked frantic, "Shit, what time is it?" Glancing at the time on your phone, you cursed. It was 3:30 pm. "Fuck, I have a date at four o'clock. I gotta go, Miles." You jumped off of Miles' lap on his bed and swiftly started packing up your things.

Miles felt jealousy start to boil within his stomach as his lap felt empty. He was right here, why would you need to go on a date with some other guy? Furrowing his brows, he irritably questioned, "Fuck you mean you gotta date? With who?" He tried to conceal his annoyance but failed miserably.

"Some guy from my physics class asked me out, sorry but I gotta go." Grabbing your bag, you pecked his cheek lightly as a goodbye. Glancing in his mirror one last time, you tamed any stray strands of hair.

Your response only fueled his jealousy, "Do you even know his name?" He started interrogating you.

"Of course I do, it's..." You paused for a second to think, and your conclusion was unclear. Your mind was foggy. "I think it's Javi? Or maybe Jake? Jacob? Shit, I think you kissed the thoughts right out of my brain." You rambled. Your words made him crack a slight smirk, and he said, "Nah, you ain't going on that date ma." pulling you back into his hold by your hips.

"I can't just stand him up, Miles." You told him, starting to regret agreeing on going on the date. "I could take you on a better date than he can, mami." He suggested.

He was full of surprises this afternoon. Usually, he didn't display such possessiveness. You didn't even like the supposed guy you were going on a date with. You just thought he could help you get your mind off of Miles for a few minutes.

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Is that an offer?" "It's a promise." He responded without an ounce of hesitation. The way he was staring at you almost made you take him up on it. "Tempting, but I'll have to take a rain check. See you tomorrow. Alright, Miles?" You waved goodbye and walked out his door.

"'Ight, ma. See you." He gave up. As he watched you walk out the door of his room, he groaned in frustration.

The unfortunate recipient of his frustrations was a punching bag in his Uncle Aaron's apartment. Striking the bag with all the force he could muster, the punching bag rumbled on the chain it was strung upon. His knuckles were slowly getting bloodier with each hit, but he couldn't feel it. He could only feel you. It was the only thing he wanted to feel, anyway.

His Uncle inevitably noticed his behavior. Cleaning off one last knife, he set it down and walked towards his nephew. He held the punching bag steady and questioned him, "What's up with you, man?"

Continuing to throw punches at the unsuspecting punching bag, he responded sharply. "It's nothin'. Just my girl going on a date with some other guy." His nostrils flared slightly.

With those two sentences, his Uncle understood his sour mood. "That doesn't sound like nothing. And you just let her? I don't think you're my nephew, man." Shrugging, Miles took a quick water break. Taking a long swig of water, he replied, "You know her, she's stubborn." He had introduced you to his Uncle a while back. His whole family knew you, in fact. Every time he went back home, his mother asked about you. How you are, and when he’s going to tell you how he feels. It seemed everyone knew. Except you.

"Hey. If you want this girl, you gotta show her before someone else does." His Uncle wisely told him. Miles stopped hitting the punching bag and started wrapping his bloodied knuckles in bandages.

Those words stuck with Miles for the rest of the night as he made his way back to his dorm.

Laying on the bed of his dorm, Miles stayed up thinking about what his Uncle told him. His dorm felt empty without you there, he realized.

The next afternoon in his dorm again, you laid on your stomach on his bed, kicking your feet in the air. You frequented his dorm so often that you were more of a roommate to him than his actual one. Glancing at Miles, you noticed the bandages on his knuckles. “Ay, Miles. What happened?” You asked him, taking his hand into yours to inspect it. He disregarded it, "Don’t worry 'bout it.” He continued, addressing the elephant in the room. “How was your date with Javi, Jake, or Jacob?"

You casually respond, "Actually, his name was Jason. And it was fine, I suppose. Although I called him by the wrong name a few times until he corrected me." You mumbled the last part, embarrassed. Not to mention, you almost called him by Miles' name. Not just once but multiple times.

"Just fine, huh?" He replied, intrigued. And slightly satisfied that you didn't have too good of a time.

"Yeah. I mean, he tried kissing me by the end. But his breath reeked of garlic, so I looked the other way and pretended I didn't notice." You said with a grimace, pretending to get flashbacks. In reality, Miles ruined kissing for you. You couldn't stop seeing Miles' face as your date was leaning into you. He wasn't him.

Stifling a laugh, he grinned at you. "So, that mean you wanna take me up on my offer?" You whipped your head to him in surprise as you said, "You were serious about that? I mean, I'm down." Friends go on dates, don't they? You thought to yourself.

Nodding his head, he said, "I made a promise, ma." He started to stand up, gently grabbing your hand to pull you up with him. Locking your hand onto his arm, he led you out of campus.

Miles brought you to an endearing cafe only a few blocks away from the campus. A diamond in the rough, you thought. As you both sat down across from each other, you felt your nerves spiking.

Truth be told, he still made you nervous at times. Although you've undoubtedly been friends with him for longer than either of you could remember. The both of you ordered food and you started to speak, "So, you take all your girls here, Miles?" Putting on a calm facade, you teased him. You were glad he couldn't see your leg bouncing with anxiousness underneath the table.

He let out a slight puff at you, "What girls? Solo eres tú, mami. You know that." Your heart fluttered slightly at his words. Widening your eyes, you murmured, "I didn't know that, actually." You cleared your throat and enunciated, "How'd you find out about this place then?" Your voice piqued with interest. You didn't believe he would frequent this cute cafe in his spare time. It wasn't exactly his scene, so to say.

"This is where my dad took my ma on their first date." He said with an unusually soft tone, staring into your eyes for your reaction. You would never guess it, but he saw a future with you. Ever since that day on the playground, he knew it was real. His affection for you never dimmed since then.

As you both locked eyes, you realized then that he took you to a place that was sentimental to him and his family. This cafe was where his parent’s story first started. All of a sudden, this date felt a bit more serious than he had originally let on.

Under his stare, you felt your face go warm, "That's beautiful, Miles." After a few moments, you continued, "I suddenly feel like I'm intruding, though." His response came quick, "Never, mami. What makes you say that?" You confessed the thoughts that swarmed your brain right when you walked into the cafe, "I mean, this place feels a bit intimate for people that are 'just friends'" You said with air quotations.

"I think we're past that stage. Don't you, princesa?" You nodded at him. He was right, you thought. After all, friends don't usually have an oral fixation for their friend's mouth.

Your orders came at the same time. You both comfortably conversed. It was a nice change of pace after your date from yesterday. After you both ate your orders and paid, Miles and you walked down the street with his fingers settling on your waist. You spoke up, "Thanks for bringing me here today, Miles. I had a good time with you." You wanted nothing more than to reach up and kiss him til he couldn't breathe, but resisted.

"Anytime. If it meant you'd stop going on dates with other guys." He said casually, but his grip firmed on your waist. Your head turned to him at his words. After your date with Miles, you were sure he ruined dates for you as well. Just like he ruined your ability to kiss anyone else. "Yeah, I'm not even sure I'll want to go on a date with anyone else after this." You said under your breath. He silently grinned.

As you both made your way back to Miles' dorm, the urge to brush your lips against his only became stronger. You could tell he felt it, too. You noticed how he walked a bit faster to go back to his dorm.

Once the door to his room opened, you gave in to your desires and pulled him in by his hoodie to connect your lips. He backed you against his door as his hands traveled all over your body like it was a new territory he was unfamiliar with. He couldn't get enough of you. Groaning into your mouth, he deepened the kiss impossibly more. You both parted for a moment to get a quick breath of air.

Staring into his eyes, you told him before you lost the courage, "I don't want to be just friends. Friends that kiss sometimes when they feel like it." He looked at you like you just told him he won the lottery. In his eyes, this scenario was better than winning the lottery. He grinned as he kissed you again. Full of heat, his kiss spoke louder than words. "Then why don't we be lovers that kiss?” He pulled away to whisper against your lips. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” You smiled against his lips.

That kiss from yesterday would be the last kiss you shared. As friends, that is. And this would be your first kiss as lovers. From the very first chapter of your life, he was there. And to the present-day chapter of your life, he's still here with you. In the end, It'll always be him and you.

------------

solo eres tú - it’s only you

princesa - princess

[fairqves]

⋆ ｡⋆୨୧˚— ENOUGH FOR YOU

𝜗𝜚 ༘⋆ ⋆˙pairing. brothers best friend! jake sim x fem! reader synopsis. in which your brothers best friend whom you’d been in love with for years- suddenly ghosts you after kissing you, making a mess in the process. genre. angst ,, fluff wc. 2500. 𝐥u𝐧a notes ⋆.˚ im reformatting my works!! 🤭.. 🫧 — 𝓵𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝔂

if you enjoyed ,, please reblog & like !! <3

GROWING UP WITH AN OLDER BROTHER MEANT CONSTANTLY BEING IN THE SHADOW OF HIS FRIENDS AND ANTICS. among his friends, jake sim has always stood out in your eyes.

with his rebellious attitude, dark clothes, and the gleam of mischief in his eyes, jake was the boy all the parents had warned their kids about, a bad influence with a not so great family.

you never cared about any of that, you had always been in love with him, ever since you were a kid.

he was kind to you, he wasn’t the jake everybody had talked about, he had a way of making your heart race with just a single glance directed at you.

but your brother, sunghoon, had always been adamant. “jake’s off limits,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. “he’ll just hurt you. trust me, he’s not the guy you think he is.”

despite your brother’s warnings, you couldn’t help but be drawn to jake. over the years, your paths crossed more frequently, and each encounter seemed to intensify the tension between you.

the stolen glances, the brief touches, the way his gaze would linger on you just a moment too long—it all built up to a point where the air crackled with unspoken desire.

it was a warm summer night, the warm air invading seoul. you found yourself alone at home. sunghoon was out, and you were enjoying the rare peace and quiet. the doorbell rang,

“that’s probably hoon..” you mumbled to yourself, and to your surprise, you opened it to find jake standing there, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever. he gave you a soft grin, that familiar twinkle in his eye.

“hey, y/n” he said casually, ruffling your hair as he leaned against the doorframe. “sunghoon around?”

you shook your head, flustered with his touch, trying to keep your voice steady. “no, hoon’s out. why?”

jake shrugged, his eyes locking onto yours. “just thought i’d hang out. mind if i come in?”

you knew what that meant, jake had always confided into the comfort of your home after another argument took place in his, you nodded with a smile.

stepping aside, you allowed him to enter. as he walked past you, the subtle scent of his cologne filled your senses, making your pulse quicken. you closed the door and followed him to the living room, where he flopped onto the couch, looking completely at ease.

“so, what are you up to, puppy?” he asked teasingly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“just… relaxing,” you replied,

feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense gaze, internally groaning at your outfit choice, a worn-out shirt you had worn since you were fifteen and pants with golden retrievers on them? of course this would happen to you.

“what about you?”

jake chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “trying to escape my house. too much drama.”

he said with a lingering sadness fleeing his words, making you frown.

you nodded, understanding. jake’s home life wasn’t the best. his parents were always fighting, and he often sought refuge elsewhere—usually with sunghoon. but tonight, it was just the two of you. the tension between you was almost tangible, the air thick with unspoken words and unfulfilled desire.

as you sat down beside him, the proximity made your heart race. you tried to focus on something—anything—else, but jake’s presence was overwhelming. he leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the couch, one arm brushing lightly against your shoulders.

“why so tense?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. “i don’t bite… much.”

you laughed nervously, the sound awkward even to your own ears. “just… not used to being alone with you, i guess.”

jake’s eyes darkened slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “is that so, puppy? don’t get shy on me now, let me change that.”

before you could respond, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. your breath hitched as his nose touched yours, and your heart pounded in your chest.

every rational thought screamed at you to move away, to stop this before it went too far. but you couldn’t. you didn’t want to.

jake’s lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, as if he was testing the waters. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hand moving to cup your face as his other wrapped around your thighs pulling you on top of him.

the kiss was slow and exploratory, filled with the pent-up tension and desire that had been building for years.

you melted into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you tugged on his hair.

“don’t do that… i really won’t be able to hold back.” he whispered against your lips.

his touch was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of passion.

but all too soon, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway shattered the moment. you pulled back abruptly, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

“hoon’s home,” you whispered, panic evident in your voice as you felt the pang of guilt from your actions kicking in.

jake’s eyes widened, and he quickly stood up, straightening his clothes. “i should go,” he said, his voice hushed and quiet.’

you nodded, unable to find the words to express the number of emotions coursing through you.

jake moved toward the back door, but before he left, he turned to you, his eyes softening as he pats your head, a familiar habit he’s had your whole lives. “we’ll talk later, okay y/n?”

you nodded again, watching as he slipped out of the house just as sunghoon walked in. your brother greeted you with a happy smile, completely unaware of what had just transpired.

you forced a smile in return, trying to act normal, but the guilt was running through your vein’s as your mind was still reeling from the kiss.

that night, as you laid in the comfort of your bed, you replayed the events over and over in your head. the kiss, the look in jake’s eyes, the way your heart had felt like it might burst from your chest—it all felt like a fever dream.

a part of you wondered if jake felt the same way, if he had also been thinking of you, if he was in love with you, or if it had just been a moment of weakness for him.

you were more than confused with his feelings, you sighed as you sat up,

unable to sleep, you picked up your phone and sent jake a message.

“can we talk?” you typed, your fingers trembling with nervousness.

you hesitated for a moment before hitting send, hoping for a quick response.

minutes turned into hours, and as you stared at your phone, there was no reply. your heart sank with each passing moment, doubt and insecurity creeping in. had it meant nothing to him? was he regretting it now? the questions swirled in your mind, making it impossible to find any peace whatsoever.

the next day at school, you kept an eye out for jake, hoping to catch him and talk. but when you finally saw him, your heart shattered. he was standing with eunhee, the most wanted and prettiest girl in school. she was giggling, as her hand playfully lingered on his bare arm, and he was smiling back at her.

it felt like a punch to the gut. the hope you had clung to crumbled in an instant, replaced by a deep sense of betrayal and hurt. you turned away, the tears stinging your eyes, and hurried to find a place to be alone.

you found your best friend, yunjin, in the cafeteria, and she immediately noticed something was wrong.

“hey, what happened?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

you shook your head, trying to hold back the tears. “it’s nothing. just… jake.”

yunjin’s eyes widened. she was the only other person who knew about your little ‘crush’ on jake other than sunghoon. “what did he do?”

you took a deep breath, deciding to tell her everything. “last night, he came over, and we… we kissed. but now he’s with eunhee, and he never replied to my message. i feel so stupid.”

your voice breaking as you spoke, yunjin’s eyes widened as she saw the figure behind you, you didn’t notice sunghoon approaching from behind.

he had overheard everything, and his expression darkened with anger. “jake did what?” he growled, his fists clenching.

“sunghoon, no—” you began, but it was too late. he was already storming off, determined to beat the shit out of his best friend.

you and yunjin hurried after him, your heart pounding with fear. sunghoon was protective, but you had never seen him this angry, not even when your boyfriend in tenth grade cheated on you..

when you reached the courtyard, you saw him shoving jake against a wall, complete furt and anger clouding his face.

“what the hell, man?” jake exclaimed, trying to push sunghoon off.

“you stay away from my sister!” sunghoon shouted, his voice filled with rage. “you hear me? she’s not some toy you can play with!”

jake’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and confusion. “it’s not like that, i’d never play with her sunghoon. i care about her.”

“bullshit!” sunghoon retorted. “you were with eunhee this morning!”

jake’s expression softened, realization dawning on him. “that’s what this is about? eunhee’s just a friend. i was only talking to her.”

sunghoon’s grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. “then why didn’t you reply to her message? why are you messing with her head?”

jake glanced at you, his eyes softened at you as they filled with regret. “i’m sorry,” he said softly.

“i was scared. i’ve never felt this way before, and i didn’t know how to handle it. i thought staying away would be better for her, you know me...”

sunghoon finally released him, but his glare didn’t waver. “if you care about her, then prove it. make it right.”

jake nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “i will.”

he took a step toward you, his expression nervous and vulnerable. “i’m sorry i didn’t reply,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “i was an asshole. i thought pushing you away would protect you from me.”

“protect me from what?” you said as you played with your fingers,

“you know my family, y/n. i’m not the golden boy next door, hell- your parents would probably slam the door on my face if i said i was your boyfriend.” he replied looking down.

tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the way he thought about himself absolutely broke your heart.

“jake, i don’t care about any of that. i just want to be with you.”

he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. when he found none, he closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands.

“i love you, so much.” he whispered, his voice trembling. “i’ve loved you for so long, but i was too afraid to admit it.”

you felt your heart swell with adoration. “i love you too, jake.”

he placed his soft lips onto yours, a kiss filled with all the love and passion you had both been holding back for years. the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. his lips moved against yours, soft and insistent, and you kissed him back with equal energy.

when you finally pulled away, jake rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “i don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be even the slightest bit worthy of you, enough for you.”

you smiled through your tears, your heart filled with love. “you’re more than worthy of me, jakey. you’re so much more than enough” you replied caressing his cheek.

sunghoon watched the exchange, his expression softening. he placed a hand on jake’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

“don’t screw this up, man.” he said, his voice stern but supportive.

jake nodded, grinning at his best friend, his eyes meeting yours as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“i won’t.”

from that day forward, things changed between you and jake. he became a constant in your life, no longer hiding his feelings or running away from them. you faced your fears together, and with your brothers support, you built a relationship based on love and loyalty.

jake opened up to you about his family, his fears, and his dreams. you listened, offering him the comfort and support he had always needed but never had.

in return, he loved you unconditionally, with a passion that took your breath away.

one evening, as you both in each other’s arms, watching the stars twinkle outside your bedroom window, jake turned to you with a smile. “you know, i’ve been thinking.”

“that’s not good..” you joked as jake pouted at you, making you giggle with a sparkle in your eyes.

“about what, jakey?” you hummed, nudging your nose against his.

“about how lucky i am to have you, to be called yours” he said softly playing with your fingers.

“and about how i never want to take you for granted again.”

you smiled, your heart overflowing with love. “i’m lucky to have you too, jake.”

he leaned in, kissing you gently. “let’s make a promise,” he said when he pulled away.

“no matter what happens, no matter how stressed or tired we get, we’ll always come back to each other. we’ll always remember how much we love each other.”

you nodded, a warm feeling spilling over your body, a feeling that could bring you into a fit of tears, “i promise.”

jake grinned as he kissed you again, sealing the promise with a kiss that was filled with all the love and devotion you felt for each other.

as you laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you knew that no matter what issues came your way, you would never be facing them alone, your love guiding you through the darkness.

the night air flowing in from the window was cool, and the stars shone brightly in the sky.

listening to the steady rhythm of jake’s heartbeat, you felt a deep sense of peace and contentment. the world outside might be full of darkness and pain, but within the warmth of jake’s embrace, you found a haven of love and safety.

jake’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, his touch soothing and reassuring. “i love you,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress in the quiet night as he felt himself falling into a deep slumber.

“i love you too,” you whispered, snuggling closer to him. “always.”

© FAIRQVES 2024

taglist open <3 @luvlyhee @sjyunnsworld @shawnyle

send an ask or lmk in the comments to be added !! ㅤㅤ(ꈍᵕꈍ)ㅤ

[neotyty]

oral fixation ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ | yang jeongin oneshot

WARNINGS !! : smut in like the first few seconds, dom! jeongin, not a lot of use of y/n, fempov, jeongin has an oral fixation clearly, y/n treats jeongin like a baby and he gets fed up, not proofread don't shoot me, got lazy at the end, degrading/rude jeongin ??? idk anymore, slightly shitty diologue bc i'm better at writing the atmosphere than what ppl say

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

It was supposed to be a joke, or at least that's what you thought it was. Your best friend, Jeongin, had been close to you ever since kindergarten. You would help him with pretty much everything due to the fact that he was 3 years younger than you, even if it wasn't a big age gap in his eyes. You treated him like a baby. Your baby.

Jeongin, on the other hand, grew to absolutely despise being treated like a child. Any time the two of you were together, he would do anything to show you he was grown up now-- purposefully touching your waist or "playfully" pulling you into his lap, he needed to show you who he really was, not some kid you had to protect.

He would often come to your place, not bothering to text prior or set specific dates, it was just natural.

So when he plopped down next to you on your bed completely uninvited, you didn't mind, your head lying on his solid chest for a change as you attempted to match his breathing with yours. You completely missed the way his eyes darted to your lips, just imagining how well they would wrap around his fingers as you focused on the meaningless video playing on your phone.

"Look at me." His voice was monotone, your eyebrows furrowing as he spoke but glanced up at him nonetheless. He took his time soaking in your features, to your freckled cheeks down to your soft and slightly uneven lips, grinning to himself as a hand came up to caress your cheek.

"Jeong, what are you doing?" You questioned with a small chuckle, a confused expression on your face watching his thumb trace your lower lip, pressing down on it lightly and not enough to cause any pain.

"You need something? I can whip something up real fast, just give me a second-"

His thumb quickly shoved past your lips, watching with narrowed eyes as you mumbled against him, cheeks growing a deep red at his confidence.

"Fuck, y/n. I can make my own goddamn food," He paused, letting his thumb roam around your tongue-- just like he imagined. "I don't need you to pretend like you're my big sister just to hide that you're a slut, alright?" Jeongin's gaze never left those glossy lips of yours, noting how your pupils dilated with each word he spoke.

"So sit here, and take it."

With that, he added another finger, observing the saliva dripping down your chin. It was sinful. He shouldn't be enjoying this, he shouldn't enjoy watching his best friend struggle to take his fingers down her warm throat, but he did. He lived for it.

The soft whimper that escaped your mouth was enough to send him into a spiral, letting out a low groan as his free hand reached for your hair. "I need to taste you. Let me taste you, baby." He whispered lowly, pulling you close just for you to feel the growing tent in his pants.

You nodded shakily, ignoring how you looked like a complete mess with his large fingers shoved down you throat and drool seeping through the corners of your mouth.

"That's a good girl." A smirk corrupted his face, your eyes ones of disappointment as he pulled out of you-- but quickly replaced his digits with a kiss, his tongue pushing against yours.

He was quick to flip you on your back, not breaking the kiss as his hands fumbled for your hips-- moaning against your lips after feeling the obvious wet spot he had caused.

"I could stare at you all fucking day,"

He pulled back only to rip your panties down your thighs, gently shoving your legs apart. He couldn't miss the way your hands came up to your face at his perverted comments, a coy smile appearing on his mouth.

"Don't hide from me baby, let me see all of you," A rough hand came up to grab your wrists, keeping them held in one hand as he buried his face deep inside your cunt, making mental notes of how you moaned and cried for him.

"Ah- Fuck! Jeongin, please.." You didn't know what you were begging for, to be entirely honest, you were so fucked out you could barely think.

He hummed against you, lapping at your folds as his tongue circled your clit-- making your thighs shake from the stimulation.

It wouldn't take long for your release, chest heaving and cheeks red as he gave your inner thigh a harsh smack, letting you know to be still. "You wanna come for me?" He mumbled, inserting a finger inside your hole, feeling you clench around him as he sucked on your clit.

Your eyes shut tightly, letting out the most shameful sound on earth as you came to your high.

The only sound was your heavy breathing, which didn't last long as Jeongin went in for another kiss. This one was softer and full of apologies, slowly moving down to your neck.

"Get the hell off me, Yang Jeongin, you're such an ass." You attempted to suppress your laughs, pushing him away from you with a weak grunt.

"And stop being such a pervert!" Your hand gently striked his shoulder, unable to hide the growing pout on your face.

"You should've told me to stop treating you like a kid instead of shoving your fingers down my goddamn throat." Jeongin watched with his head propped up on his hand, licking your juices off his fingers with a sly smirk.

"Oh come on, where's the fun in that when I can just fuck you to your senses?"

Well, he wasn't entirely wrong..

[runninriot]

Santa's Secret

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 23

prompt: hot chocolate | rated G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve Harrington

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

Eddie can’t wait to get out of the suit that’s been suffocating him for the past three hours. He’s still sweaty and his hair is a mess after wearing the wig and fake beard combo for so long but he feels better once he’s changed back into his regular clothes.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Eddie stops for a moment. He looked so different dressed as Santa, could’ve been fooled by his own reflection wearing that costume. There’s no way Steve actually realised it’s him. Maybe what Eddie thought he saw in Steve’s eyes wasn’t recognition, but confusion.

They haven’t seen each other in years and apart from that, it’s not like they’ve ever been… close. Sure, Steve probably knew of him – they’ve both been somewhat popular in high school, although for very different reasons. But still. It was silly of Eddie to think the smile he gave him was one of familiarity. More realistically, it was just a silent thanks for how he handled the little girl’s nervousness, brought a smile to her face by playing into her childlike wonder.

And that’s okay.

In the end, Eddie did have a great time pretending to be Santa for a while. He’ll never tell Wayne, though, unless he wants to hear his old man tell him ‘I told you so‘.

With his shift done, Eddie strolls around the still brimming main hall of the community centre, looking at a stand with wooden figurines where a beautifully carved dragon caught his eyes.

He’s so fascinated by it, that he doesn’t notice the person coming up to him, until a hand taps his shoulder lightly.

When he spins around, he finds Steve standing next to him.

   “So, what brings you back to this shithole?“ he asks through a laugh, casual, like it’s normal for the former King and King of Freaks to have a conversation.

   “I, uh,“ Eddie stammers, staring at Steve a little star struck and maybe a little more in love because there’s that smile again and it’s blinding like the fucking sun and this time, he doesn’t have the Santa suit to blame for the fucking heat spreading in his face.

    God, grow up Munson. You’re an adult. Behave like one.

   “I’m visiting my uncle.“

   “How is Wayne? I was a bit worried when I realised that-“ Steve leans closer to whisper in his ear and Eddie’s heart stops for a moment. “-Santa sent someone else to cover for him.“

There are a million thoughts running through Eddie’s mind – since when are Steve and Wayne on first name basis? So Steve did recognise him? And why’s it so fucking hot in here?

   “You were great, by the way. I’d have lost it at some of the parents. They can be worse than their spoiled little brats sometimes.“

Eddie chuckles nervously, shrugs his shoulders and waves a hand at Steve who moves back slowly but stays close, so close Eddie catches a hint of his cologne, mingling with the Christmassy smell of oranges, and cinnamon, and apple tea, and it makes him dizzy but not in a bad way.

“Robbie wouldn’t shut up about Santa,“ Steve winks at him, “said he’s the coolest, even cooler than the tooth fairy. And let me tell you, that’s a real compliment.“

They both laugh and it feels so light and freeing; Steve makes it seem so easy to fall into conversation with him.

   “She’s a sweet kid and she loves you a lot, I can tell.“

    Loves you so much she’s wasting her Christmas wish on your happiness, Eddie thinks fondly, biting his tongue not to accidentally spill their little secret.

   “Yeah, well. She doesn’t have much choice. She’s stuck with me, since her mother decided to-“

   “Dad!“ a voice calls from somewhere behind them and when they turn, they see Robbie running up at them.

   “Speaking of the Devil,“ Steve sighs amused before opening his arms to catch her.

   “Who’s your friend?“

   “This is Eddie. We’ve been to school together. He’s grandpa Wayne’s nephew.“

    Grandpa W-hat?

Eddie must be having a stroke. Or maybe something’s wrong with his hearing because… WHAT?

Steve must realise something when he notices Eddie’s confusion, because he suddenly blushes a deep shade of red and smiles awkwardly at him.

   “S-sorry, I thought you knew that, uh-“ Steve takes a deep breath before he continues, “Your uncle has been helping me out a lot when I moved back to Hawkins a few months ago. You know, uh, setting up the house and watching Robbie when I had to go to interviews and couldn’t find a babysitter. He, uh, he’s been a real help. Robbie’s obsessed with him. Aren’t you, baby?“

   “He’s awesome! And he makes the best hot chocolate in the world! With little marshmallows and sprinkles on top!“

Eddie feels like he’s been hit by a truck, feels betrayed by the man he’s been looking up to his whole life.

   Wayne Munson, you son of a potato farmer, are living a secret life where Steve’s daughter calls you grandpa?

    Oh, Eddie’s going to have a field day confronting him with that.

   “Right?! The best hot chocolate ever! I always have mine with whipped cream on top,“ Eddie answers equally enthusiastic, doesn’t even have to pretend despite his inner turmoil because that little girl’s smile is infectious.

While listening to Robbie’s happy babbling, Eddie watches Steve from the corner of his eyes. He still looks a bit like a kid caught stealing cookies, but slowly relaxes, and that’s good, but-

Wayne definitely has some explaining to do. His uncle has always been a fucking saint, can’t not offer his help when he feels like someone’s in need of it. But it being Steve of all people, really messes with Eddie in a weird way he can’t really explain.

He needs to know more.

   “How about we all go to Wayne’s together? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. What do you say?“

[spxfav]

Orange

Summary: Post Tobias Hankel Spencer, struggling to stop taking dilaudid and spiralling in darkness finds light in the one he loves most <3

Warnings: Anxiety, drug dependency, panic attacks, depression (I think that's it, please let me know if I missed any)

Word count: 3.2k

a/n: Hi guys! This is my first time writing something longer than a bot for Spencer, so I really really hope you'll like it! The way I chose to portray his depression and anxiety here is very much based on how I experienced it, so this is very important to me. Let me know if you'd like a part two! Enjoy!

Spencer was wasting away, fading. His dark eyes no longer shone like they used to. His pretty smile was now a rare sight to see. His nerdy contributions to conversations were now scarce - that is, if he ever interacted with anyone anymore.

He felt hollow, no longer being motivated to do anything but the one thing he knew he shouldn't. Dilaudid.

That little bottle now went everywhere with him. The flask and the demons that haunted him after Tobias, clinging to him and punishing him for whatever bad thing he had done to deserve this. And he was sure he had done something. He just couldn't understand why so many bad things kept happening to him, following him from his childhood to his adult years. Even with all the science in the world, the only explanation plausible enough was that he had done something terrible in his past life and was now paying for it.

Despite the leave Hotch let him take having ended two days ago, he still hadn't shown up to work. This was new to him. He'd always loved going to the bureau, even if it was just for paperwork. Now, he could barely read three lines out of his favourite book.

Time was blurry, a haze of sobering up and searching the high once again with pauses destined for the bathroom and occasionally to eat - when his stomach hurt enough to remind him he had to. Apart from that, he never left his bed, hopelessly wishing he could sleep without being hunted by the flashbacks of his time in that shed, of the splinters he wasn't able to remove after digging his own grave. His hands were now raw in the parts he had scrubbed out the skin to take the little wooden pieces off of him. He barely felt it. He barely even felt anything.

He knew it wasn't rational, but the empathy and guilt he felt for the man who kidnapped him was so intense it did nothing but contribute to his numb state.

So, alone, he spent his days, going through flask after flask of the forbidden liquid, cursing himself for not being strong enough to stop and wishing Tobias had never reanimated him back at the cemetery.

Naturally, after dealing with a schizophrenic mother all alone as a child, and being forced to grow up faster than he should have, he fiercely believed he had to solve this problem alone, like he's always done.

You, however, didn't. With the many gift baskets sent by Penelope and the sweet voice that was enough to make his demons dissipate - at least while you talked -, the time you spent sitting by his locked door always left him feeling somewhat relieved.

Sitting on the cold hardwood floor with sweaty damp hair clinging to his forehead, Spencer listened quietly as you talked, not giving you any hint that he was there. Part of him didn't believe he deserved those acts of kindness from you, so he hid himself in the shadows, and, as if forbidden, served as audience to your stories about events he missed. He noticed, even in his usually drugged state, that you tried your best to lighten up the stories, probably afraid to trigger something in him. If only you knew there was no need for a trigger.

x

It was a Wednesday, and the pouring rain that came through the window he forgot to close and got him and his bed soaked was almost enough to make him give up on the day, even if he had been up for only two minutes and 28 seconds.

But he couldn't. Because giving up would mean he'd have to sit in the wet sheets all day, and despite everything, he still had issues with the feeling of wet things against his skin.

Dragging himself out of bed, he gave up on the challenge of changing the sheets and settled for his sofa instead.

"I'm changing ambiens. This is improving."

The lie of getting better was more of a sentence he said as a form to attract it, though he never made the effort to stop himself from deteriorating further. That was merely an excuse for the voice in the back of his mind to scold him further. It started with his incapability of getting clean. Then, his lack of shower. After, came the barely eating and now, the sulking in bed - or in this case, the sofa.

His mood was as gray and dull as the weather, and the sound of the rain falling did little to comfort him through the many nightmares plagued naps that he eventually gave up on. This was the moment of the day he went to his bedside table and retrieved the little ornate box with the needles and the bottles of the clear liquid. This was the moment of peace, of relief.

His mind was hazy, clouded by the momentary pleasure only the dilaudid was able to provide when the familiar knock on the door came.

“Hi Spence.” You said, your honey, homey voice wafting through the apartment and reaching his ears.

Automatically, he stumbled across the living room, and, in an all but gracious way, dropped by the door. That was the first time you heard him move inside as you talked to him, and as minimal as it was, it brought a smile to your face.

“I think I heard you fall. Knock twice if you’re hurt.”

No knocks. So, he was okay. Or as much as possible.

“The day was boring. No new cases today.” You start talking, the daily briefing session that grew more and more important to his weary mind filling the previously silent apartment, your voice sounding like a melody to his stoned brain.

“But I thought of you.” His ears perked up, his spine straightening as he focused intently on the next words.

“Can you believe there was no sugar for the coffee? Not in the coffee station, not anywhere in the building.” It was silly. Stupid. But it made you think of him, and if he was on your mind, he was happy.

“That’s absurd.” He murmurs, a little out of it.

You freeze, too surprised that he said something this time. It was the first time you heard him speak in almost two weeks. It was muffled, and too low for you to understand, but it was words, and that was better than nothing.

“It is.” You say, trying not to draw much attention to the fact that he spoke. You didn’t want to scare him away.

“What happened next?” He asked quietly, almost as if talking to you was a mistake. To him, it was actually a privilege he didn’t deem himself worthy of.

“Garcia went down to a local coffee shop with Emily and they stole a bunch of packets for us. They came back running as if they had stolen a bank.” You say and chuckle, hearing the faintest of laughs inside from him. He was laughing. That was good. Amazing, actually.

“Good. Can’t imagine being without sugar.” He murmurs, and you couldn’t see the small smile on his lips at the first sign of normalcy after so long in the dark.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure when you get back there’ll be as much sugar as you want.”

Silence.

You wait, and wait, and wait, but he doesn’t speak again.

“Spence?” You ask, and the only other sound you hear that day is him getting up and stumbling away.

x

“When you get back.”

Those words plagued him for the rest of the day, which he spent locked up in his room to try and muffle your voice as you continued talking on the other side of his front door. Just the thought of it terrified him.

At first, he imagined it was out of fear of living something like his experience with Hankel again. But when he passed by the mirror in the bathroom and saw how he looked, he understood the real reason.

Deep dark circles. Hollow cheeks. Lifeless eyes. Hair greasier than it had ever been in his whole life. Pajamas stained with food he couldn’t identify. Grown out beard. He had gotten used to the smell by now, but he was sure it would be strong to anyone else.

He was disgusting. Gross.

Useless. Undeserving. A junkie.

His breathing quickened, but it was like no air came. One shaky hand moved to his heart, feeling the fast and strong beats. It felt like drums in a rock song. Like the cart of a rollercoaster against the rails. Like horses running freely.

Except there was no freedom. He felt trapped, desperate. Hopeless.

And as he fell to the ground and tears pricked his eyes, he was sure he might die.

No one will understand. No one will try to understand.

Suddenly death didn’t seem so bad. But just like it happened so many times before in his life, it was an easy way out. And nothing was easy for him.

So, fifteen minutes later, the needle in his arm was the only thing capable of taming the panic attack that still coursed through his veins.

x

When he rolled around on his bed, sweating from the nightmare, the room was spinning. Or maybe it was just his brain.

Either way, the open box on the bedside table, the not discarded needle and the torniquet still on his arm were explanation enough for what had happened the night before. He exaggerated. Again.

The day after these episodes were always the worst. Sickness, dizziness. Loss of strength in his muscles. That was also when the thoughts got worse.

It was ironic, really, that he went through almost a whole flask in hopes of drowning the voices only to wake up with them stronger than ever. It was a cycle. But then again, wasn’t all of this?

The world was a blur, a mix of living nightmares and not very healthy thoughts, and in the end, he caught himself wishing you’d show up.

Laughing, whispers of love and beautiful promises. That was how the world was around you. And even through the thick wood of his front door, he was still selfish enough to crave a glimpse of the Heaven you held in your hands; of the salvation from this twisted reality he found himself trapped in.

Spencer wasn’t the most emotional of men. In fact, before you, all his research pointed to him lacking the brain connections that allowed one to feel anything remotely romantic. He was sure he was okay without love, and he was sure he would always be.

But then you came, and it was like buying his first glasses all over again: suddenly the world was clear, and so much more beautiful.

It was hard for him to describe what he felt. He could only think of one simple way to put it. It was all orange.

x

“Hi, Spence” The melody of the notes that compose your voice echoed around the apartment, making the faintest of smiles bloom in his face.

For the past three days, you had managed to make him talk more and more. At first, it was weird. Alone in his apartment, the only things his walls had heard in the past few weeks were his terrorized nightly screams and the incoherent mumbles that occasionally made themselves present.

“Listen, I brought you something” You say and wait to see if he had any contributions. When he remains quiet, you continue. “I called your mom’s facility” His eyes shot open, and he sat up straighter on the floor. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. I figured if someone was to tell, it should be you” The simple reassurance was enough to calm him down the slightest. “I called to ask her for the recipe of those peppermint cookies you told me about a few months ago.”

The smell of baked sugar filled the small kitchen. Days like these were good. Days when his mom was okay. When she was his mom again, and he had the freedom to be the child his seven-year-old self deserved to be.

“I made some” Your voice cuts through the first good memory h’s had since everything went down. “I’m sure they’re not as good as hers, but they’re not bad either. I have them here, I could drop them off with the baskets Penelope brought and yo-“

The sudden movement of the door opening catches you by surprise as you stumble back, no longer having a surface to rest your back on.

He opened the door. He really opened the door.

Spencer stood there, looking down at you and seeming even more surprised than you did. His eyes flickered over your form, heart beating faster. God, how he missed the sight of this angel.

He looked different from what you remembered. Dark stubble covering his face, messy and greasy hair, sleeves rolled up to reveal an arrangement of needle punctures. For a moment, neither of you say a word, simply taking in the sight of the one person you each missed more than breathing. That was when Spencer realised it. He’d rather die in that shed a thousand times more than go another day without seeing your face. The pictures he had really did you no justice, not when you looked more beautiful than a diamond, with its carbon atoms so perfectly aligned, creating what is believed to be one of the most precious objects on Earth. You didn’t even compare to that.

“You made me cookies?” He asks, looking down at the little box in your hands, the faint smell of the cookies reaching his nose.

“Yes. Yes, I did. They’re still a bit warm, I baked them before coming here.” You stand up, quickly enough to drop your blood pressure slightly, but not enough to startle him.

When he takes the box from your hands and, without another word, walks inside leaving the door open for you. There’s no hesitation in your steps as you follow him in. And the sight that welcomes you is nothing but heartbreaking. His once so perfectly organized place – at least according to the system only he understood – was now a mess. There were books on the floor, take-out boxes on every table, dirty clothes on the floor.

He wafted through the chaos, eyes never leaving the box as he opened it and threw himself on the sofa. Carefully, he picks up a cookie, and after an experimental bite, a single tear rolls down his face. Then another, and another, and another until the dam breaks and he is full on sobbing on the sofa, crushing the cookie as his hands close into fists and his shoulders shake.

Your heart, shattered already, breaks even further, and when you sit next to him, you feel shocked as he falls into your arms. His arms are tucked between your bodies, his face buried on your chest, and you don’t have the heart to tell him he smells the tiniest bit. No, not now. You could tell him he needed a shower when he didn’t look like a vulnerable child, climbing on your lap.

“It’s okay… shh…” His brain barely registers your comforting words, too busy paying attention to the way your fingers card through his hair without a hint of disgust. He knew he loved the right person, especially because of moments like this. You were just… perfect. It was cliché, but Spencer genuinely could not think of any other way of describing you.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” His voice was almost inaudible, filled with a gut-wrenching guilt for doing this to you. “I’m s-sorry”

“Don’t be. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here” Your voice, the soft murmur of reassurance breaks him even further, relieving him of the pressure of the guilt he had been feeling for so long.

That day, he cried until he fell asleep in your arms. Not for a second did you let go of him, your hands always gentle and loving as you caressed his hair. For the first time in two weeks and four days, he slept with no nightmares.

x

The sound of steps moving around his apartment was the first thing he registered when he woke up. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up on the couch, he looked around, groggy and with his head pounding from crying.

You had your back turned to him as you cleaned his kitchen, the smell of something in the oven making his stomach growl slightly. Then he notices it. No clothes on the floor. No takeout boxes around. Books neatly on the shelves. You had cleaned his place while he slept.

For a minute, he simply watches you, dark eyes following your movements around the kitchen as you wash and dry dishes. Then you turn, and the small, concerned smile that forms on your lips as you walk closer is enough to send his heart racing in his chest again.

“You’re up. How did you sleep?” You ask, stopping behind the couch as your fingers lovingly brush his messy hair out of his face.

“Fine. How long was I out?” He asks and clears his throat, voice slightly gruff.

“About three hours. I didn’t want to wake you, so I cleaned up. And made dinner. You still like lasagna, right?”

His eyes stare directly at your face, and for a moment, he considers a crazy theory.

Maybe he had died that day in the shed. He died, and the last couple of days were his time spent in some sort of imbo. But now he was in Heaven. That had to be it. As irrational as it was, how else could he explain the presence of an angel in front of him so suddenly? Besides, he always thought that if the Realm of God was a real place, if his paradise was real, you’d be there.

“Spencer?” He blinks, and the world still has a happy veil over it when his eyelids open and his irises meet your face again.

“Yes. Yes, I like lasagna.” He nods, eyes fixed on you.

Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all.

x

The door closed behind you, and the illusion left just as fast. The light that seemed to follow you was gone, his world buried in darkness and numbness again. Your presence made him feel so light as you talked his ears off today. He didn’t mind. Not when he smiled more in a couple of hours than in the last two weeks. Not when you two were sitting so close, cuddling on the couch. Not when your lasagna had tasted like the best dish he ever ate.

But now you were gone, and all that is left for him to do is climb back in bed. His sheets are clean now – you changed them – and the overused pajamas on his body feel sinful against the fabric. What was meant to be a good thing only served to send him spiraling again, and as most nights, this one ended with a small pinch and the sting of the liquid as he applied it on his forearms.

Who knows? Maybe the delusions would bring you back tonight.

[hihhasotherfixations]

I’m thinking about dragon hybrid Price as a dad to little dragon hybrid you.

This is more headcanon style than my usual and a little bit all over the place but I had to get it out because yes >:3

CW: none

Word Count: 1020

Price had always lived a solitary life. Dragon hybrids were relatively rare, and he didn’t exactly go out of his way to find a partner.

Purely by happenstance, he came across another. And almost out of obligation as well as it being mating season, they started a relationship. She quickly fell pregnant, but despite it all, it wasn’t meant to last.

Due to the more solitary nature of dragons, your mother left after you were born. Price didn’t blame her, the two hadn’t been incredibly close after all, only having gotten together during the mating season but not having an amazing connection beyond that. He was grateful she at least communicated her plan in advance so that he could prepare.

But when you were born, oh my. You were everything.

He took you home from the hospital alone, yet before he’d even gotten out of his car and into the house, he knew that a bond had formed that he could never sever.

Dragons were vain and prideful by nature. And for Price? His pride and vanity all poured into you. You were his. His creation, his child. He’d do anything for you, to keep you safe. And if necessary? He would protect you with the world as a shield.

The baby years are tough. Growing horns, wings and fangs is not pleasant. It can hurt and because of it, there are a lot of nights where you’re inconsolable, just crying in his arms as he tries to soothe you.

His wings folding around you seem to work best, creating a sort of cavern-like bubble where his warmth and heartbeat are the main sensations.

But even with that, the growing pains are sometimes too much and the poor captain had to lose sanity in favour of consoling you, rubbing ointment on your horns and massaging your tail and wings the best he could.

Yet the first time he sees your little tail wag when he walks into the baby room to feed you after waking you, all the sleepless nights are worth it.

You were starting to develop into a true dragon.

You stand in your box, holding onto the railing and bouncing excitedly on your feet. Your little horns poking through your unruly mop of hair while your wings are folded on your back.

“Hello, little lizard.” Price smiles, walking over to you. Immediately, you stick up your arms and he takes the hint, grabbing you under your armpits and lifting you up.

Holding you in his arms, he can feel you wiggle, trying to wag your tail - but you can’t.

Because now that your wings have finally started developing in earnest, he has needed to put preventative measures.

Where before your wings were papery and flexible, your tail stumpy and short, now both were getting some volume, the bones in them growing and lengthening - solidifying. And because of it, sleeping becomes dangerous.

In the past, many dragonlings have broken wings or tails by rolling around in their sleep, getting the limbs stuck under themselves and twisting too far.

Because of it, the wing-tail guard was invented. Used to pin said appendages against your body and cushioning them - allowing you to roll to your heart’s content while sleeping.

And now here you sat on his arm, the soft, black coloured cushioning moulded perfectly to fit your wings strapped to your back, your tail stuck between your legs, unable to wiggle or wag it.

“Come on, darling.” Price grinned, setting you down on the changing table and untying the straps, freeing your wings and tail back up.

And when your wings shift and move a little after he takes it off, oh how his heart jumps in excitement.

He’s been so eager, waiting for the day you finally open your wings for the first time.

For most dragonlings it happens around 1,5-2 years old. So you were right around that age.

He tries to encourage you by showing off his own wings. Anytime he has you on his lap, he spreads them wide, and you never fail to be completely mesmerised by it.

Seeing it, he tries to let you know you have your own, to encourage you to use them. He runs his hand down the muscles and bones of your wings, petting them down, getting you used to it by massaging the flesh and muscles, loosening them up.

It takes a lot of coaxing and weeks since you first tried, but finally, you manage to open up your wings and spread them.

And Price couldn’t be more proud.

Your wings are a carbon copy of his, except just a slight shade darker. And he knows that with a lot of training and upkeep, you’ll be just as strong a flier as he is.

Speaking of. Now that you’ve opened your wings for the first time? He can finally take you on your first flight.

Strapped to his chest with a harness, he gently stretches your wings out. It looks a little awkward, to have you dangling from his chest with your wings pancaked between your back and his front, but it’s important to get you used to flying, to using your wings.

The glee and pure joy that radiates off of you when you’re soaring in the clouds is unprecedented. You’re not scared, nervous or hesitant as he feared you might be, no. Instead, you’re kicking your feet, and screeching in delight. You keep tilting your head back to look at your dad and Price grins down at you, uncaring that your horns are stabbing into his sternum as his powerful wings flap, carrying the both of you through the sky.

The 141 know everything about you. Price can’t help himself. As stated before, dragons are proud creatures, and you are his pride.

He cannot help but share with the other most important people in his life.

And oh how they adore you too.

All in all, you are Price’s greatest treasure, and he can’t wait to see you grow up into your own, powerful dragon.

-

I would love to write more for this. If you want something elaborated or have your own idea and wanna see it written, please drop it in my ask box to give me an excuse to do so! ^^

[kitnjon]

Do you have any modern au fic recommendations where Jon and Sansa meet again after breaking up? Preferably nothing that includes infertility (those were the only ones I could find)

Yes!!! Some fics set after their breakup/divorce:

halcyon by @wandering-scavenger

“Is that a lightsaber?” Margaery asked Robb, attention fully on him as she reached out to touch the hilt strapped to his waist. If Theon’s hopes of hooking up with her hadn’t already flown out the window, it certainly did now. Robb cleared his throat, careful to maintain eye contact instead of staring at her breasts like the rest of the guys that walked past them to stop and stare. “Erm. Yeah. I borrowed it from my brother, Bran.” he managed to say, removing it from his belt to let Sansa’s friend hold it herself. The heiress weighed it in her hand and twisted it around like a baton before finally switching it on; the saber made its distinctive hum as it extended, glowing bright blue under the club’s red lights. “It’s bigger than I expected.” she remarked, tilting her head innocently. Jon choked on his drink then, his laughing eyes meeting Sansa’s own in a moment of shared understanding. She couldn’t count how many times they had shared that look with one another before she ruined things. Before he stopped being hers.

2. red lights mean you're leaving by @cellsshapedlikestars

"Did you need something?” he asks when she doesn't speak, and it feels like a slap in the face, though she knows it shouldn't. She showed up at his door with no warning, after five years of silence. He has every reason to be skeptical. “Your help, actually,”

3. You tend the ash, and I’ll tend the pine by @eruherdiriel

“Are we really never gonna talk about it?” Arya snaps. “We’re all gonna pretend everything is normal and happy when Sansa just got divorced?” “Statistically, it is normal,” Bran says. “The divorce rate is something like—” “It’s not normal! Not for this family, and not for Sansa. True love, forever and always, that’s Sansa.” “Jon isn’t the person she married,” Catelyn chides. “Not anymore.” — Sansa and Jon get divorced, but fully untangling their lives is impossible.

4. snow angels by @kingsansa

He finds, as the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as his heart completely fucking nosedives, that her voice is lower than he remembers, but unmistakable all of the same. Sansa Stark stands in the hallway of his shitty, hole-in-the-wall, egregiously outdated bar; unmistakable.

5. in good faith by @kingsansa

Her hand is a dancer on his back: light, graceful, and bold. “Mr. Targaryen.” She’s always been soft spoken, just a tiny hairbreadth away from shy, words inflected with a polite sort of girlish tentativeness. It isn’t, anymore. Jon doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to see what else has changed about her. “Miss Stark.” It feels wrong for them to refer to each other so formally. He doesn’t know why. They’re little more than strangers now if they had ever been anything else.

6. frozen pines by @cellsshapedlikestars

It hits Jon, then - the sharp smell of ozone. A scent that years ago, he’d become all too familiar with. The aftermath of a lightning strike, the burning of wires. Electricity heavy in the air. The hair on his arms still stands on end. The scar on his hand feels tight. His heart is still pounding. It’s just a storm coming, he tells himself. He’s in White Harbor, not Eastwatch. It’s just a storm. or, the Exclusion Zone spreads for the first time in almost fifty years, with Sansa trapped inside. Jon will do whatever it takes to get her out.

7. Beans series by @justadram

Jon and Sansa never seem to be on the same page about their relationship.

8. Hammerfall by @kittykatknits

Jon and Sansa are busy with their lives in Winterfell and White Harbor, unaware of the danger that would soon be upon them. Then, one day, Jon's friend Sam issues a terrible warning, leading him and his best friend, Robb to begin quietly making plans. As the day of Hammerfall grows closer, they are left with one problem, Sansa refuses to come home. With time running out, Jon goes to rescue Sansa before it is too late. In the horror that follows, Jon and Sansa realize that surviving Hammerfall was the easy part. It's the day after when the real work begins.

9. and now i see daylight by @theshipshipper

Sansa Stark is among the most notable celebrities in Westerosi mainstream cinema. When an ex-boyfriend smears her reputation with lies and deceit, she finds herself back in Winterfell and in the arms of her former lover, Jon Snow.

10. baby, it's you by @kit-kat21

“Sansa, please,” Jon had pled with her, grasping her hands. “I’ll tell Robb. I promise you.”

Sansa had shaken her head, pulling her hands from his and cursing the tears that had insisted on building up in her eyes despite her best efforts. “You won’t.” She said it in a whisper, but her words were strong. “I know that now.”

***

Sansa has only been in love one time during her life, but that's in the past and now, she's trying to start over - getting over a relationship that left her broken on the inside and out while trying to give her young son the best life possible. She doesn't have time to dwell on Jon Snow and pine after him. She's been over him for years now. Completely over him.

[gayerthanevertbh]

my tears ricochet.

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

n.r masterlist | navigation | n.r one-shots masterlist  

summary: after your divorce from natasha, life was never the same again. and when you and her revisit the past, it made you realize how much you were always in love with her.

warnings: unprotected sex, g!p natasha, dirty talking, pet names, sex on the couch, fingering, dry humping, angst, and fluff - 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count: 4.7k

author’s note: hopefully you’ll enjoy this one! 

You were once married to an Avenger. You felt seen and loved by this Avenger at some point, and you never doubted their feelings for you. But as time goes on, you two grow apart and lose touch with one another's emotions. You've become the stereotypical housewife who cooks for their individual party, provides the best sex that they require so that they never have to seek it elsewhere, washes their clothes, and takes care of them as they should be taken care of. But as the routine continues, you find yourself wanting more. The problem is that you feel guilty. Why should you feel bad about wanting more? Why should you feel guilty when everything is perfect? That's where you feel completely alone and unnoticed by the woman you love.

It continued for a year or two after your daughter turned six. You remember vividly that night when you had dinner with your family, and Natasha came home that night on a very cold night – well, morning. She was devastated, her hair was all over the place. She looked unhygienic, and you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. When you saw her by the door, you were angry. You were demanding her time for your daughter, but she always gave the same excuse. I’m doing this for our family, Y/n. Can’t you see that? You do appreciate what she gives. In fact, you never complained in your life.

After that argument, you brought a file of divorce papers and gave it to her before she left for another mission the following month. She appeared distressed by your actions and begged you - repeatedly - to wait for her until the mission was completed. But you simply told the older woman, "I'm done with this cycle, Nat. I can't do it anymore." When she got tired of convincing you to stay, she just nodded and left.

She was gone for at least 3 months around that time.

And when she returned home from Budapest, she found an empty house. The couch she bought in the first month of marriage was still sitting against the wall, but the majority of the furniture had vanished. She dashed into the bedroom, where she found the bed clean and an old vintage lamp on the floor. That's when she broke down - that's when she realized she'd messed up her marriage and that she'll never get you back.

Five months later, you won custody of your daughter with Natasha. Although Natasha could still see her daughter, you had complete control over whether or not she could take her out of the state. But Natasha mostly just listened to you and respected your wishes. She would come to see you twice a month, mostly to look after Riley while you were at work. And when you returned home, Natasha would leave you food that she had ordered while you were away.

Everything you two had in the past had come to an end; you were now civil with her, which was a new routine - and you liked it at times, but you missed her. You must have missed her terribly. It's as if whenever she was away on a mission or simply unavailable, you would reflect on the times you spent with the woman. She was so caring, intelligent, and romantic that you wondered if you could ever be as romantic as her. She gave you everything you deserved in life. So most of the time, you felt guilty and unwanted.

You wanted your wife back, your wife that she used to be.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and you looked at the window noticing that the skies were gray once again. It had been raining in your state for quite some time, but you’re sure enough that there’ll be a storm around nighttime. You were making lunch while listening to quiet jazz music until Riley came to the room and asked: “Can I see Francis today, Mommy?”

You turned over your shoulder and jutted your lower lip out, knowing that it was too dangerous to go out and play.

“Honey I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s possible today.”

She sighed, holding her teddy bear close to her chest.

“Francis wants to play with my dolls,” she said in a very tiny voice. “And there’s no school today, why can’t I play with her?”

“Because there’s a storm coming, sweetheart. We have to stay at home for now,” you walked towards your daughter and pecked her left cheek. She smiled at your gesture, it definitely warms your heart. “But guess what? Mama will be visiting later! She brought something for you.”

Her face brightens up, as her grin widens. “Really? Mama bought me another set of trains?”

“Well, she said it was a surprise,” you responded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But don’t worry, I’m sure my little girl would love it.”

After you finished preparing lunch, Riley went back to her room, and you continued working in the kitchen. Suddenly, you heard a bell coming from the front door. Natasha came into the house after hearing your daughter squeal before you could turn around. She ran to her mother and immediately embraced her tightly around the neck.

“Oh, my baby,” Natasha sighed, kissing her forehead. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” Riley whispered, giggling as Natasha pinched her soft cheeks. “Did you bring me a toy?”

“Hmm, if I could get a kiss first.”

After giving Natasha a second peck on the cheek, Riley jumped to the ground to retrieve a box from behind her. You looked back at your daughter, curious to see what she had received from Natasha this time.

“It’s a train! The one I wanted!”

“I’ll give you everything you want, my darling. Everything.”

You chuckled, your arms crossed tightly across your stomach. “You’re spoiling her too much, Nat. She’s gonna expect this from you whenever you come back home from work.”

The older woman smiled at you kindly, and replied: “It’s the only time that I get to see her, so she deserves everything.”

You could tell by her smile that she yearned for you to give her another chance, which caused you to look away from her gaze and give your attention back to the kitchen, leaving the two pairs alone and playing.

You had this strange feeling inside of you that yearned for her as well, but you couldn't say it out loud. You could never admit that you missed her, despised her, and still loved her. You noticed Natasha playing with another toy train with Riley as you brought three plates to the dining table. You enjoyed watching them play; it was one of your greatest joys.

You can't say that out loud either.

You kept your mouth shut as always and continued to become hysterical.

As the hours passed, Natasha was putting Riley to sleep in order to get back to her house before the storm hit. You had just finished picking up, which meant that you were prepared to head to bed as soon as the older woman departed. As you passed by your bedroom, you noticed that Riley's door was cracked open just a little bit.

You decided to give it a shot and observed the two girls conversing.

“Do you miss Mommy?" Riley inquired, her face stricken with sadness: "It hurts you to see it.

Natasha nodded, which wasn’t so surprising.

"I do," she said quietly, as if it were a dirty secret, and pushed some of Riley's hair away from her face. “But it’s over now, sweetheart. We both agreed to be with you, though. So you’ll always see me, okay?”

“You’ll never disappear?”

Natasha smiled, tears welling up in the brim of her eyelids as she softly kissed her daughter's forehead. This scenery made your heart clench, and you realized how much it hurts to lose someone you care about in this way. It hurts way too much, it’s almost insane that you feel this way.

“I will never disappear, baby. I promise.”

“Do you still love Mommy?”

Natasha chuckled, placing the teddy bear in between your daughter’s arms.

“I love her with all of my heart, Riles. I will always love your mother.”

This feels like a train wreck for you, and you absolutely hated it.

"I hope Mommy loves you too," Riley yawned, her eyes fluttering shut as slumber overtook her. Natasha sighed deeply and turned off the bedside lamp. You hurried downstairs and prepared her jacket for her before she could leave the bedroom, so you wouldn't have to talk to her when she leaves.

You turn your head when Natasha comes back down, rubbing her left eye tiredly before smiling sadly at you.

“You have a place to stay?” you asked, knowing that somewhere deep in your heart, you’ll always be concerned for her.

“Yeah, I’ll be in New York for a little while before I find a new job.”

A new job? Since when did she want a new job?

You couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean by a new job?”

The older redhead looks at you briefly and gazes at the ground, replying quietly to your question. “I retired.”

“From being an Avenger?” she nodded. You never expected this from her, not in your damn life. Why would she quit now? Her being an Avenger revolved around her life, it was her first happiness before she met you. So why would she quit now? You can’t keep your mouth shut.

“Why?”

She tucks her hand into her pockets, looking at you with bright green eyes.

“Because I’m done being an Avenger,” she said. “I just… want to live a normal life.”

“H-How are you going to get a job? You’re a criminal everywhere, Nat. I don’t think it’s–”

“Tony will be sending me money every once a month,” she chuckled, taking a few steps closer to you. “I deserve every ounce of it, anyway. But while he does that, I’ll do my best to find a job. Probably work as a mechanic, who knows?”

You nodded, giving her a sidelong glance.

“You’re gonna have a hard time.”

“I know,” Natasha whispered, giving you a sad smile. “But I can do it.”

“I know you can.”

For a while, neither of you moved, until a thunderclap shook the sky, causing you to jump. You chuckled as you walked into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t like the sound of… that.”

“I know,” she chuckled wholeheartedly because deep down inside of her, she knew everything about you. Likes and dislikes. “You’re still cute.”

“Don’t flirt with me like that.” you pointed out, straightening your voice.

“Don’t flirt like what?”

“Like you want me back.”

Natasha pushes back her hair – which you notice how short it was – and asked quietly, “You don’t want me to flirt with you?”

“Does it look like I want you to?”

"No," her heart clenches at the sound of your voice, making her more tense - which sometimes scares her because she doesn't like seeing you angry; it's one of her flaws. “But you know my answer, you know what I want.”

She can be too honest at times like this, too bold whenever she has the chance. You gave her a solemn look before turning away. Because showing your vulnerability to her will make you appear to want her as much as she does. But you want her, and you want her badly.

Natasha walks in front of you and kneels on the ground, softly touching your knee with her calloused hands. You look at her gesture but don't appear to move away from it. She looked at you with puffy cheeks and eyes that were more sorrowful than usual.

“Have you found someone else?”

You shake your head, she continued.

“Do you want me back?”

You shake your head once more, and this is when she lets out a quiet sympathetic laugh.

“You’re lying to me, Y/n.”

“I’m telling the truth,” you stated, pushing the tears away from your eyes. She tries to hold your hand, but you pull away from her grasp – showing a hurtful expression on her face. “Natasha, we can’t.”

“I promise I’ll be good to you this time…”

“That’s–” you let out a stressful sigh and pinch your nose bridge. “I don’t want to fight, okay? We both agreed to be civil for our daughter, so let’s just keep doing that.”

“I never stopped thinking about you.”

“Nat–”

"I still love you," her voice and touch become more desperate. "When we divorced, I never looked at anyone else in my life except you," she sniffled. “I never dared to touch a woman because I still love you. Did you know that? You have no idea how many times I've thought about you in a day, how many times I want to love you all over again - like you deserve to be loved."

You pushed her away as you turned your body away from her, more tears streaming down your cheeks. You've become weak once more, far too weak when it comes to her. Natasha tries to touch you, but she stays put.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you muttered, throwing your hands in the air. “Who asked you to be devoted to me after our divorce? You’re making yourself miserable because I’m never going to fall in love with you ever again!”

“You know what you’re saying is not true, Y/n,” Natasha shakes her head, biting her lower lip. “You know that’s not true.”

“You’re just a pain in the ass for not believing it then! God, you’re so hard to talk to.”

She mumbled, “Fine. Maybe I’m a pain in the ass, but at least I have never lied to you. I have been devoted to you since I first met you, and I never looked at anyone the moment I fell in love with you. You’ve become my whole world, my entire being. You are what I breathe and what I take, you are what I need when I go to bed and when I need to be loved. Every time I get back home from a mission, I crave your hugs. Because they only make me feel better when it’s you because it’ll always be you!”

You let out a hiccup, which you never expected, and watched Natasha’s throat bobbing as she controlled her tears. You were supposed to have a good night, but things got out of hand once more and you just painfully wanted to go to sleep and forget about how you two got here. But your emotions took over you, and it did for her as well.

“You were always gone, Natasha,” you sobbed, feeling your voice lighter as you hugged your torso. She turned her gaze away from you, knowing what she had done. “I respect what you do, but I needed you as well. I needed you to help me take care of Riley, I needed you when we were going broke. I needed you when Riley turned s-six, and I needed you when I couldn’t handle that cycle anymore.”

"But you weren't there," you sniffled, wiping your tears with the hem of your shirt. "You decided to spend more time with your friends at the pub, decided not to read my message when I needed money for the rent, and especially when it was our wedding anniversary! You didn’t give a damn about me and our marriage, you only cared when you were hurt! But what about me, Nat? What about me? I was always hurting when you were gone!”

“Baby…”

You lift a finger at her, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t call me that, you don't get to call me that.”

“I’m sorry–”

"I know you're a loyal woman," you said, smiling briefly. "I believe you would never cheat on me. But sometimes maybe I prefer you cheating on me so I have a reason to leave your stupid ass! You hurt me, Natasha. You're always causing me pain! And you know what’s worse? I still fucking love you!”

You tried standing up to avoid the agonizing silence, but two strong hands held your waist down, her head motioning to your chest. She sobbed alongside you, desperately kissing your neck. You tried to push her away, but you let her hand move to your torso until she wrapped her arms around you tightly. Natasha sobbed until your shirt was soaked in her tears.

"I'm here now," she said quietly, looking you in the eyes as she always does. “I’m here now and I’m so sorry you felt that way, darling. I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry for everything, I didn’t mean to hurt you this way. I just… I wanted what’s best for you a-and our beautiful daughter.”

You were aware of this. Of course, you were aware of this. Natasha would go out of her way for you and your daughter. She would move the moon for you, giving you what you needed until you could truly say you were satisfied. But money, even if it was luxurious, was not always the solution. It was her love that prevailed.

“We’re meant to be together,” she continues to sob, holding your face as she brings your forehead against hers. “You’re always going to be the first girl I’ll lay eyes on. I love you so much, darling. I love you too much to let you go.”

You shake your head, knowing that you could always come back to her with her sweet words and innocent touch - which you didn't want. But, knowing yourself too well, you desired that above all else in the world.

She took advantage of the opportunity to softly kiss your lips, letting out a quiet moan as she feels your lips after a long time of desperately wanting to taste you again. She draws your face in closer, refusing to let you go. She probes the depths of your mouth, re-memorizing you - as she always does. You couldn't push her away because you felt her tongue on the roof of your mouth. Natasha has captured your heart once more, and you know you don't want to let go.

The older woman pulled away with a smacking sound before whispering, “I fucked up bad, I know that now. But I promise you, I will be good to you this time, little girl. I promise, okay? I’m here now, I’m never going far away again.”

Give her a chance, explore the moment. You want her, you know it yourself.

You stared deeply into the wonders of her eyes, taking a moment of happiness. After months and months of sorrow, of mourning for that matter, you finally have her again – you needed to take it all in.

“I know,” you smiled, feeling more tears in your eyes. “I’m giving you another chance.”

Natasha gently pushes you back onto the couch and separates your legs so she can get in between them. She kisses you slowly and sensuously, her hands exploring the side of your waist until her fingers are hooked into your shorts. "I've thought about this moment, did you know that?" she pulls her lips away for a brief moment.

You moaned when you felt your shorts being pulled down from your legs, feeling the cold air hit your skin as you felt more of her open-mouth kisses on your jaw and all the way down to your neck. The redhead brought her thumb to your face cheek and made circular motions while staring down at you, smiling to herself. Finally, she had you once again. She couldn’t believe it.

“D-Do you want to do it here?” she asked hastily, after removing your undergarments. You nodded, looking from the side to find protection – which seems to be not in the living room since you don’t put those kinds of stuff in your house. And plus, you haven’t had sex in a while. “Baby, I don’t have a condom with me.”

"It's okay," you said, catching her lips and feeling her warm breath enter your mouth. She moaned lowly above you, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down to her ankles. “You have to pull out, though.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, her tongue darting on the skin of your neck, groaning to herself. “Oh, you make me so happy… You want me to fuck you here? Out in the open? What if our Riley–”

“She’s dead asleep,” you giggled, massaging her dick through her boxers as you received a long, strained moan from her, which turned you on even more. “You’re getting hard, Tasha…”

“Rub it, baby,” she whispers, rushing down her words. You squint your eyes to see an evident wet patch on her underwear, continuing to stroke your hand onto her covered cock. “Oh fuck, that’s it–Mmph… your hand f-feels so good.”

You take your time to stroke her cock through her boxers, watching her whimper and biting her lip to prevent letting out loud sounds wake your daughter up. You enjoyed doing this, watching the woman immensely falling apart for you, and the more you stroked her harder and faster, the more she rolls her hips down on you.

You began to ask, “You want to fuck me?”

“Uh-huh,” she muttered, her thumb circling your clit, smirking as you began to let out tiny moans. “Y-You like it when I touch you like this, kotenok?”

“Please–”

"You're so wet for me," she says softly as two of her fingers spread through your folds, almost entering your tight entrance. She shudders above you, then continues to finger your cunt until she is satisfied. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay? Let me just pull down my underwear.”

Her cock grew another inch after she removed her boxers. She almost sits up and strokes her thick length, watching her bulbous head turn red with torment. You observe her hand stroking her penis while your inner walls clench each time pre-cum dribbles on your lower stomach, a string connecting to your skin and to her head. She slides her hand beneath your shirt, gasping as she feels your nipple harden against her palm.

“Gonna break you in, again?” she chuckles, strongly kissing your lips. You held her face as the tip of her cock was at your entrance, moving the head up and down to gather more of your juices – which felt sensitive. “Shh, keep your voice down little girl, you’re gonna wake our daughter up.”

Once she slid inside of you, you and her moaned together as the air thickened around the room. Natasha holds your waist closer to hers, slowly ripping you apart once again. She stutters out a moan before pressing her lips on the corner of your mouth, pushing more of her length until both of your pelvises have touched.

“Fuck,” she whispers, looking down at both of your sex. “Y-Youre so tight, and so warm… you take my dick so good, little girl.”

“Tasha,” you moaned out her name as your voice got pitchier. “T-Too big.”

“You can take it,” Natasha mumbled as she slowly pulls out, pushing back in once again without any restraints. “Too small for my dick, huh?”

She continued this motion, slowly pulling out and pushing back in while peppering kisses all over your face. You scratched her back, wanting to hold onto something while she let out a hiss, but smirked because she liked it whenever you did that to her. The older woman starts to pick up an unusual pace since you both had to be quiet or else you would get caught red-handed.

“I like the way your pussy clenches around me,” Natasha grunted as she got turned on even more by the sloshing sounds coming down from your cunt. “You like this, huh? You like being fucked by me? Ruining you all over again? Tell me you like this…”

You gasped for air as you fluttered your eyes closed, feeling her thick cock pounding into you slowly. “I-I love this,” you mewled. “Go faster, Tash. Ruin my pussy.”

“Argh, you want me to ruin your pussy?”

“Uh-Huh…”

She withdraws her length from your pussy, slapping her head against your clit, causing you to moan aloud. “Okay, baby. I’ll ruin this fucking tight pussy.”

Natasha covers your mouth with her damp hand as she continues to roll her hips into you, the couch creaking and shifting slightly. She thrusts into you at a faster pace, your skin slapping together, filling the room with wet noises. She smirked, biting her own lip and containing her own pleasurable moans as she looked down at your sweaty face.

“Can’t c-control myself when I’m with you,” she whispers breathlessly, whimpering each time her head hits your spot. “Fuck, you’re taking me all in, huh? You’re such a good little girl, baby. Such a good little girl…”

"Ah!" you screamed into her hand as you felt her penis pistoning inside of you, the creaking of your couch becoming more audible, and you're sure Riley's room can hear it. You put your hand on her hips to slow her down, and she did. But she kept giving hard thrusts, moaning each time she was buried deep inside you.

“You make me want to bust my nut into you,” the woman panted hard, her hips making circular motions to keep maneuvering her cock inside of your depth walls. “Gonna remove my h-hand now, okay? Stay quiet.”

She slowly moves her hand away from your mouth and kisses your lips with such need, her hands moving up and down on your waist as she continues to fuck you on the couch, her ass clenching each time she hits the spot inside of you that she loved. She looked behind her shoulder to see if her daughter was awake, but she was glad she wasn't anywhere near both of you.

She continued to pound you hard into the cushions, lifting your hips to the side so she could go deeper into you.

“Ugh yeah,” she whined as she shut her eyes tightly. “Shit, shit shit… Take it all in, sweet girl. F-Fuck me!”

“You feel so good inside of me,” you let out a long moan, threading your fingers through her short hair. “Keep going, Tasha. K-Keep going.”

"Oh my fucking god, you're taking me so well," she begins, making the entire couch shake and creak loudly. She didn't care if anyone heard you both, but if her daughter awoke from the strange sound coming from the living room, she would quickly pull out. Despite knowing her daughter was a heavy sleeper, she continued to rock her hips back and forth until there were red marks on your thighs. “Take it, take it, take it…”

Your moans started to get louder and louder, and you were holding Natasha tightly from her back as you felt your inner walls being abused by her penis, her thick long dick. The woman starts to helplessly moan and kisses your mouth hard.

“I’m gonna fucking cum all over your stomach,” she whispers slowly to you, bringing your hips up and down to take her length all the way inside of you. “You wanna cum with me, baby doll? Wanna cum with me? Oh fuck, I’m going to blow–”

Natasha pulls out quickly as she presses the tip of her cock against your clit, furiously rubbing it to catch your orgasm. You grabbed her neck and screamed, "I'm cumming! I’m gonna cum–Oh my god, Nat… I’m gonna cum!”

“Me too, baby! I’m here now–shit!”

You roll your eyes back as you feel your legs twitching from your orgasm, the head of her cock rubbing up and down on your clit, intensifying your orgasm. As the world darkens around you, you arch your back, knowing that it has become this much for you. Natasha looks down at your face and pumps her cock hard, spitting thick sperm all over your cunt, coating your clit and folds. She lets out a deep moan and thrusts her dick into her hand as she continues to cum. Her thick sperm coated your cunt, but most of it was on your lower stomach.

Her balls contracted as she continued to pump herself. As soon as she slows down, she sighs heavily and hugs you from behind, kissing your reddened cheeks while smiling softly down at you. Natasha whispered, “That was amazing, baby girl. You did such a great job for me.”

"Thank you," you muttered as you fell asleep, too tired to speak and too tired to think. Natasha recognized this and decided to kiss you on the cheek one last time before standing up to find a blanket for the two of you, butt naked. She decides to slip her unhardened cock inside your vagina once she is comfortable with her position behind you and sleeps peacefully on your warm walls hugging her dick.

i got lazy at the end but hope you enjoyed this one!

[mermaidgirl30]

✨New Beginnings✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: I loved writing this, it was so soft 🥹 This can be read as a stand alone, but it is a continuation of my fic Fortnight! I hope you enjoy! This is the ending I wanted for them 🥰 Might write another little cute one shot for them in the near future because I love them so much. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for beta reading and helping me with the mood board 🩷

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years healing, growing, and letting go. During a day at the lake, fate steps in when you run into Joel without a wedding ring on.

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: fluff, flirting, making up for lost time, old flame, no use y/n, reader sees Joel again after 3 years, reader has a dog named Sammy

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The summer breeze of Austin rushes through your hair, the smell of fresh oak, the sloshing sounds of lapping blue water, and the feel of new beginnings permeates throughout the air. Summer. Your favorite time of year, your favorite place to be. Georgetown Lake. An escape, a picturesque safe haven where you can sunbathe and let Sammy, your golden retriever, pounce around the clear water as it splashes against his sandy fur. 

   You’ve been doing okay lately, healing, moving on like you should’ve a long time ago. After sulking around the house days after the mail incident with Joel, you knew it was time to do something, anything to make that pit of sadness wash away. You couldn’t face Tess again, face him, not after you broke down in tears the moment he slipped his calloused fingers firmly around your wrist. It was too much, too soon, too fresh. Even though it had been years since you’d broken up. You never quite got over him, his face, his eyes. But It was way past time, the time to move on.

   So you moved, put a sign outside your house to let everyone know it was on the market and sold to the first offer you got. You remember Joel’s face after he saw the posted sign in your yard full of dying roses. He looked so sad, the flecks of his dark irises shining in the February chill as you caught his eyes after hammering the sign in the soft ground. You were wilting more than your red roses, and you needed a breath of fresh air, a way to thrive and grow like your flowers used to be. It was your sign to flee.

   After you sold your house and moved half an hour away, you could finally breathe, the wilts of your lilting petals starting to bloom and thrive the longer you were away from them. 

   You saw the pictures of their wedding on social media, saw how truly happy they looked. You remember shedding a tear or two looking at the photographs, at her flowing wedding dress, at their shared kiss after saying their “I do’s”. It was enough to send you spiraling, enough to make you drop your laptop and crack the screen. And that was the last time you saw Joel Miller. There was no sense in dwindling over what if’s. It was over, done. You swore you’d never see his face again in the city of Austin. He was the past, you had to look towards your future.

   You got a new job, working for an environmental engineering company and helping with tracking the bluegill and catfish populations in the lakes around Austin. You liked working outside, loved being near the water. You always felt at home out on the lake with the soft sand sinking between your toes, the calm breeze always blowing away any worries of your messy life. But it wasn’t so messy anymore. It was peaceful, bright, made you feel alive. 

   You throw the damp tennis ball again, laughing at the way Sammy flops into the water and splashes around, eagerly fetching the soaked ball as he brings it over to you again. 

   “You ready, Sammy? Go get it!” you yell as you toss the ball back towards the water. He shakes his soaked fur and makes a run for it, but he stops half way and perks his fuzzy ears up at something in the distance. “Sammy?”

   You watch him pant happily and make a dash for it in the opposite direction, barking at nothing you can see. “Sammy!” You follow after him, sprinting behind as you hear his chipper barks and feel your hair blow back behind you as you chase after him. 

   “Sammy, come on! This isn’t like you,” you breathe out as you run until your legs feel like jello and feel as if you’ll pass out at any second. 

   Your bare feet drag through the sand on the shore, your breath feeling as if it’s on fire as you run and run and run until you finally see his giddy, long tail and golden paws that leap up off the ground. What’s got him so excited? He never runs up to strangers. 

   “Sammy! Come here, boy,” you clap your hands together as you walk towards whoever he’s got wrapped around his cute, fluffy face. 

   “I’m so sorry. He’s not usually like this. I…” You freeze, your breath hitching as you stare at the man that fully consumes your vision. Joel. 

   He looks over at you, a warm smile curling against the edge of his plush lips as his golden brown eyes crinkle down at you. It nearly takes your breath away. He looks so… good. 

   He’s filled out more, his flexed arms and broad chest clinging to his white t-shirt, corded veins twisting down his tan arms almost like you remember. He looks more buff, more healthy, like maybe he stopped drinking that amber colored whiskey he used to love. His grey threaded curls are grown out, his doe brown eyes more shiny, more alive than the last time you saw him. And he looks like he’s happy, so happy. It’s amazing what three years of not seeing him can do to your own mind. The sight of him almost makes you dizzy, delusional, like maybe this is fate. 

   “Joel?” you whisper out, your voice shaky and breathy as your eyes slide down his blue swim trunks, his leather sandals, his tan skin that seems to glow like glitter under the orange beams of the sunlight. 

   “Yeah, it’s me. Nice to see Sammy’s doin’ good. Guess he remembers me,” he chuckles as he bends down and scratches the back of Sammy’s fluffy ears. Sammy jumps up and licks the side of his face as another infectious smile takes over Joel’s glowing face. 

   Joel laughs as he wipes the slobber from his greying scruff and stands back up, bright eyes blazing through you as he flicks his gaze slowly over your figure. You feel a little self conscious standing in your too short denim shorts and baby blue crop top as you fold your arms nervously over your chest. Why are you so nervous?

   “It’s uhh… good to see ya. How ya been?” he asks slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as his hand drags through the curling strands that sit against the nape of his neck.

   “Good. Yeah, good,” you nod as your fingers dance nervously up and down your scorching arms. “What about you?” 

   “Yeah, I’ve been good, too. Busy, but that’s always good. Been workin’ a lot, contractin’, the usual.”

   You nod your head, watching the way his heavy gaze never leaves your eyes. Suddenly, it feels too hot, too intense. That spark simmers low in your stomach, that strong pull that you always felt when you were around him. It’s almost like you were meant to meet here like this, unplanned. Maybe it was fate. Maybe… but then you remember Tess. Where was Tess?

   “You, umm enjoyin’ your new place? House, apartment, wherever you moved?” His tone is gentle, like he’s genuinely interested in how you’ve been, where you moved. And it feels strange, but also like it needs to be asked.

   “Oh, yeah. Actually, I love it. I moved just a few miles from the lake. It’s so peaceful, being able to come out here whenever I want to.” Your eyes flick over the calm water, examining the gentle ripples of the clear lake, but then Joel’s deep voice brings you back to the present. 

   “Sounds like you’ve been doin’ good.” He gives you a lazy smile, one where it’s crooked and soft and so serene that you can’t help but smile back. 

   “Yeah, I really have.”

   “That’s good, real good,” he says as he nods his head, just continuing to stare at you in awe. And it’s like you’re just seeing him for the first time, that summertime glow just sizzling off his tan skin. 

   Your eyes wander over him, lapping up his broad muscles and dreamy smile and untamed curls. He looks so handsome. You don’t know what it is, but something brand new seems to shine through him. 

   “You look… different,” you say with narrowed eyes, trying to assess what exactly is different, but you’re not sure what. 

   “Yeah? That a good thing or bad thing?” he chuckles as he runs a hand straight back through his lush curls. The action makes your breath get caught in the back of your throat. 

   “I dunno. Think it looks good on you, whatever it is.” You smile nervously up at him and bat your eyelashes flirtatiously. 

   “Yeah?” he smirks as the flecks of his dark eyes glisten under the rays of the hot sun. 

   “Yeah,” you reply bashfully. “You seem more… happy.”

   He chuckles as he shoves his thick fingers into the pockets of his blue shorts. “Guess that’s what happens when a man stops drinkin’.”

   Your eyes grow wide as your mouth drops open. “You? The Joel Miller has stopped drinking his precious whiskey?” you ask dumbfoundedly. 

   “Mhm. Mostly. Haven’t touched a bottle in three months. Been doin’ good, feelin’ stronger, more sharp. Even been hittin’ the gym.”

   You smile warmly over at him, your eyes alight as you drop your arms to your side and nod, his words taking your breath right out from your chest. “Joel, that’s so great. I’m so… so… proud of you.”

   He nods slowly at you, the dimple indenting the middle of his cheek as his crooked smile makes you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. Like there’s hope. “Proud of me, huh?”

   “Yeah,” you whisper out. 

   “Well, that’s sweet of ya to say, darlin’.”

   Darlin’.  He hasn’t called you that in so long, you almost forgot how good it feels to hear seep off his sticky sweet voice, that gravelly lull that soothes your racing pulse in your chest. 

   You suddenly notice his left hand, tracing every inch, every tan speck of his thick fingers. It’s unusually bare, no gold ring like in the wedding pictures you saw online. It’s gone, vanished. Was Tess and him, dare you say… over?

   He watches you assess his empty ring finger, his eyes flicking over your narrowed, confused face as you stare so hard that you think your eyes might fall out onto the smooth sand. 

   You open your mouth, drawing air into your tight lungs, until you release the words you’ve been wondering this whole entire time. “Are you and Tess still…” You can’t even finish your sentence, afraid that maybe he’d just left his ring at home or left it at the jewelry shop to get polished up. 

   He lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Nah. We ended things last year.”

   “Oh.” You’re dumbstruck, your mouth agape as he says the words you were almost too scared to hope for. Not that you wanted things to end badly between them, but somewhere deep inside you still wished that maybe one day you could find each other again. And as fate twisted its tethered vines around the two of you, it seems like this was meant to be. 

   “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say with tight knit brows. 

   “Don’t gotta apologize, wasn’t your fault.”

   “I know, but still. I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a tight lipped smile. “After gettin’ married, we jus’ realized we wanted different things. Things weren’t the same as before, and we decided it was better off if we went our own separate ways. There’s no hard feelings, jus’ was better off not bein’ together. We gave it a good two years, but ultimately it jus’ didn’t work out, and that’s fine. Had a lot of growin’ to do after, found my own pace again. It was the best choice. I’m much… guess you could say happier now.”

   “Oh, well that’s good. I’m glad things turned out for the best.”

   “Me too.” 

   You give Joel a small smile, and he sends a dreamy one back your way, all crinkled eyes and that crooked smile that makes you dizzy every time you look at him. 

   He shifts his weight and digs his heel into the soft sand. His eyes look down towards the ground, then flick slowly up towards you, almost like he’s nervous. 

   “Hey, do you maybe wanna go grab some coffee this week with me?” His hand scratches the back of the scruff on his neck nervously as his jaw ticks from the building anticipation. 

   “Houndstooth Coffee?” you ask with a raised brow. 

   He chuckles warmly and nods. “‘Course. Only the best.”

   You smile in reply. “Okay. Yeah. I’m in.”

   “Great.” 

   You both stand there in the heat of the afternoon, gentle smiles pressing against both of your lips as Sammy barks and runs circles around you and Joel. 

   As if Sammy is trying to intrude on the awkward moment between you and Joel, he jumps up and presses his damp paws on your back which knocks you off balance and sends you lurching forward. 

   “Sammy!” you whine. As if on cue, Joel reaches out and catches you, wrapping his strong arms around your hips as he balances you back on your feet. 

   “Whoa there, easy now,” he chuckles as he lingers his big hands on your shimmering skin. Your mouth parts open, and you gasp as you look up to find kind, dreamy brown eyes staring down at you, almost like he’s mesmerized. And for the moment, it feels like the first time the two of you ever met, almost magical, but this seems new. 

   You hook a strand of hair nervously behind your ear and laugh. “Always showing up at the right time it seems.”

   “Yeah, seems like it,” he smiles kindly. 

   You stand there breathing his air, feeling a little dizzy at the smell of his woodsy scent, no more whiskey fragrance lingering in his sandy hair. You feel the tension, the chemistry just bursting at the seams. And you know now that this was fate, it had to be. 

   Joel gives Sammy a couple more scratches behind the ears and then looks over at you with a crooked smile. “Well, it was good seein’ ya again. Been a long time,” he sighs while you nod in response. 

   “Yeah, it really has…”

   Another long minute goes by and then he’s taking one hesitant step back. “Well, guess I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll umm text you about coffee.”

   Before he can take another step back, you hold your hand out as if to reach him. “Wait.” He ticks his jaw and knits his eyebrows together as he waits for you to finish. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

   He smirks over at you. “Jus’ thought I’d let you get back to enjoyin’ the lake. Figured I was interruptin’.”

   You shake your head. “No, not at all. Please, stay.” You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and he chuckles in response as his dark brown irises seem to glow in the sunlight.

   “Always knew how to get me with those big, beautiful eyes.”

   You crinkle your nose up at him and bag your eyelashes sweetly up at him. “What, like this?”

   He just crosses his broad arms over his chest and smirks over at you. “Mhm. Jus’ like that, gorgeous. Jus’ like that.”

   Your cheeks heat up as you feel the crimson blush taking over, lingering your fingers against his wrist as you ask sweetly. “So, will you stay?”

   Joel nods and smiles. “Yeah, darlin’. I’ll stay.”

   And he does stay, until the sun starts to slip under the fluffy clouds. He stays the entire afternoon, walking along the shoreline with you, playing fetch with Sammy, catching up on lost time together, starting fresh. It’s almost like he never left, picking up right where you left off. And maybe it was supposed to be like this. Like you had to fall apart to fall back into one another. 

   And when the sunset starts to fade to light purples and pink colors in the distance while you sit on the edge of the wooden dock, he leans over and kisses you softly. It’s like the world fades to black, and there’s only you and Joel getting lost in one another. His hands cradle your face softly, his plush lips melting into yours as you taste him and let the syrupy taste mix in with yours. 

   This is how it was supposed to be, how it was always supposed to be. You had to find each other later in life, begin again, have this special moment in time. It was fate, always had been. He was always the one for you, and this just solidifies it. 

   When he breaks the kiss, you lean against him while he wraps a large arm around you. You gaze out to the calm blue water and take a breath of fresh wildflowers in the air. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums as he looks down at you. 

   “Thank you for staying.”

   He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “‘Course, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Gonna just stay right here with you in my arms.”

   You lean your full weight into his warm chest as he scoops you up into his lap and hooks his arms around your waist, his lips lingering against your jawline. You take a deep breath and smile as you look out against the misty lake. You were finally home, with him. 

   Your forever. 

Tags: @laurrrra @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @littlevenicebitch69 @honey-dip-24 @sawymredfox

@orcasoul @thundermartini @solllaris @vivian-pascal @jessthebaker @vie-is-punk

@hoeruiner @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @amyispxnk @morallyinept @milla-frenchy

@laramc-02 @keylimebeag

[sorrowsofsilence]

I Was Always Yours

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 4.1k

Part Two

Warnings: smut 18+, fluff, swearing, unprotected s*x (pls wrap it b4 u tap it), female recieving, PnV penetration.

Summary: You grew up with Nick Ruffilo and Noah, but its been years since you’ve seen your best friends due to them being away touring. When Ruffilo came back to your hometown, opening his home tattoo studio, you get the opportunity to reconnect with him, and Noah. Deep down you’ve always had something for Noah, and it turns out he’s always felt something for you too. Perhaps seeing eachother years later, after you’ve both changed, sparked something.

Author note: This is short haired Noah era! <3 I just couldn’t resist using the beautiful photo of Noah above :3 Also, I haven’t written on tumblr in years, but I thought I’d come back with this fluff/smut! Enjoy if this finds you! <3

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

I finally gathered the courage to turn off my car, letting the crisp autumn air bite at my cheeks as I stepped outside. Taking in a shaky breath I allowed my legs to carry me towards the door, my hands clammy and fingers fidgety.

The boys were always simple- and even their nice townhouse was in an everyday neighbourhood, with nothing elaborate on the outside. Just as it had always been, as if time never flew by.

I didn’t know why I was so nervous. I’ve known Nick and Noah for years. We were neighbours growing up, went to high school together, and even shared memories from our adulthood. These boys knew me and I knew them, but I knew that things were different now. 

The boys had just finished tour, and have grown exponentially in their music careers. They walked around with security now, and had fans dedicated to finding out everything about their lives- they’ve become a spectacle; no longer just Nick, or just Noah. 

The nerves also came because I didn’t even know if I’d be seeing Noah. Admittedly, he was my first crush; and really, I don’t think it ever left. When I first met him in seventh grade he sported a shaggy haircut and a dorky grin, and he’s held my heart with iron bars ever since. Over the years I had just accepted that my feelings would never be reciprocated, and we both dated other people on and off. 

It’s been almost three years since I last got to see him due to the pandemic, and we only ever texted each other on big life events, like birthdays, or during the release of their album. I knew the boys were back when Nick sent out a message that he was looking to tattoo again. I sported a few of Nick’s pieces, but I was looking to get a cover-up of a bad decision I made during a past relationship. I texted Nick asking if he was available, and here I am; right outside Nick’s house. 

I sighed deeply, trying to persuade the anxiety out of my lungs, before knocking, following the pattern I had always used when I was younger. Within seconds I was greeted by a pair of grey-green eyes and a wide smile, my nervousness beginning to cease.

“Y/N!” I was pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and I let out a sigh of relief I didn’t know I was holding in. My grin matched his own as I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing back, laughing.

“It’s nice to see you Ruffilo.” 

We pulled away from each other and shared another smile. I took off my leather Doc Martens, straightening my fuzzy red polka-dot socks before giving him another hug, smiling into his neck.

“It’s been way too long,” Nick said, giving me an empathetic glance as we separated. “Life has just been crazy.”

“Yeah, I almost wonder if I should be bowing to you right now considering how famous you’ve gotten,” I couldn’t help but laugh, and Nick rolled his eyes, leading me down the hall. The place was neat; white paint, and light flooring. Various Bad Omen’s posters and records hung neatly on the wall, along with other abstract art pieces. It was delicate and simple, just as they way they always kept it. It’s nice to see that they haven’t changed in that regard. 

“Trust me, no bowing is required.” Nick turned back to face me, his smile radiating, before motioning at a door ahead, and I walked into a small office filled with tattoo supplies. It was Nick’s mini-home tattoo studio. 

“Wow, this is awesome Nick. You’ve always wanted your own little studio.” I said, looking at his work plastered on the wall, soaking it in with awe.

He sighed happily, “Yeah, when we were looking for a house that was one of my requirements. I needed my own space; just because we make music doesn’t mean I’ll give up tattooing.”

I nodded, taking a seat on the chair. “Thank you for seeing me by the way, I appreciate you squeezing me in.”  

“Hey, for you, I’d do anything.” He smiled warmly, sitting across from me. 

Nick and I chatted for almost an hour before even starting the tattoo. We caught up and talked about tours, and I loved getting to listen to his stories about performing and getting to travel the world. It seemed like the dream, especially considering that before the pandemic, they joked about only pleasing ten fans.

However, the entire time I felt distracted. The only thing my mind kept wandering to was if Noah was home, or if he was going to show up. I felt ashamed being so disconnected from the conversation with Nick; because he was someone I cared about deeply. Yet, my thoughts took me elsewhere. 

“You alright?” Nick asked gently, as he started preparing his supplies, glancing at me teasingly.

“Oh yeah! I’m good!” I smiled reassuringly and Nick echoed me, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked him, the cheesy grin plastered on his face making me nervous.

“Noah will be home soon, he’s just out with Davis.” 

I stared at him, my cheeks beginning to flush, “Okay, cool?” I shrugged nonchalantly, but my stomach immediately began doing spirals, nerves bubbling throughout my veins.

Nick wiped my thigh, preparing the location for the stencil quietly before asking, “You never told him how you felt?” 

I watched him cautiously, eyes flickering between his hands and his eyes, “I- I don’t feel anything,” I shook my head, ears getting even hotter. “That was so long ago.”

Nick looked up through his lashes, looking very unconvinced, “Sure, and I don’t play in a band.”

Rolling my eyes, I gave him an annoyed smile, “It would be nice to see him. It’s been a long time- and he doesn’t post anything online anymore, or text.”

Nick nodded as he wiped and re-drew the outline on my leg, “Noah’s been pretty recluse. He’s gotten a lot of anxiety from the fame; mostly just sticks to himself when we finish shows. Plus, he doesn’t enjoy dealing with some of the fans.” 

I frowned, feeling myself get sad. Noah has always been pretty introverted, but it looked like he was getting out of his shell on stage. He was playing into the pretty boy facade he had going, and he knew he was hot. I’ve seen plenty of videos from the tour. 

“Well, I hope he is doing alright,” I said softly, looking around the room again for any form of distraction.

As if on cue I heard the front door open, and a yell cascaded down the hall, “You better not have a girl in your room,” he had teased.

Immediately I felt the hair on my neck stand in anticipation, realizing that the voice belonged to Noah. My fingers began to tingle as all the blood rushed towards my face, my chest losing any ounce of breath I was just able to exhale.

His voice bounded across the walls again, “but, these are some pretty sick boots.”

“Got someone even better,” Nick yelled back, laughing, “In the tattoo room.”

A head of brunette hair popped in the doorway, his eyes immediately widening as if his whole world suddenly began to spin within milliseconds. A small flush of colour ran down his ears onto the tops of his cheekbones, before a wide, childlike smile appeared on his face. He stepped into the room, immediately crossing his arms, and leaning on the side of the table as if he thought he was doing something charming.

“No fucking way, look what the cat dragged in,” his Virginian accent dancing off his tongue. 

I looked back at him, my heart racing even faster. I know it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him, but he did take my breath away. Noah looked older, but healthy, becoming a lot more muscular and defined, despite his height and lank still being there. His hair was short, a layer of bangs hanging across his forehead in a messy sweep. It was the first time I’d seen him in person without his long hair, all 13 inches gone; but it suited him. I soaked in his appearance, noticing a few new tattoos layered around his fingers as well, my heart yearning. 

“Is that really my Y/N/N?” he stared at me, the grin not leaving his face, especially after using my childhood nickname. Noah walked towards me shyly with open arms, squinting his eyes in contentment as he invited me in for a hug.

“the one and only.” I breathed a nervous laugh, standing up. Shaky limbs carried me over to him and he wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me within his body. 

I composed myself, inhaling slowly, before hugging back, squeezing his torso. I felt so small compared to him, yet I still fit right between his arms, as if I was meant to always be there, a spot reserved just for me. We rocked back and forth in a tight embrace, his chest vibrating as he let out a happy chuckle. 

“Oh my god, it’s been so long.” I could hear the happiness radiating off of him.

I sighed with relief at his reaction; he must’ve missed me too. He held onto me for a moment more, and I breathed in his scent, recognizing his favourite Dior cologne. Smiling into his chest, It felt comfortable- it felt familiar. Years of memories flooded back, my heart recalling, reminding myself that he was who I had been missing in my life all along. 

“Wow, you’ve changed Y/N,” Noah said as he pulled away, stepping back slightly, taking me in with a look of awe. He absorbed all of me, drinking in my image, before grabbing the sides of my face, and staring into me with an immense amount of appreciation. 

I looked up at him in admiration, studying his deep October eyes as they sang unspoken words, retelling a story that only our bodies knew. 

“Your hair,” I said as my hand unconsciously found its way to his locks.

My fingers flowed down his no longer existing threads, reminiscing of his past image. That chapter of his life was gone. He’s been reborn into a much more confident man, a newer version of the Noah that once was. I almost longed for his old appearance, because I didn’t know this Noah- but by the way his eyes gleamed, he was still mine. 

Noah chuckled, “Yeah, I was tired of getting it in my mouth when singing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his hand, before pulling away to look at Nick.

Nick gave us a sly smile, shaking his head gently. 

“I didn’t expect to see you,” Noah sighed, still smiling. I swear it hasn’t left his face since he saw me. He looked over at Nick, “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“I thought it would be a fun surprise,” Nick looked at Noah playfully, before patting the tattoo chair. I took a seat again, positioning my thigh within Nick's reach. 

“You’re getting some ink?” Noah asked, folding his arms in approval as he leaned over me, looking at the stencil outlined on my skin. 

“Yeah, Nick said he wanted to tattoo again, and I needed an excuse to visit,” I said cheekily. 

Noah nodded repeatedly, still analyzing my thigh. “You never needed an excuse. You should’ve texted us. Texted me.”

I shrugged, “I didn’t want to get in the way. You guys are busy- especially now. the last thing you need is unnecessary messages or phone calls.” 

“I haven’t seen you in like three years Y/N,” Noah said, sighing a sad smile. He sat down on a stool, folding his ankle over his knee. 

Nick began to outline the tattoo, and I winced briefly,  “I know.” 

“You never came to see us on this tour.” Noah looked at the floor, analyzing the outline of his white vans. I glanced at him quickly, before concentrating on Nick’s hands. “You know we’d have gotten you in right?”

I gave him a mournful look, “I’d pay just like everyone else, Noah. I don’t expect anything…but I honestly just got super busy.”

“I was really hoping you’d be there.” 

I felt my heart clench and my chest tighten at his words. “I’m sorry.” I peered over at him, barely being able to maintain eye contact as I chewed the inside of my cheek.

“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you either; it does go both ways,” Noah said, and we shared a wry smile. 

“You should come see us this weekend,” Nick said while concentrating. I furrowed my eyebrows as he scratched along my skin, the area beginning to redden. Despite having multiple tattoos, I never enjoyed the experience of getting them. 

“What time? And where?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek, and closing my eyes at the burning sensation. 

Noah scrolled on his phone before I felt my own buzz. Looking at it, I saw a message from Noah. It was a ticket with VIP access. 

“I don’t need VIP,” I looked at him in appreciation. 

Noah smiled down at his phone, “Well last time I checked, VIP stands for ‘very important persons’, and arguably our childhood bestie is in that category.” 

“Well, thank you.” I smiled gratefully, butterflies still knocking on every organ in my body.

“So,” Noah began, shifting positions so he was leaning his elbows on his knees, peering over to stare at my leg, “You and Sean broke it off?”

I followed his gaze, staring at the faded puzzle piece beneath the purple markings of Nick's outline. 

Sean was my first serious boyfriend. We were friends in high school, and admittedly always had some sort of connection. We started dating, and were together for four years; before I found somebody else sleeping with him in our bedroom. 

I looked longingly at the puzzle piece, my eyes snapping away once Nick began lining on top of it, covering away the layers of regret, “He cheated on me.” 

Turning to face Noah, his face immediately shifted from sympathetic to anger, “What a complete fucking tool.” He spat, folding his arms in the chair. Noah’s reaction surprised me, but I nodded in agreement. 

“Yep.” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders, “Note to self, don’t get a matching tattoo. You probably won't be with that person forever.” I said, pessimistically. 

Noah was quiet for a moment, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip as he contemplated his question, “Did you catch him?”  

I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows in annoyance, “In our bedroom too.” 

Noah scoffed, audibly groaning while he tilted his head back in hostility, “Pathetic piece of shit. I never liked him being with you.” 

My heart raced as Noah glared at the puzzle piece that began to disappear on my thigh, “At least now you’ll get to have a better piece of art on your body.”

“Exactly,” I smiled proudly, watching Nick’s hands run along the skin, “and it’s the one and only Nicholas Ruffilo’s handy work too.” 

Nick glanced up smiling. It was quiet for a moment, and I chewed on my lip, anxious to ask.

“What about you? Any ladies?” I said to Noah playfully, winking. Deep down though, I was hoping the answer was no one.

Noah gave me a small smile, “No one at the moment, last relationship ended poorly.” 

“That makes two of us.” I chuckled sorrowfully 

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Noah pushed me against the bedroom door, lips attached to my own hastily. His kiss was desperate and hungry as he cupped my face in his hands, and I felt weak in the knees as our hips were pushed together, the heat radiating off of him. 

“You have no idea how long I have waited to do this.” He breathed between kisses.

My hands found their way to Noah’s hair, rubbing my fingers along his scalp affectionately. I smiled through his lips, eagerly holding myself against him. 

“It was so worth the wait.” He whispered, pulling away and putting his forehead against my own. He stared into me, right through me with so much intent. I had always wanted to kiss him, and my heart skipped a beat as I realized where he was, succumbing to me. 

I closed my eyes, smiling, “you have no idea how badly I wanted that too.”

He smiled widely, glancing down at my lips again, this time pulling me into his arms while kissing me with force and passion.

“Tell me how badly,” he whispered, running his fingers delicately across my waist and I melted into his touch.

“Honestly? Probably ever since we met.” I admitted, my face turning red with embarrassment at the confession, “and it’s never gone away.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Noah pulled away from the kiss, running his hand up my arm to cup the side of my face again, thumb tracing a gentle circle along my cheekbone. He looked desperate for an answer as if this was all he’s ever wanted to hear. I felt Noah’s heartbeat racing rapidly through his chest, which heaved heavily against my own. 

“I never thought you felt that way, and I didn’t want to push anything because I didn’t want to lose you,” I confessed, looking away nervously. 

Noah hummed quietly, pulling my chin towards him in another delicate kiss. His lips were warm and gentle. “You’ll never lose me. No matter how long it’s been.”

Noah began running his hands up and down my sides before sliding them between my skin and the hem of my jeans. Immediately I felt flush, and I let my own hands ride up his black t-shirt. His skin was soft and warm, and my fingertips began to tingle with nerves.

Noah hooked his fingers in the loop of my jeans, tugging me towards him and trailing us toward his desk. My thighs hit the back of it, and Noah lifted me gently, placing me on top, and positioning himself between my legs. His warm hands caressed my lower back, creating goosebumps as his nails trailed up and down the skin lightly. I shivered from the sensation.

Noah’s tongue swiped my bottom lip, and I allowed him to kiss me deeper, our tongues melding together. I began tugging at his shirt, and Noah let out a low chuckle.

“You sure you want to do this?” Noah pulled away from my lips to stare into my eyes, looking at me sternly, and analyzing every movement I made.

“yes,” I whined, almost embarrassingly needy, “Do you?”

Noah hung his head, shaking it slowly, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck someone so badly in my entire life,” He looked up with hooded eyes.

“Then take me however you want.” I sighed, pulling at his shirt again, and Noah looked at me darkly with lust, his October eyes fading into an onyx abyss.

Noah pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his tattooed chest; I stared at the ink longingly, remembering when he first got his desolate tattoo. I traced my fingers over the letters delicately, smiling to myself. This moment between us felt like I was reminiscing over all my lost time with Noah.

“Do you still feel this way?” I asked softly, as Noah pulled off my own shirt, leaving me exposed in my pink laced bra. Noah placed his hand on top of mine as I traced the last letter.

He shook his head, “No, but it will always be a reminder of when I felt empty.”

“I'm glad you don’t feel that way anymore,” I whispered, and Noah’s hands explored my body once again, before pulling on the hem of my jeans.

Bringing me into a kiss again, he fiddled with the zipper before tugging my pants down my legs, leaving me exposed in my underwear.

“I’ve probably envisioned you naked weekly.” Noah admitted as he kissed down my neck, hands roaming over every inch of skin in desperation, “I need to taste you, princess.”

I blushed at his words, and Noah’s kisses trailed further from my neck, teeth grazing across my collarbone to between my breasts. His breath quickened as he kissed lower and lower, licking down my stomach until he stopped right at the edge of my underwear.

“This okay?” He breathed heavily, his own face flushing. I nodded, and Noah pulled at the lace, revealing me.

“Fuck,” He groaned, looking up through his eyelashes briefly before placing his mouth against me, letting his slim fingers trace patterns across the sensitive skin.

Noah’s tongue circled me before he inserted two fingers, and I let out a moan. He pumped slowly, moaning quietly against me, “Oh, you wouldn’t want Nick to hear.”

I squeezed my thighs together around his head in pleasure, and Noah’s free hand gripped my thigh, pulling me even closer.

I began to pant faster, trying to be quiet, “Oh my god Noah,” I let my head fall back, resting against the wall as Noah ate me out feverishly, like this was his last meal. His fingers curled upwards, the repetitive motion sending my abdomen into a knot of fulfillment, my legs shaking against his body.

“Fuck, I need to stop or I'm going to come in my pants- and I don’t want to yet.” Noah’s eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. Taking his fingers that were inside me into his mouth, he licked them clean before pulling himself up. I watched in disbelief- that was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen him do; even compared to Noah’s stage performances of The Death of Peace of Mind. He grabbed my ass, hoisting me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Noah was extremely hard, his clothed member digging into me as he carried me towards his bed; he kissed me again and I tasted myself off of his tongue.

Noah laid me on the bed, kissing along my neck again as my hands roamed his hair before he unclasped my bra and pulled my panties down, exposing me fully to him.

“You are gorgeous, shit,” Noah mumbled, absorbing me with his eyes as he pulled his shorts down hastily, and I couldn’t help but let my own eyes wander across Noah’s fully exposed body, swallowing hard.

A new warmth washed over me as I got even wetter between my legs, the familiar feeling of excitement preparing my body for Noah’s; but this was different. This time it was Noah, here in front of me. Noah ran his fingers along my folds, moaning and internally begging to replace his hands with his own heat longing to be touched.

Noah spit into his hand and I watched attentively, following his every move as my body shivered. Noah rubbed along himself, before positioning his body above mine.

We shared eye-contact again and I nodded in approval before Noah pushed inside, his body immediately shuddering as I moved my hips against his, and he sighed deeply, squeezing his eyes closed briefly.

“God fucking dammit, you feel so good, princess.”

My legs parted as Noah’s body sunk into mine, his thrusts getting deeper and heavier. I let out another moan, “Oh- my-god-Noah.”

Words were coiled at my throat as Noah pounded into me, hands on either side of my head, his necklace dangling in my face.

“Look at me.” Noah’s voice was rough, and I stared into his eyes. He watched me with every thrust, and I mumbled a string of messy swears, my body clenching around his.

Noah’s arms wrapped around my body, pulling me up so I was positioned on top of him, but so that there was enough leverage for him to continue to thrust into me from below. This new position allowed him to penetrate me deeper and groaned with every entrance of his body into mine.

Noah grabbed the back of my neck and the middle of my back, holding me still as he fully gave himself into me before pulling me into another kiss. His mouth attached to mine hastily, bucking his hips aimlessly. Noah’s moans were almost louder than mine as he shamelessly allowed himself a pleasure.

“Mark me, Noah, show me I was always yours.” I whimpered, and Noah immediately attached to my neck, biting and sucking against the delicate skin that was pinned along my neck.

I heaved into his ear, resting my forehead on his shoulder as he held my hips, allowing myself to completely undo myself, moaning as my body reached my climax.

“Fuck me, Noah,” I panted, gripping his arms as I clenched around him, letting him thrust into me as I rode out my high.

Noah pulled my neck back to look at him again, sweat dripping across his forehead and his eyebrows furrowed in rapture, “please let me cum inside you Y/N.”

I nodded, kissing him eagerly, our saliva melding together as Noah moaned into the kiss. His body quivered as he released himself, exhaling in short breaths of satisfaction.

“Holy shit,” Noah mumbled into my neck, and I held onto him, a smile plastering itself onto my face. We sat there for a moment, panting against each other as our chests heaved, sweat attaching us together. I ran my fingers along Noah’s hair again, absorbing his handsome features, and taking him in.

He looked up at me, his eyes back to their October glow, but now replaced with a gleam of devotion. He tucked the loose strands of my H/C hair behind my ear.

I placed my lips lightly on his, “I missed you so fucking much Noah.”

“I missed you so much princess,” Noah’s hand grabbed the back of my head gently, caressing me into his chest and holding on protectively. He pulled a blanket over us as we lay together out of breath, both relishing the high of our orgasms and the story we just created together.

“I guess I thought you got too busy to be my friend,” I whispered vulnerably as we lay underneath his covers, the story we created longing against my skin.

Noah’s head rested on top of my own, and I felt his body stiffen slightly, “life has been crazy, everything is so different now. We are no longer just screaming in my garage.” He rubbed my arm, nails trailing across my skin once again.

I nodded against him in understanding, “I know. I hope you know I watched every single concert online that I could. I followed so many fan pages just to keep updated on how you were doing.”

Noah pulled me away from him softly, he looked at me with awe, “Did you really?” 

“Of course.” I looked up, smiling at him in adoration. 

“I was always hoping you’d show up again at my doorstep sometime. You have no idea how happy I am right now.” He laughed, pulling me into him again. I smiled against his chest, absorbing this moment, worried it might be my last.

“I love you, Noah Sebastian Davis.”

“I love you most Y/N Y/L/N.”

Part Two if you want more smut ;)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You look at the grade on your quiz. It’s not the end of the world but it isn’t the best. And this course is negligible in the scheme of your degree, yet, you thought you were really getting this. It’s disappointing and you can do better. You will. 

As class lets out, you head down the centre aisle past the fleeing coeds. Most don’t stick around after the intense lectures. The whiteboard still shows the chaos of formulas as the professor closes his Mac. You approach nervously. 

“Professor Parker,” you greet. 

He turns and knocks over the cup of whiteboard markers. “Ah gee.” 

He rights the cup and you bend to catch the scatter that roll around your feet. He does the same on his side of the table. As you stand and slide them back into their place, he bats away a pesky curl form his forehead. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and gives a sheepish smile. You could cringe. He’s a professor and you just know he’s younger than you. 

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“No, no, I was just thinking,” he grabs the cup as he shoves the rest of the markers inside. “How’s it going?” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s good. I was just...” you stop yourself. “I think I forgot your office hours. I was just going to ask for a little help going over my quiz but I don’t want to keep you--” 

“No, it’s fine,” he rattles the cup of markers then makes himself still. “I can help you know.” 

“Oh, okay,” you lay your quiz on the table. “I think I did pretty good but 4a really messed me up,” you flip the page and point.  

He leans to look over your work. He gently pushes aside the pen cup and reaches to his ear. He frees the pen behind it and bends over the table. He puts his weight on one elbow. You loom over him, crouching to watch him. 

He reaches up to pat his hair then pinches the arm of his glasses and chuckles, “already on. Oops.” 

You realise he’d been looking to pull his glasses down to his nose. He reminds you of Cerise sometimes. Come to think of it, she might do with a prescription herself. 

“Okay, I think I see what happened,” he taps with the tip of the pen. “Missed a step here.” You focus on the ink scrawling over in his tight writing. “But you were on the right track.” 

You take in his explanation patiently. When he looks up at you, his brown eyes surprise you. They're almost sparkling. 

“Right, thanks, I get it now,” you say. “Next time I’ll go over my work twice.” 

“Never hurts,” he stands and flips the front page over. He lifts it and hands it over. “You’ll be fine. It’s second year. Got my engineering degree no problem after flunking a course. Just had to put in a summer course.” 

“Oh, I’m not an engineering student,” you say. “But I do need the elective.” 

“No? Pretty good for not an engineering student.” 

“Art,” you supply. 

“Art? Wow. Not what I expected.” He muses. 

“I know. I’m gonna be working at a Starbucks in no time,” you kid. 

“No, that’s not... fair,” he protests. “What kinda art? Like, er, do you paint or whatever?” 

“I like to paint. Sketch... working on clayworks in one of my studios.” You say, “actually, I think you’ll laugh.” 

You bring your bag up and tuck away the quiz as you pull out your notebook. You open it and show him that day’s note. The margins are full of aimless doodles. 

“Oh, wow,” he admires your careless scribbles. “Bet you make all sorts of cool things. I’m not very good at drawing.” He glances over his shoulder at the whiteboard, “don’t know if it’s obvious.” 

His writing is narrow and bit all over but it’s legible. 

“Not that bad,” you assure him as you close up the notebook. “I meant to ask, how’s your leg?” 

“My leg? Oh yeah. It’s healing. Can’t say the same for the khakis. Lost cause,” he sighs. 

“Oh,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “well, I’m glad it wasn’t worse.” 

“I swear, they built this place like a death trap. Too many stairs,” he clucks. 

You chuckle, “yeah, I could go for a bit less... but wouldn’t that be an engineer’s thing?” 

“Architects help...” He says defensively. 

“Alright, alright, I’m just kidding,” you haul your bag onto your shoulder. 

“Hey, I would argue we need some artists to pretty these things up. Buildings are so boring these days. You know, I went to Italy, all those marble columns and statues...” he says. “Not that I’m bragging. Just an observation I made. I went to some museums and saw paintings too. The DiCaprios... No Da Vinci! Oh god!” He slaps his forehead in embarrassment, “my brain is fried, I’m sorry.” 

“All good,” you assure him, “we’re all feeling it, I think.” You step back on your heel, “anyway, I think I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for the help.” 

“Any time. Everyone else runs away from me,” he says. “I’m still getting used to this ‘Professor’ thing.” 

“Well, you’re a really good teacher,” you assure him, “I should go.” 

“Right, see ya next class,” he says. 

“Sure, see ya then,” you give a tiny wave and retreat.  

You turn and climb the centre stairs to the rear exit. You open the door and glance back. He’s watching you. Caught, he coughs and turns back to the board and searches for the erase. He starts to wipe out the numbers and you leave him to his clean up.  

You have time before you can stop by the studio. Enough to eat something or get a coffee. It’s only week two and you’re wondering how you’re going to get through the rest of it. Especially with your overnight shifts in between.