#and you’ve lost sleep over it and got yourself up nice and early for it

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Crashing and Falling

Jim Halpert x Reader

Reader: helpful, emotional, sunshine. No pronouns or descriptors used

Warnings: death of a wild animal

Summary: Last night had been Dunder Mifflin’s annual Christmas Party, which turned out to be quite a bit more wild than some people would’ve expected- including you. You and a few others decided to stay sober through the party as designated drivers, and while you still had fun at the party with your friends, it still ended up pretty late by the time you got home. But what could go wrong with getting up early to go help clean up the office before work starts? Or… What could go right?

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You were kinda lost?

There wasn’t really any other way you could describe it if you were being honest. You’d been on the way to work early- you had volunteered to take down all of the Christmas decorations after the party everyone had last night, though you hadn’t had the time. Mainly because you had also insisted on being one of the designated drivers that night, so you had taken a good majority of your coworkers home, then headed home to sleep off the party yourself. So you decided you’d just head in early and get it all done before anyone showed up for work, and maybe even begin hanging the stars and silver decorations that would consist of the New Year’s party embellishments.

Except, it had been really rather foggy out when you’d left your apartment to get into your car. You’d been surprised at how little you could see of Scranton around you, though you figured it wasn’t so bad as to warrant waiting for the day to get brighter and burn some of the fog away. So you turned on your low lights on the car and drove off in the direction of Dunder Mifflin, planning out your order of operations as you drove. You could make yourself a pot of coffee and have a few cups as you took everything down. You could even take your time, play some nice music as you did so- you had left rather early enough, after all. Perhaps, even-

WHACK

You slammed on the brakes, your eyes wide and panicking. Throwing the car into park and pressing the button for your hazards, you immediately begin to rush trying to take your seat belt off- struggling and taking much too long to do so in your panicked state. You finally throw it off, jumping out of your car and leaving the door open to circle around to the front. Your headlights highlighted the object- the animal- that you had hit and made apparent the dent in your car that you weren’t exactly worried over right then.

You’d hit a deer! Sure, you’d heard of it happening often enough. People coming in to work annoyed and complaining of another dent in their car, throwing their bags onto their desks with force. You’d always jump up immediately, feeling this instant instinct to help and soothe and uplift the person who’d been upset. Honestly, you did that rather often despite the reasoning of their mood, but that wasn’t the point right now. They’d only been annoyed, perhaps peeved about their car being damaged? They weren’t- they hadn’t-

You were devastated.

Sure, you didn’t know the deer. You hadn’t even thought about a deer actually dying when all of your coworkers had complained before, but you were looking at it now. It was there, its eyes wide and unseeing, laying flat across the road, directly in the middle of the lane you had been driving down. How were you going to move it out of the way? Was there anything you could’ve done to help, were you too distracted while driving? How were you going to get through your day knowing that you’ve killed a living being?

You don’t really know how long you stood there, hand covering your mouth in shock, unshed tears brimming in your eyes. You come to from a honk behind you, spinning around only to squint through the fog to notice some dim headlights parked behind you. You watch the faded image of the car door opening, someone stepping out and standing behind their open door. Their tone was gruff and didn’t sound very friendly, putting you even more on edge.

“Hey, what’s the hold-up? I’m tryin’ to get ta’ work here!”

“I-” You try to call out, clearing your throat and hoping the emotions weren’t as clear in your voice as it sounded. “I hit- there’s a-” You realize rather suddenly you couldn’t finish your sentence, you couldn’t say aloud what you’d done.

“What are ya’ on about- oh, fuck it.” The man circles his door, approaching you and becoming more clear the closer he gets. He was an older fellow with a long black scraggly beard, streaks of white through both it and his hair that was tucked under a dark baseball cap. He was wearing some rather comfortable-looking working-class clothes- he wasn’t grubby by any means, just a bit gruff around the edges. “What did ya’-” His words stop as he peeks around the front of your car, beginning a slow nod as if in understanding. “Ah. Well, that happens often enough.” The man moves toward the dead animal, pulling gloves from his back pocket and sliding them on as he glances back at you. “You seem pretty upset, this your first time something like this has happened?”

“Uh,” You shake your head minutely, trying to bring yourself back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, this is- uh,” You nod, bringing a hand up to your mouth to chew on a fingernail nervously. “I just, I couldn’t see it, y’know? It’s so foggy out, I swear I was watching-”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” The man calls out, his gruff voice exacerbated by the effort of lifting the deer enough to begin pulling it to the side of the road. “What you doin’ out so early anyway? You don’t look like a factory worker.”

“Oh, no,” You drop your hand, shrugging as you walk over into the doorway of your vehicle, wanting to bring yourself some comfort. “I was on the way to work, though. I was going in early, I’d volunteered to take down the Christmas decorations.”

“Oh, yeah?” The man grunts, heaving once last time to finalize his little mission. He turns back to you, clapping his hands together as if to brush them off before beginning to remove his gloves. “What is it you do, then?”

“Oh, uh, paper.”

“Paper?”

“Dunder Mifflin paper company, we sell different sizes and thicknesses and-” You stop, huffing out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m sorry, this isn’t interesting. We just supply the paper that businesses need.” The man grunts with a nod, glancing to his car behind yours before looking back to you over the hood of your car.

“I need paper.”

“Oh, we mostly work with businesses-”

“I have a business.”

“Oh! Well, let me just-”

You end up digging through your belongings until you find your business card, handing one over to him. You learn his name is Grant Russel, and promise to call him later that day after lunch to set him up with what he needs. You do this all in a sort of daze, but you realize once you’re in your car and driving down the road again that he might’ve just been doing it to get your mind off of things. It’d worked, briefly, though now that you were alone again you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The mental image of that animal lying on the ground was haunting you, even as you pulled into the empty lot.

You made your way inside slowly, staring into space and moving methodically. You set your things down on your desk and turn slowly, blinking at the office around you. You immediately grab a trash bag and throw yourself into your work, forgetting about any plans of coffee or music. The sound of the car hitting the animal repeats in your head, the frantic seatbelt fight followed by the sight once again- it all kept replaying in your head as you picked up lose styrofoam cups littering the ground and desks, papers strewn around everywhere from a surprisingly wild office party.

The light above you flickers on and you flinch, looking up at them first as if they would provide an answer. Then, thinking better of that, you turn your attention toward the light switch. There he stood, your best friend and partner in prank, Jim Halpert. He had on a goofy smile, the Santa cap from last night sitting sideways on his head, holding his briefcase and jacket in the hand not resting on the light switch.

“Do you do everything in the dark?”

You want to answer him. You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out. His smile slowly falls along with his hand, and his eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to figure something out. You look down at the trashbag in your hand, clearing your throat and shaking your head. You could hear his light footsteps in the silence around you as he approached slowly, the ‘clonck’ of his briefcase hitting the desk finally shocking your mouth into action.

“Sorry, I just- I hadn’t noticed.” You turn, beginning to look around the room you’ve been cleaning. You hadn’t realized you’d already picked up everything off of the floor, the bag in your hand now full. When had that happened? “I was just- I was lost in thought, apparently.”

“Hey,” Jim’s voice is soft, gentle, and his hand touches your arm just as gently. You turn your attention up to him, blinking and feeling tears begin to fall down your cheek. When had that happened? You weren’t aware you had been almost crying until it happened, silently and lightly, barely anything really. But Jim noticed, his eyes tracking the movement of the tear before he raised a hand to brush it away from your cheek, pain in his eyes. “What happened?”

You blink, the image of that scene replaying in your head as you stare through Jim. He lowers his head slightly as if trying to catch your eyes even though you’re looking straight at him, and it brings you back to reality, back to the present time. You start to shake your head, ready to lower your gaze, but Jim uses the hand that’s still sitting on your cheek to pull you back up to look at him. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it matters to you.”

His response was so fast like there was no thought or any other possibility that could matter. You bite your lip, face crumpling into sorrow once again. “I-” You try to say it, to convince yourself that if you say it then you’ll feel better. You have a sinking feeling that if you say it, it’ll just make it even more real. “I hit a deer on the way to work.” The tears come back, pooling in your eyes as you look up to Jim, pleading, “I didn’t see it. I swear- it’s just so foggy out, and-”

Jim shushes you gently, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you gently into an embrace. You fall into his chest, dropping the trash bag next to you to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his shoulder as the sobs finally begin. He holds you as your chest heaves, rubbing your back and humming lightly in your ear. You weren’t sure if he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of the words, or if he was just humming on purpose, but for some reason it helped to soothe you a lot sooner than you would’ve anticipated. By the time you’re calming down, he finally speaks gently.

“There we are. Now that we got that out, how about we move a few steps into the break room and start up a pot of coffee? Or would you like hot cocoa?” You pull back, knowing you must look a mess, and look up toward Jim with a wide, and confused, expression. “Something hot to drink will do you some good, c’mon.”

He pulls you by your arm- not enough that you couldn’t resist if you wanted to, but you liked the feeling of his hand on you, guiding you. He opened the door, holding it and ushering you in before letting it swing closed behind him. He gestures for you to take a seat, taking the coffee pot and beginning to wash it out, cleaning the whole thing. “Thank you,” You mumble, sitting down on the cold plastic chair next to the table and turning it so you can still face him. He glances up at you with his silly little half-smile, pulling his face to the side. He looks back to what he’s doing without an answer, turning off the water and shaking the components he held to fling the droplets off.

“Did you decide on coffee or cocoa?”

“Coffee,” You mumble again, and he nods. He seems lost in thought as he goes through the process of putting together a pot to brew, and then he’s finished and the sound of the coffee pot coming to life begins to fill the air. His hands, idle now, rest on the counter in front of him, and he leans forward against them, staring at the pot of coffee beginning to lightly drip. You’re beginning to desperately want to know what he’s thinking- which then shocks you to realize that he had efficiently distracted you enough from the event that had happened that you managed to not think about it for a full minute. Well, until now.

He pushes himself off of the counter, clapping his hands together and turning toward you with a grin. “I think we should play a game.” You furrow your brows, your shoulders falling slightly in disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” You shake your head, sighing and running your hand over your face. “I just don’t think I’m quite in the mood for a game, for once.” You expected him to be shocked, of course. You were always the happy-go-lucky person of the office, bustling around to help everyone, willing to play any game or prank if it meant making someone happy or laugh. You don’t remember saying no to one of Jim’s games- ever.

“Hey,” Jim says, taking the few steps toward you so he can grab your hand from your face. “It’ll be fun, I promise. It’ll take your mind off of things, which is what you need.” As you continue to stare at him, unconvinced, he finally sighs and pulls out the seat next to you, taking a seat while still holding your hand. “Look, I’d offer to help you out at any moment of any time. I honestly, genuinely mean that.” He lets that sink in for a moment with a small smile, before finally opening his mouth, hesitating for but a moment before continuing, “However, this isn’t exactly something I can help with. So you’ve hit your first deer, and you’re very distraught about it. But I can’t go back and make you not hit that deer. I can’t go and perform CPR-” He stops, raising his eyes and tilting his head, “Well, I could try-”

“No,” You interrupt, a laugh bursting from your chest out of nowhere. You shake your head, raising your free hand to wave back and forth quickly, then pulling it up to wipe a tear from your eye with yet another chuckle. “No, it’s dead. The guy made sure of it.” Jim was grinning, obviously having just told a joke and happy that it worked, but you watch his expression falter as you mention ‘the guy.’

“There was a guy?” Jim asks nonchalantly, beginning to fidget and play with your fingers. You shrug, glancing over to spy how full the coffee pot has gotten.

“Yeah, I was holding up some guy from getting to work. I didn’t know what to do at all but he got out and helped me. Pulled the-” You feel yourself choked up suddenly, clearing your throat and pushing through it, “He pulled the body off the road so we could continue on.” As you glance back, you watch Jim’s shoulders fall very slightly, as if relaxing.

“Oh, well that’s good. I’m glad you didn’t have to take care of it yourself- but next time you can just call me, I’ll help out.” He nods with a smile, and you laugh, shrugging.

“I dunno’, he seemed pretty suited to the job.” You reach into your pocket, pulling out one of your own business cards and flip it over to the back, revealing the name ‘Grant Russel’ and a phone number under it. You feel Jim stiffen through your joined hands, and you raise your eyes with a start to notice that he’s gotten very still, staring down at the card in your hands.

“And he used your traumatic experience to ask you out?” You blink a few times, then burst out laughing, shaking your head and raising the hand holding the card up to your face again, wiping away fresh tears of laughter as it kept coming out- just wouldn’t stop, honestly. You felt literally insane, with so many emotions swirling and battling to take over. Jim finally breaks his glare with the card, softening his look into confusion as he stares at your laughter.

“You-” You chuckle again, pulling in a deep breath to try and regain a semblance of control. “You think that’s what this is?” You toss the card onto the table without care, seeing it slide to the middle from the corner of your eye. You sigh, shrugging, “No, he was asking me about my work for some odd reason. Mentioned paper, and he said he needed paper.” You glance over at the pot as it starts the sound of spewing, indicating the pot finishing up. “Honestly, I don’t know if I believe he really does or not. But I’m definitely going to call and try to secure that sale.”

You watch Jim sit frozen in place, no longer tense or stiff but just frozen like a deer caught in the headlights (bad analogy to think up, though, whoops). After a moment he shakes himself, pulling his hand away to slap them both down on his knees, pushing himself up to a stand and moving over toward the coffee pot. He throws out a forced laugh, nodding with a large grin. “Absolutely! Get that sale! See, something good can come from a bad thing!” He forces a chuckle again, reaching for the pot and going to pour it- into nothing. He hesitates, then looks up at the cupboard and back down at the pot in his hand. He sets it back down, moving to properly grab the cups this time. You watch all of this, amused, but mostly staring at the blush that seems to be darkening more and more.

“Jim,” You lightly call out, pursing your lips as you watch him take your favourite cup from the cupboard down, setting it down next to his rather plain but slightly chipped favourite cup. They looked good next to each other, you decided, and you hoped that you complimented Jim as well as your cups did together. He turns his head in your direction but keeps his eyes focused on his task, actually pouring the coffee this time. “Why were you worried about him asking me out?” You couldn’t help the feeling of hope beginning to rise in your chest, that perhaps maybe he’d been thinking of asking you out just the same as you had been. He turns now to look at you, eyes wide with an innocent expression.

“What? Oh, no reason,” He laughs, then shakes his head. Then hesitates, amending his statement, “I mean, no, I was- It’s just rude, you know? You just went through something, and you were probably pretty distraught. I mean, you seemed distraught, and asking you out when you’re like that, I mean-” He huffs a defeated laugh this time, shaking his head as he stirs the two cups. “Anyway, so this game-” He taps the metal spoon against the cup, the chinks sounding into the room and interrupting his sentence before he sets it down, picking up both cups and setting them down next to you on the table.

“Jim,” You quickly speak out, reaching a hand up to place on his arm as he reaches across you to get to the table. “So, there’s no other reason?” He pauses in place, having already let go of the cups he has no reason to stay bent over aside from just letting you hold him there. “Just- just because it’s rude?” He’s staring into your eyes, looking as if he’s building himself up to something before licking his lips, opening his mouth to speak softly.

“I-”

A sudden blaring of a ringtone pierces through the air, and you both jump so hard you separate. Jim takes a few steps back, placing a hand on his chest as if to control his heart rate, and you reach quickly into your pocket, pulling out and flipping open your phone. It had been Kelly, actually, asking where Ryan had gone and who had taken him home after the party, if he had gone home with someone else or alone. You attempted to reassure the woman, who seemed to be panicking and believing that Ryan was cheating on her again, but you couldn’t help but keep glancing up at Jim as you were trying to end the phone call. He slowly relaxed the longer the call went on, grabbing his coffee from the table and leaning against the opposite wall, drinking it as he watched you talk to her. He seemed mostly amused, laughing a few times when you had to repeat yourself for Kelly to calm down.

The phone call doesn’t really last that long, it just feels endless with the amount of words exchanged considering Kelly talks at a million miles an hour. Finally, you’re able to promise a more in-depth explanation of what Ryan was wearing and everything else she might want to know, but later once she’s in the office and you can speak face to face. You say goodbye three times before you’re finally able to hang up the phone, letting out a sigh.

“Do you ever stop helping people?” Jim asks suddenly before you’ve even put your phone back into your pocket, and you look up in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jim begins, taking his previous seat and leaning on his elbows toward you, coffee cup held between both hands precariously by the top rim of the cup. “That the whole reason you came in here was to help out Michael clean the office. You drove three different people home last night and even took time out of your day to help their partners bring their cars home so they could get to work today.” As he speaks, you reach forward and take the cup from his hands, not liking how close to falling it looked, and place it on the table next to him. You’re watching what you’re doing, looking at his cup, but he takes your hand and pulls it to his chest, causing your attention to shift back to him. He smiles, as if that was the reaction he wanted, and leaned forward even more. “Even now. You’re upset, you were crying- practically sobbing- not too long ago over an animal everyone else would’ve just moved on from. And you’re still answering a stupid phone call from Kelly and reassuring her about a relationship that she pretty obviously shouldn’t be a part of.” He laughs, shaking his head with disbelief. “I mean, you’re-” He catches himself, swallowing roughly (and you absolutely didn’t watch the way his adam’s apple bobbed, his throat flexing with the action), “You’re always doing this.” You’re pretty sure from his tone that he had been about to say some sort of compliment but changed it up at the last second. You wonder why, but shrug and answer all the same.

“Well, I just like to make people happy.” You smile softly, letting your head fall to the side as you stare into his shimmering hazel eyes, the fluorescents above doing no favours but admiring the shine all the same.

“You deserve someone trying to make you happy,” Jim mumbles, shaking your hand he still holds with his own- both of his own hands, actually, as you just realize he’s taken up holding your hand with both of his, as he had the cup just a bit ago. You raise your gaze from your joined hands back to his eyes, smiling softly and feeling that hope in your chest begin to spark and flutter a bit more.

“Well, that’s what I have you here for, isn’t it?”

So it turns out, the game that Jim had been wanting to play and tell you about involved doing what you came here to do- clean up and take down the Christmas decorations. After spending practically too much time in the break room having a cup of coffee and decompressing, you both refilled your cups and made your way into the office properly. The trash had been mostly cleared away- excluding the spilling trash bag on the floor- but all of the decorations still spun and shined and flashed around the room.

“So, we both have a box,” Jim begins, rushing around the corner to their little storage corner hidden behind a wall, fetching two identical empty paper boxes. He jogs back around, reaching out and placing one against your chest until you raise your hands to take it from him. He looks around again, eyes narrowing as if in planning already. “And whoever fills their box first wins.”

“Well, that’s just patently unfair.” Jim turns quickly, widening his eyes with innocence. False innocence, more like, the little cheater.

“What? What’s unfair about that?”

“I saw where you were looking! You’re just going to run right over there and shove that entire tree into your box, aren’t you!” Jim widens his eyes, then laughs, shaking his head.

“What? No,” He drags the word out, shaking his head as if trying to convince you, but his shit-eating grin suggests he’s just lying.

“How about whoever has the most decorations in their box once we’re finished wins, hm?” Jim narrows his eyes at you, pursing his lips. He’d obviously been thinking he would get away with his little joke, but now things seemed to be getting serious.

“And what does the winner get?” You hesitate, blinking a few times.

“Well, it’s your game.” Jim seems taken aback for a second, glancing around the room before dropping his gaze back down toward you with a smile.

“How’s about, whoever wins gets to ask one question to the loser, and the loser has to answer honestly?” You hesitate at this- it could honestly go very badly. Any number of questions could bring down the mood, or even ruin a friendship. But, this was Jim.

“Deal.”

Jim had rushed to the tree immediately while you meandered over toward Pam’s receptionist's desk, turning to glance at Jim before leaning over to operate her computer. You wondered why he still ran in that direction, but the question was answered pretty quickly once you saw him taking ornaments off of the tree one by one and throwing them into his box. He could get a good number that way, sure, but you weren’t really worried about winning or losing. At least you had help, and you were making it fun. And even more fun?

Music.

It started playing over the speakers, your favourite song, and Jim turned to look back at you in surprise. “You’re not gathering things? Did we not start yet?” He drops his hand, turning to look at you with a smile as he nods his head along. You finish clicking a few more things before moving from behind the desk and picking your box back up.

“Oh, it’s fine, we’ve started. It’s just much more fun to work with music on, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” Jim agrees, turning to take the ornaments down a bit slower than before. “Nice song, by the way.”

The next half an hour went by rather smoothly, in all honesty. Your mind would flash periodically back to that incident in the morning, but it seemed as if Jim had a radar for your feelings or could perhaps read your mind because he always managed to do something silly and bring you back out of those thoughts. When it looked like you both were getting close to finishing, you decided to have a little fun for yourself. With his back turned, you pick up a fluffy cotton snowman toy and chuck it at his back, turning around and pretending to have done nothing.

You see him turn from the corner of your eye, then you see some fast movement before something small and soft bonks gently against your arm. You turn to him, dropping your mouth open in shock at his obviously victorious grin. “How dare you, Halpert!” You place a hand on your chest as if you are aghast, shaking your head at him. “Attacking an innocent victim, unprovoked!”

“Unprovoked, huh?” Jim chuckles, leaning a hip against the desk he happened to be standing next to. “What are you gonna’ do about it, huh?” You look down into the less-than-half-full box you’re carrying, then look back up to him with a playful glare. He straightens up at the look in your eye, tilting his head slightly with his own narrowed look. “Wait, what are you gonna’ do about-”

He’s interrupted by the pelting of a first toy against his chest, followed by a second and a third as you continue to reach in and toss them out. You’re not aiming to hurt, just to make contact, and Jim scrambles to both get behind some cover while also reaching it and digging around for things he can throw that won’t break- ‘Hah, good luck with all those ornaments!’

Laughter fills the air, both yours and Jim's, along with the prancing tunes of your playlist as Christmas memorabilia flies and arcs through the air, the office now a battleground. You’re not hurt throughout, and you hope the same about Jim, though he never calls out in pain or yells that you need to stop. When you’ve run out of toys, you start grabbing some of the things that Jim had thrown that landed nearby, moving from where you were sitting under a desk. You crouch, ready to peak up and throw when an idea comes to your mind.

You throw a toy, sure, but then also pocket one into your box. You slide your secret plan under the desk, and for every toy thrown you toss one into the box. It doesn’t take too long- longer than expected, honestly, and you believe that perhaps he’s throwing the toys from the floor as well- before finally Jim yells out as your own arm is rearing back to throw.

“Truce!”

“What?” You called out, though you didn’t throw the toy. Instead, ducking down and tossing it into your box as well.

“I- fuck,” You hear a bit of stumbling and laugh to yourself, covering your mouth to muffle the sound. “I said truce! I don’t have any ammo left, you win!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you say I win?” You stand up, proudly placing your hands on your hips as you look in his direction. He’s peaking over the desk he had used for cover, only his eyes and the top of his head showing. He was really rather cute looking like that, though the cuteness turns to hotness the moment he stands up. His hair is fluffy and tossed around, and his clothes look dishevelled and wrinkled, pulling up on one side where it had been tucked in and drooping on the other where he must’ve been using his arm pretty wildly to have untucked it. It also looks like he’d unbuttoned his top button during the scuffle, more skin showing on his chest than you’d ever seen before. You’re struck by his attractiveness, frozen in place as your eyes scan him, properly speechless. Thankfully, it was his turn to speak anyway. He’s raising his hands in surrender, but his grin still lights up his face playfully.

“Oh, I’m not sure I said all that. I don’t mean the game we were playing, just the-” He gestures around, “The throwing war you started-”

“I started?” You interrupt, grinning up at him.

“Yes, you started. Don’t act like you didn’t.” He huffs, crossing his arms and making the bulges of his muscles pop through the shirt. You weren’t sure, but from the positions of his hands under his arms, you had a feeling he was pushing them out and posturing for you. You can’t help but snort, then laugh as you shake your head.

“Okay, okay, I started it. But we do have a bet going.” You grin, kneeling down to reach under the desk for your box, plopping it down onto the table. “So let’s get to counting.” Jim looks understandably taken aback, shaking his head.

“What do you mean? We still have to,” His voice falters, trailing off as he begins to scan the floor around them, “Have to… To clean up…” He looks up at you with a knowing look, surprise etched across his face. “You tricked me!”

“I did no such thing,” You lie, picking up your box and moving closer to him so you can compare his box to yours. “I was merely doing what we agreed to be doing, cleaning up.” Jim scoffs but doesn’t seem to actually be upset, merely just reaches down and picks up his own box from the floor, plopping it down onto the desk next to him. You set yours down alongside it, looking between the two of them. It was probably a good thing you’d come up with that idea, because the boxes looked pretty even in terms of fullness. You and Jim catch each other’s eyes, and you raise your eyebrows.

“I say we count each other’s boxes, so we don’t try to lie about our own count.”

“Deal,” Jim agrees, reaching across you for your box, leaning in close and brushing against you as he does so. You take in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself from the proximity, but instead all you smell is his cologne, making you even more lightheaded. You swallow roughly, sliding his box across to you and beginning to count, trying your best not to lose count. A few quiet minutes later, Jim proudly announces, “32!” You grin, picking up the last item and turning to look at him.

“30.”

“What?” Jim exclaims, his grin falling as he reaches for his box, speed counting for himself. You wait patiently, unhurried, but it doesn’t take long before he slumps his shoulders and looks at you in defeat. You hadn’t really planned to win, and he looked rather disappointed. You wondered why, it was all just fun and games after all, wasn’t it? “Well,” Jim throws his hands out, slapping them against his sides, then rubs his palms against his pants. “Looks like you won. What’s your question?”

“What?” You furrow your brows, wondering what he means before it comes back to you- the reward Jim had suggested. “Oh,” You blink, taken aback for a moment. Since you hadn’t believed you would win, you hadn’t thought up a question at all. You slump slightly, leaning your hip against the desk as you stare upward in thought. “Huh.”

“You don’t have one?” Jim asks incredulously, and as you look down at him you can see a mixture of emotions playing across his face. Mainly playfulness, but something serious alongside underneath it all. You bite your lip, then straighten up.

“No, I have one.” You study his face, wondering if you really should ask. Jim waits, then pushes his head forward to indicate he is waiting. When you still don’t answer, he laughs awkwardly, throwing his hands out once again.

“Well, what is it? Don’t leave me in suspense here.”

“What was it you were going to ask me?” Jim blinks, taken aback once again, then forces a laugh as his eyes flutter elsewhere, scanning the room.

“What? No, you won. You get to ask-”

“No, that’s my question.” You watch him freeze, then slowly force his eyes back to you. “You pretty obviously had a question in mind when you stated that reward. And I didn’t.” You waited a moment, shrugging. “So that’s my question, is wondering what you would’ve asked?” Jim stands there, still and quiet. Too quiet, you decide, and begin to worry as you shift on your feet. “I mean, I can come up with something else-”

“No,” Jim says quietly, taking a small step toward you. “That was the rule. The loser has to answer, and has to answer honestly.” He takes another step forward, his expression turning from playful into something serious- but also soft. He takes in a deep breath, looking down to reach out and take your hand, then back up to meet your eyes. They’re shining, and brilliant, and everything you want. “I was going to ask you out.”

“What?” It was your immediate reaction, saying that word. You couldn’t comprehend what he’d just said. You’d been hoping for those words for so long that you��re beginning to think you fooled yourself into hearing them. You shake your head, huffing a small laugh. “I’m sorry, I must’ve-”

“You heard me,” Jim whispers, pulling gently on your hand to get you to take a step even closer, playing with your fingers with his own. “Will you go out with me? On a date, just to test things out- or,” He shakes his head, breathing out a laugh that flutters the butterflies in your stomach. “I don’t know. I don’t need a test to know that I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth falls open in shock, staring up at him with wonder in your eyes. There was no way this was happening, right? This only ever happened in stories, but here he was. After cheering you up from a horrible morning, volunteering to help you clean the office, and now this? You must be dreaming. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t take advantage of it.

“Yes,” You breathe out the word, then nod quickly, speaking up. “Yes, absolutely. A date, or partners, or whatever you want, yes. I-” You watch the smile grow across Jim’s face as you answer the affirmative, something lighting up in your brain at the sight of his joy. “I’ve been in love with you for-” You shake your head, unsure how to finish that sentence. Thankfully, you didn’t have to.

Jim leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, and you close your eyes and fall into the embrace. He places a hand on your cheek, the other still holding your hand, and you’re drowning in the feelings he invokes. It’s not a bad thing, this drowning- in fact, it’s what you’d been craving for so long. You couldn’t remember the last time that such a powerful yearning had been fulfilled, and craving more of that vindication you raise your arms up, grasping at the sides of his shirt and pulling him in closer.

By the time you finally broke away, both of you were pulling in a much-needed breath, smiling at one another. Jim’s thumbs lightly rubbed back and forth against your cheek, and you swore you could feel his heart beating through his wrist that your fingers lightly encircled. You’ve never known such peace with someone else before, and you couldn’t wait for what was to come from this.

“Race you to the storage room!”

[thebumblingbee]

.

[fastandcarlos]

Forgotten Thing : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you know just how busy max is, and you understood too, only now you're starting to feel like the forgotten thing in his life

The sound of light snores greeted you as you walked into the apartment, unable to stop your eyes from rolling. Your heart raced as you slipped your shoes off, dropping your bag to the ground with a loud thud, not caring about the figure asleep in your living room.  

“Max,” you called out, standing to the side of the sofa with your arms folded across your chest. 

The sound of your voice had him stirring, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. A smile was on his face for a moment until Max noticed how nice you looked, eyes going wide in horror when he remembered that he had promised to pick you up from work. 

“That was a lovely walk home,” you sarcastically told him, taking a seat on the end of the sofa, “at least you got some rest though, that’s what matters, right?” 

The frustration was clear in your voice as you found yourself let down by Max again. It was becoming a pretty normal feeling for you, to be given empty promises and assured of things that you knew that Max wouldn’t be able to follow through. 

“Don’t be mad, please,” Max asked of you, sitting himself up. “I only planned on closing my eyes for a few minutes, and then I just lost track of time. I mean, all you had to do was walk home from work, it’s hardly the most difficult job in the world. 

Your head shook at how dismissive Max was. “The walk home didn’t bother me Max, it’s the fact that you promised you’d be there. You keep promising and not delivering, it’s like I’m some forgotten, unimportant part of your life.” 

Max brushed his hands over his face as he tried to wake himself up, not quite understanding what you were so fed up about. “I’ve been so busy at work recently I obviously just needed the sleep. We can’t all have a job like yours, some of us are working nonstop.” 

“I see, because my job is a walk in the park, isn’t it?” You scoffed. 

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing from Max, he’d always seemed to be supportive, but now you weren’t so sure. It was like the two of you were in competition, with Max clearly feeling like he was winning. 

“It’s not the same, how hard I work and how hard you work is very different. I’ve got a flight to catch early tomorrow morning and you’ve got the next two days off, so I’d say I’m slightly more important,” Max argued. 

Your mouth went wide in shock, letting go of a gasp. You didn’t recognise the man in front of you, the man who usually was so caring and sympathetic had turned into someone who couldn’t care less about you. 

“I’ve always looked after you Max, done absolutely anything for you. It’s a shame you can’t do the same for me. I might as well just leave, that’s how you make me feel,” you spoke. 

Max’s eyes widened once again, his body tensing up. You stood up, feeling Max's eyes watching your every move, slowly backing towards the front door. 

“You wouldn’t actually leave,” Max sniggered. 

“Why not? What is there to make me stay anymore?” You challenged, your voice getting louder. “Why shouldn’t I go somewhere where I actually feel valued and appreciated rather as if I’m nothing.” 

“Love,” Max whispered, brushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel that way, it’s just been so hard for the past couple of weeks. I really did intend on picking you up, I set an alarm and everything, but I must’ve just slept right through it.” 

“If you were tired or stressed Max, you should’ve told me, I’d never have expected you to pick me up if I knew,” you sighed, walking back into the room again. 

“But you’re right, I do keep making promises that I can’t keep, so I wanted to pick you up to prove to you that I care.” Max tapped the space beside him on the sofa, inviting you to sit beside him as his hand rested against your leg. 

“I know that you care about me,” you assured him. 

Max’s head shook, “but I’ve not shown you that, when you’re constantly here caring for me, I just take it for granted, we’re supposed to care for each other.” 

You smiled weakly across at Max, knowing better than anyone just how hard he worked. For all his faults, you could never fault how loved he made you feel, even if his mind was elsewhere sometimes. Your hand reached out and pressed against the side of his face, lips pressing against his cheek, unaware of the way Max’s heart raced with relief at the feeling of your lips on him.  

“If you’re free this weekend, do you fancy coming to the race?” Max asked you, “I’ll make sure that we can spend some time together when I’m not needed at the garage. We can explore, have a proper look around.” 

Your head nodded at his suggestion, excited by the thought of being at a race again. It had been a while, you were never quite sure if Max wanted you there or not, but now he couldn’t imagine himself going to the race without you. 

“You don’t need to do this, I know how hard race weekends are,” you assured him, squeezing against his hand, “I don’t need anything to be made up to me.” 

“But you do,” Max defended, knowing just how badly he’d treated you. “I want to make sure you know that I care, I’m going to make sure that we have the best weekend together too.” 

Max moved his free arm around your frame as he pulled you into his side, pressing several gentle kisses against the top of your head. The hold he had on you was more loving than anything you’d felt from him in a while, letting you know just how sorry he was. 

Once he was done, Max kept his head resting on top of yours. “Whatever you want to do whilst we’re there this weekend, we’ll do. I’ll even drive you around and pick you up from the paddock.” 

“Max,” you whispered, but he quickly shushed you, knowing what you were about to say. 

“Don’t tell me that you understand that it’s alright, because it’s not,” he laughed, reading your mind perfectly. “I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and that needs to be put right.” 

“I do understand, you work so hard.” 

“And so do you,” Max responded, “I never should’ve made it sound like your job doesn’t matter, because it does, you’re the hardest working person I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologising,” you grinned, pressing your head further into Max’s side, “I know how sorry you are Max.” 

A hum came from him as he leant back on the sofa, cuddling you into his side as he draped his legs over the top of yours. 

“Let’s sleep for a bit,” you suggested, placing your hand on his chest, “I know how much better you sleep when you’ve got someone to cuddle.” 

Max nodded in agreement with you, “you can’t be telling anyone how much I love being cuddled to sleep, people won’t think I’m cool anymore.” 

“Leave me stranded at work again and I might just reveal all your secrets,” you teased. 

“You wouldn’t,” Max challenged, watching your head nod out of the corner of his eye. 

“You wouldn’t want to find out.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[gothcsz]

imagine javier peña as a pornstar holy shit-

gif by @underbetelgeuse | Pornstar!Javier x Pornstar!OFC x Fem!Reader | ~4.5k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI. | Read Part 2 Here | Series Masterlist |

Summary: You're a camerawoman that shoots pornos. Javi's the pornstar you can't stand. So why is it that you're so affected by him during this honeymoon scene between him and his co-star?

Tags: smut, voyeurism(?), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), no use of Y/N, reader doesn't fuck javi in this i'm sorry, yes it's steve murphy as the sound guy, unbeta'd asf we're here for the dirty vibes, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: well my beloved, this spiraled into something i wasn't expecting but i hope you enjoy, hehe 🖤 shoutout to my lovely mutual @almostempty for summoning the threesome demon that inspired me to finish this.

You’re not a prude. Sex isn’t aversive to you. And you suppose it can’t be considering what it is that you do for work.

A camerawoman for dirty films. Not a director, just the lucky girl that points and shoots. It’s not a bad gig, even though sometimes you do wish it paid a little more. Then you’d be able to drop your bartending job.

Recording people fucking all day then tending the bar all night, you rarely ever have time for yourself or any of the hobbies that you’ve attempted to start but haven’t nurtured simply because there aren’t enough hours in the day. 

During your downtime, you’re either sleeping or tending to your shit apartment that’s conveniently located above Lucky’s–– your night job. The only reason you can afford to live in Los Angeles is because of the cheap rent there and well, beggars can’t be choosers.

You hit the button on the elevator, currently taking you to the sixth floor of the surprisingly nice hotel the production company has booked a room in for tonight’s shoot.

Once you make it to room 606, you’re greeted by Steve, the sound guy. “You’re early.”

“Daddy got us a new toy and I wanted to test it out before we shot.” There’s a playful smile on your lips as you carefully show off the brand new camera bag with the device inside.

Steve whistles lowly, stepping aside to let you into the room. Looks very typical. Nice, grand bed in the center of the space. Desk, television stand, blah blah blah, and a bar cart.

You suavely make your way towards it, eyeing the small bottles that littered the glass top.

“Surprised you even got that thing. He’s as cheap as they come.”

You shrug, uncapping the small Fireball plastic bottle and swiftly downing it, the burn familiar and taste delicious. “I know, but considering how much money we’re making him, maybe he’s starting to realize our worth.”

You both share a knowing look then laugh. As if. That man would find any way to cut a corner. It’s honestly surprising how well his pornos do.

“Who are we shooting today?” You ask casually, beginning to set out the camera and all its attachments neatly on the desk.

“Lexxie Gold and…” He trails off, lanky form walking over to where his equipment is half set up, pulling out a tattered notebook that he flips through until he lands on the intended page. “Javier Peña.”

You can’t help the grimace that crosses over your face. Great. You’ve shot Peña a few times, each with a story that reminds you how much you dislike the guy.

Sure he seems to be a good fuck— but man was he cocky, annoying, and so damn full of himself.

Just because you have the biggest dick in the world, doesn’t mean you have to act like one.

“How fun.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on the blonde man across from you and he doesn’t press— knowing you don’t get along with the star.

You curiously start messing around with the camera, flitting through its different settings, taking random videos of Steve as he finishes setting up while you chastise him playfully from the other side. 

Your fucking around is disrupted by a heavy knock on the door then the familiar voice of your boss and the director, Robbie, and you let him in with a brief hey.

The scene is simple enough: a honeymoon. How romantic. He wants to focus on close ups, hence why he bought the new camera.

“Gotta show them how pretty and erotic it really is.”

“I don’t really think they’re watching for the riveting cinematography.”

He shoots you a look and you raise your arms defensively before shrugging your shoulders and getting back to making some last minute camera adjustments.

Steve helps you finish dressing the place up, making the hotel room look like a lover’s getaway. Rose petals everywhere, moody lighting, it helps that the sun has fully set to really set the scene.

Not long after do Lexxie and Javier show up, his arm thrown around her shoulders, seemingly having met up on the ride up the elevator. She’s giggling over something he’s whispered in her ear, pushing at his chest playfully.

You suppose that’s why he’s so good at what he does— that goddamn charisma that seems to charm the underwear off of any woman, hell even some men, that cross his path. 

His chemistry with his co-stars is what’s made him so popular in the industry. Aside from his appearance: cut jaw, full and fitting pornstache, golden lean body and nice cock; Javier ate pussy like his life depended on it and fucked women into oblivion— he usually ended up leaving set with one on his arm.

You remember one time his prowess had been so magnetizing, that he ended up taking the makeup artist home. The fucking makeup artist.

But things with you are different, somehow. You can feel it, he can too. Maybe it’s because you’re a no bullshit type of person that just shows up to do your job then you’re out.

In the beginning, he had attempted to flirt with you, but you weren’t really in the market to reciprocate.

A shock to anyone who meets him because what do you mean you didn’t jump at the chance to be charmed by Javier Peña?

You don’t mix business with pleasure, no matter if the pleasure seems to outweigh the business. 

And since then he’s made it his life’s mission, it feels like, to push your buttons until you’re lit up like a fucking soundboard.

The flirting, petty comments, sometimes weaponized incompetence just to get you to move the camera into a more desirable position for him— yeah it really irks you.

With it being a simple, smaller shoot today: it’s only you, the director, Steve and the two stars in the room.

As Lexxie finishes doing some last minute touch ups in the bathroom, Steve and Robbie head out to the balcony for a quick smoke, leaving you in the room with Javier as he checks his appearance in the full-length mirror by your equipment.

The shoot is starting with them already half undressed, so he’s got an unbuttoned white collared shirt on, his toned chest on full display, with a pair of dress pants hanging low on his hips. He’s not wearing underwear, so you get a peek of the prominent V of his pelvis and the enticing trail of dark hair leading below the fabric.

Goddamn him.

“Lookin’ like somethin’ crawled up your ass and died, sweetheart. All good?” He asks, no real concern in his voice but the typical condescending tone he uses when he speaks to you.

You ignore him, wiping off the lens of your camera, lowkey wanting to down another small bottle of liquor. 

“It’s rude not to speak when you’re spoken to.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not exactly thrilled to have your balls slapping against my new camera.”

He smirks at the bite in your voice, “With the amount of times you’ve seen my sack, I figured you’d be used to that by now.” You roll your eyes and bite your tongue because he’s right and that wasn’t the best retort you could have given him.

You’ll admit, sometimes his attractiveness throws you off and that only pisses you off further.

“New camera, huh?” His eyes meet yours in the reflection, thick brows raising in amusement, “Honored to be the one to christen it. ‘Specially with Lexxie.” He whistles lowly, brown eyes flickering over to the cracked door of the bathroom, “She’s a sexy little thing, isn’t she?”

You ignore him again so you don’t get tongue tied by trying to outwit him, breathing out a sigh of relief when Steve and your boss reenter and the older man begins to throw out orders for everyone to follow.

“I want this to feel real. Aside from the close ups, I need some filthy, dirty talk. Sell it, make those horny bastards bust their load over the believable newlyweds.”

Lexxie is leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, a beautiful white lingerie set on her curvy body, obscured by a silk robe.

You’re both jealous of her for looking so goddamn pretty and jealous of Javier for having the pleasure of getting to fuck her.

“We’re not amateurs, Robbie.” 

Okay, so maybe Javier isn’t all that bad and you do tend to overreact sometimes.

It’s just hard not to, he has a penchant for getting under your skin like no other. Kind of like the annoying boys you used to go to high school with that would relentlessly tease you for being you.

No time to project your insecurities. You’re at work, you remind yourself, listening intently as your boss turns to you and begins to describe how he wants you to shoot the scene.

Intimate. Very. Intimate.

He yells action and the scene begins to play out naturally.

Lexxie stands by the window, her white silk robe loosely tied around her waist, revealing glimpses of her smooth, brown skin. The moonlight accentuates her curves, making her look like a vision of desire against the backdrop of the shimmering city.

Javier watches her from the bed, gaze dark with anticipation. He can’t take his eyes off her, the way the silk clings to her body, hinting at the treasures beneath.

She turns to him, a playful smile dancing on her lips, and slowly walks toward the bed, her hips swaying seductively with each step.

Steve holds the boom mic above them, out of the camera’s view, as you follow Lexxie’s movements with careful precision, zooming in on her long legs then panning up to her thick thighs.

As she reaches the bed, she unties the belt of her robe, letting it fall open. Javier licks his lips, the outline of his cock prominent against the fabric of his pants.

She climbs onto the bed, straddling his hips, her hands gliding over his chest.

“I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.” Her voice is a sultry whisper as she traces her fingers along Javier’s jawline. “I can’t believe we’re finally here, just you and me.”

There’s a lopsided smile on his lips, large hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. “You look incredible, baby. Couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. My pretty wife.”

She leans in, her breath warm against his ear. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.” Her words are a teasing challenge, her teeth biting down on his earlobe.

He groans softly, hands roaming over her curves. “I want to touch you, taste you. Feel you shiver under my hands, hear you moan my name.” His voice drops to a near-growl. “I want to make you mine, over and over again.”

You’re on the bed with them, knees digging into the comforter as you hold the camera at eye level, the small screen that extends from it giving it that grain that makes it look even more erotic. 

All of this is beginning to feel too intimate but you block that out, even if it’s fucking hard to. This is what your boss wanted, anyways.

You feel your clit pulsing, heat pooling at your core as you watch them and it’s infuriating.

She smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she kisses him deeply, her tongue dancing with his and you make sure to get a good shot of it. “Then take me. Show me why I married you.” She pulls back slightly, her gaze locked with his.

He pulls her closer, his lips capturing hers in another passionate and hungry kiss. They’re absolutely unbothered by your presence.

“I’m going to worship every inch of you.” His tone is thick with promise, bringing his hand up to wrap around her neck. “I want to hear you scream for me, break that little throat then soothe it with my cum.”

Your breath hitches at his words and for the life of you, you don’t understand why you’re being so affected by this.

While faint, he hears your reaction and you don’t miss the subtle smirk that tugs at those pink, pouty lips of his. 

“Yes. I want you. I need you. Fuck me like it’s our last night on earth.” Her words are a plea, filled with raw desire and feigning love.

A little corny, but what the hell, that’s half the appeal of these things anyway.

Their bodies press together, the heat between them palpable that you can feel it from where you are.

Her fingers tangled in Javi’s hair as she deepens the kiss, her body moving rhythmically against his.

The passion they exacerbate is undeniable, an electric charge that ropes you in as you move the camera closer, igniting your every nerve.

His skilled fingers move to pull down the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts and he uses his hold on her neck to tilt her back slightly, leaning down to wrap his lips around her stiff nipple. He suckles on it, drawing out a moan from the star on his lap as his wet tongue darts out to flick rapidly against the pebbled flesh.

He does the same to the other, you following his movements and your own nipples hardening, the friction of them rubbing up against your sports bra with each deep breath you take enough to gradually turn you on even more.

After lavishing her chest with his attention, leaving her tits glistening with a layer of his spit, he goes to kiss her again and they share more of that porny dialogue that usually makes you cringe.

But not today.

Not as you watch how they touch up on each other, the way he slowly releases his hold on her neck and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders then shimmies down his body, pulling his pants down and revealing his cock.

You’ve seen it dozens of times, it shouldn’t phase you (just as how he reminded you of earlier), but fuck— with the way you’re so heated right now by unofficially being part of this twosome, you can’t help how your mouth floods with saliva at the sight.

It’s got just the right amount of hair surrounding it, looking real heavy and swollen with arousal as she wraps her fingers around it.

You move down to get a good POV shot, bending at the waist and accidentally wagging your ass in his face. 

While Lexxie begins to blow him, showcasing her skill to the camera, Javier’s eyes are glued to your ass and how good it looks in the jean shorts you’re wearing.

You can feel it, his stare heavy as lead, as one of his hands comes down to make a makeshift ponytail of the woman’s curly hair while the other just barely grazes the back of your thighs.

If you weren’t so hyper aware of his touch, you would have missed it. Your hips involuntarily moving subtly and you play it off as you shuffling to get more comfortable to record the oral he’s currently receiving. 

Sounds of her gagging and his grunts fill the room. Steve’s brows are furrowed in concentration, picking up every single thing and you pray that he doesn’t hear how ragged your breathing has become.

You didn’t even notice it until the camera in your hand started shaking just a little.

So unprofessional, this shoot is gonna haunt you for weeks.

But Robbie doesn’t seem to mind, and you wonder if you’re the problem with how Steve and him seem to be so locked in while you’re sitting here, all hot and bothered, trying not to think of Javier despite seeing his spit slick cock slipping in and out of her mouth so filthily.

The director orders them to switch and you try not to be too hasty when you move off the bed, allowing the couple to do as they’re told.

You avoid Javier’s eyes, the ones looking for yours, as he settles in between Lexxie’s spread legs.

He comments on how wet she is, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he begins to kiss her over the lacy fabric of her fancy panties.

There’s an obvious wet spot from both her slick and his saliva. You alternate, panning the camera from his ministrations, up her gorgeous body, then to capture the look of pure fucking bliss on her face.

She squeezes her tits, moaning obscenely as he pulls her underwear to the side and begins to suck and lick at her pussy— wet sounds of his lips smacking against her folds and clit has your own cunt dripping and the rough fabric of your jean shorts rubbing against your underwear is just embarrassingly pleasurable. 

It’s like you can feel his tongue on you as it flicks over her flesh, her arousal coating his face and dampening his mustache.

Javier begins to finger her and the director urges you to get a closer shot of it, which you do and it has you so close to their intimacy; you can smell her pussy.

Your thighs clench.

She cums all over his fingers and he pulls back, traversing up her body slowly, his lips marking their path until he’s kissing her messily again before shoving those sinewy digits into her mouth, and she expertly cleans them off, not breaking eye contact with him.

You lick your lips, practically tasting her, and they’re directed to start off in missionary then end in doggy.

“Put her head on your lap, get a shot of her tits down with his torso in view. Lexxie, scream his name like it’s the best cock you’ve ever had inside you.”

“Won’t be hard to do. It is the best I’ve had.”

You roll your eyes at the smug smile that tugs at Javier’s lips at her words, that statement enough to calm you down as you shift into the optimal position, her head on your lap as Javier strokes his dick and rids her of her panties, leaving her with the cups of her bra still below her tits and the garter belt on her waist.

The white stockings brush up against his thighs as he hitches her legs up on his hips.

He begins to fuck her, each thrust sending her further up your body and you grip onto your camera as you zoom in on the way her body moves, her back arching and needy whimpers pushing past her plump, glossy lips.

Your eyes are glued to the small screen, his toned body looking like a sculpture and a thin sheen of sweat making him glow.

Yeah, this tape is going to fucking sell.

“Get over here and get a shot of her pretty pussy when I push her legs up.” Javier instructs you and you can’t help but drop your jaw at the audacity.

There’s an insult on the tip of your tongue, waiting to be lashed out but Robbie agrees and you fight the urge to fling the camera at him.

Javier senses your irritation and fucking smirks, but you pay it no mind (or at least try not to) as you move away from Lexxie, off the bed, and beside him.

He spreads her thighs and pushes her knees up to her chest, her pussy on full view as his cock continues to piston in and out of her.

It really is so hot. Usually, some stars would have to use lube to get the process going but not Javier. Never Javier. 

He eats pussy so messily and knows just how to treat his girls, they’re usually fucking drenched and dripping by the time he’s ready to fuck them. He doesn’t need anything artificial to help him out.

Lexxie is moaning and spitting out pure filth as he continues to fuck her, you’re doing a good job at capturing it all. 

Suddenly, Javi leans over to whisper into your ear.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, camera once more shaking slightly in your grasp and your skin warms. What the hell is his deal?

And why does the idea of being spread out like this for him suddenly so fucking enticing?

Your eyes flicker over to Steve, who both watched that little interaction happen and picked it up on his mic, an amused expression on his face.

You shoot him a look that basically translates to Don’t and he shakes his head lightly, holding back a snicker.

They’re directed to switch again, both stars getting closer to their orgasms, and you use this a chance to take a step back and fucking collect yourself. No doubt that your cunt is an absolute mess right now.

Maybe you’ll rub one out before going in tonight. That is if you have the time. Maybe if you’re not so tired after, you’ll pick up one of the men at the bar and use him to fuck Javier Peña out of your mind.

Now bent over, her ass and pussy are on full display. Javier, once more acting like he’s the goddamn director, moves aside so you can get a good shot of it. You do, bristling as he brushes against you whenever he gets back into position behind her, entering her pussy in one swift motion and beginning to fuck the shit out of her.

Jesus. Christ. It must be because of how fucking weird this shoot has been but man, is he giving it to her good.

A few delicious spanks are brought down to her ass, his large palm making the meaty flesh jiggle and he grunts loudly at how it feels against his dick.

There’s more dirty talk, him telling her how good this pussy feels and that it belongs to him now. Her doubling down and telling him that he’s the only cock she’s ever going to take.

You move below his spread legs, getting a good view of his heavy balls slapping against her clit, his precum and her arousal coating the flesh of his sack, the sound of it smacking against her is for sure going to make some poor soul release their spunk all over their keyboards or whatever it is that they’ll watch this on.

Getting more footage of their full bodies, you maneuver yourself all around the bed, knowing that when this sucker is edited together, it’s really going to feel like an intimate telling of a couple’s honeymoon night.

You’ll give it to Javi and Lexxie— they’re good at what they do.

She reaches her peak first, shouting that she’s coming and her body flails and tenses, squeezing his cock and gushing cum out of her hole.

You make the mistake of looking up at Javier, finding that he’s already staring at you and he growls, stilling inside her and filling her up with his load.

It’s like everything else melts and disappears, leaving just you two suspended in this moment. The way his brown eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite decipher has your entire body quivering and your heart beating wildly in your chest.

What the fuck is going on?

“Get the money shot!” Robbie barks at you, seeing that you’ve been lost in a fucking daze and you shake your head, snapping out of it and moving off the rose petal covered sheets, again moving next to Javier as he pulls out.

Lexxie positions herself sexily, and not long after does her pussy flutter and milky cum begins to seep out of it, an obscene squelching sound as it drips lazily onto her engorged clit then the mattress.

It’s so fucking hot, you’ll admit it. That’s the point of these things, isn’t it? To turn others on. You can’t blame yourself for the way its intended effect washes over you.

Except your mind is still hazy from how Javier had looked at you while coming inside of another woman.

The pornstar shakes her hips erotically, giggling as Javier smacks her ass.

“And cut. Great fucking job team. You guys just made me a whole lotta money.”

You quit recording, licking your lips and moving off the bed quickly, closing the camera and making a beeline to the other side of the room, not being shy about the way you snag up another travel sized bottle of Fireball and shoot it.

“Drinking on the job?” Javier tuts, walking over to you with his soft cock hanging between his legs and you do your best to not let your eyes drop down to it. He’s got an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. “Very unprofessional.”

Lexxie has disappeared off into the bathroom again to clean up, Steve and Robbie discussing who knows what.

“Yeah well.” You’re flustered and hate how you’re conveying it. He’s reveling in the sight of you. “I got thirsty.”

“Hmm,” he hums, gaze narrowing ever so slightly, “Camera like what it saw?”

You clench your jaw, turning from him to begin packing your stuff up. You don’t have time for this, for him. You need to leave and get ready for the bar.

“You heard Robbie— just made him a whole lotta money, so what do you think?”

“Let me rephrase that. Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

You freeze, static in your brain like an interrupted television broadcast and your body feeling feverish. You need to get out of here.

“And you say I’m acting unprofessional.” You scoff, trying to act like you’re not affected by him and his stupid words and that dumb mustache and his fucking bare cock.

He snorts out a laugh, prepared to say something else to grate your nerves but you don’t give him a chance, slinging the strap of the camera bag over your shoulder and grabbing your purse, pushing past him.

“Alright, Robbie I’m out. I’ll swing by the office tomorrow and drop this off after I’ve reviewed the footage.”

You can see Javier from your peripheral, tight jeans up on his hips and moving out into the balcony to smoke.

You feel like you can breathe a little easier now.

“Sounds good. I’ll have your check for it then.”

You nod, saying bye to Steve who has a shit eating grin on his face. “You workin’ at Lucky’s tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there ‘round eleven for a beer… and to discuss whatever the fuck all that was.” He motions vaguely and you roll your eyes.

“I’d rather not.”

“S’too damn bad. I drink Michelobs, by the way.”

Your face scrunches up, “I shouldn’t let you in based on that alone.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips at his reaction, but it’s all in good fun.

This little interaction is almost enough to make you forget about… all that. Almost. The door to the balcony slides open again and you take that as your cue to get the hell outta dodge.

“Alright, whatever, I’ll see you then. Hopefully we’re not too busy.”

You say goodbye to Lexxie over your shoulder, briskly walking down the hall to the elevator, looking forward to the cold shower you’re about to take to cool down your heated skin.

[ch-4-eri]

First Time? — Lara Croft.

Lara X fem!reader

warnings: virginity taking, smut, fingering, pet names, lara being such a heartthrob. (proofread but sorry for any mistakes.)

anon request.

i finally finished writing this oooo, sorry i rushed the ending.

you were getting ready on the floor of your bedroom, your phone lighting up with a new text message from your girlfriend, Lara.

she promised she’d take you for a walk around town now that you have a break from college exams, random quizzes and all that.

you were very grateful she’s understanding, she did go to university herself, even if she was over five years older than you.

you dabbed some blusher on the apples of your cheeks with the mirror in front of you, then took a hold of your phone to remind her you’ll be there soon, you wouldn’t be late.

it was hours later as you begged Lara to sit down, your legs gave out from the walking you’d already done, sweat breaking out from your forehead.

“jeez, honey.. you’ve got the stamina of a baby.” she said, taking a seat next to you, opening her bottle of water to give you a sip, wiping your sweaty forehead with her palm, then wiped it over her shirt, you liked how Lara didn’t care much for such stuff, like getting your sweat on her clothes.

“drink up.” lara broke you out of your thoughts as you opened your mouth and took a sip from her bottle, lara fixed you up a little, patting down the flying out hairs off your scalp and the side of your face, grabbing a tissue to wipe your cheeks, she’s often motherly with you, at some point you did find it weird but now? you didn’t mind it one bit.

you liked how she took care of you without asking for anything in return.

as she allowed you another sip from her bottle you smiled and chugged it down your dry throat. “are you okay? damn, i’m afraid you’ll pass out on me.” Lara scoffed, smoothing down your shirt.

“i’m fine, sorry.” you finally chuckled, you had no idea why you were so lost in thought that day, you couldn’t help but think.

maybe what had you this hazed up is the thought of lara intimately the other night, and you forced yourself to sleep so you don’t have to think much of it.

Lara knew she had to take it slow as you were much younger than her, and she didn’t want to jump into anything that would make you uncomfortable, she’s so sensitive about the fact that she could do anything that would hurt you, or make you uncomfortable around her, so she hoped you’d initiate it first… until then she’s gonna wait, she’d wait forever for you.

but you? you couldn’t initiate shit, you were a nerve wreck, so damn awkward, maybe you were even slightly self conscious, Lara had no idea you were a virgin, she thought you had a wild past, considering you were in your early twenties, it’s valid for people this age to do so much and you didn’t wanna confirm nor deny things, so you kept quiet.

every time you tried to initiate something, you were worried you didn’t shave, or didn’t shower, you probably smelt bad, you’d just stand there like a fool and forget all about it, idea tossed to the side.

you brain was your worst enemy, and it didn’t help that Lara was one of the prettiest women you could ever be with, you can’t imagine being inexperienced with her, or doing something stupid or looking ugly in such a special moment.

Lara walked you home that day, then you insisted she spends the night, only because it would be fun… right?

Lara on the other hand didn’t think of it that way, she was so sure you’d finally initiate something, she felt so excited she couldn’t breathe at all.

as you opened the door to your bedroom, Lara walked in. just trying to act normal, for now.

she looked at your room, your bed, it was a single bed.. damn.

Lara cleared her throat and went through your books on the shelf, impressed by the variety of collections you had, small figurines she found adorable as you flushed in embarrassment, she was never in your bedroom, it felt nice to have her here though.

she finally took a seat on your bed then, stretching out on your single bed she’d definitely tease you for later.

“pretty room, never imagined your room to be this… singular though.” she giggled, leaning on her knees with a smirk, her brown eyes searching through yours, making your cheek flush a pink shade Lara adored.

“i… yeah..” you blushed.

“don’t be shy, singular beds can be nice too.” Lara said, kicking her boots off as she flopped down the bed, not having space much for you if she were to ever stay the night in your bed like this, she looked amazing on your bed, you couldn’t help but stare as a feeling pooled through you, your cheeks getting redder than before.

you were playing with the hem of your shirt as thoughts rolled around your head, listening to her breathe, her figure resting on your bed like that.

it was so tempting.

you wanted her.

every fibre of your being was aching for her, for her touch, but you couldn’t, you were so scared.

as your thoughts ate away at you, Lara caught on, she always knew, she just hated to pressure you.

she called your name, causing you to look into her warm brown eyes that looked yellow from certain angles and lightings.

“what’s wrong? you’ve been lost in that pretty head of yours all day.” Lara sat up on your bed, her hand taking yours as she placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

you gulped, you’re gonna say it.

you’re gonna admit it, both the fact that you were a virgin, and the fact that you’ve been craving her for months.

you bit down your slightly chapped lip, turning on your bed to face her, there goes nothing.

it’s better than drowning in these thoughts and feelings, you have to be honest with her, it’s a commitment to do so and you were so committed to Lara.

there’s nothing wrong with being honest about your lack of experience; you knew Lara isn’t shallow and close minded.

you rubbed the side of your head as your breathing caught in your throat, your words choked, you needed to pull yourself together.

Lara took a hold of your chin with her free hand as she leaned her head closer to yours, seeking out your expressions, wanting to understand you and understand your feelings. Lara knew you were too hard on yourself sometimes and barely let it out.

she waited, squeezing your chin softly in her rough fingers.

“i’m..” you finally started, one step at a time.

“Lara i’m… um..” you paused, your tongue tied and your palms so sweaty.

“you’re what, honey?” Lara softly muttered, her fingers still placed underneath your chin, her other hand rubbing your thigh in comfort.

“a… virgin.” you whispered, your gaze averted, refusing to keep eye contact, your embarrassment was bad enough as it is, you can’t imagine how she’d look at you as your thoughts ate away every ounce of common sense you could have had over this.

Lara forced your chin upwards, your gaze falling back into hers.

“and that’s a problem, how?” Lara mumbled, leaning closer to you, the tip of her nose brushing against yours. “tell me.. how’s that a problem?” she asked, her fingers tightening against your chin.

“it’s.. n—not..” you breathed, unable to say anything, she made your brain a mush of mess, unable to think straight.

as if anything about her would make you straight.

Lara's lips made contact with your jaw, her hand on your thigh reached all the way up to hold your hip, pulling you closer.

“that’s right.. i’d get to be the first one to touch you, the only one who touches you…” she mumbled into your soft skin, she’d die doing this and she’d be the happiest woman ever.

“i wanna taste you so bad.” Lara moaned into your neck, bringing you by the waist on top of her, lying down on your small bed.

“Lara.. wait please.” you supported yourself on the bed, your hands on either side of her head as you stared down at your older girlfriend, her hands holding your waist.

“shh… it’s okay.” she cooed, placing soft kisses on your cheek. “i know… we don’t have to do anything, i just wanted you to be certain that i’d never judge you, never belittle you… so what if you've never had sex before?” Lara reassured you, her hand stroking your cheek softly, the pad of her thumb resting on your cheekbone.

“doesn’t make me like you any less, you’re still my girl.”

she smiled, nudging your nose with hers, her other hand gripping your waist in a comforting expression.

“is it… bad to say that i wanna do it with you?” you mumbled, staring at her brown eyes as she was beneath you, giving you the opportunity to be this close to her, her freckles like constellations, her scent so enticing and her warmth inviting, your lips found themselves on the corner of her mouth, feeling her hands on your lower back.

“not bad… i want the same thing, love.” her thick accent rang in your ears, her calloused fingers touching the inside of your shirt, the pad of her thumbs stroking every inch she can come across. your head dipped to the crook of her neck, her perfume even stronger as your nerves burned with desire.

this is the first time you’ve ever been this close to a girl, your lips attached to the soft skin of her neck, her moans echoing through the walls of the bedroom making your untouched pussy throb at the way she writhed and squirmed in your damned small bed.

Lara gripped your hips as she guided your hips closer to hers, “let me take this off.” she whispered, undoing your jeans, her fingers soft and tender.

you helped her take off the garment, Lara knew she can’t fuck up your first time in any way, so she got up from the bed and picked you up around her waist to place you down so she’s on top, your hands buried themselves into her soft hair, bringing your lips to her neck as Lara tugged at your waist, holding back her moans.

your legs were on either side of her, Lara felt so damn dizzy at the sight of your legs spreading for her, she knew you were ready, that you wanted it.

she couldn’t wait to stretch your virgin pussy.

“easy there baby..” Lara moaned, pushing you down the bed by the hips, her fingers moving to slide your panties down your legs, her breath caught over the sight of your pussy, you were so wet… such a virgin, Lara thought.

“oh my..” Lara breathed, bringing her pointer and middle finger to spread your folds, rubbing them into you as you closed your eyes and let her touch you just like how badly you wanted her to. “so pretty…” Lara smiled, rubbing her index finger against your clit, watching you drip.

“such a good girl..” Lara praised you as her wrist flicked and she pumped her index and ring finger into you gently, she made sure you didn’t get hurt, knowing no one’s ever touched you like that before, but oh how proud she felt, it was honour to take your virginity like that, and she was glad you picked her.

“does that hurt?” Lara asked, sticking her fingers into your hole briefly, seeking out your reaction, your body tensed and breath caught in your throat. “no..” was all you said as Lara pushed her fingers slowly just a bit further inside. waiting to see if you’re in any pain before she fucked her fingers into you.

you were so wet, and your muscles relaxed, you enjoyed this beyond words and Lara was so thankful you felt comfortable with her, her lips found your cheek as she slowly fingered you, listening to your soft moans and soft breaths, you were breathtaking.

“so beautiful..” Lara mumbled, smiling at the sight of you like this, it wasn’t long before you gently rocked your hips to match her pace. “don’t hurt yourself baby… let me do the work.” she cooed, holding your hip to keep you from doing anything that will cause you pain.

“need you deeper..” you whispered, Lara complied and moved her fingers deeper, only slowly and with so much caution, you were so tight. only wet enough to let her fingers get sucked inside of you with her movement calculated. “more…” you whined, making Lara smack her lips.

she couldn’t add another finger, that’s pushing it.. especially for a first time. the only moved her other hand to rub at your clit, her fingers buried inside of you just going faster. “that good..?” lara breathed.

“yeah… yeah, fuck fuck..” you moaned, your hips rocking along with lara’s movements, she couldn’t stop you now, she wanted you to cum on her fingers. “fuck!” you mewled out, squirming.

“cum for me baby..” lara rasped, both hands working on your tight sweet pussy, rubbing and thrusting. she leaned in and pressed a kiss to your neck, making you arch your back and rock your hips further into her thick fingers.

Lara slowed her pace just a bit as she saw you coming undone all over her, and all over your bed, mewling and crying into the pillow, she figured your first orgasm would be intense, so she let you ride it out then she pulled out her fingers gently.

she looked at how much you’ve gushed down her fingers and she couldn’t help but shove them in her mouth, licking it clean while rubbing a hand over your stomach to comfort you. “it’s okay baby.” she says, leaning down to press a sticky kiss to your cheek, laying down beside you to hold and comfort you. her arms wrapped around you securely, pulling a blanket over you both as you’re squished on your small bed.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (8)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angst, pining, injury

a/n: I appreciate thoughts and reactions more than you know!!! <333 Italics indicate flashbacks.

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The next two weeks were interesting. 

In the first few days after the accident—the ones filled with confusion and incorrect suspicions—you had spent most of your time alone or sleeping. Mor visited your bedroom every morning to share limited information about your past, but there was no routine beyond that. Everyone tiptoed around you, too afraid to set off the timebomb they assumed was your mind.

But Helion had disputed that assumption. 

You were allowed to know who you were, to become the person you had been. 

So, a routine began to form. 

Breakfast early in the morning, usually with a random assortment of the inner circle. Mor was always present, keeping up with her responsibility of telling you about yourself. Cassian joined more often than not—an early riser, he deemed himself. Azriel made it when he could. He was always busy in the morning. Doing… something, everyone told you.

Rhysand would join you after the meal, whisking you away for an hour or two to work on the powers you still could not call upon. He would have a different objective in mind every day and it was your job to parse out what it was. 

You failed. 

Obviously. 

He started bringing in random Velaris citizens instead, but you still felt nothing. It was nice to see the smiling strangers; they were all kind to you, all apparently knowing who you were. The vagueness surrounding them leveled the playing field more. They didn’t know your whole life story and you weren’t supposed to know theirs. 

“You’ve explained it to me before,” Rhysand had said. “It’s a vibration, sometimes a light or a color. You see it around them, feel it. You understand a deep part within them that they don’t even know they’re revealing.” 

Well, there was never any light or vibration or color. You could never tell that the fae were lying or that Rhysand was planning something big for his anniversary with his mate. None of this otherworldly intuition that the Night Court seemed to value so highly. It was all just stagnant. 

After spending some time failing with Rhys, you got to explore Velaris. You had insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, and your family believed you—for a time. You had three whole days of walking around the city alone before that privilege was revoked.

Granted, it was your fault that it was revoked, but that was neither here nor there. 

It hadn’t been your plan to get lost, just as it hadn’t been your plan to get caught up in a street brawl over a cart of potatoes. But when you weren’t at the designated meeting spot for Cassian to bring you back up the house, and when he found you with a bleeding nose an hour later, what you meant to do didn’t matter. 

“Y/n?” you heard a voice shout, heavy footsteps shaking the ground beneath you. “Shit—y/n, look at me, you okay?” 

Warm hands enveloped your shaking ones, drawing them back and catching sight of the red staining your fingerprints. It was Cassian, you realized, with his broad wings cloaking you in their shadow. The General’s expression hardened when he took in your face.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low, comfort combatting fury. “Where have you been? We have about 10 people looking for you, sweetheart.” 

You grimaced—both at the pain in your nose and the notion of your family scouring the streets of Velaris. “I’m so, so sorry, Cassian. I got turned around and then I was in this alley and there was a boy—” 

“Hey!” Defeat washed through you at the sound of another voice in the alley, all hopes for a peaceful return home washed away. “Is your girlfriend over there gonna pay for the product I lost?” 

The Illyrian before you paused, body going still at the accusatory tone. Cassian’s jaw clenched and he turned, keeping you well behind him. You still caught a glimpse of the scene from between his legs, and the merchant—to his credit—had the mind to stop his taunting. 

And to look afraid. 

Really, truly afraid. 

“You did this to her?” Cassian growled, fists clenching at his sides. 

The merchant swallowed. “You’re—and she’s…” 

“Did you. Do this. To her?” Cassian asked again, words broken up by malice. 

A beat of pressing silence, only whispers of the street meeting your ears. The merchant took several, shaky steps back, but the movement damned him. His hands swayed with his backtracking feet, and red glistened on his knuckles. 

Cassian’s wings flared at the sight. It only took a small uptick of his brow for the smaller man to fall to the floor in a plea. 

“Please, please don’t kill me! I didn’t know who she was. Don’t turn me over to the Shadowsinger, I won’t make it! I have a family to care for—a wife! I was only trying to protect my crops and she butted in. I didn’t want to hurt her!”

The General hooked his chin over his shoulder and sent you a questioning gaze, one you were sheepish to answer. With a harrowing breath, you revealed, “There was a little boy stealing potatoes. He was going to hit him. I stepped in the way.” 

A tug at your chest had you gasping as Cassian turned back around. The feeling had been persistent the moment you got lost, increasing after you’d been implicated in the merchant’s conflict. It pulled and pulled, a desperate winding around your ribs that you didn’t know how to relieve. 

It had to have been fear. Or stress. 

Cassian eyed the man crumpled to the floor. “Is the boy okay?” he asked, the question meant for you but directed across the alley. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing your hand to the blood running down your chin. “He ran away.” 

Cassian grunted, sent a harsh warning to the man, and then crouched back down to your place on the ground, shaking his head in frustration. “Let’s get you home.” And then he grumbled, “I might get my ass kicked but…” 

Cassian had not gotten his ass kicked when you got home, but many other things happened. Mor just about cried in relief, her arms thrown around your neck followed by a string of commands to never do such a thing again. Rhys rubbed at his jaw as tension lifted from the House. He also had a command—that you wouldn’t be traveling alone anymore. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked like he would vomit, his shadows flitting angrily around him before bridging a path to you. He had cleaned the blood from your face, eyes haunted by misplaced grief, and pure guilt replaced all else in your myriad of emotions. 

You agreed an escort would be better. 

Azriel volunteered. Every day. 

And so you got to know Azriel. 

Mor had described him as reserved, not one to offer the intimacy of touch or personal information so readily. That was not your experience with the Shadowsinger. 

Fleeting touches had become commonplace between the two of you, whether it was his hands or his wings or the brush of his thigh as you sat by the Sidra. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously, but you welcomed the familiarity. You found he did it most when he wasn’t paying attention—when he was deep into a story about your past or listening to your opinions intently. 

He was open, sharing pieces of himself you didn’t have to pry to receive. He told you about his mother, about his scars, about how he overcame them. He shared with you how important you were to him many, many times, slipping it into conversations so causally. A thread connected the pieces of his life, and you, it appeared, made up the spool. 

He did not speak of his mate, despite being prompted. 

A sadness came over him at any mention of her, one so achingly melancholy that you told yourself you wouldn’t ask again. 

He loved her deeply, but something had happened there.

You tried not to get too close. This was friendship, a deep familial love that he relied on. That you seemed to have relied on for so many years.

And Azriel was hurt. Even if he and his mate were no longer intertwined by their bond, he didn’t need the onslaught of emotions his amnesiac friend was suddenly overcome with. 

Because you were—overcome by emotions for him. 

It was wrong. 

You wished you had the context to separate those feelings. If you understood your history—if you had memories beyond the few weeks of sweet stories and brushes of his fingers along your hair—maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe your heart wouldn’t beat painfully against your ribs each time he entered the room… each time his eyes met yours as if he could feel your admiration for him within his own chest. 

You wouldn’t be feeling this way, surely. Because no one had told you that you should be. 

You only had the recounts of your friends, and the three of them had made no insinuations about you and Azriel. 

You wished you could meet the rest of the inner circle. 

There had been plans to, but then you came home with blood on your face and a disorientation in your eyes and that was suddenly off the table. 

After your time exploring Velaris, you read. 

Mor would pile your favorite books beside you in the small reading room you had come to love and rave about how great of an opportunity this was for you.

“You would kill to be able to read these for the first time again,” she’d laugh. “So have at it!” 

Reading felt easy. 

Books did not pressure you to remember things you weren’t able to. 

You could see it all in their eyes, the way your family clung to each of your words for even a hint of reminiscence. They’d make a joke and hold their breath, desperate for the laugh that should be bubbling out of you. But you never got it, never making the connections that they did. 

Azriel was the only one who’d catch the shame you felt at your lack of deliverance. Although he was the one with the most torture in his expression, he was also the one with the most understanding. He’d lean his head down and whisper what you needed to know in your ear, and then you’d giggle—for show—and hope would return to the room. 

But nothing had returned to you. 

You were still a shell.

~~

“What do you think?” 

Cassian’s question blanketed the table, forks halting their movements atop plates. Breakfast had just begun and you were dressed for a morning in Velaris at the theater, this time with Cassian. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Mor questioned, eyeing the General beneath a raised brow. 

“Were you there last week when I brought her home all bloody? I think it’s a great idea. Rhys agrees.” 

“And Az?” 

Cassian continued his breakfast, reaching for his drink. “Cassian—”

And so you found yourself steps away from the roof of the House of Wind—no longer in the comfortable daywear you’d been sporting—squinting into the morning sun. Leathers fitted for your body were laced up at your back and waist, stretching with a groan as you reached up to block the light from your eyes. Although the pain in your head had subsided to practically nonexistence, it often flared up in brightness or in times of stress. 

Like when you stood atop a mountain and stared into the sun. Or got punched in the nose by a potato merchant. 

“This is where I go while you go galavanting around the city,” Cassian chimed in, a grin evident in his words. 

“Charming,” you muttered, still adjusting to the jarring assault of the sun.

The sound of grunts and clashing metal oriented you quicker, and as your eyesight settled you were met with the image of Azriel. He was bare-chested, leathers donning his legs as he pressed further and further forward, the knife you always saw at his hips hacking away at the metal dummy before him. 

He moved so quickly that it was difficult to track him, one swipe after another, so carefully skilled and practiced. Sweat beaded down his tattooed skin. His wings rippled and spread in time with his footwork. 

He was mesmerizing, a force of nature only halting as his shadows wound around his ear, whispering. Azriel whipped around, sheathing his knife at his side and staring out beyond the training ring with a narrowed gaze. He spotted you instantly, without looking near or around—a magnetic force. 

Until he wasn’t looking at you, instead glowering in Cassian’s direction. “What are you doing, brother?” he bit out. The back of his hand made a quick pass along his forehead. 

Cassian didn’t look the slightest bit sheepish, ushering you to the outskirts of the ring. “She’s going to train. Now that we know she won’t break at the slightest thing.” 

Hazel eyes slid back to you, a softness overcoming them as you quickly averted your gaze from the broadness of his chest. You were not ogling him. 

You bit into your cheek to stave off the embarrassment. 

“I thought we agreed—” 

“Az, come on. It’s been a couple of weeks now. We need to get her back in the swing of things.” 

A crack of defeat edged its way onto the Shadowsinger’s face. 

What had they agreed on? To wait it out? To treat you like glass until you were their version of yourself again? Something ugly licked up into your chest, something raw. 

For a moment—just one—you stood on the sidelines and felt pathetic. While the two Illyrians stared at each other, a silent conversation between eyes, you let yourself feel like an outsider. They had had discussions about you, but not really about you. About the you that they loved—the one with memories and reciprocation. 

“Will you be careful?” Azriel’s even voice snapped you out of the spiral you had initiated. His expression was uneasy, a hand pressed to his chest. “And tell us if you need to stop? If your head—” 

“My head has been completely fine for a while now,” you assured, hands coming up to grasp the rungs of the training ring. “Promise.” 

Azriel pressed his lips into a line but motioned you in with a nod of his head. 

Despite the conflict still raging within your mind, you smiled at Cassian, the two of you letting out a small cheer and high-fiving before the General lifted you by your hips and past the rungs. You regained your footing and stood before the spymaster, meeting his level gaze with your own. 

“Alright, sweetheart,” Cassian began, a loud clap resonating behind you. “Muscle memory is going to play a big role here, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt, so you’re just with this guy for now.” He patted the shoulder of the dummy Azriel had been practicing with. 

You scoffed, dropping your hands to hang by your thighs. “What? I still have the same muscle tone from before and last I checked my face was beaten in by a real person, not a chunk of metal.” 

“And that will not happen again,” Azriel cut it. “Ever. But especially not when you’re… in this state.”

You ignored the unsettling remark. “Okay, well I think sparring one of you would be more effective in the prevention of that, don’t you?” 

“Cassian and I could hurt you.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“We can’t guarantee—” 

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your view of Azriel partially obstructed by the shadows that wound up your body. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Let me do this, Az.” 

The male before you faltered, his eyes darting quickly between yours. His chest, gleaming in the sunlight, rose and fell with strenuous effort. A clench of his jaw. Another pass of silence. 

“Okay,” he nodded, gaze roving over your features. “Okay, y/n. Get warmed up and we can spar.” 

You warmed up with Cassian, stretching and relishing in the feel of your body moving. He went over a few basic maneuvers with you, and you tried your hardest to pay close attention to how his feet slid around the ring. 

It was a rather hard task, seeing as Azriel had continued his blade work on the dummy. Still shirtless. 

After the General was satisfied with your progress, he passed you off to his brother. The Shadowsinger’s posture had softened a hair from when you first entered the ring, his wings coiled back and his shadows creating uneven shapes along the floor. He kept his hands by his sides, his feet relaxed—not a fighting stance in the slightest. 

“Come on,” you teased, cocking your head to the side. “You have to at least try, Az.” 

“I did not spar with you often before your memories were lost,” he admitted. “I do not enjoy the thought of hurting you.” 

Guilt immediately flooded you. You hadn’t even thought about what this would be like for him, too caught up in your own strife. Your stance dropped, the fists at your chin loosening and falling. 

“Oh, Azriel, I’m sorry. I can have Cassian—” 

“No.” He dragged his left foot back. A ghost of a fighting position. “Only me.” 

You took a painful breath in. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to lead. 

You shook your hands out and then your body moved of its own accord. 

You swiped at his legs first, unsurprised when he leaped back with practiced grace. The two of you fell into a dance of drawn arms and calculated shifts and you were almost unnerved by how your body moved without you willing it to. 

Cassian had said that muscle memory would play a role. 

It seemed to be the only thing driving you.  

You went for his knees, but in a way that maneuvered past his wings. 

You used his shadows as cover, taking advantage of their familiarity with you and cloaking yourself in their mist. 

Azriel swung a halfhearted punch at your shoulder and you bypassed the motion, grabbing his wrist and twisting at his back. 

It felt right. Your actions were not your own but they were ingrained in your being. 

This was your body. 

Something that remained unchanged. 

In your newfound joy, you missed the open palm Azriel carefully directed at your chest. The impact caught you off guard, stealing your breath from your lungs as you were pushed to the ground. As your back hit the floor, another shocking burst of air was ripped from you. 

You laid frozen for a moment before a shadow cast over your body, the sun no longer beating down on your skin. Through the ringing in your ears, Azriel’s voice flowed through. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—y/n, take a breath.” A scarred hand rubbed along your clavicle. “Breathe. You’re okay. Breathe.” 

A startling gasp of oxygen entered your lungs. You were fine, completely unharmed, only shocked and disoriented. Azriel bowed his head as you continued to circulate the air into your body, and it was then that you saw it. 

A chain hung between you, dangling from his neck and brushing against your chin. It swayed back and forth, a grounding point as you blinked back the tears lining your eyes. The ring glinted in the sun, rubbing against the golden chain, looking as if it did not belong there. 

Azriel tracked your gaze as he raised his head, looking down at the object of your attention. He sat back on his ankles and the diamond followed him, resting close to his chest. 

You raised yourself to your elbows. “Who’s—” You coughed. Azriel winced. “Is that yours?”  

A stupid question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking. A guarded look passed over the Shadowsinger’s face and you regretted it instantly. He reached up and clutched the necklace in a closed fist.  

“No,” he responded. “Are you okay?” 

He didn’t release the ring. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “I’m not hurt. It just knocked the wind out of me.” 

Azriel nodded. A grim line formed between his brows. 

“Hey! She alright?” Cassian called. He had moved clear across the roof when you began to spar with Azriel, mentioning something about inventory or knives or something you hadn’t paid attention to. You had been too focused on the warmth you felt from being so close to Azriel’s skin. 

The sound of Cassian’s voice did nothing to break the hold Azriel’s eyes had on you. 

Another beat of silence passed. 

The wind blew a strand of his hair across his forehead. 

“I—” 

“I have a mission. I was supposed to meet with Rhys before midday.” He spoke the words apologetically but his hand shook when it lowered to his knee. 

The sun was already past the high point in the sky. It was no longer midday. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I want to thank you for—” 

“Don’t thank me. Please, just—Be careful. I have to go.” 

A quiet collection of parting words fell from your lips and Aziel twitched, looking as if he would move forward but thinking better of it. 

But you had thoughts too, and they worked against Azriel’s

You raised to your knees and brushed the hair on his forehead back, a small smile gracing your face, trying so hard to melt some of the tension that had grown between you. Azriel’s breath caught as you moved, but you only doubled down, softly dragging your nails along his scalp. 

He shuddered, eyes falling shut for a brief, unguarded moment. 

His shadows consumed him. 

Azriel was gone. 

[tootiecakes234]

Katsuki’s birthday

“Katsuki Bakugo, if your ass isn’t ready in the next 15 minutes, you’re gonna be sleeping at Eijirou’s house the rest of the week cuz you WONT be allowed in this house!” You tell him with pointed look.

“I told you, you shitty woman, that I don’t want to go to some stupid birthday brunch. I want to stay home and I want YOU to cook for me while I do nothing. It’s my fucking birthday.” He shouts back.

“But that’s what we did last year! And the year before that!” You try reasoning with him.

“Yeah it’s called tradition” he says even as he stands up and starts walking over to his closet.

“Well, love muffin, traditions were meant to be broken.” You go up to him and place a kiss on his cheek.

“What the hell ever. I’m not paying for a damn thing and I’m ordering the most expensive thing they have on this stupid menu. Don’t forget your purse.” He grumbles.

You’re dressed in a nice spring dress that’s a flower pattern and all flowy. You look so adorable and then you see Katsuki and hot damn! You forget how good this man looks when he’s not in a black t shirt and joggers. Not that he doesn’t look hot as hell in that but he looks edible right now all dressed up.

“Damn big man, you got a lady. If you do, I bet I’d do stuff with you that she wouldn’t dare.” Your voice oozes cheekiness.

“My girlfriend would put your loser ass to shame! Just last night she did this thing in bed-“

You clamp your hand over his mouth. “Ok ok I get it.” You can feel his smirk against your palm. “You always take stuff to far.”

“I always finish the shit you start.” He moves your hand and wraps his arms around your waist. “I like this dress by the way. The only thing getting me through this brunch is gonna be knowing I get to take it off later.”

He bends down and presses his lips to you.

You have to pull yourself away and grab his hand to pull him behind you. “Let’s go before we are late”

“You don’t think those shitty ass friends of yours are gonna be late too? I’ve never seen them be on time for a goddamn thing”

When you guys get to the car, you walk to the passenger side and open the door for him.

“My king” and you do a little bow.

“You’re so fucking insufferable”

The smile on your face doesn’t disappear as you climb into the drivers seat.

“Where is this place anyway?” He questions as your pull off.

“On the outskirts of town. It’s a place Eiji found a while ago. He said it’s 10/10”

“Oh fuck, are we really listening to recommendations from that red head idiot?? He would eat toast smeared with dirt if you covered it in protein powder.”

“ ‘Suki he’s not that bad.”

“Tch”

Eventually you pull up the place and you can see Katsuki looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“Did you dumb ass get lost? This is not a restaurant.”

“Surprise!!! It’s an adventure park! They have paintball, laser tag and zip lines and stuff. They also serve food but it’s like snack type things but I though that’d hold us over til we get home so I can cook.”

You are wearing the biggest grin and your excitement it’s practically bouncing off of you.

“Oh and I brought clothes for you to change in to. I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise by telling you to dress casual….. do you like it??” You ask him.

“You’re proud of yourself aren’t you?”

“Very”

“I…. Fucking love it. Are those tools still coming cuz I’ve got ass to kick.”

You bound over the seat and hug him. “Yep they are probably already inside. I told Mina to get here early to check us in.”

He slides his hand over your face and gives you a small smile before you places a kiss on your forehead.

“You did real good baby. Thank you”

“You’re welcome hot stuff. Not let’s get in there and give those guys a taste of Pro Hero Dynamight!”

“Hell yeah!”

This asshole won every game you guys played except for laser tag and thats only cuz you guys cheated! But he deserved it, he was getting too cocky for his own good.

BUT by the end of the night, he had you feeling like the real winner🤭

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @sukunas-bratt @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216 @kxtsxkii @liliththeunqualifiedsimp @burgvndy @fluffismystaplefood @yoyolovesdaiki @zaiban2989

[ki-yomii]

phases of a daydream | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.8k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), squirting, soft dom!yoongi, pet names, mild degradation kink, mild praise kink, begging, teasing, implied established relationship, brief threesome fantasy feat JK

➥ summary | you get up early to surprise yoongi with breakfast in bed, only he ends up surprising you instead.

➥ notes | this man has made my oral fixation 10x worse. for all the sleepy girlies out there 🫡

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

The early Sunday morning sun hovers low on the horizon, its golden light peeking through gaps between downtown Seoul’s high risers.

The cacophony of city life sounds muted, far away, foggy with sleep. Slow to rise as vibrant brushstrokes of color chase away the velvet nighttime sky.

Some of the only ones awake are food stand owners with tteokbokki and eomuk in hand, Hongdae club go-ers, and you, apparently. It’s peaceful - certainly different from your usual routine.

But it’s also an experience you don’t see yourself repeating soon.

As nice as watching the sunrise is, you’d rather be dead than awake at this hour, especially on a weekend. You’ll never understand how some people like getting up while the world’s still cold and dark.

It’s criminal.

Couldn’t be me, you think while swirling oil around the pan, and ignoring the fact you did that just this morning.

It’s a minor miracle when you’re fully awake before 11 AM, and that’s after you guzzle down so much caffeine you vibrate in place.

Woe to whoever expects more than dispassionate glares and unintelligible grunts as you migrate from the bed to the couch.

What can you say, you’re not a morning girlie: you hate the half-drunk awareness, the sour taste clinging to the back of your tongue, the sticky sweat, and how overwhelmingly bright everything is.

Instead, you’d much rather nestle into bed, groggy and warm.

So Min Yoongi better count his blessings because he’s the only reason you’re in the kitchen at 7 AM, wearing nothing but a shirt that barely covers your ass while trying - and failing - to flip nurungji.

Quiet Spotify tunes and Min Holly’s rumbling snores are the only background noise amid your bitten off curses.

Before you met him, you used to make fun of girls so far gone for a guy they lost touch with reality. And now, you’re one of them, fighting for your life in the trenches.

He’s got you so whipped, it should be illegal.

Furthermore, it’s downright unfair how endearing you find it. It should infuriate you. Instead, you’re kitten soft.

And Yoongi knows how to use it to his advantage - knows it’s that stupid smirk paired with a face that makes smart girls dumb.

It never fails to win you over; the pretty eyes, the plush lips, the sharp jawline - you’re an absolute goner. If only smug didn’t look so good on him…

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The only thing that somewhat mollifies your bruised pride is the fact that should everything go to plan, your less than innocent intentions will come to fruition.

After all, your stolen shirt leaves so little to the imagination, you needn’t have bothered. And when Yoongi sees you practically naked, with breakfast in bed?

Fire meets gasoline.

While he might never say it outright, there’s no denying the way Yoongi’s eyes go soft and hungry whenever he catches you prancing around in his shirt.

He swears he’s going to throw it out, threadbare and worn, yet there it sits. Waiting in the back of his closet for the next time you stay over.

But that’s how it’s always been; a game of cat and mouse. You tease, he reacts - a constant push and pull, flirting with the boundaries of his restraint.

Though admittedly, you’ve never been this brazen before; ass out and nipples hard.

Although it’s not like he lives with the rest of the members anymore, so why not up the ante?

Even if imagining someone walking in on you (no matter how improbable) gets your blood pumping, and your pussy aching.

No one has to know about the dirty little fantasy you indulge in more often than you care to admit.

No one has to know how wet you get at the thought of getting caught bent over, stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock and unable to do anything but moan as he makes you take it.

Certainly, he’d play along.

The smooth thrust of his hips wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t stop. He’d fuck sweet whines out of you, make you cum so hard you gush.

Would keep you pinned in place with his hands, and tease you about how much you liked getting wrecked in front of his friend like a perfect little bitch.

Especially if it was Jungkook.

Yoongi thinks it’s cute how frazzled you get around the maknae; a silly, schoolgirl crush. In fact, he’d probably use it to his advantage. After all, he loves to taunt, tease.

Oh, he definitely would, you think, biting your lip as your stomach clenches and your thighs twitch.

His fingers would dig into your jaw, force you to look if you tried to hide; make you stare deep into those wide Bambi eyes with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his voice rough in your ear.

Grinding his cock head over your g-spot with every flex of his hips as your pussy tries to milk him dry, “You just gonna stand there, huh? C’mere, let’s have some fun. She doesn’t mind.”

...

"Ow, shit," you hiss, jerking back from the stove as angry heat blooms through your fingertips, "fuck, that hurts!"

Dropping the spatula, you scramble to the sink and run cold water over your hand while glaring at the sizzling pan. It might have been your fault for getting distracted, but rude.

Even if the pain helps calm down some of your raging hormones.

Okay, down girl, you think, chill out.

So despite your fingers feeling tight and swollen like a bad sunburn, and as hot a fantasy as that is, you take your sign from the universe and recollect yourself.

For now, you need to focus on the task at hand which comes at the expense of no more daydreaming.

Resolutely ignoring the sticky cling of your inner thighs, you slip the spatula under the rice patty and quickly flip it over.

It sizzles as it drops back into the pan, little splashes of oil kicking up.

Thankfully, the bottom isn’t too badly scorched. A little darker than you’d like but beggars can’t be choosers when they burn themselves because they’re too distracted by the thought of dick.

Giving the other side a few minutes to crisp up, you frown down at the forming blister. You poke it with a wince.

It’s not too big, and the sting isn’t terrible. You were able to sap the heat from the wound quick enough.

Honestly, what hurts worse is your pride - a total rookie move.

When its ready, you dump it onto a plate without ceremony before turning to grab the sugar. Only to gasp as you run into a solid chest instead of open air.

Forearms snake around your waist as Yoongi tugs you into the curve of his body. Pressed together from chest to hip, he feels the hitch of your breath when his thigh wedges itself between yours.

“Oh, y-you’re up!”

Fingertips flirt with the hem of your (his) shirt, inching higher to caress the slope of your rib cage. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your nipples pulling taut as a shiver judders down your spine.

Low-slung sweats cling to Yoongi’s trim hips, his erection tenting the cotton.

“Mm, morning,” he says, the greeting slurred out in a voice raspy with sleep. “Smells good.”

You swallow. “Good morning, baby.” You lean forward, and kiss the tip of his nose. “How’d you sleep?” Your hand scrapes over the nape of his neck, playing with the soft baby hairs.

It wasn’t until sometime after 3 AM that he’d wiggled into bed, most of the night spent in front of his MIDI, fiddling with chords and arrangements.

He rests his chin on the top of your head with a sigh, his breath ruffling the hair of your crown, “Hnng, slept alright.”

Arms tighten around you in a light squeeze while cheeky fingers inch up your torso to trace along the underside of your breast.

“Had the best dream though.”

Your breath catches in your chest, your heart stuttering against your ribs when he grinds forward, languid and loose. Your gut clenches hotly in interest as his cock rests heavy against your hip.

A temptation, a promise of what’s to come. Your palms sneak around his sides, resting on sleep-warm skin.

When you speak, its more of a breathless whisper than actual words, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to help me out?” Yoongi hums, peppering kisses along the length of your neck. A rough thumb drags over the peak of your nipple. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck,” a kneecap grinds up against your tender pussy, spreading your slick, swollen folds open, “can feel you through my pants. Let me, I know you want to.”

Your hips stutter, and you swallow your whine. “I do…”

Pleasure sings in your blood as you soak the fabric covering his thigh, a needy desperation rearing its head from deep within.

Flames lick along your skin, liquid fire pooling low behind your navel like a shot of whiskey.

“But,” you long for the bite of his teeth, the snap of his hips, the roughness of his grip, “I just finished making breakfast.”

Pouting, you stare up at him.

A tender expression softens the lines of his face. But the desire simmering beneath the gentle veneer remains, rough and rude.

There’s a raging tempest in his gaze, twin rings of rich coffee consumed by the black holes of his pupils.

Utterly ravenous, greedy as he traces your features.

It’s a look that’ll leave you weak-kneed and pumped full of cum.

“I know, and I appreciate the effort.”

He’s earnest, aflame with craven desire even as he presses a tender kiss to the side of your face. 

“But I’d rather eat you out. You’ll let me, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, and say, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to a face like that?”

You’ve barely got the words out before you find yourself flat on your back, the unyielding marble of Yoongi’s counter top cold against your heated skin.

Calloused palms pry your thighs apart, grip so firm it dimples the fat as Yoongi holds you open and exposed.

He runs his nose along your sensitive inner thigh, his lips warm and ready as his breath pants over your soaked core.

When your clit throbs, he groans low and wrecked, “Just look at this pretty pussy.”

Almost reverently, he strokes his thumbs over the length of your folds, dips his fingers into your entrance to spread the gathering slick.

Whimpering, your head smacks back against the granite and your hips jerk up towards his face

“Can’t wait til I get my mouth on you.”

“Shit, Yoongi, you can’t - you can’t just say stuff like that.”

He flicks your clit, relishing in how your whole body jumps as he demands, “Why not?”

“B-Because you just can’t, okay?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. There’s no doubt, he’s going to be the death of you one day. “It’s not-”

Fair.

“I think you don’t want me talking like that because you like it. Don’t you, baby?”

“I-”

The words turn to ash on your tongue. A loud, sloppy lick up the length of your slit shuts you up while a harsh suck to your swollen clit makes you whine. Your back bows hard, your hands flying down to sink into the dark mane of his hair.

“Ohh g- ah!”

“That’s it,” Yoongi smacks his lips, humming low in his throat, “Let me hear you.”

Forearms anchor themselves over your thighs. Using his body weight to keep you pinned, he tugs you close and strokes his fingers over your sticky folds, humming in approval at the obscene squelch.

Slick oozes out of you with every talented caress, dripping down your ass to puddle on the countertop.

“Always get so wet for me, don’t you?” Yoongi buries his smirk in the crease of your thigh, his tongue darting out to tease the very edge of your cunt. “You’re such a messy little slut, just how I like it.”

Before you can properly respond, he’s spreading you open and bowing his head. You squirm as his plush lips glide over the top of your mound, butterfly kisses tracing the beginning of your needy slit.

His bangs brush the soft underside of your belly. “Ready?”

He doesn’t wait before diving in, sucking the hard nub of your clit into his mouth. Stars burst behind your clenched eyelids. Soft, warm suction sends pleasure ricocheting through your limbs, your stomach caving in with every tender pulse of his mouth.

Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp

“That’s so - fuck,” you pant, hand scrambling for something to hold onto, hips jerking beneath his firm grip. “Yoongi!”

The wild movements nearly dislodge him, and he grunts in displeasure before readjusting to keep you better pinned.

His tongue retreats from your clit, and he sets his teeth against your pussy in warning, a gentle bite that doesn’t break skin but carries the slightest sting.

“‘m sorry, please - haahhh - please don’t stop,” you slur, fingers digging into his scalp. “I’ll be good, just please don’t stop, I can’t-”

He grunts at the rake of your nails, tongue lashes out in retaliation. He dips the tip into the tight clench of your entrance, teasing your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his nose grinds against your clit. The sensation’s almost too much, your body alight like a live-wire. You feel like you’re about to rocket off of the countertop, one of your hands de-tangling from his hair to yank at your own.

“S’too much - s’too good. Please, baby, I can’t!”

Yoongi ignores your cries, knows you’d sooner stab him with a knife if he stopped.

Anyway, you can take it.

You’re his good girl, after all.

You both like it wet and messy; love when the honey of your cunt soaks his face, sticks to his lips and drips from his chin.

All you can do is cry out, your chest pointed towards the ceiling as his tongue fucks deep, never stops chasing every drop of pleasure. Your toes curl from the alteration between flat, firm licks and gentle sucks.

Sweat gathers in your hairline, behind your knees as a heady rush sends you spinning, mind a haze of sensation.

You can’t stop rolling your hips, chasing after his talented mouth. In no time at all, Yoongi’s going to have you violently, explosively cumming on his tongue - just like he always does.

“Give it to me,” he growls, “Wanna feel this pretty pussy gush.”

You moan,” Yoongi, I’m - please, don’t stop. R-Right there!”

Your thighs clench around his head, biting down on your lip to hold in the scream threatening to break free.

“Fuck, please, ‘m almost there.”

Your pathetic cries spur him on.

With renewed enthusiasm, Yoongi twirls his tongue across the top of your slit, the tip playing with the hood of your clit. You clench down hard. It’s almost too much, like he’s reached deep inside and plucked at your nerves.

Then, the leaden ball of heat behind your navel contracts. Expands into a blazing inferno that threatens to swallow you whole, spreading out along your limbs like bolts of lightening until you shake.

“That’s it, come on,” Yoongi says, coaxing every ounce of pleasure he can. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Now, cum for me.”

All it takes is one last talented pulse of his tongue. Your orgasm rips through you with a loud, keening cry. Your back arches so high your spine feels like it’s about to snap, and slick gushes from you in a warm flood.

The ball of heat snaps, races down through your body from the crown of your head to your toes. Your thighs tremble from where they’re clenched around Yoongi’s head, soaked. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“F-Fuck…”

Collapsing against the cool stone, and panting hard, you push away stray hairs sticking to your face.

Glancing down the length of your twitching body, you see Yoongi still kneeling between your splayed thighs.

The lower half of his face is soaked with cum and drool. His sweatpants were kicked off at some point, you’re not sure when but it doesn’t really matter when his cock throbs against his belly, hard and wanting as the tip weeps pre-cum.

But it’s his eyes that really do you in; hot, hungry, and awe-filled.

“Can’t believe I’ve never made you squirt before.”

Those sinful lips part, red and swollen as his tongue swipes out to gather any leftover slick clinging to his mouth. A rough moan rumbles from his throat.

“Think you can do it again for me, baby?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you think - not for the first time - that Min Yoongi is going to be the reason you die.

[silvermarley]

Hi! I just discovered your acc and I love what I have read 💖🥺 Can I make a request? 👉🏻👈🏻 today is Tanjiro's birthday so I would like a Tanjiro x fem reader smut (both are adults but his gf is a couple of years older than him) where both have been busy lately with work and don't have time for a bit of sex until one night after work his girlfriend decides to start the action and seduce him but despite the fact that they have done it before he still feels very shy with her but in the end they end up having a good sex night. Have a nice day! 😁

Thank you for reading my stuff! <3 (Ik it’s his bday by the time u asked but happy very late bday to Tanjiro 😭 so sorry I couldn’t work on this sooner!)

Work Can Wait

Tanjiro x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, aged up, established relationship, soft sex

Work really left no time for sex, leaving only cuddling to sleep and the other more basic things. That’s not entirely a problem to you, but you began to miss his touch in the more intimate ways.

With the seemingly never ending work you two had to do, it seemed impossible for it to happen for the time being. But you felt hope when your boss let you leave work slightly early, saying that you’ll be working the later shift the next day.

Not just that, but it seemed the gods had blessed you tonight since you got a text from your lover after you informed him of your situation.

Tan <3: Love, you’ll never believe this!

(Y/N): Go on-

Tan <3: I get to work much later in the day tomorrow, so we can finally have time to ourselves! :)

(Y/N): You’re joking.. that’s amazing!

You set down your phone on the bed and smiled happily.

Tanjiro got home about 15 minutes after you did on a normal day. But now that you had the extra time to ready yourself, you decided to put it into use.

You took a shower, and made sure you felt good.

Then you dug through your drawer to find what you wanted. You had bought a beautiful lingerie set a bit ago, it was a lovely maroon color. You bought it in hopes that something like this would happen.

With almost child-like excitement, you rush to put it on. After doing so, you admire how it complements your body. You were reminded of why you picked it to begin with.

The color was your boyfriend’s favorite. It seemed to also be close to his hair color, bringing a sense of warmth to your heart at the thought.

You continue to freshen up, making sure you looked your best. Deciding not to put your normal clothes on, you put a silk robe over it temporarily. You already knew what you would do to get what you want.

Tanjiro texted you that he was on the way home by the time you completely finished getting ready. “Great timing..” you thought.

You sat yourself on the bed and waited in anticipation for him to arrive home. You practically jumped up when you heard his car door shut just outside.

He knocked on the door, knowing you were home. When you opened the door, he didn’t notice what you were wearing at first, doing his usual routine.

You had discarded the robe, wanting to initiate what you’ve been wanting for a while.

After giving you a kiss and a warm hug, he pulls back. Suddenly his face becomes a rose color, blushing like a schoolboy.

“I-“ he started then gulped, “B-Baby.. what’s all this? You got all dolled up for me?”

You pull him down to you by his collar and gave him a peck on the lips. “Mhm..” is all you said.

He couldn’t help but stare. Something about you wearing his favorite color in such an erotic way made him feel hot.

Tanjiro pulls you in by your hips after regaining his composure. “Y-You look amazing..“ he puts his head on your shoulders and inhales. “‘Always love your scent after a long day..”

You chuckle lightly, and start running your hands on his upper body, knowing the effect your touch has on him. He lifts his head.

Taking the chance, you pull him by his hand, leading him to your shared room. He patiently follows like a lost puppy.

As you two enter the room, neither of you bother closing the door. You find your back against the wall, lips against his once more, but this time your tongues dance together in a heated makeout.

You both shamelessly moan into the kiss, knowing you two needed this. It’s been way too long.

You parted from the kiss, tugging on his dress shirt. He nods and lets you take it off of him, to which you discard the clothing to the side.

Your hands ran up and down his chest, admiring the view you missed dearly. It wasn’t long before you were forced back into another kiss by his desperate lips.

Not wanting to break away from him, you unbuckle his belt and slip it off, letting it drop.

“Fuck darling.. I-I need you..” he whispers huskily, now hastily leading both of you to the bed like a virgin who can’t wait to get his “v-card” taken away.

He hovers over you, his lustful gaze admiring you under him. He was going to make up for all the missed moments due to work.

“‘Looking so pretty..” he mumbles, kissing down your collarbone to your stomach and then your thighs.

He presses more sloppy kisses on your inner thighs until he gets right next to where you need him. Tanjiro tugs down your panties, getting harder at seeing how wet you already were.

After throwing them to the floor, his lips are immediately on your pussy. You moaned loudly at the contact, sensitive from lack of attention to it.

He groans at your taste, something he craved daily, but such a thing was out of touch. His skillful tongue worked wonders on your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit.

Your hands thread through his hair, gripping it to base yourself in reality. Even after what felt like ages, he knew just how to make you feel good.

You don’t remember when he did it, but one finger, now two, was pumping in and out of you. Your back arched off the bed, the stimulation he was giving your poor cunt after being neglected was overwhelming.

“G-Gonna cum! Don’t stop..!” You whined.

He was lost in your taste and in your sounds. He only hummed and continued his actions.

It was only when your legs were shaking and you were pushing at his head did he stop. He licked his lips, like someone who just ate a delicious treat.

He blushed wildly, his body screaming at him to fuck you. Tanjiro removed the rest of his clothing, which felt a bit embarrassing due to your staring.

He moved back over you, slotting himself back in between your thighs. His cock rubbed against your slick pussy, and you both groaned in unison.

“Y-You ready baby? Please say you are..” it’s not hard to tell he is holding himself back.

You nodded. He smiled, and kissed your lips.

“Been dreaming about this..” he whispers again as he pushes in slowly, as he always would.

“Me too..”

As he finally bottomed out, it was a feeling you both knew and loved. He wanted to wait until you were properly adjusted to him before he moved, even if it was almost painful for him.

But you couldn’t wait anymore. Not when what you’ve been wanting is right in front of you. You try to buck your hips up to get the friction you crave.

He bit his lip and knew you felt the same. You needed this now.

Tanjiro began slowing pulling out and the thrusting back in. With every one, we would find the rhythm that worked and then kept it from then on.

He had you gripping at the sheets and moaning without restraint. Not that he was any better though. He was quite loud himself, gripping onto your hips for dear life.

“God.. I missed this so much..” he breathily mutters, immersed in the clenching of your pussy on him.

You whimpered in response. His thumb, almost out of reflex, moves to your clit and rubs small circles. You arch into him more, as he leans over you carefully watching your reactions.

You felt yourself get close. Your noises increased in volume, and you tighten around him. The bucking of his hips got sloppier as he felt himself get close to the brink as well.

“Y..You’re gonna cum with me right sweetheart?” He moaned, “Please.. cum for me.”

You nodded with vigor, one hand holding onto his arm and the other digging into the sheets.

“Fuck.. cumming!” You moan, seeing white as you do.

Tanjiro groans wildly and thrusts a few more times, before spilling his seed inside you. He stays inside for a moment, then pulls out.

He watches his cum drip out of you. He has to tear his eyes away.

You chuckled, noticing his trance. He falls to the side of you when you pull him.

“Didn’t know I needed that this badly..” he laughed nervously, staring into your eyes sweetly.

“Yeah..” you agree, “I love you so much.”

He kisses your forehead. “I love you too, my love. I’m sorry work has stalled my attention towards you. I’ll make sure I can get more time with you from now on to take care of your needs.”

You lay your head on his shoulder. “That would be nice.. and I promise the same.”

Your eyes slowly flicker shut, as his voice soothes you to sleep. He smiled warmly and later decides to get some rest himself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 3

Warnings: dark elements to come. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Raquel is hung over worse than ever. She can barely get off the couch as you hover anxiously. Watching her makes you wonder why people drink, it doesn’t seem very fun.

“Ugh, thanks,” she groans as you bring her a cup of coffee, “jeez, I can’t believe I don’t even remember last night.”

“Mm, yeah,” you put the cup on the small crate that acts as a table, “I’m glad you called me.”

She yawns before taking a long gulp of coffee. “I owe you! For getting me back here. I can’t believe you did that all alone.”

You nod and give a close-lipped smile. You don’t mention that it’s not the first time. That you’ve heard this all before. You like Raquel, she’s one of the only friends you’ve made at college, but you don’t like her habits. At least she didn’t bring anyone with her this time. You don’t mention that you did. Technically.

“I should study,” you excuse yourself, “got an early lecture tomorrow.”

“Hon, can you get me some advil first?” She touches her forehead dramatically and pouts, “please.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You retrieve the bottle of ibuprofen and leave it beside her coffee cup. She’s well enough to scroll through her insta and giggle to herself. You don’t know how she can’t be mortified. She’s forgotten a whole night and anything could’ve happened.

It almost did and it’s all your fault. You retreat to your room as the thought tugs at your nerves. That man was nice but you’re lucky he was. It was only after he left that you remembered the safety talk you got your first day on campus. The classic stranger danger narrative. 

You are so stupid! You let him come back here and didn’t even realise until after the discrepancy. You still can’t figure how he knew your address and doubt creeps up as you wonder if maybe you told him amid the chaos of Raquel’s black out.

You get your books out and perch up by your pillows. You don’t have much reading to do but you need the distraction. Ever since your first classes, you’ve felt behind. No matter how much you cram, you just feel like you’re missing something. The same could be said of most situations.

Your phone vibrates on your night table. You don’t check it right away as you reread the same paragraph. You hate psychology. Too bad it’s your whole major. You don’t know if you can handle it. Even if your father thinks it’s your best option.

Your phone goes off again, this time rattling consistently. Who would be calling? You don’t get phone calls, not even from home.

You stare at the private caller flashing on the screen before you find the courage to answer. You choke out a confused ‘hello’, readying yourself to politely decline whatever they’re selling.

“Hey, little darling, how are you doin’? Get lots of sleep?” The drawl seeps from the speaker like molasses. It’s him.

“Lee?”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he confirms, “I was just callin’ to see if you’re free this afternoon. I got the night off and… I’m gonna be true, I can’t stop thinking about ya.”

“Oh,” your eyes round as you pick at the corner of a textbook, “I’m just studying…”

“Studying? Well, I could bring the ice cream to you, how ‘bout that?”

“Erm, no,” you peek over at the door. You don’t know if Raquel would be okay with that, not in her state. “I… does it have to be today?”

No. Why can’t you just say no? Not now is always easier.

“I s’pose not,” his disappointment is transparent, “I just figured… I don’t know when you got classes and I work most nights…”

You cup your cheek as it scalds. Suddenly you feel bad. For being suspicious of him. For thinking the worst. He doesn’t sound very harmful and he got Raquel back safe. You know you would’ve been lost in that club.

Meet in a public place. That’s what the campus police said. 

“Okay, um, I can meet you.”

“Nah, I’ll come pick you up,” he offers, his tone easing.

“I’ll meet you,” you insist, voice wobbling, “it’s fine.”

“Alright,” he relents, “you ever been to that play on Harding?”

💮

You tell Raquel you’re going to the library. In an effort to shield your lie, you bring your bookbag. You might just swing by after ice cream. It might help you actually digest the words that seem to bounce back off your brain.

You wear a pair of pale blue chambray pants with a striped yellow top. It’s nothing special but neither is this. You’re just paying back a favour.

You catch the bus down to Woodrow, a block from Harding and walk the rest of the way. The ice cream shop is on the corner marked by a painted wooden sign. Est. 1898. You wonder how they kept the ice cream cold then, but you’re no historian.

You hesitate just before you come into view of the windows. It’s a public place but he’s still a stranger. Even if you know his name, you don’t really know him.

“There ya are,” Lee’s voice carries across the street as he crosses, “good timin’.”

“Oh, hi,” you clasp tight the strap of your bag, “I…”

“Was just finding a spot,” he explains as he steps onto the curb. 

He’s taller than you remember. You think. Your memory is skewed with flashing lights and adrenaline. The gray woven into his brown hair is more obvious as well and there’s a shadow of stubble along his jaw. His stomach bulges beneath his open leather jacket but you won’t begrudge him a few extra pounds. 

“Yeah, uh,” you rub your neck, “I… took the bus.”

“I told ya, I would given ya a ride,” he chides.

“Sorry,” you avert your eyes guiltily. “I didn’t want to bother–”

“Ain’t no bother,” he strides to the door and pulls it open, “so, you got a flavour in mind, blossom?”

You don’t move right away. You have to unstick your feet from the pavement, reluctance making you stiff and shaky. It’s alright, there’s people around, he can’t do anything. Besides, he’s nice, isn’t he? You’re just having ice cream.

You precede him inside as the door jingles behind him. You go up to the counter and focus on the many flavours listed on hand-written cards beneath the glass. He comes up beside you, looming over you, his leather sleeve almost brushing yours.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” The young girl behind the counter chimes.

“Ladies first,” Lee insists.

You flick your eyes up and blink. You clear your throat, “can I, uh, try the black cherry, please?”

“Sure, how many scoops?”

“Just one. Erm, can I get a bowl?”

“Sure thing, and you sir?”

Lee orders the strawberry cheesecake flavour in a waffle bowl. You almost regret not getting anything fancier but you’ve always gone for simple things. You don’t like a fuss.

You swing your bag around as you get to the till but Lee is quick to offer a twenty to the cashier. “Put it away, blossom,” he orders, “it’s on me.”

He drops some change in the tip cup before tucking the rest away. He takes your order from the ledge and leads you to the small booth in the corner. You slide onto the teal cushion as he sets down your black cherry.

“I woulda guessed different,” he muses as he cracks his waffle bowl with his spoon, “black cherry. My daddy only ever got that.”

“Oh, uh, I like it,” you scrape away the ice cream with the plastic cutlery.

“Nothin’ wrong with it but a sweet girl like you, woulda guessed… strawberry? That’s classic. Or butterscotch. That’s my favourite.”

“Mhmm,” you don’t know what to say. That’s not unusual. Awkward silences are your only skill.

You scoop up a mouthful and shove the spoon through your lips. You take several bites as you wilt in the tension and you look up as he hums. He watches you intently, his eyes on your mouth as you drag it slowly between your lips.

He catches himself and sits back. He pushes his shoulders wide and gives a grin, spinning his spoon between his large fingers.

“So, you in school?” He asks, “whatcha takin’?”

You sniff and poke at the melting scoops, “psych.”

“Psychology. Wow, that’s something. You must be a smart girl, huh?”

“I… I try,” you shrug, “I don’t know. It’s a lot of work.”

“Sure is. I skipped all that. Did a stint in the marines some time back and when I got out, well, ain’t much out there for a man like me.”

You nod as you search for anything to say. You don’t like talking about yourself. Besides, he really doesn’t need to know that much.

“You like working down there? At the, um, club or whatever?”

“Not bad. Free drinks,” he chuckles and eases back against the seat, stretching his arm towards you as he drapes it over the back, “I get to help sweet things like yourself.”

You can’t help a bashful smile. You look down at your bowl and take another cautious bite of ice cream. You still feel out of place and you’re sure if someone saw you, they would think the same. You peek up at him, his gaze constant, and you can’t help but wonder how old he is. Surely too old for this to be anything but friendly.

[celeluwhenfics]

hihi I don’t know if you’ve ever talked about this before and I missed it but here are a few things for you to rant more on pHORSEsuasion as there cannot be too much of it for us to delight.

How was the story and character of Rowena born? Like, if you could remember and retell, the moment you first realised to yourself that you would be writing her in the fashion of Austen? Was it a very long journey that slowly took shape, or an idea that hit you square on the head?

Is there a set time and location you have to write the fic out? Anything from real life that inspires you and you take inspiration from? I think I remember you loving horses (in a club?) and that sparked the love for Rohan? …or is it an anecdote of one of the many Rohan buddies on tumblr….😭

Is there a playlist, specifically, you’d have for the story?? A pinterest board perhaps? 👀 anything about pHORSEsuasion please

On a scale of 1-5 how much would you say the ideas and thoughts relating to the fic occupy your mind throughout the day?

thank you in advance if you ever get around to answering and talking more about this beautiful fic <333 i also read the short about “the creek game” which is utterly amazing.

don’t you worry overmuch about taking your time to work your best on the chapters! even in these intervals your nice story occupies my mind frequently just to think of Bréda

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask! It makes me happy and giddy that someone is still thinking of pHORSE (and dear Bréda! ❤️) even as chapter 2 is taking a long, long time to come out. I've been hard at work on it. It is coming SOON!

It's exactly as you say: the idea hit me square in the head. I hadn't interacted with LotR in a decade, didn't know AO3 or fandom communities existed. I watched the movies with my partner one weekend, and as I tried to fall asleep that Sunday night, the idea of Éomer as Captain Wentworth sprang all formed in my head. And when that horrible pun found me as well, I knew I was onto something. 😅 The next day I wrote the outline, and in its broad lines it hasn't changed since, it only got more refined and detailed as I reacquainted myself with canon!

I am a horse girl! But I don't ride anymore for various reasons. Not much of the story is related to my real life, although every natural landscape, historical tidbit or little everyday situation can inspire me. (Oh yeah and I almost forgot to mention, but last month I went to Bath to see the original setting of Persuasion for myself...) I mostly write at home on the weekends, but I also have written LOTS of thoughts and ideas on the Notes app on my phone, either on the bus, at work, on runs... I've also been known to stop in my tracks in a grocery aisle or step off my bike to note down an idea or a line of dialogue!

I always write in complete silence (and I don't have pinterest), but in a past life I studied musicology with a speciality in early music, therefore YES, there will be some very specific musical references, which I will share on this blog of course! I've done a post on the two songs mentioned in chapter 1. There won't be any music in chapters 2 and 3, as it's a very bleak time in the story and silence takes a lot of room, so to say. (But I have a Borodred one-shot WIP that I don't know how to wrap up, that is very musical, you might see it one day!)

*nervous laughter* I would say it varies between 2 and 5. It's been months, and every day it's somewhere in my mind. Which is not always convenient, because I have a PhD to do!!! And at some point since my brain wanted to think about it 12 hours a day no matter what, I lost a lot of sleep over it. I had to find a better balance, because sleep is important, and once again, I have a PhD to do, on a subject I'm very passionate about!!! But, yeah, if I could write all day every day and churn out chapter after chapter for my lovely readers, I would!

Thank you SO MUCH for your ask, I'm always super excited to talk about pHORSE! Even if there has been no recent update, the project is very much alive, I'm working tirelessly on it and thinking about it all the time. Don't hesitate if you have more questions! And stay tuned!!! 👀

[edupunkn00b]

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 7: Three Coffees

Graphical representation of the Lorenz Attractor.

Prev - Three Coffees - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The next day, Logan Croft wakes up in the Intruloceit universe of Overruled.

Logan opened his eyes to a dream. His bedroom glowed with summer’s dawn bleeding through pale yellow gossamer curtains. Art adorned every free space on the walls, chunky oil abstracts in every color of the rainbow, pensive watercolor studies of autumn trees, fantastical starscapes filled with comets and a scientifically accurate black hole. Still lifes and portraits… there was even one of Patton styled like Frida Khalo.

His body woke slowly, floating, without any pain. No lingering aches, no throbbing behind his eyes, no stiffness in his jaw. Humming, he relished the comfortable warmth of his bed, fluffy flannel sheets, a feather-light thermal blanket.

His heart stopped when he looked down and spotted the soft blonde hair splayed over his bare chest.

Moving slowly, he lifted his left hand. It bore the glint of a gold ring but no scars, not on his palm nor on his wrist.  The room was different from his and Kelly’s tiny first apartment but everything else felt like first year together.

Logan struggled to breath. He couldn’t take this dream again, glorified memories of those halcyon early days in their relationship. Dreams of Kelly’s softness, her passion. Her love. The dreams of the wife he’d lost, of the life he’d been too inept to hold on to. He didn’t know which was worse, waking from a dream filled with ‘I love you’s… Or the dreams when even his imagination couldn’t force those words from her lips.

Wake up.

Hand shaking, he slowly brushed away a lock of hair from dream Kelly’s forehead and revealed soft golden brown eyes looking up at him. The chai-colored eyes of his boss.

“Morning, Lo.” Janus’ voice rumbled in his chest, low and rough. And warm. His lips were curled in a wry, sleepy smile. “How did you sleep, my dear?” he murmured, bowing his head to nuzzle against Logan’s chest. At his continued silence, Janus glanced up, eyebrows raised. “Nervous about today?”

Dream logic failed him and he had no idea what he was meant to be nervous about. “Perhaps,” he nodded, hopeful he'd found the right thing to say.

Janus’ smile softened and he reached up, drawing lithe fingers through Logan’s hair. “You’ve planned everything beautifully. The party will be perfect.” Fuzzy color flashed with the movement and Logan turned his head to see Janus’ tattoo.

"Is that a pride flag?" Logan had asked all those years ago, unable to tear his eyes from the bright rainbow stripes tattooed along the other man’s inner wrist. Janus had looked up at him, pupils shrunk to pinpricks. He’d recovered quickly, papering over a flash of fear with an annoyed scowl. "Yes, it is. Don't worry, though, homosexuality isn't contagious,” he’d spat. Fuck. Logan sputtered, "Th—that is not what I meant—I—I—“ What are you going to say? ‘I thought it looked nice? Would you tell me where you got it?’ He closed his mouth and tried again. "Would it be reasonable for me to assume, then that you are... " "What, ‘gay?’ Do you have a problem with gay men, Croft?" Well done, Logan. He thinks you’re a bigot. What's next, ‘My best friend in college was gay,’ huh? Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, "No, of course not.” Janus stared back at him, eyes bright with anger. Salvage this now. “Your life choices are none of my business. What two consenting adults do in the privacy of their own bedroom is none of my concern." "'None of your concern?'" And you just managed to make it worse. Well done, Logan. Bravo. Janus stood tall, shoulders squared. “My life isn't some legal theory to debate or libertarian principle for you to support and then pat yourself on the back. The way our society treats the LGBTQ community is a matter of literal life and death for us." He was right. Of course he was right. And the pain-laced rage simmering in Janus’ glare told Logan this was far, far more than theoretical to his new friend study partner.  Logan’s throat closed but he pushed away the quaver in his voice and tightened his jaw. This wasn't about him. "I... I apologize. I didn't intend to offend you." Janus pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head as though Logan were a very, very dull student. Logan hung his head. Perhaps he was. "Listen, Croft, you seem like you think you're a decent guy, so here's your one and only free lesson in How Not to Be a Dick 101." Janus scowled at him but leaned in close. The cedar and spice of his cologne filled Logan’s lungs and his eyes glowed even as they nailed Logan to his seat. Fuck, Janus was going to be an amazing lawyer. "Impact matters more than intent." For a moment, Logan feared Janus might next demonstrate impact in a more physical way. But he appeared to decide Logan wasn’t worth it. "Just because you didn't intend to dismiss me like you think I'm just some ***, doesn't mean you—“ Voice tight, he stopped himself and took a slow breath. “Doesn't mean that wasn't your impact."  And Janus was right. Desperate to explain but certain anything else he managed to babble would only harm Janus further, Logan nodded. "I am genuinely sorry to have hurt you," he said, fighting to keep his voice under control. "Perhaps we can schedule a session later today." Logan pocketed Janus' card and fled the classroom before Janus could change his mind about them working together. His colossal failure at a good—or even decent—first impression and Janus’ quick correction of him had made its own impact. That night, Logan had walked the stacks at his security job, greeting the opening librarian with an armful of Baldwin and Wilde and Lorde to check out. It's what had ultimately led him to his internship—again working rather uncomfortably alongside Janus—and to his job at QLaw. His entire career. Janus had changed his life that day. The only sign the real Janus had even remembered their first conversation, though, was the lingering nickname.

“Lo?” Voice soft, Janus called him back to his dream. Logan's gaze refocused and Janus looked up at him, eyes gentle and concerned. Logan had seen him look at his husband like that the night he'd overindulged at a Q-Law party. And another time when the green-haired man had caught a finger in a folding table while helping to set up before a press conference in back 2012.

“Where'd you go, Lo?”

Logan smiled, the warmth in Janus’ gaze melting the icy rock at the pit of his stomach. He’d never dared imagine those eyes might look at him that way. Apparently his subconscious had no such qualms.

“I’m right here, Janus,” he whispered, reaching out to brush back a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. His hair was so soft, flowing and liquid over Logan’s fingers. It shimmered in the morning light, gold and platinum and…

“Counting the grays?” Janus asked, chest rumbling with a quiet laugh.

Logan shook his head. “Silver,” he countered. “And every strand is beautiful. Just like you.”

“Hmmm…” Eyes closed, Janus leaned into the touch like a cat. “You’re such a sweet talker. You make me not want to get up.”

“Then let’s stay right here,” Logan whispered with the courage of a dream. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Mm, if only,” Janus pouted—pouted!—and leaned in for a kiss. “Re’ll be up in—”

With a bang, the bedroom door swung open, pushed by Janus’ husband backing through. Logan froze, but Janus stretched and sat up with a smile. Logan scrambled to sit up as well, straightening the covers between them them. When he looked up, Remus had turned, bearing a wooden tray of three steaming mugs.

“Damn, you’re awake,” he grinned, holding out the tray. “I thought I was going to have to get creative with how I got you both up this morning.”

“And how would that be different from any other morning when you wake before us?” Janus purred, one eyebrow cocked as he took one of the mugs. The blanket fell away as he moved, revealing he was dressed in nothing but a pair of silky boxers.

And neither was Logan.

Remus was the most dressed of all of them, clad in baggy plaid sleep pants, hung low around his hips. He was shirtless, revealing a large dragon tattoo splashed across his chest and back, one wing dipping over his shoulder, tail curled around his arm down to the wrist. Watching Logan’s gaze, Remus waggled his eyebrows in response and moved the tray closer to him. “Thirsty, Lo Lo?”

Logan accepted a cup with a small nod, cheeks burning at the innuendo.

“I thought I smelled coffee,” he said for lack of anything better to say. His earlier dream-fueled bravado dissolved, he held the mug with shaking hands. “Thank you,” he added and took a sip before he blurted out anything else nonsensical.

The coffee was just the way he liked it, dark-brewed on the right side of bitter, very strong. And hot. He pressed a scalded tongue against the back of his teeth, the pain not quite enough to drag him to consciousness.

As though the dream couldn’t get stranger, Remus passed Logan the third mug and wiggled into the space between him and Janus on the bed. Janus sipped his coffee with a bemused smile, shaking his head at Remus’ triumphant jazz hands when he’d gotten situated, lanky legs tangled together with theirs.

“Thank you, Lo Lo,” he sing-songed, inclining his head as he took a mug from him and finished half of it in one draw. “You know… You two took the day off and we still have a whole hour before Pat’s back from Portland…”

“Muse, while we are deeply flattered by your more than romantic proposition,” Janus began, hiding a smile behind his mug. “I do not believe now is the time for a morning tryst.”

“Jannie! I’m shocked!” Hand pressed to his heart, Remus couldn’t quite conceal a smile behind his look of exaggerated offense. “I was going to say we still had time to decorate more downstairs before our son gets home.”

“It’s the nineteenth,” Logan murmured, glancing at the phone charging on the nightstand before flexing the fingers of his unmarred hand. “Patton’s birthday was last week. It’s at least twenty—”

The other two had fallen silent and he looked up. Janus’ worried eyes had returned and Remus peered at him, head titled like a bird. “Lo Lo?”

“I think perhaps… I need… more coffee,” he said before gulping down the rest of his cup.

When he’d finished, Janus and Remus were still watching him, concern dragging down each of their expressions. “I… I assure you,” he murmured, inclining his head. “I am quite alright.”

After taking his empty cup, Remus reached for him, strong hands more gentle than he would have expected as he maneuvered him between them. With Logan’s head pillowed on his shoulder, he curled one arm across his back. Janus set the other cups down and brought Logan’s hand close to his lips.

"You seem upset," Remus whispered into his hair. “It’s okay to not be alright, Love.”

Janus brushed kisses against his fingers and smiled. “Now where have I heard that before?”

Buoyed by their embrace and by the naked love in their eyes, Logan nodded. “I think perhaps I need just a bit more of this before we start the day,” he finally said, chest warming at their growing smiles. “If that’s… acceptable to you?”

Cupping his cheek, Janus leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “More than acceptable.”

[mainstoryarchive]

Underachievers - 1: Sleeper

Aira: —wake up.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Meeting room, StarPro

Early summer, a certain room in the Ensemble Square

Aira: —wake up.

Hey, wake up already…

Hiiro: …!?

Aira: Nhya!?

Hiiro: …? …?

Where… am I? Who are…?

Are you… an idol?

…No, that's wrong. You aren’t.

Aira: What? I hate to break it to you but I am an idol for what it’s worth…

Are you still half-asleep? You were sleeping so peacefully, I’m sorry I woke you up…?

But… Look here, at my arm. You’ve been clasping it like a vise for a while and it really hurts, you know?

If you want to boast your grip power that's fine and all, but I'll be troubled if it leaves a mark so can you let go already?

Hiiro: ? Ah! I’ve been a bother!

I’m so very sorry! However I did not have the intent to hurt you! Let me offer you my deepest apologies!

Aira: Haha. You kinda talk like a person from history books. Ra-vely♪

Hiiro: Rafh​…? I apologize if my actions have displeased you. Though I have referenced some of the relevant literature,​ I am still unaware of what constitutes as general knowledge in the city.

Aira: It’s not so bad that you have to apologize for it. No need to worry♪

More importantly, won't you let go already?

Hiiro: I apologize for making you repeat yourself again and again.

…You seem quite delicate, are you eating properly?

Aira: Hm? I am quite the picky eater, but I also make sure to choose what to eat to keep my body in perfect condition.

At any rate, I properly eat three meals a day.

Hiiro: I see, that's great! You can't survive without eating. This is common sense in the city as well. Fuhahaha♪

Aira: (Hm, what's with this guy​…? He's so weird! Though the fact that he's here means that he's probably also an idol.)

(I haven't seen him around here before, is he new? I've been keeping a check on idol shows and information sites all around, but I'm pretty sure I don't know him…)

(Or maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he's just a lost stranger who wandered in here…)

(I mean, I did hear him mumble something horrifying, something an idol wouldn't ever say in his sleep. )

("I will kill idols", "I swear to crush idols” or the like. ​Hmm, I wonder what he was dreaming of. )

(I somehow can't help but be curious. It does seem like what I'm saying is getting through to him, so maybe I should just ask him directly.)

Hey, you-

Hiiro: Ah! I've forgotten to introduce myself! I am Amagi Hiiro. Amagi being my family name and Hiiro my own.

What is your name? Hehe, it has been impolite of me to speak without introducing myself.

Aira: Eh? Umm… ​I'm Shiratori Aira, I don't really get what's going on but, nice to meet you.

Hiiro: Yes! So your name is Shiratori Aira, I've got it memorized! It's a beautiful name!

Our meeting here couldn't have been just by chance. . I'd love to become friends with you♪

Aira: Huh? F-friends? Uh, it's not like I don't want to but​… Why ?

Hiiro: …Is that a no?

Aira: Uhhh, no, it's not that I won't, I just don't get why so suddenly! We only just met! I just have to wonder why you 're trying to get closer to me so readily.

C-could you be… one of my fans?

Hiiro: ? No, it's just that I believe friends are more important than anything else! It's better to have a lot of treasures. Don't you think so too, Aira?

Aira: Ah, and now you’re suddenly using my first name, no honorifics… Well, not like I really mind that.

I understand you came from the countryside, but over-familiar acts like that will get you hated in the city.

Being told "you can’t read the room", or the like. ​Isn't that exactly why you were also told to come here? I think people found you annoying… probably.

Hiiro: ? I do not follow your line of thought. I’d like you to explain in detail.

Aira: Well, I’m not sure either, I only saw some rumors on the internet​​​… But if I end up wrong I'll feel like an idiot and if it ends up true then that’d just be sad.

Because if I put those thoughts into words it feels like it really will come true.

Hiiro: Hm. If you say something, it'll come true? Is that how it works in the city?

Then I'll say this loudly: you and I are friends…☆

Aira: Stop, stop. We aren't friends, we are still just strangers who only introduced themselves to each other!

Jeez… What's with this? Talking with you makes me tired…

Hiiro: I’m told that so often! I wonder why. I’m intending to speak normally!

Be that as it may, are you really declining no matter what​, Aira? Will you really not become friends with me? Is there not even a one percent chance you will?

Ah, I'm so sad! I can feel my heart breaking!

Aira: Ah, jeez. Annoying! I get it already, I'll become friends with you so! Stop trying to get closer, aren't you way too heated?!

Hiiro: I see! So you will become my friend. I feel honored as well as blessed at the same time!

Ah, Aira, my dear friend! Let us get along well!

Please crush idols with me, you and I, as friends.

[ ☆ ]

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[sweetnothingtm]

RUTHLESS// simon riley x reader

pairing simon riley x f!reader

word count 4.6k

content warning rough sex, knife play, degradation, oral sex, the mask stays on!

authors note i hope you enjoy you dirty little freaks. thank you for everything ♡

It’s an honest mistake - really. Had you known any better you would’ve kept it right where he left it.

But you can’t help yourself, lingering just a moment longer to stare at the blade that shines in the light. Its tip was stuck in the wall, the black hilt of the knife worn from use. Soap is calling your name, but you stay put, lip caught between your teeth.

It’s the lieutenants, his initials engraved into it - and you pocket it without a second thought.

You hide it from him like a dirty secret.

At first, you reason that it’s a good knife - a waste of potential to be left in the wall. It’s been polished and sharpened, the tip of the blade pricking into your finger. You had to keep it, you thought. Despite the fact that he would eventually come back for it, eyebrows drawn in confusion at the empty hole where it used to stick. You don’t necessarily use it, but you keep it on you at all times. It rests in your breast pocket, your heart beating against it even now.

A reminder of him. All the little unspoken truths and harbored emotions that you kept from him.

Then you think he could've asked for it back. You don’t admit that you have it, but if he wants it then he’ll try to find it. You have a bad habit to absentmindedly stare at him during briefings, and you notice the empty spot on his vest. It’s a similar shape to the knife.

You’ve been free falling for the lieutenant since the day you met him. Always a little too desperate and eager, you did your best to please. Arriving early for meetings, being the first one up, getting your report and handing it to him finished not a day later. He’d catch your gaze, cocking an eyebrow almost as if in challenge. You’d blush, breaking his stare and shoving down all those months of pining.

He taught you how to aim, how to disassemble your weapons and put them back together, hell- he’d just about taught you how to breathe. A ghost that’s hellbent on haunting the living, he kept you waiting patiently and obediently. You just needed a sign - something to tell you that he sees you.

The lieutenant doesn’t ask for it back. Yet. You’re starting to fall asleep looking at it, eyes half lidded and thumb rubbing over the hilt softly. It flips between your hands under the table at meetings, head in the clouds with your superior storming your thoughts.

The initials are ingrained in your memory like it was branded. SR. You start to carve it in bathrooms, trees, your bed frame. It’s shameful to admit, but having a piece of him is nice to carry. It’s because he’s your boss, the guy whose job it is to keep you alive. You’re just being sentimental for a friend.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows it’s gone. There’s a part of you that hopes you’ll never have to give it back.

Eventually you’re beginning to treat it like it’s your own. You carry it with you like a lost piece to a puzzle. It’s got a spot on the inside of your vest, hidden from his eyes. You let it dance on your skin in boredom, and use it to cut stray threads off you. But you can’t cut the lieutenant loose.

Your eyes are blinking away boredom and disinterest, head hung low as the drowning deep voice of Ghost continues on. It’s late, and you’re tapping your boot impatiently as Johnny and Kyle are making small talk about the stupidest shit.

The knife clicks open and closed, fingers unconsciously brushing against the blade. You really just need a shower and eight hours of sleep, but time is ticking away.

Think Lt will let us sleep in tomorrow?

Not a chance, Soap

Bastard doesn’t even sleep. It’s not fair

You feel like kicking yourself to stay awake. Yawns are bubbling up from your chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. It’s been a half hour since he started talking about procedures, protocols, what to do if blah blah blah. You fiddle with the knife in your hands, glancing down at the initials. Simon Riley. You wish you were in bed, the soft glow of your lamp illuminating your favorite kept secret.

He can tell too, and it’s infuriating him. You’re messing with your hands, lip caught between your teeth as your leg bounces in the chair. You rest your arms on the table, leaning forward and absentmindedly playing with something. Then he sees it, the black hilt that’s worn from the grip of his hand. It’s got the same engraving too, the one he got custom done his first day on the force.

You took it.

Simon didn’t think you’d have it - just a sneaking suspicion. He’s lost it before, usually to find it the next day in his jeans. Yet he saw you leaving, cheeks scarlet as you avoided his gaze. Your hands were shoved deep in your pockets, mumbling soft apologies as he brushed past you and back into the room. It wasn’t there, though.

He missed it. Simon carried it with him everywhere, like it was a part of him. It’s the only knife he owns, always wiping it clean at the end of the night. It twists between his fingers at night, the hilt worn from the palm of his hand. He would lazily flick it open, thumb rubbing along the edge of the knife. He thought he’d find it by now - but there you are, treating it with the same care that he has.

The lieutenant pauses, words trailing off as he stares at the familiar blade. You glance up, catching his gaze with eyes that are dark and heavy. You blink once, twice, straightening and looking down to your hands where the open knife lays. You freeze, the air around you running cold. Heart faltering and chest tightening, you wait with baited breath. Never has the truth been laid so bare before you. His eyes are kept on your face, pinning you in your seat. Does he know?

The lieutenant breaks your gaze, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. You’re absolutely mortified, shoving the knife in your back pocket and biting your tongue. Johnny looks to Ghost, pausing his conversation with Kyle at the unexpected silence. You’re distracting yourself by looking at anywhere but him, breaths uneven and shoulders tight with anxiety.

Ghost takes a moment to regain his control, mind clouded with the image of you playing with his knife. He runs a hand down the haunting white mask that separates you from him. Still wearing the uniform and gear, his hand rests on the empty spot of his vest as his eyes drag straight back to you.

He has to know.

“Johnny, Gaz - take your gossip outside. We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” he states, leaving no room for questions. The lieutenant breaths a long sigh, head cocking to the side as you blush a deep red. You whip your head to him, standing up straight at the sound of your name. He doesn’t dismiss you. The boys nod begrudgingly, standing up and stretching while grunting goodbyes as they shuffle out of the room. The door swings shut, clicking back into place and leaving you stranded.

It’s just the two of you, a thick and nauseating tension arises as moments slip by in an uncomfortable quiet. Your hands are balled into fists out of anxious habit, nails digging into the palms for your hands. He’s shrugging off the vest, peeling off his gloves and tossing everything on a nearby chair. His bare hands brace against the side of the desk, eyes staring straight through you.

“That’s my favorite knife that you stole,” he says, voice patronizing as you stupidly blink at him with innocence in your eyes. Your mouth opens and shuts quickly, head spinning with all the ways you can lie yourself through this.

“I don’t have it, maybe you lost it?” You say, shifting uncomfortably as he cocks an eyebrow at you. He looks at you as though you’re on fire, burning up with every lie that you feed him. You fumble, shaking your head at him and letting poor bluffs take the lead, “I just bought this one. I got it from a store in-“

“You’re a bad fucking liar.”

You freeze, words stuck in your throat as his voice rings in your ears. You’ve been caught like a deer in the headlights, eyes widening and panic setting in. His fingers drum against the side of the desk, and he almost looks like he’s found his new pet not behaving.

Glancing to the door, you swallow a thick ball of fear. It’s a few feet away, right there and waiting for you to run. Excuses and dishonesty coat your senses, trying to cover up lost tracks as you look longingly to the exit. The knife sits heavy in your pocket, a ruthless and terrible reminder of the fact that it doesn’t belong to you. You should’ve given it to him when you had the chance.

He waits for you to answer, and he’s gritting his teeth every second you stare at him all pretty and dumb - like you don’t know a goddamn thing. Honestly, a part of him feels a little prideful that you kept it in the first place. You intoxicate and torture him, forcing him to keep distance from the forest fire he wants to call home. The lieutenants been waiting for you to spark since the day he met you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, voice struggling to stay even as his eyes narrow at your words. You try your best to remain calm as the lieutenant continues to stare, skin flushed with fear as he shakes his head at you. “You’re a rotten brat, you know that?” He spits, watching with hate as you look away with your chin held high. You won’t admit defeat, not until it’s ripped from you with prying hands.

“It’s got my fucking name on the blade, sweetheart-“ he grounds out, leaning forward as his eyes burn into your own. “And unless you’ve got it branded on you too, I’d suggest being a good girl and giving it back.”

The room is laced with a thick silence while you shiver where you stand. You nod meekly to him from across the table, letting loose an uneven breath. You hold his gaze, stomach churning with months of suppressed fear and unrequited adoration. You speak to him softly, as if your voice is made of truth.

“You left it, and I found it. It’s mine now,”

He laughs at you, the sound hateful and violent in your ears. He pushes himself off the desk where he leans, the mask building a wall of irritation around him. His footsteps land heavy as he’s crossing the room, sauntering towards you with a determined look in his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he states, shaking his head condescendingly at you.

Three steps, and he’s right in front of you. His figure towers over you, face tilted down to look at you. He smells like tobacco and pine, and you notice the spread of ink that peeks out from his sleeve. A finger grazes under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his dark eyes. “Give it back.”

It’s a losing game, and you’re trying desperately to win. You shake your head, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself. No.

The lieutenant drags over a chair, exhaling heavily as he takes a seat. His legs are spread, a hand resting on his thigh as you shake under his touch. He looks away for a moment, as if he’s mulling over something. Tsking softly to himself, he reaches a hand out and hooks it into your vest before tugging you down, “patience is wearing thin, sweetheart. I want it back, now.”

Your breath fans hot against his mask, eyes widening in shock as his grip tightens on you. His eyes are swimming with a haunting rage. The careful distance you’ve kept from his is crumbling, heart skipping a beat to catch up with the lieutenant. He pulls you closer, and you’re tripping under yourself as the mask stares back at you in challenge.

“I’m sorry, sir-” you whisper under your breath, the tip of your shoes hitting his boots as your shoulders sag. “I’m keeping it,” you say honestly, letting the shame wash over you. There’s nowhere to hide, all the time spent trying to get him to see you when you should’ve been running.

“Wrong answer.”

His hand drags you down and over him, knees pressing into your stomach as the breath is stolen from you. His hand finds its place along the back of your head, keeping you down as his fingers run along your back. Head spinning with all the ways in which you’ve been waiting for this, you squirm on his lap and brace your hands under you and on his thigh.

The lieutenants face drops down to you, mask brushing against your cheek. Your mind is blank now, the feel of his hot breath against your skin causing you to freeze. His dog tags dangle over your back, brushing against your shirt. “You should really mind your manners,” he admits, plucking the knife from your back pocket. “You know better than this.”

Your ass hangs up and over his knee, his hand resting along your upper thigh to keep you in place. The blade clicks open, and he lets loose a chuckle as he appreciates it. He flips it between his fingers out of sight, pulling back your hair as it takes place against your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut at the touch, the cool metal pressed against your skin and causing you to shiver.

There’s a moment where it’s just the two of you in silence. You count your breaths, biting your cheek and waiting patiently for the lieutenant to make his next move. Apologies are at the tip of your tongue, but fall short as his blade runs along your skin.

A sickening smack lands against your ass, body jumping from the unexpected touch. Desire runs up and along your spine, head cloudy with longing for a ghost in your haunted home. You can feel his hand rub softly into your skin, breath coming loose as he pulls away. “Lieutenant - please, I’m so sorry-”

Another smack, this time harder as it leaves a sting. “Simon - don’t you remember, love? That’s the name I’m gonna carve into your fucking skin,” he spits, digging the tip of his knife into your throat as you nod to him. Heat is pooling between your thighs that rub together in anticipation, lip caught between your teeth as you peel open your eyes and glance over your shoulder to him.

You regret ever having bothered.

He stares at you with a hateful lust, a smirk playing on his lips that are just out of your sight. Simon dips his fingers between your thighs and rubs soft circles, savoring the way you melt under his touch. You wiggle your hips, shifting on his knees and spreading your legs open just an inch. He notices, sending another smack to your ass. “Filthy,” he laughs, two fingers dragging along the wet desire that continues to grow within you. “You’re not even sorry - are you?”

You shake your head, nails digging into his thigh as his fingertips dig into your clit. “I am - I didn’t mean to steal it - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon,”

His name is unexpected as it falls from you, but you say it like it belongs to you. The bulge in his pants is growing, dick twitching at the way you squirm on his lap. All those months spent dreaming of you on your knees is starting to catch up with him, and he just can’t run away. He grits his teeth, the sound of his name on your lips sending him straight to hell. Good thing he’s friends with the devil.

Simon’s hands leave you suddenly, the knife clicking closed and set onto the table. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back until your neck is craned and your eyes begin to water at the pain. “If you really are sorry - then get on your knees and ask for forgiveness.”

He abruptly pushes you off his lap, and you tumble to the ground with your head smacking against the floor. You pull air into your lungs desperately, body recoiling from the shock of being thrown off of him. Hands pushing from under you to brace yourself, you look to him with innocent wide eyes and full lips that wobble in fear. He leans back in the chair, arms braced on the sides as he looks at your expectantly.

Shamefully, you crawl between his legs and sit on your knees. The knife sits alone on the table, watching you mockingly as you blink up to Simon. There’s a wide grin spread across his face, though you’re not able to see it. The mask keeps you from him, a careful distance that he isn’t willing to give up yet.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumble softly, blushing crimson as his hands fall to his belt. “I’m sorry.” He unbuckles the belt, dragging down the zipper as his eyes remain on your pretty little face with eyes glossy from tears. He’s nodding to you, pushing down the waist of his pants until you’re staring at the swollen tip of his dick that’s wet from pre cum.

“I know you are - but I want to see you beg.”

His hand comes to lazily stroke himself, hissing as he squeezes the tip of himself. Your hands gently rest against his knees, chest coiling tight with a familiar ache. You sit there patient, waiting for his approval as Simon jerks himself off. The heat between your legs is burning, heart struggling to keep a steady pace.

Then he gives a small nod, hands drifting to the side as your mouth waters. You lean forward, little lips parting wide. Simon sighs softly as your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing and eyes fluttering closed.

Your head bobs in his lap, hand coming to stroke what you can’t take. His hand tangles itself in your hair, guiding your movements slowly. Your tongue dances along his tip, his hips bucking at the touch and fingers tightening their grip. Simon lets his head fall back, waves of pleasure rocking through him at the way you hum against his dick. “Shit, you’re such a nasty slut,” he laughs out.

Lips dragging along his shaft, you take him inch by devastating inch without hesitation. Your nails are digging into his knees, clawing at him to take control as he begins to unravel. His shoulders drop, groans pulled from him when drool dribbles out from your lip and onto him.

Simon watches as you force him to the base of your throat, soft gargling sounds emitting from you. You can’t take all of him, but your hand massages the rest of his shaft, the touch soft and delicate. His head is cloudy with desire, forcing your head further down until you start to choke, tears blurring your vision. He’s abandoning all self control, letting it slip from his fingertips like a thread of gold. Doesn’t matter when you’re on your knees for him, sucking his dick like its the only thing you’ve dreamed of.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, hips bucking into your mouth. You’re humming, bobbing your head yes as you continue to let him fuck your mouth. He feels sick with pleasure, hand pushing you further along his dick until he’s seeing stars.

You’re eagerly on your knees, chest tightening with every moan that fires from Simons lips and aims straight to you. It’s got you feeling confident, sitting up on your knees and licking your tongue along the bottom of him. “Fuck - that’s it, sweetheart,” he grounds out, and you’re pressing your thighs together to stop yourself from dripping. You look up at him, dick caught in your throat and eyes sparkling with obedience.

Your teeth drag along his shaft, causing him to slam your head down. You choke, struggling to pull back and catch your breath. “Bloody hell,” he muses, the pad of his thumb rubbing into your cheek softly. You pull away, lips smacking as you try to control your uneven breaths. Simon watches as you rub the drool and spit from your lips, eyes turning a shade darker when you give him an innocent smile.

“Come here.”

When you stand, his fingers push themselves between your thighs. His hand comes to undo your pants, your lip caught between your teeth as you wait patiently for him. He’s pushed down the hem of your pants, hands coming to grip your waist. You stand there silently, holding your breath when he glances up to you. “Well? Show me how sorry you are,”

It takes you a moment to peel away your clothes, strewn on another chair where his things lie. Your cheeks are bright red with embarrassment as your arms snake around his neck, hesitantly coming to sit in his lap. He leans over to grab the knife, flicking it open again and pressing it against your chest. “Simon,” you breath softly, fingertips brushing along the base of his neck.

“Can you forgive me?”

He shakes his head at you, muttering filthy curses as his fingers dig into your waist. You’ve been waiting for this, soaked through and blind with guilt, you let the tip of him brush against your folds. Simon drags the knife to your throat, watching you with his breath held as you sink slowly onto his dick.

It’s a feeling you’ve only ever dreamed of. He pushes into you completely, heart beginning to falter and freeze at the pure pleasure that spreads between you. Your stomach is tightening, hips grinding into him softly. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, the hold on his knife tightening until his knuckles are white. “I’m considering it.”

It wouldn’t be so bad - to spend the rest of your life chasing after this high.

Hesitation has been tossed aside, breaths becoming in sync as he watches with baited breath as you grind into his lap and mewl out moans.

You pull yourself up with shaking thighs, falling back into him and letting a moan slip past your lips. You bounce on his dick, hips rolling and grinding with his knife pressed against your throat. Disgraceful slick wet sounds are ringing in your ears like a sickening melody. His hands are pressing and pulling you down, his hips bucking up with your movements.

Simon garbs a handful of your ass, keeping you in balance as you ride him ruthlessly. The knot of pleasure is tying itself tight, and you’re whining in his ear from the ecstasy “That’s it - look at you, such a good girl riding my dick.”

“Mm-mm,” you moan, head falling into the crook of his neck as he drags the knife to your chest, letting the tip press against your skin. “Please - please, I’m so sorry, Simon,” you gasp out, tightening your arms around his neck as he slams his hips into you.

His touch is rough and ruthless, impatient with pleasure as he smacks your ass that’s now red with his handprint. His. The thought sends him spiraling, groaning loudly. Simon lets you roll into him, bouncing in his lap with his breath fanning hot against your neck. “Careful,” he laughs against you, fingers traveling to your clit to rub harsh circles. “I just might think you like this.”

And you do. In fact, you’re overwhelmed by the sensational desire that’s boiling within you. Your moans are becoming desperate, nails scarping along his shoulder blades as he continues to fuck you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, practically hanging off of him as he rubs the wet pleasure between your thighs.

It’s just the two of you. His hand is greedily snapping your hips back to him, and you meet the touch eagerly. There’s a fire that’s building within you - and neither of you can smother it out. Your chest is tightening, lips mumbling out pathetic moans as Simon laughs, the sound dark and tantalizing. “You do - don’t you?” He asks, and you’re nodding into his neck with pleas rippling off of you. “I know you do, I bet your pretty little pussy is gonna cum on my dick-” he states, suddenly grabbing your throat and forcing you to look at him.

You hold his stare, mewling out and begging for him as he rubs quickly. You’re losing your sanity, hips eagerly grinding into his lap until a simmering heat takes a hold of you, crying out in pleasure. “Right about now.” He finishes, watching as you smile innocently at him.

He still fucks you though, riding out your orgasm as he chases after his own.

It only takes him another moment until he’s following you, sloppy and lazy thrusts into your hips. Simon is grounding out your name, gritting his teeth and savoring the way your slick cunt tightens around him. His head falls back against the chair, breath hot and uneven as he snaps and slams his hips into you one last time.

Then you’re sitting pretty and patient in his lap, letting him grow soft in you with your lip caught in between your teeth. Your eyes are glossed over with happiness, stomach flipping as he closes the blade and leaves a hand resting against your waist. Seconds slip by in silence, buy neither of you seem to mind. His breath is slowly untangling itself from yours, gaze dark and haunting.

When you peel yourself away from him, shaking hands pulling up your pants and blushing scarlet, he tugs you closer to him. You button your pants, still wet from the way Simon pulled all those dirty little secrets from you like they were his to begin with. He lets his hands slide to your ass, giving it a final squeeze.

“Such a good girl,” he says softly, a smile playing at his lips as you blush deeper. He stands, cupping your face in his hands and looking at you with the same adoration that you’ve given him for months. “I think you’ve learned your lesson - yeah, sweetheart?”

You nod up to him eagerly, the strings of your heart snapping and breaking as he pulls himself from you. “Uh-huh,” you breathe, and you mean it. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, letting his finger commit the feel of your skin to memory.

“Be good for me - get some rest, love.”

He left the knife in your back pocket, and it sits there now - waiting for him to come back.

[maes-flowers]

For them, for us (Obi-wan Kenobi x reader)

Summary: Following the Kenobi series, two former Jedi masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Y/n Marilla are grieving the lost of Anakin, Padme, and the jedi purge. After pledging to watch over Luke Skywalker and spending ten years in exile, and making a life together what will happen when the mistakes they made in their past come back as a new threat?

Authors note: I had to repost cause I wasn't showing up in any tags lol but if you like this story and want to be added to the taglist let me know down below!

Warnings: Very clear signs PTSD (panic attack, nightmares, and hypervigilance) arguments, violence, some fluff, and I think that's it

Prologue

You hated nighttime.

Especially the nights you would shoot yourself out of bed in the middle of the night due to your mind reliving memories you wished would leave you. But the war, the screaming, the bloodshed, and the mistakes you've made in the past haunted you and every breath you took.

Your chest heaved as you blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to being open as you took in your surroundings. The small and familiar hut in a cave provides a soothing comfort as you sit on the small bed you shared with Obi-wan. Your hair toppled down your shoulder grazing your bare arms as you shuddered from the cold desert air blowing in creating goose bumps to appear on your skin.

You closed your eyes again for a moment but images from your nightmare came quickly flowing back.

You hated the nights you couldn't fall back asleep even more.

Sighing, you lifted the blanket from your body and stood up. Your back popping as you stretch the sleep away from your muscles. Looking down you stared at the sleeping man below. who had been knocked out cold after a day in the sun before you got home from your own job.

“At least one of us gets a nice night of sleep.” you whispered quietly.

You grabbed your shawl from the floor and draped it over your shoulders, you weren't sure what time it was but you knew it was way too early for you to be awake. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the place, unsure of what to do. Your options for entertainment are already limited on any other day, but even more so when your overworked husband was sleeping a mere few feet away.

Until your eyes landed on the large metal pool you kept in the corner of the cave. You stared at it in thought, it was early so you'd be safe from anyone witnessing you and be safe from Obi-wan's scolding if you were to practice right now. 

While Obi-wan had completely sealed himself from the force, you still kept in touch with it much to Obi-wan’s disappointment. Although not as much as your younger self did but enough to keep you occupied a few nights a week if you were lucky. From practicing small mind tricks on animals, levitating objects around your small home, and last but not least practicing your lightsaber skills.

With a mental stick you had managed to steal from a scraper site since your actual lightsaber was buried deep in the sands of Tatooine.

You slid on your boots and grabbed the pole and headed outside giving one more glance to Obi-wan's sleeping form as you stepped away.

Tatooine had no moon on the planet, but  instead had two suns so it never truly became fully dark. Which had made sleeping even more of a task than it already was before having to keep scraps of fabric on any possible crevice light could come in. at least it was convenient on the nights you sneak out.

You never moved too far from the entrance to your home, always keeping the place in your line of sight. After an incident where you strayed too far from the cave and didn't hear or see Obi-wan come up behind you resulting in you slamming the pole right into his stomach you promised you wouldn't let that happen again. 

 Twirling the pole in your hand, you did a couple practice swings in the air, stretching your muscles in your shoulders and arms warming your body up. the weight was heavy in your hand as you began to move. Your mind went to your master, Stass Allie as you went to strike your imaginary enemy. The stern but kind woman had specialized in force healing but also was one of the best lightsaber duelists you've ever seen and was the main reason you were the Jedi you were. You had hoped dearly that she had made it out alive when order 66 was implemented.

You shook your head to get rid of the thought as your body went on autopilot. You grunted as you threw the pole and quickly brought it back with the force. You kept your breath low and steady as you got on your knees, your body performing the moves that allowed you to attack a person's legs before rolling back up, switching the pole in your opposite hand as you turned around quickly, redoing the stances of basic lightsaber forms again. Getting used to the unbalance of attacking  with your nondominant hand. 

You smiled at the familiar feeling, you felt like you again even for just a brief moment as you pretended you were back in the temple and your and your friends lives weren't ripped apart by the empire. 

You had to give up your actual name in public places, opting for ‘Kilian’ to avoid anyone connecting the dots of your identity, leaving your home on Coursant, and getting rid of your saber. And although you would do it again if it meant protecting the twins and being with Obi-wan, you would be lying if you said you felt like you lost a huge part of yourself. You gritted your teeth and slammed the pole right into a rock, metal bending awkwardly to the right when you staggered away.

“Y/n.” a voice you very quickly recognized as Obi-wans called out to you, dropping the bent makeshift weapon you looked over at him. 

Expecting the usual look of disappointment, all you found was worry.

You panted from the exertion, you sat down on a small rock and hung your head between your legs.

“Stupid pole.”  You heaved, not enjoying the slight twinge of pain in your hip. “What are you doing up?” you asked.

“The same reason you're awake, I assume.” Obi-wan sighed

You heard the sound of boots grazing the rocks on the ground, keeping your eyes low until the man in front of you kneeled down in front of you. 

“Bad night?” he asked.

“Bad night.” you echoed pathetically.

Slowly looking up you came eye to eye with Obi-wan, his hand coming up and pressing into the tender muscle of your hip. You groaned at the feeling and leaned forward until your head planted on his chest, thankful he knows you well enough to do the small action without asking.

“Kriff, I love you, do you know that?” you said, relaxing at the small massage his large hands gave you, you moaned softly at the relief of the knot coming undone.

“I have a faint idea.” he mumbled, his hands leaving your hip and opting to grab your hand, his fingers running over the small band around your finger. Although you and Obi-wan never got officially married, you both had made rings soon after you arrived on Tatooine and called it good enough. No one else needed to know besides you two anyway.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked, you looked up from his chest and shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Ah you know, just the usual.” you said, “I'm assuming you did as well?”

Obi-wan looked down, his sheltered reaction confirming the obvious.

“Glad to see nothing has changed in the Kenobi household.” you joked sadly, although you enjoyed the small laugh the man let out. He looked up at you, and you pushed the longer copper strands away from his eyes.

Obi-wan truly hasn't changed too much in the last ten years, the mullet he sported years before had returned and his beard had grown a tad longer. With some fine lines around his eyes, most likely due to the powerful rays of two suns and the constant squinting during the mid afternoon as he worked outside. He still remained the unfairly handsome man you met decades ago in your eyes. 

“Quit judging the old man.” he said, you gasped at that and jokingly pulled at the roots of his hair lightly, smirking at the quiet groan he let out under your grip.

“I'm not! I'm admiring you and plus you only have five years on me.” you said, running your hands down until each one was on each side of his jaw. You leaned forward and kissed him, happily accepting Obi-wan's grip returning to your hip as you deepened the kiss. He gave you a few more moments before he reluctantly pulled away.

“Come back to bed,” Obi-wan said, you sighed at the thought of going back to the nightmares. 

“I know, I feel the same way but I know you work tomorrow and you need some sleep.” Obi-wan said, already noticing your apprehension to the idea.

You just nodded in defeat, you knew he was right. You worked at the local tavern in the town and although you didn't go to work early you worked late often.

You stood up and grabbed the pole, Obi-wan following beside you as you both walked back home.

As the two of you laid back down, you reached for Obi-wan as you curled up under his larger frame, tucking your head under his chin.

“Tomorrow morning, you think we can go check up on Luke?” you asked, sleep already reclaiming your mind. “It's been a few weeks since I was able to go with you.” your voice trailed off at the end, letting your eyes fall shut.

“Of course, Love.” Obi-wan said, but he received soft snores in response.

🖾

You and Obi-wan sat silently on the small mountain that overlooked the Lars residence, it had been weeks since you had come with Obi-wan to do your weekly check in on him. You were catching up on sleep from the unruly schedule your job had from work and your insomnia. In result, you slept in late today as well, having to take the very, very old speeder bike you managed to buy off one of your regulars for a good deal to meet up with Obi-wan who had left an hour before. The two of you both held binoculars to your eyes as you watched Luke run away from his chores.

“Where is that kid going?” you mumbled to yourself, watching Owen Lars stop what he was doing and looked for Luke.

You watched as Obi-wan scanned the larger area surrounding their home, but you kept your eyes on the side of the house. Chuckling at the sight of Luke climbing onto the roof and sliding goggles over his head.

Your smile dropped as you then saw him act like he was podracing, you put down the binoculars and watched in disbelief. That was the most Anakin-like thing you've ever seen the kid do, and you wouldn't be lying if you said that the sight alone did not punch a hole of grief into your stomach.

“Wow.” you mumbled, looking over at your husband as he slowly lowers his own binoculars. 

Obi-wan stayed silent as he started ahead. You wish you knew what he was thinking at that moment of seeing the spitting image of his friend. You were about to comfort him but heard you watch beep at you and you cursed, quickly standing up. You dusted off your pants as you grabbed your stuff.

“You need better time management, Starlight.” Obi-wan said, looking up at you. You ignored the way the new nickname turned your face red as you rolled your eyes.

“Ha-ha.” you said displeased, leaning down and kissing his head. “I'll be back later tonight, I love you.” 

You stepped toward the cliff edge and peered over, the drop wasn't too far and you could see your bike right below you.

“Why must you insist on taking the most unsafe routes?” Obi-wan chastised, you looked over your shoulder as you crouched down.

“Because it's fun.” and with that you dropped down and landed on the seat of your bike on your feet, the uneven weight making you wobble as you sat down on it properly. You looked up and saw Obi-wan looking over the edge, a small smile on his face as you waved to him and sped off.

🖾

The day after seeing Luke, the Tavern was disgustingly slow. To the point you should've just stayed home since the jobs pay was terrible without tips. You sighed as you closed the bar early, as one of your co-workers told you to just go home.

So when you were walking through town you didn't expect to see Obi-wan and Owen Lars talking to each other. Owen's face was tight with annoyance as you heard his voice the closer you got to them.

“Anakin is dead Ben,” Owen reminded. “And I won't let you make the same mistake twice.”

You sighed, knowing Obi-wan once again pushed the boundary Owen had set with Luke. although you hated it you kept your distance so you avoided situations like this.

“Owen,” you called at, your voice hard. “Let's not go to cheapshots, shall we?” you stopped in front of him. You had seen Owen in town more often than Obi-wan had, as he stopped in once in a while for a drink and something to eat. You had the opportunity to see Luke once with him as well, he reluctantly allowed you to introduce yourself. You knew he was protective of his nephew but you knew Obi-wan was as well.

“I know you care, and I don't hold that against you but you have to understand we are not trying to make him a soldier or anything like that.” you kept your voice low so no one could hear you. “We care about him too, and the sooner you see that the easier this will make everything. Don't forget without us you wouldn't even know that little boy was alive right now so don't directly insult my husband for a tragedy he had no control over.”

Owen just looked at your silence for a moment before he shook his head.

“Leave him on the farm, with his family, where he belongs.” he warned before he walked away.

You sighed and pinched your nose, shaking your head.

“ Why is he so stubborn-” You halted your sentence as you heard the shouts of the villagers.

“Move,” A deep voice rattled. “Move! Get out of the way.” 

Your fight or flight activated as you saw the figure in all black armor walk down the street pushing away citizens in their way.

“Behind the wall, go.” Obi-wan hurried, his voice in a quiet rush as the both of you backed against the wall.

“You know why we are here,” a man with a ragged voice announced, his face green contrasting poorly with the black armor. “There is a jedi hiding on this planet and we need to know where he is! Tell us the location and you will be rewarded well.”

“Or you'll be punished!” a woman's voice called out, as she walked down the street. Tall and powerful as she sauntered around the crowd. “Hands go first! That way, when you reach for anything you will think of us.” she warned.

You watched an older woman begin to yell at the inquisitor.

“This is the outer rim!” a woman's voice called out. “You have no rights here.”

You watched as the inquisitor turned to the woman, her hand moving toward her saber. You stepped forward on instinct, your body wanting to help but Obi-wan arm flew out and kept you pushed against the wall.

“Don’t.” he hissed.

The Inquisitor  turned on her saber and quickly sliced off the woman's hand, your hand flew to your mouth as the crowd around you gasped at the screaming woman.

“All we want is information!” she yelled circling around the crowd like a predator. “If anyone knows anything about a jedi…” her voice trailed off when she looked at Owen.

“You know something?” she questioned, Owen shook his head.

“What's your name?” she asked, her tone calmer than before.

“Owen,” he said.

“Owen,” she echoed, as if getting used to his name on her tongue. “Farmer, right? Have a wife? A kid?”

“My family’s of no concern for you.” he said, and you wanted to smack him across the face at the attitude.

“Might be, you got a Jedi on that farm too?” 

“No.” Owen replied. “I have no love for the jedi, they are vermin and I kill vermin on my farm.”

You began to search for any possible escape routes, heart pounding so hard you could hear it. Owen was going to sell you out.

“You protect your family,” she said, stepping forward and adjusting his vest. “I like that Owen.”

She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes.

“You think you can protect them from me?” she asked. 

When Owen said nothing, you almost cried in relief.

“Tell me where the Jedi is, or this man and his family die!” she shouted. You launched forward, but Obi-wan once again shoved you back against the wall.

“Damn it Ben,” you seethed, not even daring letting anyone of those monsters hear his real name right now. “She is threatening Luke!” you whispered.

“The Jedi are cowards! They abandoned you! And you do not need to protect them because they will not do the same for you.”  she shouted and looked at Owen. She stepped forward and hovered the blade right in front of his neck. You curled your fists, digging your nails into your palm as you watched Owen stand still, but his face showed fear.

You heard a hand slam down on a crate.

“Enough!”  the green man shouted. “If you remember anything, a reward will be given.” he told the crowd.

“Stand down Third sister.” the man warned, you watched her glare and held her blade up. “Now!”

She deactivated her saber and walked away, you waited until they were out of sight before you ripped Obi-wan's arm away and headed toward Owen. 

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes, I'm fine.” he replied curtly.

“Owen,” you said as quietly as possible. “If I had sensed those people coming I would've told you not to come to town today, I'm so sorry.” you said, the apology sincere. Being able to sense people like that is a large reason you kept your connection to the force in the first place. Owen looked at you and nodded.

“I know.”

You heard Obi-wan come up behind you, his hand grazing your lower back as if you would slip away again.

“Thank you owen.” Obi-wan said, the farmer glared at him.

“I didn't do it for you.” he  said distastefully before walking off.

 You felt your heart hammer in your chest, if that went any worse and Owen Gave away you and Obi-wan's position you'd be dead right now. You felt bile at the back of your throat as you stepped away from the man behind you and threw up. You didn't want to think of the odd looks you were getting right now as Obi-wan pulled back your hair as you quite literally threw up the adrenaline and fear your body had created in the last ten minutes. Your hands trembled severely as you felt an overwhelming sense of doom fill you, you hadn't been that close to someone so dangerous since the purge and you were not reacting well to it.

 Tears began pricking your eyes as you spit on the ground, trying to rid your mouth from the gross taste.

“I cant breathe” you gritted out. “Need somewhere safe.” you gapsed, although your hyperventilating made the words sound choppy and was hard to understand.

You could hear Obi-wan's voice call out to you but you didn't understand what he was saying as your whole body began to tremble and blackspots dab the edge of your vision.

The last thing you remember was the feeling of your body falling forward.

🖾

When your eyes opened again, you felt like a speeder had run you over, your body stiff as you adjusted to the light. You recognized home quickly at the  feeling mattress under you, the smell of home and the desert calming your nerves. Using your arms you slowly dragged your body up into a sitting position and began to move your legs to stand up.

“You leave that bed and I will not hesitate to restrain you.” Obi-wan's voice said from behind you, turning around and you saw him hold a wet rag in his hands, coming to sit with you on your guys bed and wiped the cold rag across your head and you sighed at the slight shock against your hot skin, the surprise on your senses proving a nice distraction for a moment.

“You haven't had an attack like that in years.” Obi-wan murmed. “I never get used to them.”

“I'm sorry,” you cringed at the sound of your rough and raspy voice. “I'm so sorry” 

You were embarrassed at the way you reacted to everything, you always kept a front and tried to have those moments of sheer fear of your safety in private. Even after all these years there were times like today you felt like you were back in that temple.

“I thought Luke was going to  get hurt, and then I assumed Owen would rat us out and I just…”  you groaned in frustration. “I can usually keep them at bay until I'm alone. I don't know what happened.” Obi-wan put down the rag and pushed your hair away.

“They still happen?” he asked, a slight tone of disappointment jumped out at you.

You nodded.

“Not Often, like before.” you scratched the back of your neck. “ Now it's just once every few months at most.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he said and you looked up at him.

“Because sometimes talking about it hurts more.” you admitted. “You of all people should know that.” you took a sip of water from your canteen, pleasantly surprised to see there was no taste of bile.

Did he brush your teeth while you were passed out?

“You're right,” Obi-wan said. “I do know, it's not fair of me to expect you to tell me when I hold myself back as well, I suppose.”

“Yeah well,” you shrugged. “Good thing I like you enough to excuse it.” you said, a small smirk twitching at your lips as Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

Obi-wan pulled you in and kissed you softly, chapped lips slotting perfectly against yours. Shuddering under his touch you wrapped arms around his neck dragging him closer. You went to grab the bottom of his shirt when you heard a loud beeping. You pulled away from him and looked around, searching for the source of the sound.

“What is that?” you asked, looking over at Obi-wan, concern growing when you saw his pale face. He quickly stood up and walked over to the table and pulled a small box from it. You watched in confusion as he clicked open the box and dug around, but soon quickly also paled at the sight of his jedi robes.

Which he kept in the same box he also kept the emergency holoprojector Bail Organa gave you both when he took Leia to Alderan. 

You scrambled out of bed and joined him at the table as he grabbed the holoprojector and answered.

“Senator Organa?” Obi-wan asked.

You saw Bail and Breha standing together, Bail's arm wrapped around his wife's shoulder as she cried.

“Obi-wan? Y/n?” he called out, “It's Leia…something has happened.” 

You and Obi-wan looked at eachother, your hand grabbing his bicep to ground yourself.

“What happened?” you asked, your anxiety from earlier quickly bubbling up.

“She's gone, we don't know who it was. There was no ransom, no leads but whoever they were, they knew where she would be. They…” Bail cleared his throat.. “They were waiting.”

“She needs you, both of you.” Breha begged. “We can't trust anyone else.”

You were about to respond, kriff you were about to pack a bag and hop on the nearest transport ship and head straight to Alderan but Obi-wan cut you off.

“What about the Senate?” he asked.

You turned and looked at him in disbelief.

“We cannot let this become public, it would draw too much attention.” Bail argued,

“Well what about a guard, or-or a bounty hunter?” 

“Obi-wan!” you gasped at your husband, how is he not freaking out about this and being so dismissive.

“Only you two know how important she really is, if she is discovered…” the senator trailed off.

“We cannot leave here, Bail.” Obi-wan said. “Our duty is to the boy.”

“What about your duty to his sister?” Bail spat, but Obi-wan shook his head.

“It's been ten years, I'm not who I used to be.” he explained, and you watched the couple's faces fall. “Find someone else.”

You snatched the projector off the table and held it tight in your hands, Obi-wan looked over at you in surprise. You stepped away when Obi-wan took a step toward you and you backed away faster.

“Stay here!” you snapped. “I can't even-” you didn't bother to finish your sentence as you quickly left the cave, walking far enough so Obi-wan couldnt hear you.

“Bail, get any information about what happened and get on the soonest ship to Tatooine, I can try my best to convince him but the man is so stubborn I'm sure I'll need you too.” you demanded. “Even then if he doesn't agree to go then I'll go by myself.”

Bail nodded in response.

“Don't worry you two. if it's the last thing I do, I'll bring Leia home.” you comforted, tone softer. “I'll see you soon Bail.” and with that you hung up the call.

You sighed and rubbed your face, not excited for the argument that was about to start as soon as you stepped back into the cave. 

You put the holoprojector in your pocket and made your way back.

When you stepped into the cave you saw Obi-wan still standing at the table, his arms crossed and looking ahead, angry and worried at the same

“You are being too reckless you know we ca-”

“What was that?” you interrupted, not caring for what he had to say. “The senate? A Bounty hunter!? That little girl is practically our niece and you want some random person to go save her?”

“We cannot leave the boy here alone.” 

You glared. “He's not alone and you know that but Leia? She is, and whoever has her could kill her! I know we both think Luke could be force sensitive but what if Leia is too? She's just as important!”

“Do you think I don't know that?” Obi-wan snapped.

“From how you're acting? No I don't!” you exclaimed. “If you're worried about the inquisitors being here then i'll gladly turn myself in to get them to leave this planet if that will give you the incentive to go get her.” you mouth tumbling out the harsh words faster than you can think.

Although you quickly regretted the words when you saw the look of hurt on the man's face, you still continued on.

“What did we agree on when we decided to come here in the first place?” you asked. “For them, not just Luke and not just Leia. protect both of them.”

Obi-wan stayed silent and avoided your gaze.

You grabbed your shawl from the hook on the wall and slid it on.

“Just…sleep on it.” you suggested. “I'm going to go on a walk.” you both needed space from one other.

“I love you.” you called out softly as you left.

~~~~

Neither of you said a word to each other, you watched him leave for work silently. Sitting on the bed, your head rested against your raised knees as you thought about Leia. She had looked so much like her mother when she was first born you wondered if she continued to look like her or even act like her.

You didn't move much that day, your body almost stuck in the position well into the evening, until one of two suns began to descend into the sky and the security system went off. You sat up straight as you saw a shadow grow closer and reached under your pillow grabbing your Vibroblade. A hooded man walked in, and you stood up. Your garud high as you stepped forward.

“Bail?” you called out, the man turned to you and pulled down his hood. You smiled at the sight. Greyer hair and more weight on his form but still Bail Organa.

“Master Y/n.” he said, you raised a brow at the old title.

“Please,” you chuckled lightly, walking up to him. “That is a meaningless name now, y/n is fine.”

Bail shook your hand, his grip tense and clammy. You frowned at the anxious show of the usually level-head man.

“Have you spoken to him?” he asked.

“Yes, last night's discussion was very…unproductive I must say.” you looked at the watch on your wrist. “But Obi-wan should be home soon, I'm hoping you'll have a better chance with him. You're much more coherent with your words than I am.”

“I'm sure you did fine, you were always too hard on yourself dear friend.”

You laughed.

“Yeah well, thankfully I was better with A lightsaber than with politics.”

“You should have not come.” Obi-wan's voice announced.

You and Bail turned around, to see Obi-wan walking in. He gave a stare that screamed ‘Really?’

“She's heading to Daiyu,” Bail started. “They hid their signature behind a freight transport, the ship is on its way there now.”

“I can't.” Obi-wan sighed.

“She's my daughter Obi-wan”Bail begged

“I'm not the man you remember.”

“Well you're going to have to be!” Bail shouted. 

“I can't leave the boy Bail!” Obi-wan argued, his gloves hand clenched at his side.

“This isn't about the boy and you know it!” Bail rubbed his forehead, soothing a worry line. “You've made mistakes, we all did. It's in the past…move on and be done with it.” he looked at Obi-wan.“You couldn't save Anakin, but you could save her.”

You watched the conversation anxiously, is that why he was scared? Did he think he'd fail?

You hoped not, or else that argument the night before was going to make you look like a jerk.

“And what if I can't?” Obi-wan asked desperately, pain and insecurity woven into the features of his face.

“There is no one I trust more with my child than you two. So please old friend, one more fight for her.”

Obi-wan stayed silent for a long time, you and Bial stood there patiently waiting for his answer.

“Okay… I'll do it.” he finally relented.

You smiled in relief at that, happy you didn't have to sneak off from him in the middle of the night. You glanced over at Bail and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to give him comfort.

“Go home, go to work like normal and tell no one our names or anything like that . The more kept under wraps the easier on everyone.”

“Whatever you say,” Bail agreed. “Just bring home my daughter.”

You gave him a determined nod watching Obi-wan shake his hand before he pulled back up his hood and leave.

You and Obi-wan both turned to each other, you looked down and cleared your throat thinking about what to say.

“I'm sorry- the two of you spoke at the same time, you chuckled when Obi-wan gestured for you to do first.

“I'm scared too.” you confessed. “No, actually I'm terrified of failing someone who needs my protection like I did back at the temple.” you laughed bitterly as you placed a hand on your chest. “But I can't live with another child's death on my hands, not when I could do something about it” you said, voice wobbling with emotion, Obi-wan frowned and grabbed your hand. “And I know you don't feel like you could be that person to help her after what has happened, but I know you can.”  you wiped your eyes with your free hand. “We couldn't save Anakin or Padme, but we can help her and I think we owe that to them.”

 “I'm sorry,” Obi-wan pulled you in. “You're right.”

You shoved your face into his chest.

“I'm sorry too.”

🖾

Your boots pounded into the packed sand of the town as you made your way to the transportation station, your hands constantly fidgeting your side to make sure the long v shaped bodice over your shirt crossed over your chest, long fabric draping over your hips and covered your recently retrieved lightsaber strapped to a harness on your thigh.

You felt like yourself again like this, the lightsaber at your disposal and with the former general at your side to the point You almost began to expect people to call you commander again.

You had been a commander with Ahsoka Tano during the war, often working with Obi-wan and his battalion on his flagship when you weren't on Coruscant.

You missed lwhen your biggest issue was hunting down General Grievous and protecting high profile senators.

You were too far in your own thoughts. You didn't notice Obi-wan stop in front of check in, your body slamming into his back and forehead hitting the hard muscle.

“Dank Farrik.” you said, as you stepped over and looked up at the taller man who started down at the ticket in his hand. Hesitance  was radiating  off of him and your hand laced with his and you gave an encouraging squeeze.

“Well?” the worker impatiently asked. “Are you coming or not?”

He looked down at you and you nodded.

“We can do this,'' you soothed, walking up to the worker and handing her your ticket while Obi-wan followed behind you with your hand intertwined with his, only letting go when you were on the other side waiting for the worker to hand him back his ticket.

The warm metal on your finger gives a stark reminder of how your present self was going right back into the life of someone you haven't been for long you thought that part of you left in the grains of sand ten years ago.

Or maybe, you thought for a moment.

That person never left.

Taglist:

@graciexmarvel​

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

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