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joelscurls · 1 year ago

Text

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.

You shake your head, no.

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort.

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!”

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs.

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?”

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”

“Why not?”

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches.

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

#joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction

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phantasmique · 2 months ago

Text

Synopsis: You're pregnant by the King of Curses, but as violent as he is, there might just be some gentleness beneath it all.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism; a tiny, tiny dash of blink-and-you'll-miss-it spice; murder (it's sukuna).

Part two.

There were many things to consider as a consort to the King of Curses. His proclivity for violence, his cold indifference towards humanity. He's crushed thousands of lives beneath the palms of his hands, spilt blood and sliced flesh beneath his talons simply because the urge had struck him. He's cut down women just like you, for something as simple as breathing too loudly.

It hardly comes as a surprise whenever you wake in the morning, long before the sun has crested past the horizon in shades of gold and lilac, only to learn that another one of your fellow concubines has fallen to your lord's ire. Slain for reasons that you have longed since elected to ignore. They mattered little in grand scheme of things, and they often came down to small, tedious motives: She took too long to respond to one of his questions, she stuttered when she responded to him, she gazed at him for too long without permission.

You've learned long ago not to care. You've snuffed that part of yourself out. Crushed it underfoot as easily as one would do to a troublesome insect. Empathy will not ensure your survival in the King of Curses courts, and you've done well to persist after all of these years.

To nod when expected, to keep your eyes leveled to the floor unless ordered otherwise, to speak only when spoken to even while the urge to berate him burns at the tip of your tongue like something molten. A hot ember in your mouth, but you refuse to spit it out.

You learned how to read him. To see the subtle ticks and expressions that would show on his face, using them as a guide for his fickle moods. You knew your place. You knew how to survive. And as exhausting as it was, it was manageable. All was well, until it wasn't.

❃ "You're pregnant." It was clipped, blunt, detached. Said so candidly, as though he hadn't said something that had your heart plummeting down into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You had looked up at him then, wide eyed and openly gawking from your place posted at his feet with something like a scoff threating to spill past your lips. Your mind had scrambled, crawling for an explanation, longing for an answer.

That isn't possible. Curses aren't capable of reproducing. You know that he was human once, a long time ago, but that bit of his humanity must have long since perished. Right?

Pregnant. That shouldn't be achievable for you to produce a child with a curse. That had been a small shred of peace, a truth that you had clung to. That you had kept close to your chest, knowing that regardless of how many times he'll take you, carving a place in you for his pleasure, that you'd never have to bear his heir.

You do love your lord, in a twisted sort of way. He isn't merciful, or kind in any capacity. The brutal, corrupt entity that he is. But he does provide a safety that you might not otherwise had, a home and leniency towards your village that others have not been afforded; thus, a grace extended to your family.

Still . . . someone like Sukuna as a father. Was he even capable of such a thing?

It's true that your time of the months was late, but that had been easy to excuse. Your monthly blood had been overdue before. Delayed by stress and anxiety. And with Sukuna as a lover, you would not dare to sleep with another man. Not that you'd want to, anyway.

But surely he was lying. That wasn't possible. You couldn't be pregnant. Not by a curse. Not by him.

Your mouth had opened, lips parting to speak. To gasp or to deny his claim you weren't sure, but he had silenced you before you could even attempt to force a word out. Lazily lifting a single hand while all four of his eyes slipped down to settle on you, glaring red and piercing in the dark of the shrine.

"I wasn't a question." His nose twitched just the slightest, as though he's caught the scent of something odd, but you were certain the there was a smile nudging at the corners of his lips. As though some part of him was pleased.

Your voice was snagged. Dead in your throat. You had to draw in a tight, shaky breath to even attempt to form a sentence. "That's not pos-"

"I can smell it on you." He answered. Still lounging on his throne. Undisturbed while your world crumbled. " It's practically wafting from your pores. Make no mistake woman, you're carrying my heir."

❃ You had expected a swift death after that. There was no way that the King of Curses would ever entertain the notion of a lowly human bearing his offspring. Tainting his blood line. But the killing blow never came. It nearly made your unease worse. You aren't ignorant to his diet. His taste for human flesh. For the blood of women and children. It made you feel like a pig for slaughter. Meat being preserved for a feast. You've always been a prisoner here, a slave to his wiles, but now you were an animal, a brood mare. You've only ever had to try and save your own skin. To worry for your own life, but now you weren't afforded the luxury of selfishness. You had an unborn life growing in your belly and it had terrified you.

❃ But instead of shunning you, Lord Sukuna was showering you with a sense of possessiveness that you have never experienced from him before. Sure, you were used to the marks. The blotches of plum and blue and crimson that he would scatter along the flesh of your neck and breasts, the tender pink lines that he would mar along your skin, branding your hips and thighs from his talons. But his greed extended little beyond that. You were free to wander the courtyard with the other courtesans at your side. Small moments of serenity that you were all given in between your duties. Free to gossip, and read, or nap beneath the Sakura and plum trees; admiring the petals as they fall and glide across the currents. Carried off far past the shrine walls.

Sometimes, you'd imagine that those petals were you.

Now those small blessings are a peace that you are no longer extended. Guards now follow your every move. Stalking behind you closely like shadows. Silent, constant, and close. Always looming. Always there by Sukuna's decree to monitor and scrutinize you.

❃ You were no longer ordered to sit along the steps, posted at his feet like a loyal dog. He had you perched on his lap instead. Cradled on his thighs. Constantly gripped by at least one of his hands in some compacity. He had become keen on holding a palm to your stomach whether he fully realized it or not. Keeping it flat on your abdomen as though he was shielding your unborn child from the world, with the massive height of his body pinned along your back. Keeping you clutched to his chest as he was waiting for a threat to try and snatch you from him.

He'd keep you there for hours, seated between his massive thighs while peasants and aristocrats alike would get on their knees at the base of the throne's steps, bowing on their knees and begging for mercy and exemption from his slaughter. All while you were in something that was suspiciously close to an embrace. Not that you would voice such a thing to him. Not even with the safety of carrying his child offering some sort of immunity. Not at the risk of invoking his anger. But with how tightly he kept you secured in his arms, his chin raised over the crown of your head, there was little else to call it. And you loathed how much you were beginning to find comfort in it.

❃ Of course, he'd always find ways to shatter that sense of delicate security, whether or not he truly meant to. Namely when he had a servant executed. All because the young man had paid you too much attention; foolishly asking you if you needed any assistance navigating the gardens given your "delicate condition" as he had put it, offering his hand for you to take in the means to help you in your steps. All it had taken was for his fingertips to brush along yours.

In second he was there. Living, breathing, rosy cheeks and a kind smile. And then red. A crest of blood fanning out from his neck. And those gentle eyes. A brief flicker of life in them, and then dull. Muted like a set of worn marbles.

His severed head met stone with a heavy thud, rolling and rolling softly until its traction was halted by grass and moss. His body followed only moments later. No longer held up by spirit and blood, it gave beneath its own weight; knees buckling to collapse like a felled tree.

Despite the balmy nature of the breeze, gentle and humid, you felt frozen. As though your veins had been rushed with chilled water. You couldn't breathe as you stared at his body, disconnected and lifeless like a child's toy that's been carelessly broken and discarded.

"Pathetic vermin. He should know better than to touch things that don't belong to him." His shadow stretched over you then, eclipsing you from the light as the moon does the sun. His cursed energy prickled over your skin, seeping past the barrier of your garments to brush over your flesh, locking your limbs in place.

"A simple warning would have sufficed," you mumbled. Forcing your words out past the heavy feeling of your tongue. They feel broken and hushed all at once, but you can't stop looking at the way the rich maroon seeps out across the fresh green of the lawn, mixing with the morning dew.

His voice slips out into your ears then, a low rumble, possessive and unyielding. "I don't do second chances."

❃ You could hardly call a being like Sukuna soft. He was all hard edges. Harsh. From his brash, unyielding attitude to the rigid planes of his body. Taut muscles and serrated talons. Violent teeth that were honed to tear through flesh and snap bone, but it was undeniable that something in him had relented. Turned malleable by the sight of the bump peeking out from the layers of your skirts. Not quite tame, but . . . tolerable.

❃ He had requested - ordered - that you sleep with him in his quarters from that point onward. A command that split through the haze in your skull like the snapping of a neck.

Your brain was still cloudy. Fogged over and drawn blank by an intoxicated thrum, limbs lax and exhausted after he had drawn orgasm after orgasm from your body. Tipping you over the edge and under a rush of pleasure with a sadistic kind of delight; a sharp, wolfish smile had been split across his face.

The mere idea of getting up from your place on his bed and shuffling your way back to your sleeping quarters on wobbling legs, smeared with cum and sweat had seemed horrendous, but you knew what was expected of you. It had been muscle memory when you nudged your body up from the bedding, slipping your legs over the edge as you scanned the floor for your tattered jūnihitoe; ripped and torn in his fervor to have you naked. Discarded somewhere carelessly.

Then a hand was gripping you. Holding you tightly by the nape of your neck as one would scruff an untoward cat. It had a cold dose of fear skirting beneath your flesh, shivering down your spine and locking you in place as easily as the grip on your neck.

"You're to sleep here from now on."

It was firm. Final. No room for you to argue. And you didn't.

❃ It's lead you to an unexpected discovery. The King of Curses can purr. You had hardly believed it when you first heard it. A low, repetitive hum that had roused you from your sleep in the night. A guttural noise right beneath your ear, breaking periodically in between the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It had caught you entirely off guard. So much so, that in the moment, you assumed you were imagining it. A hallucination brought on by sleep. But the longer you stayed awake, forcing your eyes to remain open as you lifted your head to stare at the slumbering King of Curses, it was unmistakable - he was purring.

Like a kitten would. A soft, gentle sound that juxtaposed horrendously with an entity like him. It nearly made you laugh, but you had just enough wit and self-restraint to contain the sound before it could bubble up to the surface.

You aren't certain how long you had remained that way. Slightly propping yourself up to admire him in the dark, tracing over his face as the light of the moon poured into the room, painting over his skin in hues of blue and soft white; painted by the night.

His scowl softens in his sleep. The furrow between his brows fading into something placid, that arrogant grin - more of a snarl, really - now neutral. He almost looks harmless in moments like these. No glinting teeth or glaring, burning eyes. It's here that you can imagine that he isn't a possible threat. That he won't place you between his fangs and bite until there's nothing over left except for scraps and shards of bone.

❃ He's kind in his own way. A thought that you never once expected yourself to have. Not in regard to him, at least. But he tries, in his own way, to be gentle. When walking with him in the past, you were always expected to trail after him by a few paces, never at his side, but now he makes an effort to guide you at his side. Keeping a hand secured to the small of your back so that you don't fall behind. Now he he's forgone that all together and has taken to totting you around all together as easily as if you were made of feathers and cushion.

It's become a chore to move. Your sense of balance has been altered for the worse, thrown off by the weight of your belly that longs to tip you forward. And the swelling of your feet does little to help, smarting and uncomfortable. You're a stranger in your own skin. Sluggish, as though you've been packed in tight and tugged down by stones.

He's rushed you before in the past, glaring down at you from over his shoulder without a shred of sympathy. He appeared as though he was possibly considering in finally smiting you down, inconvenienced by your lumbering as you willed yourself to follow after him down the corridor in a sluggish waddle.

"Walk any slower and you'll truly be testing my patience."

On any other occasion you could have brushed it off. Ignored it as simply as the other comments he's made at you before, but your ability to control your temper has become poor as of late. Turned brittle and weak by the changes in your body. It's made your tongue loose and sharp, and without thinking you had snapped:

"My apologies for my current state, my lord, but this is just as much your doing as it is mine. So unless you intent to assist me, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself."

As soon as you blurted it out and registered the sound of your own voice, you fully expected to have you head struck clean from your shoulders. You always imagined that the last thing you ever see would be the carmine flash of his eyes before your vision went dark.

His eyes are indeed on you. Still observing you from over his shoulder. They narrow, thinning down into a familiar scowl, and you're certain that this is the end of line for you. It's fallen silent. The world drawn to a hush as you count down the seconds till your death. It's involuntary when your hands drift down to cover your stomach, fingernails clinging at the silk as though it might possibly protect your child.

But the killing blow never comes.

"You're a testy thing today. I'll ignore it - just this once." The rumble of his voice is the only warning you get before he's shifting on his feet to face you. A pair of hands fasten around your hips, a single strong arm slipping around to support your spine as you're suddenly lifted from the ground to be held to his chest. It happens so suddenly that it nearly disorients you. A complaint rises up from your chest, but as soon as you register the relief that melts over your feet at the absence of carrying your weight, it has you falling silent. Settling to sit complacent, and at ease in his hold.

❃ He's come to tolerate your defiance. No doubt pardoning you because of the heir you carry. But there were many instances where he would not relent, no matter how stubbornly you tried to remain in your opinions. Namely in regard to the denial of indulging in a very particular craving.

Initially you had thought nothing of it when Masami had tripped. Somehow stumbling on her skirts and collapsing down onto her knees in a nasty fall. You had rushed to her as quickly as you could, some of the other girls following in suit to crowd around her.

She had raised her hands then, facing them up towards her face so that she could inspect the skinned flesh there. Inflamed pink and riddled with small red abrasions that marred the heels of her palms.

Small wounds in the grand scheme of things. Something that you yourself have obtained throughout the years, but not once has the sight of it achieved such a response. You're certain that you could smell the blood beading past the parting of the skin. It wasn't a scent that you've learned to associate with blood, all pungent and iron. This was pleasant. It was rich, enticing, melting along the summer air like something buttered and warm. It made your mouth water. Suddenly your stomach was too hollow. Famished.

Your focus narrowed down, and you couldn't help but to admire how the sunlight glinted delicately along the red. Glittering faintly like flecks of gold on the seeds of a pomegranate. You wondered then, what it would taste like to run your tongue along her palm. To have the blood spread into your mouth.

It wasn't until someone said your name, loud and sharp, that snapped out of your daze. Jerking in place as though you had been stung. It wasn't until you met Masami's stare, her eyes wide and a little panicked that you realized that you had been staring. Focused intently on her wounded hands with the same hunger of a dog eyeing a slab of meat.

Sukuna had found out, of course. He had eyes and ears everywhere, shadows tucked into every corner; and no matter how quietly one might whisper in the amongst themselves, he always manages to hear.

He had shocked you honestly, when he had taken to approaching you about the topic rather than opting have Uraume slip human flesh into your meals. Still, you had refused. This was something that you could not possibly get yourself to budge on. The thought of it made you nauseous, it had your stomach turning despite the hunger pinching at your gut.

Reduced to a complete stranger in your body as the child in your womb altered it into something unrecognizable. Riddling it with twisted urges that made you want to run away from yourself. Haunting you with a hunger that would keep you awake at night, fantasizing about a craving that should make you fall ill. That should have you trembling with dread, and yet your mouth would only water at the thought.

The stare that he had leveled you with unamused. Arresting as it fixed you in place and forced you to still. As motionless as a statue as he looked down his nose at you, all four of his eyes latched onto your form in glints of searing red; a glint of fangs showing past his curled lips.

"Do not forget that it is my child you're carrying. Denying your hunger is only prolonging the inevitable. You'll cave eventually."

And he was correct. He typically dines alone, but since your pregnancy he's taken to having you accompany him for his meals. He had respected your demand that you were only served human food. Though you never missed the almost arrogant way that he would observe you as you plucked rice into your mouth. Like he was relishing in yourself induced suffering. Like he was waiting for you to break. The curiosity in his eyes always present, but like a challenge you tried you hardest not pay attention to the scent of cooked flesh permeating around the dinner table.

Try as you might it wasn't long until you had all but stolen a cut of meat from his meal, cooked rare and bleeding. And like some sort of ravenous animal, you had scoffed it down, clutching it with trembling fingers that shoved it in your mouth quicker than you could fully chew. Unable to pay your guilt, or the delighted expression on his face any mind as the famished pit in your gut finally felt something close to relief.

❃ As much as you love your child, there are times where it's already begun to display too many shared characteristics with their father. Namely the ability to disturb you and ruin your sleep. They get restless in the night; like clockwork, tossing and turning in your belly and battering the inside of your stomach with a near constant stream of kicks.

They weren't even born yet, and already they seemed to be throwing a tantrum. Pitching a fit as though they were demanding to be released.

It would force you awake, keeping your eyes wide open while sleep stung at them, weighing them down with the temptation to slip closed. But as soon as you would begin to nod off, it's as though the baby in your womb knew, and they'd make sure to punish you with a harsh nudge of their little foot. It's a wonder how something so small can deliver such a harsh strike. Enough to have you wincing; the air hissing sharply through your teeth while you glare up ceiling like you might find salvation in the shadows settled there.

"Are you determined to interrupt my sleep, woman? Why do you keep whining and huffing?"

As enticing as you usually find the sound of his voice, the sudden sound of it rumbling across the quiet is only grating. Your annoyance flaring, worn thin by the bout of kicking that's being delivered to the tender stretch of your stomach.

It had your voice cracking out with equal irritation. Unrestrained in your ire. "That's because your child won't stop kicking at me."

You can't stop yourself from turning your head over to glare at him, meeting his scowl, finding the intense red of his eyes in the dark.

"How annoying." He grumbles, face pinching into a peeved grimace. It makes you tempted to try and climb up from the bedding and leave his quarters all together. Perhaps you could take a walk around the estate until the baby settles. Sometimes if you speak to it, or hum lowly in those old lullabies your own mother had sang to you as a child, they calm down. Soothed by the sound of your voice.

It's as though Sukuna can sense your intent, and in a blur, he's gripping you by the torso to tug you up to his chest in a grip that's uncharacteristically gentle. Nestling you against his body as though you could possibly break.

He's done it before and yet it always manages to shock you into silence. To have you fall quiet and motionless lest you break whatever spell has fallen over him.

It makes you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be a rabbit drawn in to slumber with a wolf. Nestled against its fur, expecting a flash of snarling, drooling teeth, but only finding comfort and warmth instead.

"Troublesome, aren't you?"

There's the desire to retort. To give some sort of scathing remark in defense of yourself. To remind him that the child in your belly is very much his doing just as much as it is yours. Then one of his hands is slipping across the swell of your stomach, smoothing over the skin in a gesture that should be too soft for a man like him.

Using the same hands that are covered in blood from slaying thousands, sorcerers, men, women, and children, to cradle where your child rests. It clicks then that he isn't talking to you.

You dare to glance up at him, and it quickly confirms that his attentions are pinned down on your stomach. The expression on his face is tired, exasperated, but you swear that you can see something almost tender melting at the irritation there.

You wince when the baby lands another kick just beneath your belly button, directly where Sukuna's palm sits, as though they can feel the pressure of it.

"Restless, are you?" He muses, caressing his thumb along the bump. "There's plenty of time for all of that later. There will be many a sorcerer for you to torment once you're older, but for now it's time to rest. Let your mother sleep."

It's so conversational, the way he speaks to them. Talking as though they might possibly answer, and with how strange a being like Sukuna is, you truly wouldn't be surprised if he revealed to you that he could communicate with your unborn child in some manner.

You can feel the baby shifting, some part of its body brushing against your stomach as it moves. And act of defiance possibly, and you half expect to receive the sting of another kick, but it never comes.

You're practically holding your breath as you await another strike, yet there's nothing. Only calm. Only the dim sound of your steady breathing and the soothing hush that's fallen over the dark of the room.

Finally, there's peace. The warmth of Sukuna's body seeping into your back like the steam of a hot bath and just as easily it has your limbs unwinding. The weight of sleep engulfing your body, causing your eyes to fall heavy, the lure to slip shut falling over you like the comfort of a blanket.

His voice purrs out then, low and hushed, thrumming along your shoulders while he whispers a delicate command.

"Sleep."

But that time, you're certain he was speaking to you.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fanfic #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you

1K notes · View notes

mwagneto · 3 months ago

Text

hungarian/nomadic magyar tumblr circa 998AD dashboard simulator

🏞️ vándor-ló-979 Follow

not yall still spreading emese's foundation myth??? she literally claims she fucked a bird????? like either she's lying or she cheated and she's trying to cover it up or well. i dont even want to consider the third option

🪺 magánügyek Follow

tengri forbid women do anything???

735 notes

🦅 szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay im sick of the discourse let's do this.

8,572 notes

🐎 istván-rovására Follow

that took so long lmao -> !!!!!!!∧◇ᛏ⋈∧

481 notes

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

i'm so serious rn if you support """istván""" in any way just unfollow and block me. we do NOT need him or his dumbass god and what he's been doing to our people to spread his religion is shameful.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

btw we all know your real name is vajk stop larping as a christian it's EMBARRASSINGGGG

✝️ esztergom-örökké Follow

love seeing my mutuals reblogging this /s anyway op has multiple posts on their blog supporting quartering and human sacrifice. in case you were wondering. anyway stand with István

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

1) we dont even do human sacrifices, are you fucking stupid??? show me ONE post where i talk about that. 2) are you seriously forgetting that your bestie istván LITERALLY QUARTERED HIS UNCLE?????

#sorry to put this dumbass on the dash😭 dont even engage just block them #ur not making it up the tree of life lmao #discourse

3,264 notes

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

friendly reminder that just because you're white passing doesn't mean you're not a real magyar!! people with mixed parents are just as valid <3

🏇 attila-népe Follow

cranky coz ur ancestors decided to mix with the europeans arent you

🧺 lemezelő Follow

isnt your girlfriend literally frankish????

🏇 attila-népe Follow

you had to have done some serious stalking to find that💀 and first of all i didn't have a choice, my parents picked the tribe, and second of all she's not my "girlfriend" i got her via ritual kidnapping (WITH consent. before anyone gets weird)

🌐 a-kiber-kovács Follow

Couldn't you have kidnapped another magyar woman? Or someone from another mongoloid tribe?

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

ohh sure so now human pet guy is gonna chime in to advocate for the kidnapping of our women while being lowkey racist. what are you even doing on nomadblr????

🌅 bolygó-kárpáti Follow

what the fuck happened to my post

19,276 notes

🪔 rakabonciás Follow

for the nth time, you're only a true shaman if you were born with teeth OR with extra fingers OR in the sac. the rest of you are faking & we can tell.

🦅szél-könnyű-szárnyán-szállj Follow

okay people keep spreading this but this is literally just wrong?? like congrats on the 6 fingers op im glad u and Little Golden Father have a special connection (genuinely) but like. táltos and sámán and mágus and garabonciás and javas etc are all different things with completely different requirements and life paths which you should definitely know if you're claiming to be one?? especially since your post says shaman but you're listing the criteria for a táltos, and your username looks like a play on garabonciás so. which is it🤔 maybe get your facts in order before trying to gatekeep

anyway don't listen to op!! your connection to the Upper World is yours alone and you're the best judge of what the Fathers and Mothers want your path in life to be!!

646 notes

🛐 mea-culpa Follow

It breaks my heart that the majority of my people still refuse to see the One True God and insist on sticking to their pagan spirits. I fear that when judgement day comes, we will all be wiped out thanks to their foul godless ways.

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

how tf am i godless when i literally have dozens of gods? little mothers and little fathers are in everything all around us & it must suck ass to live in a world where you're not surrounded by the small gods that inhabit everything. manifesting that the fene and the guta tag team beat your ass tonight

🔅 hadúrsimp Follow

hadúr will literally strike op down personally. he told me himself. whispered it to me sweetly even

🐴 csillagösvény Follow

while i agree with you, i feel like you might also have ulterior motives, nomadblr user hadúrsimp

#but live your truth! doubly so on the posts of these freak repressed bible lovers. meanwhile on the #COOL side of magyarhood we walk around butt ass naked!!! op have fun never experiencing joy ever again tho #discourse

198 notes

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

posting from an alt so i don't get cancelled but lowkey i'm starting to think koppány was right.... maybe this christianity thing isn't gonna work out after all

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

WRONG BLOG

👑 sanctus-stephanus Follow

THIS WAS A JOKE. IGNORE THIS

🪺 magánügyek Follow

ISTVÁN????????????? 💀

#the usernames wont make any sense unless ur hungarian and insane about the era im sorry. i hope the rest is funny to foreigners too tho🙏#i woke up in the middle of the night and typed out the majority of this then fell back asleep #hopefully that provides some nice extra context to jt #it's especially funny coz I've been meaning to make this post for like. legit at least 7 or 8 months now #so ig inspiration struck in the middle of the fkin night. finally. well here you go #dashboard simulator #dashboard sim #history #hun mythology #mythology #hun culture

1K notes · View notes

agustdtown1 · 6 months ago

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SHUT UP ‘N LISTEN | JJK

PAIRING: street racer!brother’s bestfriend!jeon jungkook x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Trust was broken, and wrong decisions were made. You were now left alone facing the consequences of your own actions, realizing it was never a good idea to fuck around with your brother’s friend. But maybe that was another lesson you were meant to learn.

WC: 17.3k

WARNINGS: brother’s best friend trope, angst, like a loooooot, unnecessarily dramatic dialogues that I think were a bit too much but that worked out for the plot at the end. Fluff because I didn’t want to end it on a sad note again. Way too much feelings and emotions. Smut +18, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), a lot of begging, slight dom!jk, choking, making out, smacking, praising, pet names (doll, good girl, princess, baby, sweetheart, etc.), jk calls reader his good little slut, big dick!jk, mentions of belly bulge (very brief), doggy, missionary, jk begging a little bit towards the end. Let me know if I’m missing anything.

A/N: it’s finally here, the part 2 of shut up and drive, it took me some time to finally get it done, but I’m happy with the results. Also it was initially intended to be max 5k but I got a bit carried away and ended up being this super lengthy one shot so I apologize in advance. Anyway, enjoy your reading!

part 1 | masterlist

Most people experience a variety of emotions throughout their lives; happiness, sadness, anger. You can find happiness in the simple things in life, like buying your favorite food, your favorite drink, or when you go out with your friends. Sadness usually comes along when something bad happens, like losing a loved one or missing an important moment. Anger is presented in the form of violence most of the time, but it can also be delivered through words; hurting just as much as any punch would. Nonetheless, there’s also another emotion that has a huge impact on people, one that can conquer your body in the most unexpected moments.

Fear.

Usually defined as an unpleasant feeling that installs itself in the deepest part of our hearts and souls; fear is that one emotion capable of paralyzing people when faced with dangerous situations. Regardless of it being an abstract concept, like any other feeling, anyone at any point in their life has experienced that same emotion.

It is fear that you feel when you notice a stranger following you at night; it is fear that you feel when encountered with a wild animal. It is fear that goes through your body when someone tells you they have bad news.

And it was that same emotion that you felt when your brother verbalized the one thing you were trying to avoid.

“How long have you been fucking my best friend behind my back?”

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach the moment that question flew out of Taehyung’s mouth. Nothing would have ever prepared you for it; for the inevitable confrontation you oh so much wanted to avoid.

But life can be funny sometimes, and it would put you through situations that would cause you an unbearable amount of anxiety and fear.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” His voice was the perfect example of exhaustion and disappointment; two emotions you didn’t want your brother to experience.

It took you exactly ninety-eight seconds to regain your ability to speak, only to scramble to find a poor excuse that would get you out of the mess you got yourself into.

“I don’t… um, I don’t really know what—”

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Taehyung cut you off. “Is that what you were going to say?”

The words were caught in your throat, making it impossible to give him the answer he was expecting. But then again, would you be able to respond wisely if given the chance to speak properly?

“I’m sorry.”

The answer to that question would be no; you were not capable of forming a valid argument that would make your brother dislike you any less in that precise moment.

“You know, I thought you would finally be honest.” Your brother sighed, shaking his head in disappointment, “I guess I was wrong.”

No man will ever be worthy of messing things up with Taehyung; a mental statement that you prayed would be proven right, but ultimately it seemed like you were the rightful culprit of a crime you didn’t realize you committed.

“Tae, listen…” You began saying, but your brother was not ready to hear whatever you had to say.

“You wanna know what’s funny?” He asked rhetorically. “I’m not even mad that you guys are together or whatever.” Taehyung chuckled, humorlessly. “But you lied to me, and that’s not something I can take lightly.”

You knew that, and yet you decided to go behind his back to mess around with one of his closest friends. In hindsight, the outcome of your web of lies was fully deserved, however, it was hard to accept the possibility of the rupture of you and your brother’s bond.

Hoseok and Jimin, on the other hand, could only stand there and watch everything fall little by little. It saddened them, knowing that the messy situation the three of you were involved in would not be easy to deal with, and most likely would end up badly. Trust was broken, and wrong decisions were made. None of them pondered over enough to realize the weight of the actual problem. But alas, that’s the lesson you were meant to learn.

“Guess loverboy can drive you home tonight, right?” Taehyung’s bitter tone was like a knife digging in your soul. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” He turned towards the two other boys, before retrieving his car keys from his jeans’ pocket.

With nothing left to say, Taehyung started his way back to his car.

“Tae, wait! Don’t be like that.” None the wiser, you tried to reach out and stop him, but someone else got a hold on you before you could.

“Let him be, I think it’s better for everyone if he cools down before you talk to him.” Always the voice of reason, Hoseok intervened at the right time.

It was hard to watch Taehyung walk away, knowing that he would probably let his anger and frustration out the wrong way. It was true that your brother would usually need some time to calm down and come around, just like Hoseok said, however, you also knew that Taehyung could be a bit impulsive and reckless sometimes. His well-being has been put to the test an uncountable amount of times, and more often than not anger would cloud his vision and the only thing he would see is red, which would cause a much bigger problem than him just being upset.

Truth be told, there was not much to do. It was either making the situation a whole lot worse by pushing your brother to his breaking point, or waiting until his anger and frustration had subsided. The latter seemed to be a better option, and so it was decided that you would let it go for the time being.

It couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Y/n…” a familiar voice rang through your ears, making you snap out of your thoughts. “Can we—?”

“Take me home.” You interrupted Jungkook harshly.

Maybe it was the way he was acting so cautiously; or perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t even attempt to explain what was really happening to Taehyung, but the idea of being near Jeon Jungkook for a second longer irritated you beyond belief.

“What?” He seemed to be taken aback, “I mean, yes, I’ll take you home, but first I wanted—”

“I don’t wanna hear it, just take me home.”

The hurt look in his eyes almost made you apologize, but the moment of weakness was short-lived; the frustration and worry you were feeling at that moment were enough to blind you, preventing you from seeing how your cold attitude was affecting him.

“Hoseok…” You started saying, “You coming with us?”

The brown haired man shook his head, sporting a soft grin on his face to break a little bit of the tension surrounding you.

“Don’t worry about me, Jimin’s gonna give me a ride home.”

Looking to his right you found the blond guy nodding his head, confirming that he would take care of Hoseok.

“Alright then.”

You started your way towards Jeon’s car, not really waiting for him; the sooner you got out of there the better. That place was starting to become a horrific nightmare the more you stayed there anyway, and it wasn’t really worth it to wait a second longer.

Jungkook was right behind you, like a silent follower, not uttering a single word due to the fear of being ignored. And somehow he was right about protecting his heart from your cold demeanor, for it was your silence he would get if he had started a conversation in the most inconvenient of times.

But how can you blame him? Had you been in his shoes, conquered by fear of losing the person who makes you feel more alive, along with your best friend, at the same time, you would be scared of saying and doing the wrong thing too. The only difference is that Jungkook wanted to fix things up for the first time. He wanted to redeem himself and be the bigger person for once; changing his usual I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and not ignoring his responsibilities. Because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was just as guilty as you were, and it was time for him to be held accountable for his own actions and decisions.

Nonetheless, there was still that emotion that would prevent him from initiating a conversation that was already set to happen. Fear was, for lack of better words, fucking him up, just like it did you moments ago.

You could feel his burning stare at every red light you were encountered with, yet you refused to look his way, not giving him the satisfaction of staring at his doe eyes that would lure you into giving him the chance to explain himself. That, however, didn’t prevent him from finally gathering the courage to speak.

“I still wanna talk to you about tonight.” Eight words uttered with fear; a sentence verbalized with the utmost caution, only to fall on deaf ears. “I know you’re not in the mood to have a conversation right now, and you’re most likely mad at me, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry it happened this way.” A sigh escaped his lips, leaving him with a heavy weight on his chest, not fully finding the right words to say. “Things went wrong, that much I know, but neither of us had a way of knowing all of this would go down tonight.”

A humorless chuckle abandoned your mouth, cutting Jungkook’s speech off.

“An apology is not enough to fix all of this, Jungkook.” You started saying. “Taehyung must hate me right now. And for what? Me fooling around with his friend when I should’ve kept my distance.”

Anger, sadness and regret can be demonstrated with a variety of physical acts, but all those emotions can be also delivered through words, hurting as much, hurting even more. Like a knife digging in the soft material of a pillow, your response cut deep in Jungkook’s heart.

An interesting reaction, taking into account that the boy has never, not even once, shown an ounce of weakness around you. It is true that he was softer than most guys when he was with the people he trusted and loved, but there was a slight switch in his attitude when it came down to you. Was it infatuation? Was it stupidity? Jungkook wasn’t sure, but he knew well enough that the things you were saying stung more than they should.

“You say that as if you regretted everything that happened between us.” He dared to speak once again, after pondering what his response should be.

“Maybe I do.”

Why does it hurt so much the words that were flying out of your mouth? Why was the situation affecting him in ways that it shouldn’t?

“Maybe I regret everything, maybe I wish nothing ever happened between us.” You didn’t actually mean it, but people tend to say things that hurt others when they’re angry. “It doesn’t matter if I do, though, you knew this shit wasn’t even worth fighting for.”

Jungkook stopped the car abruptly, ignoring the honking of the van behind you.

“Not worth fighting for?” He repeated, clearly offended. “Are you hearing yourself? You’re acting as if all of this was just my fault”

“I know it wasn’t all on you, I played my part too, but why does it matter so much to you all of a sudden?” You inquired with a venomous tone. “You were the one who said this wasn’t anything serious to begin with. You told me not to get my hopes up because we were just friends who happen to fuck all the time.”

That conversation was engraved on your brain, memorized to the very end. It hurt to repeat the words Jeon said to you, it hurt to remember every single detail of that night, but it was time to accept that neither of you were meant for the other.

He wasn’t yours to take, he wasn’t yours to keep.

And yet you wished that at the end things could be different.

“So it was all meaningless to you?” Jungkook demanded an answer of you.

His heart was beating fast, his hands were starting to sweat and there was a frown falling upon his eyebrows, making him look sort of adorable. For you at least, Jungkook has always been like a big puppy in search of attention, seeking for people’s affection and love when he couldn’t even love himself enough to commit to someone. He was an interesting guy, that much you could admit, but it wasn’t enough to go through the hassle of giving it a try to an already nonexistent relationship.

“You just wanna end things like this?” Jungkook’s mind was going crazy, he couldn’t comprehend how you could act so nonchalant and heartless about it. “I just… I can’t just let you—”

“There’s nothing to end.” You cut him off. “You can’t end something that never started.”

Like cold snow falling upon his face in a swift motion; like a hundred knives digging in his soul and ripping his heart out; like the most saddening ballad cutting deep in someone’s mind to bring back the memories of a past lover.

It all hurt the same, it all happened as fast. It all was just equally awakening.

“Is that what you want?”

Jungkook’s dead voice wounded you just a little, but it wasn’t enough to stop your answer.

“Yes, that’s what I want.” You confirmed.

Without wasting any other second, Jeon started the car again, letting out a heavy sigh while maintaining a hard grip on the wheel.

And for better or for worse, not a single word was uttered the rest of the ride to your house; representing the finish line of a race that never even started.

Seven days, four hours, twenty minutes and thirty-two seconds. That’s how long it has been since the last time you heard the voice of your brother, or even knew anything about him, for that matter. Seven days since you last saw him; seven days since one of your biggest fears came true; seven days since Taehyung looked at you right in the face with an expression full of discomfort and disappointment, one that he has never shown until now. Seven days since Jungkook tried to talk you out of ending things with him.

Seven days have passed and not much has changed, besides the fact that you have felt lonelier than before. The monotonous routine of attending lectures, studying, going to work and then coming back home alone was damaging your mental health and your stability was starting to decay. Sadly, you didn’t have anyone else to blame but yourself. It was a hard pill to swallow, but in the end it was all the consequences of your impulsive actions.

Had you thought about everything more thoroughly, the outcome would have been way different. No one would have felt betrayed, because you wouldn’t have had the need to hide anything from anyone to begin with. No one would have gone home feeling broken or with a heavy weight on their shoulders.

A lot of things would have been different, but rather than dwelling on the matters that have already happened, you decided to keep your mind at bay.

Work and school kept you occupied, but it didn’t relieve the pain that was poisoning your weak heart whenever you received a message or a call from someone who wasn’t Taehyung. His two friends kept you updated about how he was doing, but it wasn’t enough for you; you needed to hear it from the guy himself. Which seemed to be a task rather difficult due to the current situation.

Jungkook tried to reach out to you a few times after that night, but on the fourth day of calling and texting you nonstop, he finally let go of the idea of fixing things up, with one final text where he poured his full heart, just for you. If Jeon had been any more honest at some other point in his life, he didn’t acknowledge it. For him that long text was his truest self, his bare feelings abandoning his body with the hope of reaching you on time. Nonetheless, you two were living in different realities, it seems. You didn’t even dare to read the message, opting to block him and ignore how unhealthy and wrong it was to act that way.

It was unfair of you to treat him so poorly, but your pride stopped you from seeing the bigger picture. You were at fault, in the same way that Jungkook was; both of you took the decision to intertwine your bodies that one night, and both of you decided to maintain the secret encounters. It was a crime committed by two bodies, but that sadly left three broken hearts behind. Two at fault and one caught in the crossfire.

You’ve caught yourself wishing you would’ve done things differently; no secrets, no betrayal. No guilt, no fear. However, it was that same predicament that led you to meeting Jungkook, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were grateful for that. Behind his fuckboy persona there was a kindhearted guy that not everyone knew, but that you wish could be yours; Jeon was, for lack of better words, the type of guy that any girl would love to have as a partner, but alas you wouldn’t be the one to experience it.

And that cold and saddening truth was what prevented you from ignoring your pride and reaching out to him.

“Y/n…” a distant voice called your name. “Y/n!”

Looking up from your long-forgotten class review, you stared at one of your closest friends, Eunbi. She was a 5’6, black-haired girl, with the personality of a fifty-year-old woman trapped in the body of a twenty-three-year-old girl. In better words, she was your best friend. You met her during orientation and you two hit it off right away; have been inseparable ever since.

“I’ve been calling you for a solid minute.” She chuckled lightly. “You okay there?”

You sighed, taking off your glasses to rub your eyes. An annoyed groan wanted to leave your mouth, but you were quick to suppress it before making any unwanted noise while being at the library.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired I guess.”

Eunbi looked like she knew you weren’t completely honest, however, she didn’t push any longer for an answer and you were grateful for that. You weren’t in the mood to explain the whole disaster you were into with your brother and his best friend.

“Wanna stop here and go grab some coffee? I’m kinda tired too.”

You wanted to decline and keep studying, but truth be told, if you kept up the act of trying to busy your mind with anything to keep it away from the topic you didn’t want to speak about, it would damage you more than it already has. So the distraction was greatly appreciated and a decision was rapidly made.

“Yeah, I could use some caffeine.”

Both of you abandoned your comfortable seats at the library, gathering your belongings to start your way out to the nearest coffee shop. The breeze caressed your skin with its refreshing wind; there has been a sudden change in the weather that has put the barely tolerable heat on pause. The gray clouds were adorning the sky, which in result made you curse under your breath for not having an umbrella with you.

“Seems like it’s going to rain.” Eunbi lamented, for she didn’t bring anything to protect herself from the water either. “We better hurry to get there before it starts.��

Your gaze moved slowly down from the gloomy sky, observing your surroundings with a deep sigh trapped in your throat. The saddening weather didn’t help you to cheer up, but maybe the tall guy waiting for you a few feet away would.

It took you a few seconds to realize that it was your brother who was waving at you while leaning on the hood of his car. Taehyung seemed relaxed and nonchalant, clearly not aware of the immense joy that he had brought upon you by just being there, due to finally seeing him after so long.

“Tae?” A small whisper fell from your lips. “Eunbi, can we raincheck? I um… My brother’s here.” You looked over your friend on the side, while smiling apologetically at her.

“Of course, don’t worry about me. We can have that coffee another day.” A soft smile was all you received after that, while your friend made her way home.

Uncertainty was quickly taking its place in your chest, making it a bit difficult for you to be calm and collected. There was a weird feeling making your fingers tingle, while your skin got coated with goosebumps; one that you rapidly disclosed as fear.

You feared the reason your brother was at your university. You feared the inevitable conversation you most likely will have with him, but above all, you feared the outcome of said conversation, scared it might break you more than the whole situation already has.

Your heart was pounding rapidly against your chest while you were, albeit reluctantly, walking towards Taehyung. His soft grin didn’t mirror your awkward grimace, already creating a tense atmosphere between you two.

“What… What are you doing here?” Your question came out rather strongly, in comparison to how nervous you were. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

Taehyung nodded, looking down at his feet for a brief second.

“Am I not allowed to come see my little sister?”

No, when you haven’t contacted her in a whole week, you’re not.

“I guess so.” You finally answered, opting to take the easy route and avoid arguing at all costs.

“Get in, I don’t want you getting sick because of the weather.”

A simple sentence that held a lot of meaning behind. Not only was it the fact that Taehyung finally had the courage to present himself in front of you, but he also continued to care for you, even when the prospect of the bond shared between the two being more than broken by now was a possibility he strongly believed in.

Regardless of the initial surprise that painted your face and that invaded your heart, you followed his words and entered the car, tossing your things into the backseat. The ride to your house was filled with an awkward silence, neither of you daring to talk due to not knowing what to say to make things better. Your brother would often sigh and look at you, only to give you a tight-lipped smile and continue driving.

It was safe to say that things were far from being like they used to be, at least for now. It had never been a problem to start and maintain a conversation with the older guy sitting next to you, but it seems like now it was a complete torture for the both of you to be in and share the same space.

A pang of guilt struck your chest for the awkward situation you were found in. A little voice at the back of your head telling you that it was all your fault, and that you should do something quickly to fix it up.

The truth was that you, once again, didn’t know how. It was uncharted territory, not even once in your life had you been in a predicament such as the one you were currently living. It was safe to say that you didn’t know what to do.

Despite being clueless and frustrated, you finally found the courage to form a coherent sentence to break the uncomfortable silence. And it was with a shaky hand fisting your skirt and trembling lips that you finally spoke.

“So… It’s not like I’m complaining or anything, but why exactly did you come to pick me up?” You inquired, staring right at him “You’ve never done that before.”

Truth be told, Taehyung didn’t think this through, he didn’t even imagine he would get this far; the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t like the current situation. It was already hard to digest the news of you and his best friend being somewhat together —at least from his perspective that’s what it was—, to add the burden of not being on good terms with you to the pile of concerns that Taehyung had.

On top of that, he felt guilty. Guilty for being so hard on you, guilty for not letting you explain yourself, guilty for not caring enough about you and Jungkook’s feelings before shutting both of you out. But then again, it was a normal reaction, one that was expected from him.

It was due to that that Taehyung decided it was finally time to talk with you and sort everything out, the only thing he didn’t foresee was how awkward and hard it would be to communicate with you after a week.

“Well…” He drifted off, stopping at a red light. “We need to talk… But I think it’s better if we do that once we’re at your place.”

It was decided, and silence had, once again, conquered the space inside Taehyung’s expensive car. You didn’t bother to try to break it this time, opting to save all your energy for the, most probably, draining conversation that you and your brother would have in a matter of minutes.

The moment you saw your building becoming nearer and nearer you let out a sigh of relief. Being trapped in such a small space with such high and thick tension engulfing both of you was making you feel upset. You were thankful for the fresh air gracing your face once you stepped out of Taehyung’s car, however, your joy was short-lived due to the cold droplets of water falling rapidly from the sky.

“Hurry up inside.”

Both of you made your way quickly towards the entrance, not sparing a second glance to your landlord at the door, but rather walking straight into the elevator.

Once you were in the warm insides of your apartment, you finally let your shoulders slump, while a tired groan abandoned your lips. Taehyung followed suit, taking his shoes off at the door and walking towards your living room.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll go change.” You shared before going into your room.

Comfortable clothes, that’s what you were seeking for. If a disaster was bound to go down, at least you would be wearing your soft pair of pajama shorts and that one shirt you stole from Jimin when you were over at his and your brother’s apartment.

It was a matter of a few minutes before you encountered Taehyung once again. His eyes were locked on his phone screen, looking rather entertained by whatever he was watching.

“I’m back.” You informed him, while taking a seat next to him. “Do you… perhaps wanna talk now?”

Hesitance and curiosity were invading your mind and soul at the moment, making you feel uneasy. You shouldn’t be so aggravated or feel so anxious, it was your brother sitting beside you, not a stranger. But then again, you weren’t prepared for the conversation, and instead of taking things easy, you were overthinking every single thing about it.

“I don’t really know how to start this.” Taehyung avoided looking at you, which in result caused you to feel hurt. “I wanna say a lot of things but I don’t think I have enough words to express them.” He chuckled lightly, fidgeting with his fingers while looking right into his lap. “I’m gonna start with the obvious. I was mad, that night at the race, I got really upset. I don’t know what pushed you to make the decision of hiding such a thing from me, but it really hurt Y/n.”

You knew that already. You knew that you fucked up and that it affected Taehyung more than he would like to admit, but it was the path you chose, the only thing left to do was walk through it and accept all the consequences.

“There was no need, you know?” It was then that he looked at you. “Like I told you that night, I wasn’t upset about you two being together and I never would. What you do with your love life or who you decide to be with is none of my business. I can’t stop you from liking someone, even if that someone is my best friend.” Taehyung let out a sigh, searching for the right words to say. “I got mad because you lied to me. I don’t like when you do that or hide things from me, it makes me feel as if you don’t trust me. And I really don’t want to think that’s the case.”

“It’s not!” You were quick to say, already fearing he would get the wrong idea. “I swear I trust you, you are the only person I actually confide the majority of my life to.” You sighed, feeling a heavy weight on your chest. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I think it’s partially my fault. Maybe I haven’t been doing a good job at being a trustworthy brother.”

You wanted to say no, to make him stop thinking that way about himself, but he didn’t give you the time.

“What I want to say is… I might have been mad at you, at Jungkook and at the whole situation, but I’m also sorry for how I reacted.” Taehyung finally let out the words that were bugging him ever since that night. “I’m sorry I shut you out completely for this long, and I’m sorry for not talking things through sooner. I can’t control the decisions you make, and most importantly I shouldn’t be upset about the guys you get involved with. I just…” Taehyung drifted off. “I was just worried about you getting hurt that I didn’t notice the big mistake I made. I didn’t take into account your feelings and how my words would hurt you and for that I’m so fucking sorry.”

Seven days, five hours and fifteen minutes. That’s how long it took to finally hear your brother’s voice again. That’s how long it took to finally sort things out. That’s how long it took Taehyung to say those awaited words.

Seven days passed, and not even once you stopped thinking about what would happen if you were to have the opportunity to explain everything.

Until now.

“Taehyung,” You whispered, “you don’t need to apologize, I should be the one apologizing. It was so fucked up of me going behind your back and messing around with Jungkook.” You sighed. “I didn’t think things through and it almost cost me your trust and love, and for that you have no idea how sorry I am.”

Taehyung smiled softly at you, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He said.

“I’m not, I’m just being honest.” You lightly argued. “Still, I’m sorry for lying to you, for hiding things from you, for… For messing around with your best friend. You didn’t deserve any of it.” A tight-lipped grin was sent his way. “I promise I won’t do anything like that again, I value our bond more than any quick fuck.”

Taehyung hissed, retrieving his hand from yours.

“When you say it like that it sounds weird.”

You chuckled, poking his side in a playful manner.

“Hey, I’m trying to be serious here, don’t ruin the moment.” You complained.

“I’m sorry, but it’s weird listening to my little sister saying she had a quick… well, that.” He grimaced, shaking his head to prevent himself from getting any unwanted mental image of it.

“It’s not like you don’t do it.” You scoffed, feeling suddenly defensive. “But that’s not the point of this conversation. What I really wanna know is… Are we good? Do you forgive me?”

Taehyung smiled at you sweetly, “Only if you forgive me too.”

It was a no brainer. You would do anything to go back to normality, to have your brother in the same way you have always had him. To not be scared of saying or doing the wrong thing; to finally be free of lies and secrets.

“I do.” You responded cheerfully.

You found yourself wrapping your arms around his torso, while resting your head on his shoulder. One of Taehyung’s hands came up to caress your hair, sweetly, while the other was softly patting your back. You were finally where you needed— wanted to be, and somehow it still felt weird.

There was a feeling of something missing, like a part of you was still holding onto an invisible string, tying you to someone whom you weren’t ready to face just yet. It didn’t take much to figure out why you were feeling that way, but it only served to leave you with more doubts and confusion.

Why was your heart calling his name? Why was your soul hurting for him? Why was your mind thinking of him?

All those questions were left unanswered, although you already knew the reason. The line between accepting the hard truth and ignoring your feelings was so thin that you didn’t even notice when you crossed it, but you definitely felt it. Like salt rubbed on a fresh wound, your heart ached just as much when the thought of Jungkook finally letting go of you was presented in your mind. That’s mostly why your heart, mind and soul were so desperately seeking his presence.

Maybe that’s even why you would tear up at night while staring at your phone. Waiting for a text, for a call, for anything that would let you know that even in some twisted reality, Jeon Jungkook felt the same for you.

“Youf shouf call hif.”

Eunbi was stuffing her face with a fresh baked bagel, not really minding how little you could understand about what she was saying, due to her full mouth.

“Could you please swallow your food before speaking? I can’t understand you.” A grimace took place on your face, while watching your friend enjoy her food.

You weren’t against Eunbi being so openly in love with whatever she was eating, but there was a limit for your patience when it came to eating etiquette.

“I said…” She finally swallowed the bite she took. “You should call him.”

A confused look was sent her way, while you took a sip of your iced coffee.

“Whom?” You asked, looking at her quizzically. “Be more specific, I just told you about what’s been going on in my life and I mentioned a lot of people.”

It took some convincing but Eunbi finally got all the gossip out of you. It was weird at first, to confess to someone else rather than to the people involved in the problem about everything that happened, let alone about your painfully obvious feelings. Because, although you weren’t ready to openly admit it yet, Eunbi didn’t need to know much to understand what was really happening in that complicated heart of yours.

“Your brother’s friend.” She answered after taking a sip of her drink. “That guy, Joncook.”

“Jungkook.” You corrected her with an annoyed sigh. Whether she has been purposely pronouncing his name wrong or she seriously couldn’t remember it, you didn’t know. “I already told you his name is Jungkook.”

“Potato, potahto.” Eunbi shrugged, cleaning her mouth after finishing her food. “Point stands. Call him.”

“Why would I? Didn’t you listen to anything I just said?” You asked thoroughly confused, “Clearly he’s not into me, otherwise he wouldn’t have said that it was a no strings attached type of thing.”

Eunbi wanted to hit you in the head to knock some sense into you. It was obvious, not only to her but to anyone who came across you two during those months of secret encounters. Jungkook, the rebellious and cold hearted man that anyone deemed as the raunchiest fuckboy, but that surprisingly most people would be willing to fuck. That’s who Jungkook was, but for Eunbi, for his friends and even for your own brother, Jeon was just a guy afraid to show his real feelings for you.

Almost too sickeningly cute, with his doe eyes and dumb smile, ready to go to the ends of the Earth to make you laugh or at least get a grin out of you. It was so painfully obvious to anyone but you how badly in love he was. It wasn’t infatuation, although at first it was a huge possibility; it wasn’t a simple crush despiste starting as one. It went beyond that, beyond the weak barriers of taking a liking of his best friend’s sister. It was more than just saying that he thought you were attractive, although he clearly thought that.

Jeon Jungkook had it bad for you. But how could you be able to see that?

The only face he would ever show you was one full of indifference, overconfidence and nonchalance; adorned with a smug smile and a pair of darkened eyes that warned you with a simple look that pure chaos was about to ensue. However, he did treat you differently than most girls. Jungkook would never get out of his bed at one in the morning just because your friends ditched you at a bar at the very last minute and you were too scared to call an Uber or a taxi.

He’s never remembered the coffee order of the girls he’s hooked up with, but oddly enough he remembers the exact amount of sugar you like in yours; Jungkook wouldn’t even remember their names. But yours? Yours was embroidered on the very front of his brain, not willing to erase it, not willing to forget it. Your order would be the first thing that comes to his mind every time he’s at a coffee shop, and more often than not he’s made the mistake of ordering yours instead of his, only to realize what he did a second too late. Your name was always at the tip of his tongue, risking his opportunity to fuck a random girl he met at a party. All because he almost said your name.

All those things were unmistakable, not easy to be looked over or ignored.

But once again, how could you be able to notice that the man was head over heels for you? When you wouldn’t even let your heart accept its own feelings.

“Do I really need to say it?” Eunbi deadpanned, staring at you with an annoyed look. “My god, Y/n, you’re not usually this dumb!”

“Excuse you?” You look offended, and rightfully so, but you were also ignoring the fact that your friend was just trying to make you see the obvious. “You’re being mean right now.”

“And you’re not being reasonable.” She sighed in exhaustion. “At least think about it, alright? If what you told me it’s anything to go by, that boy has it bad for you.”

Thinking is all you did, thinking is all you knew; it seemed to be like an easy task, but in hindsight it was way more difficult. It took you two more days to actually come to the conclusion that Eunbi may be right, and for those two days your mind didn’t have a peaceful moment to even worry about your upcoming exams. Your brain was completely fried at that point, full with possibilities and theories of what the outcome of finally confronting Jungkook might be.

The first possible outcome was the least feared out of the thousands.

If you were to reach Jungkook through a text, he would not reply. Now, that wasn’t really that bad, and in a more down to earth mindset, it would be completely deserved. Your not so reasonable side of your brain reassured you that he would and most likely will reply to any text you send him. Why wouldn’t he, after all?

The second possible outcome was one that you didn’t want to acknowledge.

If you were to call him, Jungkook would hang up after telling you to fuck off for not reaching out sooner. Seemed fitting and a very Jungkook-thing to do, but still you wished for that scenario to be false.

The last one was the worst among the assumptions swimming through your head. If you were to finally confess your feelings… he would reject you.

Rejection as a whole seemed like a terrifying experience. People would often avoid getting to that point, whether it would be them facing rejection or being the culprit of someone else’s broken heart. You had been on both sides, had gone through both experiences; it wasn’t anything you would like to live again. Hence to why you were trying so hard to suppress your feelings.

Poor and weak heart of yours, it didn’t choose who you love, but it certainly chose who you hurt. And as it turns out, it wasn’t only your brother who got caught in the crossfire.

Ever since you were a kid, flowers made you feel at ease. Their smell, their texture, even their bright colors. Anything about flowers was as relaxing as a day at the beach, at least for you.

You grew to be that one girl completely enamored with nature, and your fascination for flowers was only enhanced once you realized that people would use them as a token of love and appreciation for others. It was romantic, it was pure, it was honest. Gifting flowers to those who you loved and appreciated, to those who you held close to your heart, was such a kind and lovely gesture.

It was the purest act of love you could come across.

The meaning behind every kind of flower was such a wonderful thing to discover. Daisies were often a symbol of happiness and purity; whereas hydrangeas symbolize comfort in times of sorrow, especially at funerals. Orchids often represented beauty and strength, as well as the flowers birds of paradise. Roses, often associated with deep passion and love, had variations in meaning due to their colors; they could represent innocence and purity if they were white, or friendship and warmth if they were yellow.

However, among all those types of flowers, the ones you were holding in your hands at the moment were the hardest ones to carry with you. For no other reason than their meaning.

Striped carnations were often known for representing regret and remorse. They were used to apologize for past actions or mistakes.

It seemed fitting, so you bought the bouquet when you passed by a flower shop on your way to Jungkook’s house.

It took you way too long, but it was after one decisive night in that lonesome room of yours, fighting back the tears while finally reading those soft and beautiful words Jungkook used to pour his heart out, to confess his unmistakable love for you, that you finally made the decision. It was now or never, whatever the outcome of this might be, you’d face it and endure it.

So it was with shaky hands and wobbly legs that you carried yourself to Jeon’s apartment, holding the flowers tightly, afraid that they might disappear if you loosen the grip.

Several seconds passed with you standing outside his door, fearing that if you knocked reality might finally hit you in the face with the bitter truth: Jungkook didn’t want you anymore.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, or you’ll finally let me get in my house?”

That husky and seductive voice. It was hard to miss and hard to mistake it for anyone else’s. That particular voice tone has been playing in your head ever since the night everything went down. It was obvious who it belonged to, and the undeniable fact only made your nerves reach a whole new level.

“See, I wouldn’t usually complain about a pretty girl standing outside my door, but I really need to get these bags inside.” Jungkook didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and even if he did you would never notice.

Maybe you made the right choice to come and finally talk, or maybe you didn’t.

Truth was that as it has been stated many times before, you were very oblivious, so it would be no surprise if you read the room wrong. But then again, he called you pretty, right? Wouldn’t that count for something?

“I— Yes! Fuck, sorry, I didn’t know you weren’t home.”

First apology of the night; many more to come.

“Would you mind helping me get my keys?” The dark-haired man in front of you turned around, just the right amount to insinuate that you grab the keys from his back pocket. “The left one.”

Hesitantly, you reached out and dug into his pocket to retrieve the keys and give them to him. There was a light and soft touch when your fingers brushed that sent a slight shiver through your body.

It has been so long since the last time you were this close to Jungkook that you were already forgetting his touch, his smell and the way he could mesmerize you with a single look.

“Come on in.” Jeon led the way inside his house. “Get comfortable while I put this away.”

Jungkook was quick to make his way to the kitchen, getting the groceries out of the bags and setting everything in their respective place. It was hard for you to loosen up and get comfortable in a space that became foreign to you. Had it been any other time, you wouldn’t have thought twice before sitting on the couch, or even following him to the kitchen to tell Jungkook about your day while he loaded his fridge with meat and veggies. But now it was different. Now you felt an increasing tension between you two, which made you stand stiff in the middle of his living room, rethinking your decision of finally confronting him.

It was not that you were a coward —maybe you were— but more so the fact that you didn’t know how to have a proper and serious conversation with the guy in question. The talk you had with your brother was orchestrated by Taehyung himself, you only chimed in to apologize profusely, which shouldn’t have been enough but seemed to be more than sufficient for your brother. However, this time the ball was in your court, you were meant to do the talking while Jungkook was expected to listen attentively or at least pretend he was.

Maybe you should’ve thought this through before putting your plan into action, but it was too late to back down now, and in all honesty, you weren’t sure if you were capable to postpone this conversation any longer.

“I gotta admit, when Taehyung told me you were planning on paying me a visit I didn't believe him.” Jungkook’s voice rang through your ears once again, he walked back from the kitchen, becoming aware of your quizzical look. “Oh, he didn’t tell you we were back on friendly terms, I see.” He chuckled, beckoning you to sit on the couch with him.

Not only did your brother omit the fact that he was back to being friends with Jungkook, but also he couldn’t keep his mouth shut about your plans of finally talking to Jeon, which made you upset by default. You thought that by now secrets and hiding things would have been out of the picture between you and Taehyung, but it looked like it was only you who decided to go down the path of honesty.

“You two… Is everything okay between you and my brother?” It was only fair to ask, although you already knew the answer.

Jungkook nodded, looking away from you.

“He called me a few days ago to talk, and well…” He drifted off. “I would say that everything’s back to normal.”

“That’s good.” You nodded.

It truly was. It might not seemed like it, but you were equally concerned about their bond being broken as you were about yours with your brother. It would deeply pain you to know that they couldn’t continue to be the best of friends after the incident. It sent you a sense of relief that they were on good terms again, at least you didn’t have to worry about ruining their friendship anymore.

“Are those for me?” His sudden question made you blink repeatedly. “The flowers, I mean.”

Looking down at your lap you realized that you were still tightly holding the bouquet of striped carnations.

“Oh… yes, they’re for you.” Your hands moved slowly to softly place the bouquet on Jungkook’s palm.

“Why thank you.” He seemed surprised. “Usually I’m the one gifting flowers, not the other way around, so this is a first. Although, I don’t know if I should feel flattered or concerned that you’re giving me…” Jungkook stopped for a moment to look at the flowers more attentively. “Striped carnations.”

Of course he knew the meaning of the flowers. When has Jungkook not made you feel like a total idiot due to his undeniable intelligence?

“Yeah, well…” You drifted off, not really knowing what to say.

The dark-haired guy let out a soft sigh, while the ghost of a smile took place on his lips.

“Why are you here, Y/n?” Jungkook asked, silently urging you to answer honestly. “We both know you’re not here just to deliver these.”

You took a deep breath, avoiding his eyes for a second. In theory, it shouldn’t be this hard to answer his question or to start the speech that you have been memorizing all these days, but it was easier said than done. It was as if all the words in the English language had vanished from your brain, and you were left with dumb sounds that wouldn’t help your case.

“Maybe I should change my question.” Jungkook placed the flowers on this coffee table, before speaking again. “Are you sure you want to go through this today? It’s obvious you came here to talk about us, but how I see it, you might not be ready for it yet.”

You shook your head, squirming in your place to find a more comfortable position.

“I wanna do this, I really do.” You assured him. “I just don’t know how to start.”

The tattooed man nodded, carefully sliding a bit closer to you.

“Maybe you can start by telling me why you gave me those flowers.”

Jungkook, bless his heart, always knew how to get the best out of you. It was easy for him to get people to talk about things they didn’t even know they needed to let out. It almost made you think he had some sort of magic going on that would compel others to be open about their feelings.

“They… They symbolize regret.” You finally answered. “They’re usually given when you want to apologize to someone.”

It was certainly easier to explain the meaning than to actually do it, but it must count for something, right?

“Mhmm.” He hummed, waiting for you to continue with your explanation. “Why give them to me then?”

“Because I want to apologize to you.” There, you finally said it, there was no going back. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Taking a deep breath you continued. “I’m sorry about what happened that night, I’m sorry for the way I treated you afterwards; I’m sorry for putting all the blame on you when I was just as guilty. I’m so fucking sorry for the things I did and said.”

You felt like you could finally breathe, like a weight was slowly lifting off your shoulders.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” Tears were starting to cloud your vision. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wished I didn’t meet you. It was so stupid of me to say it, getting to know you has been one of the most complicated yet amazing things that have happened to me. And I’m truly sorry that I wasn’t able to show it.”

Jeon reached out to wipe away the tears that were starting to run down your cheeks.

“Please don’t cry.” He begged, almost too quietly.

It pained him how aggravated and distressed you were, right in front of him. Jungkook knew it was only right for you to apologize but it wasn’t fair that you were suffering so much when he was at fault too.

“I’m sorry too.” He finally apologized. “I did things wrong, I shouldn’t have agreed to hide all of this from Taehyung. I knew we weren’t doing the right thing, but I let it slide because it meant I could have you longer.”

Jeon regretted how things went down, but it would be a lie if he said he didn’t enjoy his time with you. Jungkook knew that the moment the truth was out, it would only complicate everything for the both of you; not to mention that he was scared that Taehyung would prohibit him from being near you. Jungkook was so weak for you that he couldn’t stand the possibility of losing you so easily. And so it was decided that it would be kept as a secret for as long as you two deemed necessary. However, he didn’t really think that the outcome would be so painful.

“I just… I couldn’t bear not being with you. I couldn’t let you go.” Jungkook confessed. “I’m sorry. A lot of things would’ve been different if I did.”

“No.” You shook your head. “Even if you tried, I wouldn’t have let it happen.” You brushed the tears away, trying to keep your composure. “Could you please forgive me? I don’t… I don’t want you to hate me”

You were silently praying that the answer to your question would be yes. It scared you that he reserved the right to reject you and move on with his life. After all, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did, it would be rightfully deserved.

However, Jungkook once again proved to you that he was way different from what you picture him to be.

“I already forgave you, sweet cheeks.”

His smile, oh how much you missed his smile. It was the rainbow you needed to see after a storm. Like a warm blanket during a snowy day. Like the comfort you seeked when everything outside was falling apart.

It was so him, and it almost brought you back to tears when you finally saw it. Shining so bright and pretty on his face.

“And I’m afraid that there’s nothing you could do to make me hate you.” His hand reached out to cup your cheek, making you lean into his touch. “Would you be willing to forgive me too? I know I hurt you with the things I’ve done, but–”

“Yes. I forgive you, Kook.” You smiled at him softly.

“That means we’re good, right?”

If only it was that easy.

There was one thing that was still bothering you and it was the unmistakable feelings for the boy in front of you. Confessing has always been hard, but when it comes to confessing your feelings to Jeon Jungkook, it was ten times worse.

“Actually, there’s something I still need to talk about.” You approached the matter carefully.

“What is it?” Jungkook felt uneasy, he didn’t know what else you had to say, but it was making him nervous. As if he knew something bad would happen. “Are you still upset?”

“No! No, no, it’s not that.” You assured him. “I… it might be a dumb question but… That text, the one you sent me the last time you tried to reach out to me.”

Why was it so hard to say it?

“Did you mean it, all of it?”

A sigh abandoned Jungkook’s lips, and the hand that was once holding your face, slowly retrieved to fall on his lap.

That was it, he was gonna reject you. That was the thought running through your head. His lack of response set a crack in your heart, making you feel vulnerable, making you feel dumb. It was obvious what his answer was going to be, why did you even have to ask?

“You read it?” Jungkook finally spoke. “I thought you simply decided to ignore it.”

You sighed, feeling ashamed of your actions.

“I did at first. I mean, I only got to read it as of recent because I… might have blocked you.” You cringed after finally confessing what you did. “I know it was childish, trust me, but I was mad at the time and I thought it was for the better.”

Jungkook simply nodded, showing you a reassuring smile.

“So yes, I read it, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t surprise me.” You looked like in his eyes. “That’s why I’m asking… Did you really mean it?”

The words adorning your screen late at night while you were reading the long paragraph he sent you were engraved in your brain. It was all memorized at this point. You spent night after night reading every single word while tears were spurting out of your eyes, lamenting that you didn’t open his message sooner.

I would never forgive me for the pain I’ve caused you.

I’m sorry for being a coward and not saying this to your face.

You already knew how sorry he was, not only because he apologized only a few seconds ago, but Jungkook also poured his heart and soul into that message, letting you know how deeply sorry he felt for what he put you through.

This is me being honest, this is me being true to myself.

The confession was the hardest part to read, but it was equally shocking and relieving to know that…

I wish I could say this to you, face to face.

He indeed…

But I can’t hide it any longer.

Felt the same…

I love you, Y/n.

For you.

“I did. I meant it, with my whole heart.” Jungkook smiled at you, sweetly, delicately, lovingly. He wanted to express his love for you in any way he could, in every gesture, every word, every smile. “I don’t know if I might regret this later or not, but what I know is that I don’t want to act as if I weren’t so madly in love with you.”

His answer drew a gasp out of you. It was one thing reading his confession and getting to know his real feelings for you, but listening to him say it out loud was a new, different experience.

Jungkook looked at you as if you held the world in the palm of your hands, as if you were the remedy for his pain; as if you were the only person worth fighting for. And maybe you were. He’s never felt any sort of feeling that could come close to the emotions he has experienced and continues to experience with you. His heart has never beaten so hard to the point of feeling as if it were to escape from his chest. It only felt like that when he was around you.

You were the reason for Jungkook's many sleepless nights, when Jeon could only think of every little detail about you that he loved so much. Your laugh, your smile, the way a frown would be adorning your face when you try to concentrate, or how adorable you look while playing with any pet you come across.

It was so hard for him to get you out of his mind; so difficult to erase the feeling of your skin burning against his, of your lips traveling all around his body to leave marks that he prayed would last a lifetime, because maybe that way, at least a part of you would stay within himself.

“I know you might not feel the same.” His husky voice echoed through the walls of his living room after a moment of silence. “And I didn’t say all those things in hopes you would reciprocate my feelings. I just couldn’t keep hiding it anymore.”

His words were running through your mind, as a distant noise. You wanted to say a lot of things, to scream from the top of your lungs that you loved him just as much, or maybe even more than he did you. But your brain and mouth weren’t connected, as it seems, because instead of putting an end to both of your sufferings, you opted to ask him:

“How long have you felt this way?”

Jungkook sighed, reminiscing about all the moments where he felt like falling in love with you. There weren’t that many, in all honesty, but every single one of them felt like the loveliest of dreams.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He confessed. “Maybe it was when I first met you and you were so nervous around me that you even tripped over your feet and fell onto me.” A smile was slowly appearing on his face, “Or perhaps it was when I picked you up from your friends house that one night. You were absolutely hammered and babbling about one of your friends doing a backflip while drinking a shot.”

“I was a complete mess that time.”

It was embarrassing to remember that night. You drank and ate so much that you ended up emptying your stomach the moment you walked in your house. The majority of it was a blur, but despite your clouded memory you could still remember the silly things you were saying to Jungkook.

It also happened to be the first time you almost confessed your feelings for him.

“You say that, but back then I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, with that green dress and your rosy cheeks.” Jungkook reached out to caress your face with his thumb. “The way you smiled at me that night… it was so hard for me not to kiss you until I lost breath.”

His words felt like a warm hug to your heart. Love is always a nightmare when you fall alone, and for so long you felt like it was only you who felt the chemistry between the two.

“Truth is, that I don’t know when or how I fell for you, it just naturally happened.” He smiled at you, cupping your cheek once again. “And I think it’s your fault I fell this hard.” Before you could protest, he continued. “How could I not develop feelings when you’re such a lovable person, Y/n. So caring, kind and beautiful through and through. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life and call you theirs.”

“Do it then.” A clear and determined glint was adorning your eyes. “Have me and call me yours.”

Your bold request surprised both of you. Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to say such a thing, let alone that you would indirectly confess that you wanted him in the same way he did you.

“What’d you say?”

“If you’re willing to have me, I want to be yours.” The anticipation was killing you, making all your senses be on the lookout for any sign of discomfort on Jungkook’s face. “I like you, Kook, and I mean it with my whole heart.”

Jeon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had already accepted the fact that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. A one sided, unrequited love was all he got, but perhaps life finally decided to give me a breather and let him have the ounce of happiness that the boy desperately craved all along.

“You mean… you feel the same?” He asked carefully, waiting for your answer impatiently. “You lo—, no, you like me too?”

With a soft nod and a bright smile, you answered: “I do. I do like you, and I do love you, Jungkook.”

The words felt foreign coming from your mouth, as if you never imagined yourself proclaiming your love for the boy on countless nights. Reality, however, was way better than any hypothetical scenario where Jungkook would run to you to say it was mutual.

You could see the exact moment when your words finally made sense in his head, when he finally realized that this was not a dream and that you, in fact, felt the same for him.

“You better not be joking.” Jeon teased, still being a bit apprehensive that you might laugh at his face as part of some twisted prank to break his heart. “This is… not how I imagined this would go.”

“Me neither, but I can promise you that I’m being as serious and honest as I can be.”

“I believe you.”

And he really did; deep down Jungkook knew that even if life would want to turn on him and watch him suffer, you would never play a part in that. Your words felt sincere, despite the hesitation in your voice and your fidgeting fingers.

Jungkook was sure that he could lay his heart in your hands, and let you take it away to make it yours, and he would never have to worry of you hurting it.

“Now, does that mean we’re good, right?” He asked once again, with a bright grin on his face.

“Yes, we’re good now.” You giggled, sliding closer to him.

“So, can I kiss you now?”

You stopped in your tracks, with your wide-eyed gaze and tingling fingers, ready to feel his skin on yours.

It has been a long time since the last kiss you two shared, you would be lying if you said you weren’t needy for his kisses or his touch, and so, without a second thought you leaned in, stopping just a few inches from his face.

“Do it.”

Jungkook didn’t need more than that. Your words were enough to make him lose his composure and crash his lips against yours.

A warm sensation spread all around your body, filling you with ecstasy and the serotonin you much needed, also luring you to take more and more of him. Your hands started a slow trip up his torso to finally wrap around his neck and pull him closer than before.

Jungkook was holding you with such delicacy, as if he were scared that you would break. It felt like a lifetime since the last time he had you like this and the boy was afraid he would do something that could ruin the moment. Days and days Jeon spent replaying in his head those moments full of passion and need that you two loved to share; the times where he would have you in his arms, silently claiming you as his, while his lips traveled across your skin to paint your flesh with hues of red and purple. Back then, Jungkook could only hope that said marks would fade slowly, letting him enjoy the way your body had proof that the only man able to take all your inhibitions and make you reach the sky was no other than himself.

Now, feeling you like this, touching you like this, without the fear of someone seeing you and starting rumors, without the worry of hiding from your brother, and with the clear understanding that both of you feel the same for the other, Jungkook could finally enjoy the moment to the fullest. His warm hands engulfing you in his tender touch distracted you from his desperate lips running up and down your neck, and from his teeth sinking into your flesh.

A moan escaped from your mouth, parting your lips while a rush of heat conquered every inch of your skin. It was becoming difficult to keep the moment nice and romantic, without turning it into a hot mess of kisses and inappropriate touching.

“I love you, Y/n.” Jungkook whispered into your ear, before pulling slightly away to look right into your eyes. “I really do.”

His soft gaze ignited a bubbling feeling at the pit of your stomach, making you want to stay like this forever, just staring at each other with tender smiles. But a part of you knew it wouldn’t be enough, you wanted more, craved more, so it was no surprise when you pushed Jungkook to rest on the back of the couch while you moved to straddle him.

“Show me.” You asked. “Show me how much you love me.”

A sly smirk took place on Jungkook’s face, while his hands acted automatically to be placed on your hips and hold you down on his lap.

“I’m not sure you can handle it.” He teased. “That you can handle me.”

The tattooed man was looking for a challenge, to start a play of who can handle more before they get so desperate that clothes start to fly out all around the house.

“Try me, then.” You argued back. “I promise you, you’ll be surprised to find out how much of you I can handle.”

A scoff passed his lips while his hands tightened the grip on your hips.

“You sure you want this night to go like this? Don’t you prefer we take this slower?” Even if there was a light mocking tone attached to his voice, concern and worry were also adorning it.

Jungkook was still scared that tonight might be just a dream and that once he closes his eyes you would slip through his fingers to never be found again. He didn’t want to make or say the wrong thing, and it worried him that falling into old habits would do the damage he was trying to avoid.

“Do you want to take things slower?”

It was a possibility you never considered, but coming to think of it, maybe it was better to take it easy before rushing to do things you might not be ready to do just yet.

It was a fresh start after all, but maybe that didn’t implied fucking on the same night you two finally confessed your feelings for the other.

“I want you, but I don’t want to ruin this chance we have now.” His answer warmed your heart, making you smile at him. “I don’t want to make old mistakes and make you think I’m only using you for your body.”

“I know you’re not, at least now I do.” You assured him. “I want you, Jungkook, and I want this with you, but if you’re not ready that’s completely fine, we don’t have to do anything.”

He shook his head, wrapping both of his arms around your waist to hold you close to him.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay with this.” A kiss was softly placed on your lips, before Jungkook suddenly stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to his bedroom. “But if we’re gonna do this, let’s do it somewhere comfortable.”

“The couch was comfortable enough.” You giggled, holding onto him to make sure you didn't fall.

“Maybe, but my girl deserves better than that.”

The last time you were in his room was when Jungkook decided it was a good idea to stay in, instead of going out with your friends. He managed to convince you to stay with him, as he promised you a night full of food, drinks and his head buried in between your thighs.

Back then you didn’t care to observe the little details that made Jungkook’s room so him.

His walls were painted with a somber hue of blue, adorned with pictures of him and the rest of his friend group or his family. Your brother appeared in most of the photos, as Jungkook cherished every single moment they have spent together. There was even a picture of him and his dog, Bam, which was currently at his parents house, framed on the nightstand. The rest of the room was as any guy’s room would be; clothes scattered across the floor, that you would often steal from him whenever you were at his place; messy desk with cans of beer and energy drinks, as well as his computer and a pair of headphones; two vapes were also left on the desk, next to a pair of rings and a watch.

The bed was adorned with a single pillow and white sheets. He didn’t need much as he lived alone, but anytime you were over Jungkook would try to accommodate his house to make you feel comfortable.

“Sorry for the lack of pillows.” He apologized when he put you down on the soft mattress. “I didn’t know you were coming over, or I would’ve gotten the one you like so much.”

“It’s not like we’re gonna use it right now, so we’re good.” You chuckled tugging his shirt to bring him down to you. “Now, please do something, I’ve been waiting for way too long to have you like this again.”

“So impatient.” He smirked, running his hands up and down your sides. “Let me take my time with you, like you said, it’s been too long.”

Jungkook started a trail of kisses down your neck, while his hands pushed up the fabric of your shirt to knead your hot skin.

“We need to take this off.” He didn’t waste a moment to take your shirt off, admiring your upper body with hungry eyes. “Fuck, I missed seeing you like this, baby.”

Jeon didn’t give you time to reply before his mouth attacked your lips once again. There was desperation and neediness coursing through both of your bodies and it was palpable how bad you wanted one another, which in result made the two of you act clumsy while getting undressed.

Jungkook struggled to take off your bra and pants but he finally did, leaving you only in your underwear. His hands ran up to fondle your tits, feeling them and tugging at your nipples while his lips were rapidly traveling down to the place where you needed him the most.

“So fucking perfect, you have no idea how much I wanted to have you like this.” He confessed, placing wet kisses all around your inner thighs.

“Jungkook…” You called for him in a breathy voice, while squirming in your place.

The sensations he was sending right to your core were making it impossible for you to stay put.

“Please…” You begged.

“Please, what?” He asked. “What do you want, beautiful?”

It was hard for you to talk, especially with his mouth so dangerously close to your soaked cunt, but you managed.

“Please touch me.” You moaned out, hands traveling down to pull his hair and get him closer to your core.

“Is this not enough?” Jungkook inquired, playfully. He didn’t relent, getting out of your grasp to do as he pleased. “Do you need more, baby?”

A nod was all he got, but that wouldn’t cut it, not for Jungkook.

“Use your words.” A harsh smack was delivered to one of your thighs, making it jiggle. “Come on, be good and tell me what you want.”

Groaning you rested your weight on your shoulders to look down at him with desperate eyes.

“Please touch me here.” Your hand moved rapidly to caress your center through your wet underwear. “I need you so bad.”

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” Jungkook didn’t waste a second longer on teasing you, instead he made sure to take off your dripping panties, putting them to the side and forcing your legs to stay wide open. “Look at that, so pretty and wet for me, huh?” He ran his fingers through your folds, smearing your juices all over. “This is just for me, right baby?”

You nodded vehemently, chasing after his touch.

“Yes, only you can get me like this.”

The tattooed guy dipped down, placing a dangerous kiss right under your navel, so close yet so far away from where you needed him the most. A fire was ignited in between your legs, and Jungkook was the perfect remedy for that. His lips traveled down slowly, coming face to face with your dripping cunt. He took his sweet time licking up and down your folds, his wet tongue felt wonderful against your burning flesh, making you elicit the sweetest of sounds just for him.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” Moan after moan, your composure and sanity were slowly disappearing, leaving you with an ardent need to grind against his tongue. “Faster, please…”

Your boy couldn’t deny any of your wishes, and so his pace quickened in a matter of seconds, running his tongue up and down as fast as he could, only momentarily stopping at your clit to suck on it before continuing with his ministrations. Jungkook was avidly eating you out, enjoying the taste of your juices on his hot tongue and the feeling of your entrance clenching on it whenever he let it slip in. It was like heaven on earth, like a much needed meal he waited for so long. And just like a starved man, Jeon did his best to devour you until there was nothing else from you that he could take.

“Don’t stop, I’m so fucking close!” You could feel his fingers opening your folds to make their way inside your cunt, pumping in and out at a slow pace. “Oh my god!”

Your hands were still pulling at his hair, desperately trying to get a good hold on him to bring him closer and closer to you.

“You taste so freaking good, baby.” Jungkook pulled away to inhale some air before diving in again and smothering his face with your soaking folds. “Fuck, best pussy I’ve ever had.”

His nasty words were making your eyes flutter shut, with a stream of curses falling off your lips. It was ridiculous how good he could make you feel with his mouth and his fingers, you always wondered how he knew exactly what to do to make you see the stars. Jungkook was so good at reading your body, even better than you ever could; his touch was delicious, charged with the right amount of passion to throw you over the edge.

“You getting close, doll? Wanna come on my tongue, hm?”

“Yes, please! I’m so close.” You begged, breathlessly. “I just— fuck, need it… need to cum, please.”

A chuckle vibrated against your cunt, making you shiver. His fingers slipped out of your hole, leaving you empty and needy.

“Go on, pretty, cum for me.”

It was almost automatic; the moment those words left Jungkook’s mouth, the waves of your pending orgasm finally crashed over your body, making your legs shake and leaving your skin coated in goosebumps. Eyes fully shut and mouth widely open, not caring about the obscene sounds coming out of it like a chant. Jeon’s name was repeated over and over like a broken record, just like a fervent believer would pray away their sins, so vehemently, so desperately. His name was attached to your brain, making it the only coherent word leaving your lips.

“There you go, that’s my good girl.” He caressed your sides softly. “You look so beautiful when you cum.”

His praise made your head feel fuzzy and the fire between your legs was fueled once again, ready for another round.

Slowly you opened your eyes, blinking away the tiredness and trying to focus on the boy in front of you. His face became clearer and clearer, providing you with one of his breath-taking smiles.

“You good there?” Jungkook asked, sweetly, while a tender kiss was placed on your lips. “D’you wanna take a moment?”

You shook your head, still recovering your ability to speak properly.

“I wanna…” A whisper ran through his ears, prompting him to lean closer. “Want to…”

“What do you want, my love?”

My love.

Jungkook has never called you that before, and if you were to be true, it felt fucking amazing to hear him say it.

“You, I want you.” It was your final answer, looking right up at him with a fierce glare.

Your hands reached out to palm him through his boxers, feeling his hard erection twitch under your touch. The dark-haired boy hissed at the sensation of your fingers wrapping around his cock, while giving it a light squeeze.

“You don’t— shit, you don’t have to.” Jeon reassured you. “Let me… take care of you.”

“But I want to.” You argued back, slipping your hand inside his underwear. He felt heavy and warm, and so painfully hard that it made you feel bad that he had to stay confined in the small space of his boxers while he ate you out. “Let me taste you, baby.”

You were craving his cock ever since you stepped into his room; the mental image of his dick pumping in and out of your mouth left you salivating, almost whimpering at the thought.

“Please, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Jungkook closed his eyes for a brief moment, pondering if he should let you have your way or if it was better to turn you around and fuck you into oblivion. He reasoned, at the end, that he could do both. Jeon would let you have your fun for a moment, and afterwards he would completely destroy you with his cock.

“How can I say no to such a pretty baby?” He grinned at you, getting in a more comfortable position while taking his underwear off. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Scrambling quickly to rest on your hands and knees, you took his cock into one of your palms, slowly stroking him and smearing the drop of saliva you spat onto his dick, to make it easier for you to move your hand.

It was such an amazing sensation, your small hand struggling to wrap around his thick cock, fighting your own urge to pump him dry until he was whimpering and begging. Maybe another time you’ll be able to see that side of him, but tonight you were determined to make him cum in your mouth, and so deciding you wouldn’t waste a second longer, you took his red head in between your lips, rocking your head slowly to take more and more of his length. Little by little you were able to fit almost all of him inside your throat, choking a little bit when his tip reached a bit too far.

“Fuck, that feels amazing, baby. Keep going.” He moaned, looking down at you and the way his dick disappeared inside your mouth with ease. “Just like that, don’t you dare stop.”

Your pace increased, ripping moans and groans out of the boy. Your heart swelled with pride for making him sound and act like that; it took you way too long to be in such a position once again that you were fearing you didn’t have the same effect on him anymore.

“Faster, doll, I know you can go faster.” His hand weaved through your hair to get a hold on your head and guide your movements. “That’s right, fuck, your mouth was made only for my cock.”

It truly was, his dick fit almost perfectly and without further complications. The way you were so eager to take him in, without flinching or gagging was truly amazing for the man in front of you. Jungkook was mesmerized by your ability to suck him off until he didn’t have much to give.

“Shit, stay still for a moment.” He ordered, placing both hands at each side of your head. You did as told, waiting for his next move. “There you go, I want to fuck this pretty mouth of yours.”

His hips swayed beautifully, thrusting in and out of your throat. His cock was reaching places like never before and brought tears to your eyes due to the effort of keeping your jaw relaxed and opened for him.

“That’s it, such a good little slut, letting me use you, huh?” He teased, smirking right at you. “You like it when I use you like this, don’t ya?”

It was as clear as day that you did, no need for an answer, yet you tried to nod, which only caused to boost his ego due to how much you struggled to move.

“Mhm, I know you do, baby.” His pace increased and so did his moans; it was difficult for the tall guy to be quiet, especially with the delicious feeling of your mouth on his cock.

All of a sudden he pulled away, letting you recover your breath and positioning you to lay back down again.

“As much as I’d love to keep fucking your mouth, I’d rather stuff this pretty pussy with my cum.” Jungkook leaned down to suck on your neck, making sure to leave a mark on a very obvious spot, where everyone would be able to see it.

Feeling like you belonged to someone, like you were a nice piece of jewelry owned by a man like Jungkook, it should have caused you a very different feeling from the one you were experiencing. Your eyes shouldn’t be searching for him, impatiently, to see that look of determination in his orbs that would tell you that you belonged to him and him alone. Your hands shouldn’t reach out to touch his back, sinking your nails into his flesh just like his teeth did in your skin; a weak attempt to reciprocate the feeling, to make it clear who was the only girl who would make the great Jeon Jungkook so desperate and needy. But they did, and you enjoyed it; you loved the hiss coming from his mouth and the shiver coursing his body. You adored the way his eyes softened for a brief second, while looking right into yours and straight into your heart.

It was like a stroke to your ego, knowing it was you who he craved, who he needed. It was you, and it would continue to be you for a long time.

Jungkook finally pulled away from your neck, standing tall in front of you and guiding himself to slide up and down your folds, coating his cock with your juices. His tip was nudging at your clit every time he went up, making you gasp and shudder.

It was a torture, feeling him so close yet so far from your entrance, the worst part was that he enjoyed getting you like this; Jungkook loved toying with you. And it was so unfair how much the boy could make you crave his touch, but not give it to you.

“Just put it in, for fucks sake.” A frustrated groan abandoned your lips.

You couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. However, you didn’t think about the consequences of your words and how bad it would end for you for demanding such a thing.

Jungkook stopped all of his movements, slowly drifting his gaze up, to look right into your eyes. His gaze darkened, making you recoil in your place, while your legs started to close in anticipation of his next move.

Jeon moved to get close to your ear and whisper, “I’m gonna let it slide just because I’m as eager as you to fuck you dumb, but be careful with what you say, princess.” Slowly, he pulled away, to then harshly open your legs and slap your clit with his cock. “Turn around.” He ordered.

It took you a few seconds to register his words in your brain, but finally you did as told, albeit reluctantly, because you wanted to see and feel him from up close while he fucked you into oblivion.

“Don’t turn your face.” He caught you trying to look over your shoulder, guiding your head to look right into the pillow.

“But I wanna see you.” You whined, not fighting him anymore.

“Shoulda thought about it, before acting like a brat.” A slap was delivered to your ass cheek, making you flinch and whimper. “And be grateful I’m being nice enough to fuck you, despiste your nasty attitude.”

Jungkook positioned himself with your entrance, anticipating the tight grip of your warm walls.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized quietly, in an attempt to make him relent and change positions.

“Too late for that, baby.” He chuckled while thrusting all the way into your tight cunt, not giving you time to argue any longer. “Fuck, this is heaven.” His head lolled back, placing both of his hands at each side of your hips to guide your movements.

“Oh my fucking god!” You exclaimed, feeling his veiny cock reach every crook of your insides.

Moans and whimpers were falling from your lips uncontrollably, due to how good Jungkook’s dick felt. He hasn’t moved yet since he thrusted in, but the sensation alone of being filled to the brim with his length was enough to make you see stars.

“Mo-Move.” You stuttered, trying to bounce back and create the much needed friction. “Please, move!”

Jungkook could only smirk, enjoying how vulnerable you were at the moment, completely at his mercy. He controlled your body and pleasure perfectly, knowing the spots and touches that would get you shuddering in pure bliss.

“Now you remember your manners, doll?” He grunted, slowly retrieving from inside your pussy, all the way out until your walls could only wrap around the tip. “How convenient.”

You wanted to argue and clap back, but it was impossible to form a coherent thought while being tortured like that. Jungkook didn’t care that he was also stopping himself from feeling the ridiculously amazing sensation of fucking into you, as long as he could teach you a lesson and make you regret your words and actions.

“Please, please, please.” You cried out, trying to move, but giving up after the tall man stopped you with a harsh smack. “Jungkook…”

The way you said his name made the guy feel some type of way, but still not enough to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You gotta ask me nicely, princess, and I might give it to you.”

He wanted you to ask nicely and ask nicely is what you did; gathering enough strength to softly utter the words, you tried to clear your throat to finally speak.

“Please, Kook, can you fuck me so good until I forget my name?” Such a sweet tone for such a lewd request. “I need you to fill me up with your cock, please.”

The tattooed guy leaned down, wrapping one of his strong arms around your neck while dipping down to whisper in your ear.

“Mmm, you sound so fucking pretty when you beg for me like that.” His gentle lips kissed up and down your jaw. “You did good, baby. I think you finally deserve it.”

Without previous warning, Jungkook thrusted all the way in again, filling you up to the brim, however, this time he didn’t torture you with a slow pace or any sort of teasing. Jeon didn’t waste a second longer and commenced to rapidly pound into you, until you could only whine and whimper.

His arm wrapped around your neck was slightly obstaculazing your breathing, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It felt immensely good to be fucked nice and hard while every single inch of Jungkook’s body was engulfing you.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, baby.” He moaned. “Clenching on my cock, so good.”

His free hand traveled down in between your legs to rub your clit, making you so sensitive and causing even more moans to fall from your lips.

“Sh-shit, oh god!” You exclaimed with a trembling voice. “So big… so deep.”

A chuckle rumbled from Jungkook’s chest. He has always loved how dirty you would get for him, speaking nonsense about his size and how good he fucks you. It was truly an ego boost.

“Yeah? You like how deep I go, baby?” He panted, due to all the effort he was putting into destroying you with his cock. “You love when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

You could only nod, it was hard to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

“Look at you,” he laughed. “You can’t even talk.”

You couldn’t protest, couldn’t even move. The only thing you could do was relax and allow your body to enjoy the way Jungkook was so avidly thrusting into you. Your arms and legs were starting to give up, feeling too tired to keep your body up; you just wanted to lay down.

Jungkook could feel your exhaustion, and so he quickly unwrapped his arm from your neck, to then turn you around and get you in a comfortable position, all of this while still fucking you senseless.

“There you go, better?” He asked, genuinely concerned about your wellbeing.

“Mhm.” You hummed, closing your eyes while your hands fisted the sheets. “Don’t stop…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jungkook felt like dying with the way your walks were clenching on him. Your pussy felt heavenly, so warm and so tight only for his cock. He knew he had already ruined you for any other man you could possibly meet in your life —not like he’s gonna let that happen, anyway—, and he loved that fact. The dark-haired boy enjoyed how you would only crave him, need him, beg just for him. This side of you, no one knew, he was sure that not even your past boyfriends got to see you like this. So free, so dirty, so beautiful and tempting. It was only him, and Jungkook could only wish it continued to be like that for a long time.

Amidst Jungkook’s wandering thoughts, he didn’t realize you had opened your eyes once again, looking right into his own, with such a fierce stare. Your hands started a slow trip from his thighs up to his chest, caressing his honeyed skin which was glistening with sweat; shining just right under the moonlight. Your nails softly scratched his flesh, making the boy tremble under your touch and lean into your hands to feel more of you. It was getting to that point where he no longer held power or willingness to be dominant. Jeon was starting to lose himself in you, in the way your cunt was wrapped around his cock, in the way his length would poke your stomach because of how deep he was; in the way your mouth was softly calling for him, accompanied by obscene noises that he only loved hearing if the came from you.

“You look so fucking pretty, Y/n.” The lack of a pet name sent a warm hug to your heart. You knew he was being serious; no teasing, no mocking. Jungkook was speaking from his heart, completely enamored with the view of you; panting underneath him while your body welcomed his embrace so perfectly. “I could never get tired of looking at you, my pretty baby.”

There were not enough words in the English language that could help you express how grateful you were for having a man like Jungkook in your life. But perhaps there was no need, since you knew that showing it was always more effective than saying it.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to mesh his lips with yours. His swollen lips moved slowly and gently, a stark contrast to the way he was fucking you. His cock was wildly ramming into you, while his lips were softly caressing yours. His tongue quickly made its way inside your mouth, starting a fight with your own to assert dominance, nonetheless, it was futile, that fight was already won by him and you could only back down and enjoy his touch.

“I’m so close.” You moaned, wrapping both of your legs around his waist to make him go even deeper. “I need to— fuck, I need to cum.”

Jungkook shook his head, heavily breathing while gathering his thoughts to talk properly. The feeling of it all was making him feel dizzy.

“Just… Just wait a bit longer.” He ordered you.

You groaned, fluttering your eyes shut while trying your best to hold it until he told you to let go. It became a torture once again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to wait for too long, especially with the change in pace and how deep his cock was reaching. His tip was nudging at that sweet spot of yours, making your whole body stutter and whine so perfectly that it made Jungkook grunt into your neck.

“I’m almost there.” He announced, manically pounding into you. “Just a bit more, princess.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I can wait… anymore.” You cried out, fisting his hair while your hips were desperately moving on their own volition, searching for some sweet release. “I’m gonna cum.”

It was not a warning anymore, it was a fact. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, making your body tremble with the waves of your awaited release. Rather than holding yourself back, you finally let go, enjoying the sensations and pleasure your orgasm brought with itself.

Jungkook hissed at the way your pussy clenched on his dick, making it almost impossible for him to keep moving.

“Oh, fuck.” He cursed, looking down at where your bodies were joined, feeling a bit lightheaded from how good it felt. Your cum was coating his cock, making it shine so perfectly. “That’s my good girl, make a mess on my dick, come on.”

His encouraging words only made it even difficult for you to come down from your high, but the boy couldn’t care any less. Jungkook rejoiced in the feeling of pride for making you feel that way, to make you so vulnerable and weak that the intensity of your release would make you go dumb and turn you into a babbling mess. Not a single thought was behind those beautiful eyes of yours at that precise moment, and Jeon loved how lost you looked, reaching out in need of his comforting touch to ground yourself after such intense orgasm.

Your hands found his, intertwining your fingers to form a hard grip.

Jungkook kept fucking into you, desperately searching for his own release, not stopping for even a second to catch his breath. He needed to cum and needed it now.

“Can I cum inside you?” Jeon was so quick to ask when he felt his orgasm building up in the pit of his stomach. “Please… I wanna fill you up.”

It was such a different side of him. The whiny and needy side of him you loved so much. His begging got you weak in the knees and made your stomach flutter with adoration.

You nodded, gently caressing his face while kissing his lips once again.

“Look at me, please.” Jungkook begged so sweetly. “Keep your eyes on me, I need to see you.”

“Let go for me, baby.” You smiled up at him, staring right into his eyes, while noises full of passion echoed through the room.

His whiny moans rang in your ears, making you feel fuzzy inside.

“Fuck, so good.” He moaned, resting his forehead on yours, his eyes never looking away. “I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Kook.” You said, breathlessly, feeling his warm cum filling your already sore pussy. “Just like that, so good.”

Jungkook kept rocking into you until his legs couldn’t hold him up and he ended up crashing into you. His strong arms slowly wrapped themselves around your frame, keeping you close and safe. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, with his hot breath hitting against your skin. A stream of incoherent curses were coming out his mouth, making you giggle. Neither of you dared to speak for at least five minutes, silently deciding to enjoy each other while recovering from each of your intense orgasms.

It truly felt like heaven on earth, whether it was because of how long you two have been apart, or because of Jungkook’s amazing skills; whatever it was you felt amazing and finally complete. The missing piece of the puzzle was finally here, making your life ten times better and brighter.

Jungkook was the first one to break the silence, with his babbling and groaning.

“What was that?” You asked him to repeat himself.

“I said…” He sighed, pulling away from your neck. “I’m fucking spent.”

“Me too.” You giggled. “But it was worth it.”

“Damn right it was.”

Jungkook finally pulled out, watching his cum slowly flow out from your cunt. Two of his fingers gathered the liquid coming out of you and pushed it back inside, making you gasp in surprise.

“We can’t afford to waste any drop now, can we?” He smirked at you while his fingers danced slowly inside you. “You always feel so warm, baby, no wonder why I love your pussy so much.”

After a few seconds, Jungkook retrieved his fingers from inside of you and wrapped his pink lips around them, liking every drop of both of your cums.

“So sweet.”

A part of you wanted to push him to lay down and ride him until your legs couldn’t keep you still, but you were so tired and exhausted that even the idea of putting any effort into making Jungkook lay down made you groan.

“Come here, baby.” Jeon wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, making your head rest on his firm chest. “Let’s rest for a bit before I fuck you again.”

You hit him softly in his stomach, causing both of you to giggle.

“Just how much stamina you think I have?” You asked.

“Not so much, to be honest.” He joked. “But it’s bold of you to assume I would make you work for it a second time. I’m not that mean, baby.”

“Yeah, that’s what you want me to think.”

You looked up at him, only to realize Jungkook was already staring at you. His doe eyes were looking right into your own, making their easy way into your heart. Jungkook had a way to always make you feel special whenever he looked at you. He did it back when you two were nothing more than a quick fuck, and he did it now when your souls were finally intertwined.

“I meant it.” He started saying. “I really love you, Y/n.”

“I know, Kook.” You assured him. “And I love you too, just as much.”

A soft kiss was delivered to your forehead. “I just wanted to make it clear. I spent too much time hiding my real feelings that I’m scared you’ll get the wrong idea and feel like I’m not being honest enough.”

Your hand flew right up to rest on his cheek, caressing his cheekbone tenderly.

“I understand the sentiment, but there’s no need to hide from each other anymore. I can feel your love now, Jungkook, and it’s one of the most amazing sensations I’ve ever had.”

Your words helped the boy to feel at ease. Jungkook was on high alert for any discomfort he might cause you unwillingly; he feared you would simply leave his side if he such as said that your hands were starting to get cold. That kind of feeling was something you didn’t want the boy to experience and you were more than happy to reassure him over and over again that what he felt was not only reciprocated but it was also enough for the both of you.

“Let’s sleep a little bit, I’m too tired to even talk.” You snuggled into his side, hiding your face in the crook of his face while your arms wrapped around his torso.

Jungkook smiled fondly, looking down at your already sleepy figure.

“Rest well, princess.”

Taglist 🏷️

@aphrwodite, @r1r111, @cholychi, @artificialsuicid, @tatamicc

#jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jk x reader #jk x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!#[su&l!jk]#[shut up ‘n listen fic!]

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thevoidstaredback · 8 months ago

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

It had been a long few minutes since he'd opened the door and there were a lot of questions running through Dick's head. Most pressing of which was how this kid seems to have information he should not have.

"How did you..?" he asked, but the words wouldn't leave completely. There's so much he wants to know, so much he wants to ask.

"How do I what?" Danny tilted his head like the child he seems to be is.

"How do you know?" Dick knows he sounds weak. There's no hiding that, but there are a lot of implications in what the kid has said so far and none of it is painting a very happy picture for him.

"Oh!" Danny had the audacity to smile, "You want to know how I know you moonlight as a vigilante!" And of course he knows. Dick knows he knows, but he'd held a little bit of hope that the child Danny was mistaken. Danny's smile softened a bit as he explained, "Your hair and voice match up in both jobs almost perfectly. Not to mention your build and how you hold yourself. There's also the matter of your overall vibes, but that's not something living beings can normally pick up on." Excuse him? "Well, not living humans, at least, so no worries on that end!"

"Excuse me?" Dick was fairly sure his heart just stopped beating for a moment there.

"Anyway, I was a hero back home for a while, too. I know what it's like to have to walk the tightrope between maintaining a civilian cover and a hero persona. I know how it feels to have to keep secrets from everyone because anyone who knows will be in danger." he rambled, Though, admittedly, our circumstances are quite different. I was working as a hero all hours of the day as well as going to school. You only have to worry about properly balancing between day and night jobs. Either way, me having more to bounce between just makes me al the more qualified to help you!"

Oh. Oh he did not like that. He didn't like a single thing that just came out of the kid's mouth. Because that's what he is, a kid. "Are you...Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," Danny admitted with an even smaller smile. Then, it brightened, not quite to a grin, but to something similar, "But I'm here to make sure you are."

He gets points for being honest, but Dick felt his heart shatter. He knew for a fact that he'd never worked with this kid before. He also knew that the Justice League didn't know about him. If they did, he would've been picked up and dropped with either the Young Justice team or the Titans.

Dick wasn't going to ask why he became a hero because that's not his place. It's more of a 'third mission with the team' kind of questions, anyway. Most of the heroes didn't have many options when they took up the mantle. Asking what Danny can do is a more appropriate question, but he wasn't going to ask that, either.

"Now that that's out of the way," Danny turned a few pages from the table of contents to another one that was topped with 'Why Sleep Scheduling Is Important' in the blue glitter pen that Dick was starting to suspect he favored. "You're not getting enough sleep. Following you around - no one's been able to find me for a while, so don't worry about that - for the last two weeks has given me some really worrisome information on you."

Dick was worrying. He was worrying a lot and even more questions were coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Your dayjob is as an officer on the Bludhaven Police Force, or BPD for short." He was looking over the page he'd turned to very aptly and Dick realized that the kid had notes written on him. "The average hours per week for police across the country is forty hours. Gotham and Bludhaven are the exceptions. As a member of the BPD, you work a solid two days and two hours. Six nights a week, you work as Nightwing from eight in the evening to three in the morning. The last day, you take off, which is good. No deserable pattern, so good on you for that. Regardless, that's seven hour nights and ten hour days, with one day off and one day on call as an officer. Seven hours are now left in your day for personal time, eating, and sleeping. That's not a healthy way to live."

Oh, god, the kid had honest to god notes on him! What the hell!

Danny didn't even skip a beat as he pulled Dick's attention back to him and his binder. "I've drawn up a schedule for you to follow." The back of the page had a meticulously drawn schedule, complete with blocks of time to eat, sleep, work both jobs, travel, personal time, and still have a bit extra left over. It was titled 'Ideal End Result' in green marker. "Drastic changes right away will only affect you negatively, so we're starting off smaller." The next page over had another schedule titled 'Where To Begin'. "I've only pulled one hour from your Nightwing hours because I know important that time is to you and the city. I am, however, going to be having you submit an appeal to your boss to cut back your hours from fifty a week to forty a week. That way, you'll only be working eight hours a day and not ten. You'll still be on call for one day, and you'll have that last day off. Altogether, you'll be going be going from working seventeen hours a day to fourteen hours a day. Nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, and eight in the evening to two in the morning. Not including breaks at work or travel time. It opens up a few more hours for you to sleep!"

"You really think the chief is going to pull back my hours?" Dick raised an eyebrow in question.

"He will if he knows what's good for him."

"You know I can arrest you for that threat, right?"

"Yeah, but you won't." And, damn it, he's right.

Although, there was now another thing he had to know. "How to you plan on enforcing this schedule of yours?"

Danny seemed to have been waiting for this. He got a gleam in his eye as he pulled a black folder from his bag, not breaking eye contact with Dick. He placed it on the table and pushed it across. "Congratulations, it's a boy."

Part 1 Part 3

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alllgator-blood · 9 months ago

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I call this one "found family but it goes horribly wrong in an irreparable way" :)

I've been doing a lot of cotl comics but I kinda lost my comic making endurance after not working on art since last september, so I made this to help me flex my art muscles. Apologies for the watermarks lmao they kinda kill the mood but I've already had people repost my art when I put it on reddit so...might as well get the credit if my stuff is gonna be reposted regardless. RAMBLE INCOMING!!

Thinking about how shamura was most likely the one to find + raise their adopted siblings and help them survive the mass deicide that happened thousands of years before....OUUGH. I have so many ideas for comics that take place when half the bishops were still lil kids. I have one in progress right now actually. But it just hurts when I remember how it all ends- they loved their family for so long and yet they credit their love as what caused it to fall apart!!! The lore of the bishops only sunk in when I was dealing with my own heavy sibling angst, and I was like wow....shamura supported the sibs so much they accidentally encouraged their brother into being a heretic, and couldn't close pandora's box in time to save him or the rest of the family. They blame themself for the past 1,000 years and seem to be totally okay with dying for what they did?? Like when they get sent to the shadow realm they tell you to "finish the job" instead of leaving them in purgatory. And despite being the bishop of war, they are the only bishop to not have a "desperate" phase where their attacks get more brutal. They're not desperate, they just want to get it over with. All their other siblings are dead by then anyway so it's not like they have anything to stick around for, even if they were healthy enough to win the battle. Plus I mean...narinder is the bishop of death so they probably just want to see him one last time. Owch

Don't get me wrong I love to hate narinder and his only role in my cult is the guy who cleans the outhouse, but I really like his dynamic with shamura vs. the other siblings. I kinda see him as the troubled kid that couldn't assimilate into the family and shamura took it upon themself to try and fix him. It's interesting thinking about how they're the only one he shows remorse for despite feeling the most betrayed by them. I don't think he 100% hates them, he's just been locked in gay baby jail for so long he's had nothing better to think about than "my sibling encouraged me to experiment with my godly duties, and then punished me for it!!". He's not wrong? But also is shamura that wrong either??? Idk it's complicated with no real answer and I like it a lot, I wish the game told us more about what the bishops were like before they got their shit rocked during the schism. I would've loved to see shamura before their brain was turned to mush by their tbi + 1,000 years of suffocating grief and crushing guilt :)

ANYWAY thanks for making it to the bottom of this rant, here is a sketch I did a while ago of shamura + baby leshy from a prequel au thing I don't have a name for yet:

#cult of the lamb #comic #cotl #cotl bishops #shamura #kallamar #narinder #the one who waits #heket #leshy

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say-al0e · 9 months ago

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Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something.

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach.

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach. “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up.

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you.

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath.

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

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