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tori111777 · 23 days ago

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FRIGHT AND FURY 4

Part 3, Part 5

Summary: Secret late night talks are being said

Warnings: Spoilers for Gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

The night was restless as you could not fall asleep. You husband had slept with you tonight, not leaving your side since the attack that had happened earlier today.

It felt nice having him next to you for once, you didn’t want to wake him up though, just watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed peacefully. You traced the lines of his face with your eyes. It was oddly peaceful, but also a reminder of how fragile everything felt in that moment.

Maybe you did start to care for him a bit, whether you would admit that to yourself or not.

“Caracalla.” You whispered his name ever so faintly that he wouldn’t wake up. His name hung in the air between you like a fragile thread. You let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, unsure of what you were feeling—torn between the weight of the day’s events and the growing warmth that seemed to blossom in your chest whenever you thought of him.

You brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The gesture felt intimate, yet so simple, as if everything could change with just that small touch.

Just then you heard a knock on the door that made you jump. You turned to see if Caracalla had woken up but he shifted slightly in his sleep, his body instinctively leaning toward you, as if drawn to the warmth of your presence. He didn't wake.

You pulled the sheets away ever so carefully and wrapped you arms around yourself, feeling your silk dress that you always wore to bed. Your feet brushing against the cold stone floor. Your hand hovered over the door’s handle, a rush of uncertainty flooding your chest. Hesitant to open but you did so anyways, the guards outside your doors wouldn’t just let nobody here.

The door creaked as you turned the handle, the sound sharp and loud in the stillness of the night. “Lucilla.” You let out a sigh seeing her. “I came to make sure you were alright?” She asked. Her eyes, soft and searching, scanned your face. She had always been able to read you better than anyone else.

You blinked a few times, still adjusting to the dim light in the hallway, and let the door swing open a little wider. Lucilla stepped forward, her presence both comforting and unsettling in the quiet of the night.

“Would it be better if he spoke at my place?” She looked around, “a place with no ears?”

——

“He’s been with you… since the attack?” Lucilla asked quietly, her voice gentle but probing. You were now sitting in a beautiful area in a courtyard. You slipped on something more appropriate even if it was in the dead of night.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at first. “He hasn’t left my side. I think... I think I’m starting to understand why.”

“I thought so. He’s not the kind of man who stays unless he has a reason.” Lucilla husband, Marcus Acacius had said as well. Though, you were not so sure why he was there.

Lucilla’s eyes softened further, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something older in her gaze, something she rarely allowed to show. “Perhaps he finally sees you. Not just as someone in need of protection, but as someone worth fighting for.”

You had spent so long building walls around yourself, protecting your heart from the unpredictable nature of men like Caracalla. How could you let him in now if you threw away the key?

“Which is why we wanted to tell you something…” General Acacius said looking to Lucilla then back to you. Lucilla glanced at her husband, her expression shifting as she prepared to say something important. She wasn’t one to mince words, but even she seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking.

“There’s a matter of trust," she began carefully. “Can we trust you?” The question hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “Trust is... hard to come by,” you said quietly, your voice a little less steady than you would’ve liked. “Not just with anyone, but especially after today.”

“I understand,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Trust is a delicate thing, especially in times like these.” The distant hum of night insects and the occasional rustle of leaves were the only sounds, and in that moment, you realized how small and fragile you truly felt, standing between two people who knew far more about loyalty and betrayal than you ever had.

“Yes.” You said firmly, “yes, you can trust me.”

Lucilla’s hand found yours, warm and steady. The gold bracelets on her arms clanked together. “The gladiator in the arena these past days… do you know who he is?”

You shook your head slightly, “no.”

"The gladiator," she began slowly, choosing her words with care, “the gladiator is Lucius.”

You blinked in surprise, he was thought to be dead after all these years. The one who had been causing so much buzz in the arena recently. It could not be him, surely… "Lucius?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The night air suddenly felt colder, more oppressive. “Your son?”

Lucilla nodded, the weight of her words hanging heavily between you both. Her fingers tightened around yours, a silent plea for understanding, as if she were preparing herself for the emotional turbulence that was sure to follow.

“But the man in the arena is not the boy who left. He’s changed, hardened by the years, by what he’s endured.” Her voice wavered slightly, as though the emotions tied to her son’s fate were still too raw.

You tried to process this new information, the weight of it all pressing against your chest. "But why keep this from me?" The question tumbled out of you before you could stop it.

“Because we did not know.” The general answered slowly. You looked at the ground then up slowly. “Wouldn’t he be the prince of Rome then?” It was the truth, he should’ve been heir. “Is this why it has to do with Caracalla?”

“Sort of the kind.” Acacius said. “We are going to break him out. Tonight. We need your help so the Emperors don’t find out.” For a long moment, you remained silent, processing the magnitude of the situation.

“This is treason.” You spoke out. "It is, yes," she said quietly, her voice laced with a painful honesty. "But we don’t see it as betrayal, not to Rome. To our family, you family, it is a chance at redemption. Think of your father.”

His reappearance could change everything, especially if he were to reveal his true identity. "Why come to me?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper. "Why trust me with something like this? You know what could happen if this gets out."

Acacius looked at you with a grim understanding in his eyes. "Because you're the key. We believe that Caracalla... cares for you, more than he’s willing to admit. He trusts you. With that, if anything gets out you can cover.”

“And Geta?” You asked them, still unsure. “He’ll believe his brother.” The general replied. You swallowed, looking between the two of them. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one more conflicting than the last.

"I don’t know what to do," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. The uncertainty in your chest was unbearable. "Alright," you finally said, the words escaping your lips almost before you could fully comprehend what they meant.

Lucilla let out a small, relieved breath, but General Acacius did not seem quite as sure. His eyes never left you, studying you intently, as if trying to read the depth of your decision.

“It won’t be easy," he said, his voice low and firm. "You’ll have to keep your distance from Caracalla—he can’t know about this. We’ll need to move fast. If we can’t get him out by dawn, it’s over.”

The escape of Lucius, the survival of Caracalla, and the fate of Rome itself now rested in your hands.

“I’ll head back, if Caracalla asks any questions, don’t worry about it.” You gave a reassuring smile to them.

As you made your way back to the chambers, your heart was heavy with the weight of what you had just agreed to. The silence in the hallway felt unnervingly loud as you approached your room. You could see the soft glow of the candlelight still flickering under the door, and for a moment, you hesitated.

You opened the door gently, careful not to disturb the fragile peace that had settled in the room. Caracalla was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady, his form a comforting presence in the dim light. The way he had instinctively turned toward you in his sleep—the way his body seemed to seek yours even in rest—made your heart tighten.

You closed the door softly behind you, locking it with a quiet click. Your steps were measured as you returned to the bed, your eyes lingering on Caracalla's face for just a moment longer. He had no idea of the storm you were about to become a part of.

Your hand reached for his, the coolness of your fingers brushing against his warm skin. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Caracalla.” You called out to him, waking him up. “Caracalla.”

Caracalla stirred slowly at the sound of his name, his brow furrowing as his eyes fluttered open. The dim light from the candle by the bed cast soft shadows across his face, and for a moment, he simply blinked at you, still lost in the haze between sleep and waking.

“Lucilla and Acacius are planning on committing treason.”

Authors note: you guys are so loyal to your man I was kinda hoping you all would pick Lucilla but I’ll give the people what they want

#ancient rome #caracalla x reader #emperor caracalla #emperor carcalla x reader #fred hechinger #gladiator 2 #gladiator ll #rome

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wosola · 2 months ago

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French kisses .2 - Lucy Bronze x French!Reader

Summary: This is during Lucy Bronze’s time playing for Lyon, she's just gotten into a relationship with R, a 22-year-old student. For R it is the first time sleeping with someone.

Warnings: This is an 18+ fanfic with explicit content, so minors DNI.

Part 1 here.

It was only a few days ago, but Sunday felt like a lifetime away as you recalled how your parents had adored Lucy. You remembered how Lucy had picked you up that Sunday, looking stunning in an outfit you hadn't seen before. She had arrived a full ten minutes early, a small smile on her face as she told you that punctuality was key.

You re envisioned the way your mom’s eyes sparkled when Lucy walked in with a bouquet of flowers, the perfect way to win her over; your mom loved flowers. "Pour toi," Lucy had exclaimed with a warm smile, her accent adorably imperfect as she stumbled over a few words in French.

Your dad had been equally impressed when Lucy handed him a bottle of expensive whiskey, having confirmed with you just the day before if it was an appropriate gift to give him. “I heard this is your favorite,” she’d said, her voice unexpectedly confident as she raised the bottle.

You adored the way she’d won your parents over. You where glad your parents where this welcoming, that they just wanted to see you happy, because you knew it was often not as pleasant for people to bring a same-sex partner home.

It was clear Lucy had learned everything she wanted to say in French, she’d probably rehearsed every potential compliment and conversational quip, ready for the moment she needed it. It worked though and in some strange way it made you fall more in love with her.

You felt a swell of pride watching her engage with your parents, laughing and sharing stories that bridged the gap between her world and yours. It was so nice to finally been able to bring someone home. Maybe it would be the only person you would ever bring home to your parents, because she was the love of your life.

Safe to say it had been a great success and the next dinner had already been planned before the two of you had left.

Now it was Thursday; the day you’d been waiting for. It was the day.

Your apartment was cozy, located near the university and just the right size for you and your roommate. It was great you could live there, as your parents lived outside the city, in such a rural place that buses didn't even dare to go near there.

The living room was a mix of mismatched furniture; a well-loved couch, a small coffee table cluttered with textbooks and half-finished mugs of coffee and a tiny kitchen that smelled faintly of whatever you’d cooked that week.

Earlier this morning, your roommate had teased you mercilessly about Lucy. “You’re glowing! I swear, it’s like you’ve got stars in your eyes,” she had said with a playful smirk, knowing you hated that kind of soppy stuff. But beneath the teasing, you sensed her genuine happiness for you, knowing you had found someone you really really liked and who liked you equally as much.

As you came back after classes that day, your roommate had left, spending the night at her boyfriend’s place. Leaving the space feeling oddly quiet yet filled with the thrill of anticipation.

So you had thrown yourself into preparation mode. You changed the bed sheets. You scrubbed the countertops and vacuumed the floors, wanting everything to feel just right.

Then came the shower, you put yourself through an extensive cleansing ritual, lingering for way too long under the jets, letting the hot water cascade down your back like a soothing embrace. Because besides wanting to feel clean, you where also nervous quite nervous.

Deciding what to wear was another challenge in itself. You tried on three different outfits, each time pulling everything off again and tossing it aside in frustration. Finally, you settled on a simple yet elegant outfit that hugged your figure perfectly, something that made you feel confident and beautiful.

As you stood in front of the mirror, taking one last look at yourself, you couldn’t shake the excitement mixed with a touch of anxiety. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was just Lucy. The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts and you knew the evening was about to begin.

Lucy showed up at your apartment with two bags in hand, insisting that you must not peek inside. “It’s a surprise amour,” she had declared, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that only made your heart race faster.

After exchanging a kiss, Lucy walked over to the kitchen and you stood there unsure of what to do. You watched as she moved things from one bag to another, a hint of excitement bubbling in your chest.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice cheerful. “Alright, love, if you want to unpack these things, it’s for dinner. I’ll just duck into your room for a bit and try to be quick, okay?”

She approached you again, planting another kiss on your lips and you smiled back at her, feeling warmth spread through you at her demeanor. “Don’t come peeking…” she joked, pulling you in for another kiss.

You broke the kiss and chuckled, “I wont,” waving her off as she disappeared down the hallway.

As you busied yourself in the kitchen, the anticipation of the night filled the air. You draped a dark red tablecloth over the coffee table, setting down all the different food Lucy had brought. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you uncovered the dishes. It was almost like a tapas table, but then all of your favorite things from different traiteurs. The logo from your favorite fromagerie was unmistakable on one of the little brown bags and your heart raced; you rarely treated yourself to these luxuries. Lucy had gone out of her way to buy all of it.

After placing down glasses and cutlery you only needed plates, so you walked back to the kitchen.

Lucy softly closed the bedroom door, as she was done setting things up and walked over to you. Coming up behind you, she placed a soft kiss on your neck.

You tensed momentarily but quickly relaxed into her touch. Your nerves were on high alert because of your nervousness. But you liked how she held you, her touch sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Ah, at the coffee table?” she asked, a surprised tone in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admitted sheepishly. “I thought it would feel.. less formal. We can change it if you want, but I thought… cozy?”

“It’s perfect,” Lucy assured you, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Perfectly us.”

You turned to face her, taking in the beauty of her features; her bright eyes, the gentle curve of her lips and the way her smile seemed to light up your kitchen. This was the face you had grown to love, the face you wanted to see first thing in the morning and the last thing before drifting off to sleep. You leaned in slowly, noticing how she tilted her head to meet you halfway, not taking the lead as she would usually do. The kiss was soft, filled with the promise you both felt lingering.

“Are you nervous?” Lucy asked quietly, pulling back slightly to gauge your expression.

“Uhm… I have nerves, but I’m mostly excited, I think,” you replied, your gaze dropping to where you absentmindedly played with her fingers, tracing their robust form.

“Well, I just wanted to say,” Lucy began, reaching up with her free hand to tilt your chin, ensuring you met her gaze. “If you want to stop at any time, you can always say so. I… uh, nothing will change between us if that happens, okay? For you, I would wait a hundred years if that’s what you need.”

You chuckled softly, your heart swelling at her words. Leaning in, you kissed her again, savoring the taste of her lips. “I love you.”

‘’I love you too,’’ with a smile on her face, Lucy gestured toward the food on the coffee table. “Okay, let’s eat then, I have searched all of your favorites, maybe I missed some I don’t know, I hope not but I-.”

You interrupted her, smiling ‘’are you nervous?’’ You asked her, hearing her rambling.

She scratched her neck, biting her lip. ‘’I want this to be perfect, for you.’’

‘’It is Lucy, don’t worry,’’ you took her hand as you took two plates in your other hand and pulled her to the couch.

After setting the plates down you settled down on the couch.

Lucy followed, settling beside you, she leaned forward to open the bottle of rosé crémant. You’d once mentioned liking it better than champagne and it made you smile that she’d remembered. You knew she hadn’t chosen it because it was less expensive but because it was what you preferred. It was something you loved about her, Lucy wasn’t just listening; she cared.

After filling your glasses, she handed one to you and raised hers to clink. You watched her, catching the slight hesitation as she searched for the right words to toast.

You chuckled and stepped in to help, saying what felt like the obvious toast “to us.” Your gaze locked with hers, and you tapped your glass to hers.

"To us," she repeated softly, her eyes meeting yours with a smile before she took a sip.

After that, the two of you eagerly started digging in to the food.

Lucy stacked her plate and sat back on the couch “Mmm, this is amazing.´´ she said with her mouth full. ´´I love all the food you’ve introduced me to in France.”

You laughed. “I could give you a dried-out baguette and you’d still enjoy it.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, nudging you with her elbow. “Not true. I have taste. Great taste, even.”

“I know, I was just teasing you.” You leaned in close, a playful glint in your eye. “Sorry,” you whispered, stopping just inches from her face.

She smiled, tilting her head even closer. “Hmm… I think you’ll have to make it up to me.”

You let your lips brush against hers, the anticipation crackling in the air. “And how exactly should I do that?” you said, taking the plate off of her and blindly put it back on the coffee table.

“Maybe a kiss.” Her words were soft, lingering just against your lips before she captured them fully, her mouth warm and inviting. The kiss deepened, her hand slipping around your waist, drawing you in against her. You let go, sinking into the kiss, savoring the way her fingers grazed the small of your back. Shivering as her hands cupped your ass, fingers digging in, urging you even closer.

Without breaking away, you shifted onto her lap, you gasped softly as her hands found their way to your hips, holding you as she carefully flipped you both, positioning you between her and the couch. Your legs wrapped instinctively around her and you could feel her weight balanced on her forearms bracketing against you, her feet slipping on the smooth floor as she struggled to hold herself steady.

But none of that seemed to matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of her pressed against you, how her hips moving against yours, the barely restrained hunger in her touch. Her lips traced along your jaw, pressing against your neck in a way that sent chills across your skin. Each soft grind sent ripples of electricity through you, your breaths becoming shallow as you felt yourself getting unsteady.

Your fingers curled into her shirt as her lips moved softly along your neck, the sound of her low hum sending a rush of heat through you. Then, just as suddenly, Lucy seemed to become aware of something, pulling back to look at you, her gaze hazy and unfocused, like she’d just come back down to earth.

You smiled, biting your lip, your legs tightening around her, holding her close.

She gave you a breathless smile, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softer, a little more composed. "Uhm, we should continue eating, hm?" she murmured, her voice laced with both amusement and hesitation.

"Well.. I’m not that hungry anymore," you replied, eyes locked with hers. Your heart tutted loudly in your chest. Your cheeks felt burning hot and you ached for something. You didn´t know what for, but you where wanting.

Lucy´s cheeks tinged pink, but she managed to keep her gaze steady. "Okay," she breathed, though there was a flicker of unsteadiness there.

Noticing it, you chuckled, slowly loosening your legs from around her. "But we can eat, " you teased, ‘’if you are hungry…"

Lucy’s mouth curved into a mischievous grin. "Oh, I’m hungry,´´ she murmured in a low, playful growl, ´´but not for the food" sweeping you up into her arms.

You giggled, letting yourself melt into her hold as she carried you down the hall.

When you reached your bedroom, she set you back down just before the door, gesturing grandly. "After you."

Stepping inside, you smiled. Your bedroom was transformed; the curtains were closed, a soft glow of dozens of candles casting warm, flickering light everywhere, their soft glow enveloping you both. The bed was covered in rose petals, arranged in the shape of a heart.

"It’s beautiful, Luce," you murmured, touched. "You put so much effort into this."

She shook her head modestly, glancing away. "No, it’s really nothing, I just wanted to—"

You turned back to her with a chuckle. "The candles are fake, I hope?"

Lucy laughed, scratching the back of her neck as she joined you in the room. "Oh, yeah. I figured it was… safer… and you know, I could put them on already."

You nodded and closed the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, wordlessly letting her know just how much everything meant to you.

Lucy held your gaze for a moment, eyes soft before she took your hand, leading you gently toward the bed.

The room felt warm as you stepped inside, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. You turned toward Lucy, feeling the quiet electricity in the air between you both.

There was a heartbeat of silence, a moment where the two of you just looked at each other, taking in this instant you’d both waited for.

Lucy broke the silence first, her fingers brushing over your cheek, down to your jaw and pausing there as her eyes searched yours. Her gaze was soft, maybe a little nervous but entirely steady, holding a depth of care that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world she could see. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with quiet awe.

A shy smile tugged at your lips, and you stepped closer, letting your fingers find the hem of her shirt. “Can I…?” you asked softly, meeting her gaze, asking without words if this was all right.

Lucy nodded, her hands finding their way to your waist, fingers light as though she were both carefull and eager all at once. You began to lift the fabric, inching it upward, feeling a heady mixture of nerves and excitement that made your fingers tremble.

As her shirt lifted, more of her skin was revealed in the warm candlelight and you let out a soft, almost breathless laugh. “You’re… hmm,” you murmured, not able to hide the excitement in your voice.

She chuckled softly, helping you remove her shirt.

Once her shirt was off, you let your fingertips trail slowly along her arms, feeling the curve of her bicep, your touch reverent as if she were something precious, almost sacred. She stayed still, watching you with parted lips, her breathing just a bit heavier then usual.

Your hand continued down over her shoulder and chest, tracing lightly as you went, feeling the defined muscle under soft skin. Fingers sliding over the line of her collarbone, pausing briefly at her chest before continuing downward to her stomach. Your fingertips brushed over the lines of her abs, feeling the strength there. She shivered under your touch.

Her own hands found the buttons of your shirt in response, looking at you for approval and after you nodded she took a steadying breath before unbuttoning them, her eyes never leaving you as more of your skin was revealed. She was quiet, reverent almost, as though seeing you this way was something that left her breathless.

And there you stood, inches apart, taking each other in. The hunger was there, palpable, but so was the sweetness, the awe, as though you were both seeing something rare and precious—something you wanted to savor.

Her lips found yours again, the kiss deepening as she guided you backward, her hands brushing over your shoulders and sides. When you reached the edge of the bed, she swept the rose petals aside with a quick swipe. She lowered you carefully onto the bed and you tugged her down with you.

With a quiet breath, you reached back to unclip your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. Lucy watched closely, her gaze warm and attentive. She gently slipped the bra off for you, tossing it aside without her eyes leaving your chest.

You whispered her name, wanting her attention, ‘’Luce’’.

She lifted her head, searching your eyes with a slight smile.

"Take yours off too?" you asked, almost shyly.

She nodded immediately. “Of course.” She sat up slightly and tugged off her own bra, letting it fall to the floor as well before leaning back over you, her bare chest now in your view. Your gaze lingered, appreciating every detail, your lips parting slightly as you took in the softness and beauty of her skin, her hardened nipples inviting your touch.

Seeing you captivated, Lucy gently took your hands in hers, smirking a little as she guided them to her chest. She laced her fingers through yours, encouraging you to cup her breasts, your palms brushing over the sensitive peaks. You gave a gentle squeeze, feeling the heat of her skin against your hands, still entranced by her body.

Lucy’s smile softened as she took in your focused expression. “Feels good?” she asked amused.

“Mhm,” you murmured, still in a bit of a daze before you blinked, meeting her eyes. “Yeah.”

part 3 next monday

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze smut #lucy bronze fanfic #lucy bronze imagine

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moonchild9350 · 6 months ago

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Sign the Dotted Line (Chapter Three)

Summary: You are confused, Minho’s actions are unexpected but you don’t have much time to dwell on the situation as the award show is about to start and so will your performance with Minho as bf/gf, publicly at least.

Pairing: idol Minho x fab reader

Genre: fluff? Smut-18+ MDNI

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: kissing (if it needs a warning ha), dry humping, masturbation

Notes: Decided to post a day early and here we are. ahhh super excited for this chapter as we see progression with the relationship. I loved writing this chapter and exploring the relationship between the two hehe. I hope you like it :)

New chapters are released on Saturdays at 1pm CST!

Comments, reblogs, and likes are greatly appreciated!

If you’d like to be a part of the taglist, general or for the series, let me know! (Age must be pinned or in bio).

Please do not copy, translate, repost, or use this work elsewhere without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

Prev. | Next. Series Masterlist

You sat in silence, running through what happened with Minho. You thought he hated you. His actions proving so over the last few months. Now he was willing to be that close to you, riling you up with the promise of a kiss. You felt far away, your mind preoccupied with your thoughts. You felt someone touch your arm, waking you from your reverie. Turning your head, you saw Changbin look at you with concern.

“Are you ok, y/n?”

You shook your head, shaking the thoughts away. “I’m fine, thanks Binnie.” Changbin looked at you, studying your face for a little while longer before giving you a smile. You smiled back, tuning into the conversation around you. Well, it wasn’t really a conversation as Hyunjin was teasing Jeongin, both boys yelling playfully at each other. You’re not sure how you missed that, the volume of their yells increasing with each playful punch from Hyunjin. Everyone was in a fit of giggles, watching the scene unfold. You laughed along with them, your troubles about Minho forgotten.

The door to the dressing room opened, the manager walking in. The room quieted at once, everyone looking to her for instructions.

“Alright boys, it’s time. Girls please stay close to the boys.” She looked at each person in the room before saying, “ok follow me!”

Everyone got up, filling out after her. You walked over to Minho. He looked at you before motioning for you to walk ahead. You did so, following after Chan and Harin. You felt the light touch of Minho’s hand on your back as he guided you throughout the halls. It was oddly comforting, your anxiety increasing the closer you got to the arena. Walking through the entrance, you heard loud screams, fans cheering and screaming the names of the boys as they filed their way to their seats. You plastered a smile on your face, more nervous than you’ve ever been. Thankfully, Minho’s hand never left you, anchoring you to the task at hand.

You all made it to your seats and one by one sat down. You were relieved to sit, finally glancing at your surroundings. You saw various idols seated in front and behind you, as well as the fan section you passed by. The moment was surreal and a lot to take in.

Minho kept glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. He could tell you were nervous, hence of why he thought it would be appropriate to touch you somehow, deciding on placing his hand on your lower back to help guide you. He thinks he was right in doing so because you seemed to be less tense. He could hear the fans screaming his name, reaching out trying to touch him as he walked by. He’s sure they noticed you, but they weren’t paying attention, not now at least. He knew you two would have to play up your relationship, show the crowd that you were in love with each other, the opposite of what it has been over the past months.

He sat as close as he could to you without making you uncomfortable, placing his hand carefully on your knee. He felt you tense and shiver at the gesture, but he just looked at you and smiled giving your knee a squeeze. He could have some fun with this, might as well play up the title of your boyfriend. He started to trace little circles on your leg, his touch feather light. He chatted with Felix who sat next to him, going on about the upcoming schedule.

You were beside yourself, the feel of Minho’s hand on your bare knee causing goose bumps to rise on your legs. Every time he squeezed the flesh, you felt your pussy flutter, slick pooling out and dampening your underwear further. His touch felt so good, wanting him to continue despite the location you were at. You felt your cheeks flush, your ears turning hot. If anyone looked at you closely, they may have just thought you were nervous.

Hyunjin who sat on the other side of you noticed you seemed a little off. He saw that your face was flushed and you seemed to be on edge. “Are you okay, y/n?” He asked, concern plastered on his face. You looked up at him, and noticed Seoyun look your way too before nodding yes.

“I’m fine, just a little nervous.” You let out a little laugh at this, your eyes darting this way and that. You needed them to think you were nervous because of this being your first event, so without hesitating further you said, “so many idols and fans here…just a lot to take in.” The couple nodded their heads in agreement.

“Don’t worry, y/n. I felt the same way too at my first event. You get used to it as time goes on,” Seoyun said, as she gave you a gentle smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back at her kindness, grateful for her encouraging words. You could feel eyes on you from the man sitting on your other side. His grip on your thigh was firm, causing you to slightly wince at the discomfort. You turned to look at Minho and ask him to loosen his grip a little. Minho must have noticed, because you felt his grip lightened, his eyebrow raised in concern. He messaged the skin, soothing the pain. Despite this, you knew there would be bruises there tomorrow.

At that moment, the lights dimmed, as the ceremony began. You sat up straighter in your seat, your eyes darting this way and that, trying not to miss anything. You were having a great time, laughing at the MCs jokes and clapping along with everyone else. You watched wide eyed as you watched some of your favorite idols perform, a smile on your face the whole time. The show was the only thing on your mind, Minho forgotten, even though he was right next to you.

Minho knew he should be paying attention to the show, listening and applauding for the groups as they came up and accepted awards. He should be cheering and enjoying the other idols performances, some of those on stage being close friends. However, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The amount of joy that you expressed made his heart flutter. He loved seeing your smile and laughter, the sight causing his brain to go fuzzy. He had no idea what was happening to him. He was not supposed to feel this way towards you. He did not want to call it like it was. He did not want to admit to himself that he was falling for you.

Later in the show, the boys won an award, delight and happiness on their faces as they made their way to the stage to accept the award. You and the other girls stayed at your seats, loudly cheering for your boyfriends and friends, not caring that your reactions were being filmed by the crew and fans alike. You were beyond ecstatic for the boys, their hard work paying off. The crowd settled down as Chan made a speech, thanking Stays for their support, and the members for being the best they can be. You sat perched on the edge of your seat, your hands clasp in front of your face as you watched Chan hand the award over to Jeongin.

Everyone clapped loudly once more as the boys exited the stage. You couldn’t wait for the next part of the show as the boys would be performing a few of their hit songs for the crowd. You chatted occasionally with Harin and Seoyun, as all three of you continued to watch the show, patiently waiting for the boys to come on stage.

You didn’t have to wait too long as the MCs announced that Stray Kids would be performing and welcomed them back on stage. The fans went wild, going crazy over the boys outfits. The lights dimmed and there was brief silence before the music began, the boys sprinting into action to perform their routine. It was amazing watching them in practice, but watching them perform on stage was definitely better. You were in awe, watching as they sold the show, as their singing was on point and outfits making them look hot.

They performed three songs before thanking everyone and exiting the stage. It took them about thirty minutes before they came back to their seats, sitting down to finally rest. You congratulated all of them, praising them for their effort and their performance on stage. You looked at Minho, wanting to tell him how amazing he was on stage, but stopped short after you noticed how he was staring at you.

His face was dewey from sweat, his plush lips seemed even more soft and pink. You quickly looked away, deciding not to talk to him at all. It was pathetic really, you should be able to speak with Minho, but you were stubborn and decided he can speak first if he so desired.

Minho hoped you had cheered for him, watched only him while he was on stage. He wanted you to be entranced by his moves, under a spell as you listened to his voice. It’s really all he wanted. Before he could stop himself, he reached down and grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He watched as your faced changed into shock at the action. He grinned to himself before turning his head to look back at the stage.

His hand felt warm in yours, your fingers slotted together just right. You stared at the sight, one you thought you never would see. What was going on with him? Ever since earlier in the dressing room, Minho has been acting strange. His actions shouldn’t feel strange, but yet here we are. You weren’t going to complain however. You liked touchy feely Minho, and you knew you would be missing it as soon as the event was over as you knew he was probably only doing this since it was expected of him. You sighed before watching the rest of the show, watching as the MCs said their goodbyes, the crowd cheering for another successful award ceremony.

The boys stood up to leave, you following suit. Minho still held your hand as you both walked out of the venue and back to the dressing rooms. You could hear the fans cooing at you two, flashes going off everywhere as they took picture after picture. You were sure this would be top news tomorrow. Once everyone made it back to the dressing room, you all plopped down on the comfy couches, reminiscing on the night.

The manager came in, congratulating the boys on another job well done. There were smiles all around, everyone on cloud nine after winning an award and performing. She told everyone to get changed, the cars would be ready to take everyone back to the dorms shortly. You got up with Harin and Seoyun and made your way to the dressing across the hall. As you all were getting changed, the girls couldn’t help but talk about Chan and Hyunjin, how hot they looked on stage. Harin mentioned Chan was going to come to her dorm as she gave you both a wink.

You blushed at the insinuation of her action, knowing exactly what she meant by saying Chan was coming over. Seoyun mentioned how Hyunjin would probably come over too, after all tonight was a night of celebration. You kept quiet as they chattered, knowing there was no way Minho would come to your dorm, that feeling of jealousy creeping its way back into your mind. You quickly finished getting dressed and announced you were going to head back to say goodbye to the boys. The girls looked at you in shock, as they thought they could chat with you more before you went home. You wanted to, but you didn’t want the constant reminder that they had loving relationships and you didn’t.

You made your way back to the boys dressing room, knocking and carefully opening the door before walking in. You said your goodnights, congratulating them on their win and performance once more. They ran and gave you hugs, your laughter filling the room. After you disentangled yourself from the hug pile, you made your way to find the manager so yo could go home. You were exhausted and you would love nothing more than to take a shower and go to sleep.

You were drying off, going through your night time routine. You felt refreshed, the makeup gone, the sweat washed away. You had an amazing time at the award show and couldn’t wait for your next one. You tried not to think about Minho and how he teased you all night. You tried not to think of his lips and how they were almost on yours, or how his fingers felt…no stop, you told yourself. You were not going to dwell on that man.

Finishing up your routine, you climbed into bed, letting out a sigh as you relaxed under the blankets. You turned off your main lights, leaving on the fairy lights you had on your walls. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to sleep. However, every other minute your mind kept wondering to Minho. Damn him. You shouldn’t feel turned on about how he worked you up and teased you today. You shouldn’t think about how hot he looked in his suit or his outfit he wore for the performances. You definitely shouldn’t continue to think of his fingers, and how they felt on your thigh. You shouldn’t be thinking of how they would feel inside you, pleasuring you and working you until you see stars.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you were horny, you were wet and so you decided to do something about it. You slipped your hand underneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, bringing your fingers to your clit. You needed relief from your plight, no time for foreplay. Swiping your fingers through your slick, you circled the bundle of nerves, rocking your hips in time with each circle of your wrist. You imagined that it was Minho who was making you feel this way, his fingers circling the bud in tight circles. You imagined him pressing soft kisses to your neck as he worked you to your high, your pleasure the only thing he was worried about. You moaned out, your fingers circling faster as you felt close, the coil in your belly getting tighter and tighter until you felt it….

Right before your release, you heard a knock on your door, well more like a pounding. You groaned out, frustrated that you were interrupted, your high fading away quickly. You got up and padded to the door, a look of annoyance on your face. Who was here this late? Opening your door you were face to face with none other than Minho. He looked like he had just got out of the shower, his hair still slightly wet. You were in shock.

“Well are you going to let me in?” Minho said, his face unreadable.

You quickly nodded your head, opening your door wider to let him in. Minho walked across the threshold into your apartment and kicked off his shoes. He continued his way into your living room, his eyes glancing around and taking in his surroundings. You had fixed the place up nice, a cozy vibe was present throughout. It was so you he thought.

He sat on the couch, patting the space next to him beckoning you to sit down. You did so, unsure of what was going on. “Ummm, why are you here?” You asked.

Minho looked at you before smirking, “can’t I visit my girlfriend?”

You shivered at the title, never having heard it grace his lips in the months of knowing him. He chuckled at your reaction, scooting closer to you.

“Look at me,” he said. You turned your body so you could face him, giving him your undivided attention. He smiled at your obedience, glad he didn’t have to ask twice.

“Are you nervous?” He asked, taking in your fidgety hands and how your eyes were darting everywhere but to his face.

You shook your head no, but you still did not look him in the eyes. How could you do so? He made your heart pound and every time he told you to do something, you wanted to immediately obey. What the fuck was happening? It was like you were under his spell.

He grinned at you and cooed, “look at you. It’s ok, you’re mine right? I take care of what’s mine don't worry.”

What did that even mean? Minho was definitely teasing you again, playing with you like a cat plays with a mouse. You were his prey and he has you within his grasp.

He lifted his hand to grab your chin, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He said, “is that alright y/n?”

The way he said your name sounded like silk, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease. Your panties were drenched from earlier, but now they were positively ruined, the material sticking to your skin and arousal coating your thighs. You whispered “ok,” more than ready to finally feel his lips on yours.

He leaned toward you, softly brushing his lips against yours before firmly kissing you. Your lips molded together, the action being gentle at first. But if there is one thing Minho is, is that he isn’t is gentle. He needed more of you and he needed it now. He’s been waiting for this moment for months now.

He nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to yelp. With your outburst, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his tongue fought for dominance with yours. He loved the feeling of your lips against his, never wanting to break free and if he has any say, you won’t be going anywhere.

He pulled you closer before lifting you up to straddle him, never breaking the kiss. He’s never kissed anyone like this before. The need there, causing his cock to twitch within the confines of his boxers and sweat pants. He listened to your breathy moans, grabbing your hips to pull you closer. You were a dream. You were his to ruin.

He broke away from your lips, a string of spit trailing behind. He grinned at you before kissing your jaw, working his way down to your neck, finding your pulse point. He placed wet kisses on the area, sucking the skin in his mouth. You whimpered at the sensation, subconsciously rolling your hips against his crotch, moaning out as you felt your covered clit rub against his length. Minho sucked and nipped at your skin, his tongue dashing out every now and then to soothe the area.

He was going to mark you, so all can see that you are his. He listened to your moans, they were like sweet nectar to him. He sucked against your skin one more time before placing soft kisses on the mark. He brought his lips back to yours, allowing himself to get lost in you. He leaned back and looked at you and what a sight it was. Your lips were red and swollen, eyes focusing and unfocusing, the need for more evident. But his favorite part was the beautiful mark he gave you, the pretty reds and slight purple littering your skin. He smiled at his work. He wasn’t done however. He took your face in his hand again so you could focus on him.

“Will you let me stay the night hmm? Let me take care of what’s mine yeah?”

You simply whined and shook you head. Minho looked at you with disapproval on his face.

“Na uh baby. I asked you a question. I need to hear you.”

“Yes Minho,” you whispered out, his hand still holding your face so you could look at him and only him. You were more than ready for Minho to stay. You needed to put this feud behind you, get on with it like a couple should. Your breath was coming out in steady pants, desire in your eyes. You looked at Minho’s brown orbs, dilated with lust for you. You felt in your gut that he was going to ruin you, tame you, and make you his, and you were more than ready.

This is going to be a long night.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @artemisdoe @emily21morgan @athforskz @jazziwritesthings @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @jisunglyricist @tsunderelino @hyuneyeon @sillyhal

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taexual · 1 year ago

Text

sleepwalking ● 12 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, some angst, DESCRIPTIVE SMUT with maybe 1 pet name and 2 jokes, a bunch of reminiscing and relentless flirting (bc jungkook is dowwnnnn badddd), praise kink if you squint?, minors please don't interact

words: 7.6k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 12 ► fall into your eyes like a grave, bury me to the sound of your name

You and Jungkook were silent for a solid fifteen minutes after you let him into your hotel room. You were both sitting on the bed, but with so much distance between you that it felt like you were on two different floors.

After your phone on the bedside table lit up for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jungkook finally spoke up.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” he pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah.” You sighed. Being silent with Jungkook oddly felt less draining than dealing with whatever was happening on your phone. “It’s Kai.”

Jungkook nodded, remembering your brother’s misadventures the last time you two talked. He was almost happy to use that as an excuse to dance around the elephant in the room a little longer.

“How is he?” he asked. “With his broken…”

“Leg, yeah,” you finished, leaning your head against the headboard. “He’s home. Mum’s grounded him. She’s turned off the router and taken his Xbox, so he’s texting me because he’s got nothing else to do.”

Remembering how angry you were when your brother got himself into trouble and upset your mum, Jungkook asked with a small smirk on his lips, “and you had nothing to do with the Xbox?”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe it’s an appropriate punishment to withhold things from your children. I think it makes them withdraw from their parents, especially when they’re seventeen like Kai. And it makes them annoy their siblings instead,” you paused. Then shrugged. “But I’m not a parent, so easy for me to say.”

Dignified, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“You’ve contributed greatly to raising your brother,” he said in a voice full of contempt for your family’s general tendency to use the nine-year age difference between you and your brother as an excuse to have you babysit for free.

Although your heartbeat increased at the sound of his confidence—and his almost reflexive habit of defending you from yourself—your outward appearance remained composed. It was easy to appear collected when you weren’t looking at him and he felt so far away.

“And look at him now,” you said, an ironic smile on your face. “A mess.”

Jungkook snickered. “He’s really not that bad.”

Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair and felt your fingers get caught in the last strand, only adding to your frustration with your brother.

“Sure. He’s a good kid,” you said, looking up at Jungkook. “But he tries too hard.”

Jungkook saw the parallel, he felt it. You might as well have said that about him.

At last, it seemed like the time had come to address the real reason he’d come to your room. He knew that this casual chit-chat was only temporary anyway. But if he wasn’t careful, it would be the last time the two of you spoke to each other with such ease, such familiarity.

He cleared his throat and said, “this might be the hardest conversation we have.”

He didn’t need to elaborate, you understood. And still, you thought about his words for a moment and decided to disagree.

“Or the easiest,” you said. “I mean, everything important that we could have said, we’ve pretty much said already.”

He blinked, surprised at first. Then dizzy.

There were several things he wanted to say to you, but he expected to listen to you first. He knew you wouldn’t initiate a conversation about your feelings, but he’d hoped this was different, especially considering all that you’d said to each other on the street.

It wasn’t different. You sat across from him on the bed and you looked a little uncomfortable, but not particularly confounded.

He’d expected to find you grappling with questions, armoured with rightful accusations, but you appeared settled.

Maybe it’s because it’s been four years, he realised suddenly. He hadn’t been there to watch you build your defences. He hadn’t seen your walls grow.

He worried, suddenly, that nothing he’d say would mean anything to you. He worried that the only reason you let him into your room was to deliver the finishing blow—to tell him that you were done one more time.

He switched the arm he was leaning against the bed with; his right arm was slowly going numb. Actually, so was his left, and, if he was completely honest, his whole body felt a bit like it was floating away from him, but he tried to focus on the moment.

“Uh, w-we haven’t said everything,” he said.

You looked at him. “What else is there?”

“Two things.”

Inhaling sharply, you turned away. You did not really want to continue the discussion you’d had by the canal. In fact, you didn’t think there was anything to continue at all.

You’d walked away as soon as you realised that you’d come face-to-face with your break-up. And this was it. You’ve found the reason why this could never work. Why you and him together could never work. And it was truly simple: it’s because it hadn’t worked before. You already knew it, but you enjoyed the leisure of pretending that you didn’t.

All that you two had to do now, in your opinion, was reach a formal agreement that this would be it. You’ve explored each other’s boundaries enough during this tour. The time has come to stop. To go back to your normal lives, your regular jobs and duties.

However, now that he was here, there was hesitation behind your closed eyes. You had learned that the two of you had different ideas about why you broke up. And you’d spent four years boiling in them, convincing yourselves you’ve moved on from them, then facing them head-on when you really looked at each other again.

Perhaps there were a few more things you had to talk about, after all, before you could truly put this behind you.

Finally, you nodded your head once and told him, “okay. What’s the first thing?”

“The first thing,” he started, “is that I'm sorry.”

It was well known that “sorry” wasn’t always a heavy word. People threw it around like a pebble and watched it bounce off the surface of the water, rarely ever intending for it to sink, to reach the depths not visible to the naked eye. Jungkook had been one of those people many times in his life.

But the word he used here felt different.

It carried a weight that forced him to lower his head as he said it. As if all his thoughts had been poured into this sentence – this fateful “I’m sorry” – and the heaviness of it was difficult to bear. As if he’d assigned different meanings to each “sorry” in his head, and all these little pieces suddenly added up to one big word that took up the whole room.

“For not realising what I was doing back then,” he said, dissecting the apology, “and what it meant for our relationship.”

He figured there wasn’t much that you could say that would make it easier for him to breathe – the conversation by the canal, the bet, the apology, all of it was too significant to leave much room for oxygen in his lungs.

But you said, “I forgive you.”

And it felt a lot like you were performing emergency resuscitation and successfully maintaining his brain function.

He wasn’t certain if you’d said that because it was the right thing to say, or because you’d meant it. If it was the former, Jungkook would have rather suffocated.

“You do?” he asked, unsure if he was prepared for your explanation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t know that you weren’t—that you didn’t realise why—why we broke up the way we did. And it sucks that you didn’t, but…”

You faltered here and Jungkook was keenly aware how you’d said it sucks, but you’d really meant it hurt me. It hurt that he’d been dismissive, negligent, and heedless – and had the audacity not to realise it.

He closed his eyes while you finished, “it sucks more to know that, all this time, you thought I’d just walked away for no good reason.”

An apology was on the tip of your tongue, he could sense it. Although you had many reasons to be angry with him for being so impossibly stupid, you also felt guilty because all this time, he had thought you woke up one morning and suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Like it was your fault that he didn’t realise he’d been taking you for granted every day for months before you broke up.

You should have been angry with him. Instead, you thought you were responsible for not explaining your reasoning properly before you left.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest. He wanted you so much, but more and more he realised that he didn’t deserve you.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he said before you could say anything else, because this was another element of his initial apology. One more thing he had to be sorry for.

You shrugged with one shoulder. Over the years, you’d come up with several reasons why he never fought for your relationship, not even considering that he might have assumed you had fallen out of love with him. At the end of every day, you simply thought he didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you were okay with it,” you said. “When I told you we were over, you just stood there. You didn’t ask why and I didn’t... answer.”

“I wasn’t okay with it,” he replied. “But I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”

With a thoughtful nod, you agreed, “there probably wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I felt that way because I assumed that you—you didn’t want to be with me. That you didn’t care about me anymore. And you, uh,” he stopped here and waited for a long minute. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “You thought the opposite.”

You probably should have shouted at each other as you discussed this, you thought abruptly. That would have been appropriate. Maybe even healthy, all things considered.

But then, perhaps the realisation that you both had different views on why you broke up was precisely the thing that softened the impact. His hurt because you’d left him without an explanation, and your anger because he made you do it—they both took up outstanding amounts of space in your chests. They weighed you down. And they almost balanced each other out.

Perhaps you weren’t ready to shout just yet. Or not anymore.

Perhaps you’d left most of the shouting in the past four years ago. Now you were finally on the verge of closure.

That was the point, after all: the two of you boasted—really, there was no other word for it, you were both proud of it—that you’d never spoken to anyone about the details of your relationship.

That could have been admirable, of course, this utter devotion to each other and no one else. Except that, you didn’t talk about your relationship with each other, either.

“Do you think this is our own fault?” you asked. “We were good at talking about everything except… well, us.”

“I know,” Jungkook was quick to agree. You had both been like this from the very beginning—that’s likely why he was never fully aware of his behaviour. You’d always argued, but never about the things that really mattered. “I nearly threw up before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

You did a double take, your mind racing to supply you with a memory that matched his words, but coming up short.

You squinted at him. “Did you actually ask?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but let it hang there, no words coming out for a good minute.

“You don't remember?!” he accused, his voice so high-pitched that it could almost shatter glass.

“I remember going on at least five dates before someone called you,” you explained, “and I heard you say into your phone, ‘sorry, I’m with my girlfriend.’ And that’s when I assumed that, huh. I guess I’m your girlfriend then.”

Jungkook could remember this exact moment. It was Sid who had called him because the two of them were working for Sid’s grandfather fixing his Camaro at the time. Jungkook had needed the money, while Sid simply enjoyed the ‘69 classic car.

The memory sent a shiver down his spine because he recalled turning Sid down. He had prioritised you over everything back then. What had happened to him later?

Regardless – in Jungkook’s mind, the timeline of your relationship was different.

“I vividly remember asking you on our second date,” he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you attempted to remember the very beginning of your relationship.

Your first date was the traditional movie and dinner—although it turned into a movie and the rain when you got stuck in the park. You recalled the whole day with near-perfect clarity.

Your second date was a week later, at the carnival in town. It took you three hours to get back to your dorms, because the event was held across the forest that separated the university campus from a small town nearby. Jungkook had insisted that you could walk home, he had claimed to know the way. And then he proceeded to get you lost within a few seconds of entering the forest.

All you could remember him asking you back then, was, ‘I know where I’m going, so trust me, okay?’ and that certainly did not include any terms that specified your relationship status.

Confused if you were remembering this wrong, you asked, “when we got lost on our way home from the carnival?”

“Before that!” he was even louder now, both of his hands in the air as he frantically explained, “on the Ferris wheel! I can’t believe you don’t remember!”

“On the Ferris—Jungkook, you had motion sickness the whole time we were on it,” you reminded him.

“I wasn’t sick,” he argued. “I was nervous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “All you said to me during that entire ride was ‘please’ when we were at the very top.”

“That was me asking!”

“That was—” You laughed in surprise before you could finish the sentence. “Okay, well, you can see why I wouldn’t remember that, considering you didn’t use a lot of words to explain what you meant. I thought you were asking me to end the ride. Not that I could have ended it, but—”

“You said yes, though.”

You didn’t think you heard him right, his tone noticeably lower compared to the agitated screaming before. “Hm?”

“When I said, ‘please?’,” he spoke, “you said, ‘yes.’”

You watched him, considering it.

“I think I was asking,” you said and demonstrated, “yes?”

“No. You made a statement,” he disagreed, showing you, “yes.”

You pursed your lips, choosing to quit before this escalated into an argument.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “Maybe I read your mind, then.”

He scoffed, turning away. “And forgot about it…”

Nevermind taking the high road.

“Well, I didn't think it meant anything,” you argued, “you were—”

“I had a different plan. I was going to fully embrace The Notebook and dangle from someone else’s seat to ask you,” Jungkook said, “but for that to work, you would’ve had to go on the ride with someone else. And at that point, I couldn’t let you sit in that cabin with someone who wasn’t me.”

You could feel your cheeks stretching as an involuntary smile spread across your lips.

“That’s a little crazy,” you said gently.

“Please,” he replied, lowering himself on your bed until he was lying on his back. “It’s just crazy. I went on a binge-watching session of romantic films before our first few dates. I did my research.”

You knew him too well not to point out, “was it really only for research?”

“Alright, after the first few, I started to really enjoy them,” he admitted, earning a knowing nod from you. He smiled in response and continued, “but then I got to know you better, and I figured that if I serenaded you like Heath Ledger did in 10 Things I Hate About You, you’d break up with me immediately.”

Your laughter sounded so sincere and calming that Jungkook felt his smile widen as he turned his head to look at you from where he was lying on your bed.

“So I became a singer instead,” he said, encouraged by the lightness in your laugh. “You can’t break up with me if singing for you is my job.”

Your stomach performed an intricate Loop-the-Loop and then dropped, seemingly down ten floors, all the way to the lobby of the hotel.

Desperate, you tried, “you’re not—it’s not—”

Noticing you were about to downplay his words—either because you didn’t think he meant it, or because you didn’t feel comfortable knowing that he did—Jungkook changed the topic instead.

“Were you angry at me?” he asked. “For not chasing you after you left that time?”

Struggling to collect the remains of your thoughts, you spoke very slowly, “I... I was angry that you didn’t put in any effort while we were still together. After that, I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“I did,” he said. Then, realising, he corrected himself, “I do. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again today.”

Hesitantly, you asked, “how do you mean? Because I left today?”

He nodded. “I'm not going to wait another four years before we talk about us.”

“Jungkook...” you said, but the sound of his name on your lips caused your thoughts to jumble once more. Your words stuck to your throat as your heart threw itself against the walls of your chest. You hoped to divert the topic, “y-you said there were two things. What—what’s the second thing?”

“The second thing is that I love you,” he said in one quick breath. “I took everything we had for granted, and I’m sorry. But the truth is that even then I was—I-I’d never stopped loving you.”

A sense of déjà vu clouded your mind, while the rest of your body reacted as if this was the first time you’d heard him say this. As if the four years you hadn’t been together were long enough to start a new lifetime, and now you’ve met again, reincarnated into different people – Jungkook, the vocalist of a rock band, and you, the manager.

But, buried deep in your subconscious, locked away in a box that your brain dared not touch even in a dreaming state, was the memory of the first time he’d said these words to you.

It was spring. You’d been together for about five or six months at that point, and you’d skipped class together to go to the same park where you’d had your first date. You’d spent the whole day walking around hand-in-hand, reminiscing about the past, dreaming of the future, taking pictures of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and picking up the pale pink leaves from the grass to throw them at each other.

During the car ride back home, you were so exhausted that you could hardly keep your eyes open. The two of you had been running around so much—his energy was infectious, you’d both acted like Golden Retrievers set loose—that your legs felt wobbly and unsteady.

After a few more minutes, you had lost the battle against yourself and settled more comfortably into the passenger seat, closing your eyes. Your mind was already beginning to fill with the bliss of sleep when Jungkook stopped the car at a red light.

He glanced at you, seemingly asleep on the seat beside him, and leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed a pale cherry blossom in your hair and a soft smile on your lips.

It was nothing more than a whisper—“I love you so much”—that slipped from his lips because he thought you were asleep. Nothing more than an overwhelmed confession as his heart drowned in his feelings.

But, to this day, nothing has ever come close to making your heart beat nearly as fast as it had in that car when the light turned green and he drove back to your dorm, still thinking you were asleep. That first confession of love remained a secret between you, him, and the stray cherry blossom nestled in your hair.

Slowly, you opened your eyes as the memory tugged at each and every cell of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You looked around the hotel room before you dared to look at him again.

Contrary to what Jungkook believed, you didn’t appear collected because you were done. Or because you didn’t want to fight with yourself about wanting him anymore.

It was because you were tired of still wanting him so much in spite of everything.

You were tired of forcing yourself to let go. To move on. To be rational and responsible.

Tired of feeling happy about things that were probably inappropriate.

Tired of finding those things inappropriate.

But rationally, you knew that you had to leave this behind and return to your normal lives after this, regardless of what you wanted.

It’d be much harder—to an infinite extent—because this wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going.

Quietly, you broke the silence, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up on the bed.

“We can’t...” the words trailed off before you could catch up. You tried again, “I can’t—we can't do this.”

He observed the battle behind your eyes and then spoke, very softly, almost inaudibly, “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“We’re—"

“We’re the ones who put meaning to things,” he continued. Not to contradict you, but to reassure you. “If we say it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't.”

You shook your head with a sad smile, the situation vaguely familiar.

“It’s never that simple,” you said. “There’s so much more than just you and me to consider.”

“It is simple,” he insisted. Then, just like back in your bunk on the tour bus, he asked, “do you want me to leave?”

Just like back then, you answered without hesitation, “no.”

“Then this can have as much or as little meaning as you want it to. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “I’m yours. You are all I’m considering. And I’m staying.”

In less than a second, the determination in his voice made you realise that rational didn’t always mean reasonable.

Rationally, you knew you should have drawn the line. You should have left or told him to leave. Should have distanced yourself from him for the sake of your heart. Your job. For the sake of the atmosphere backstage.

You were aware of all the damage this could do. You were aware of the risk. Of the questions. Of the pain.

You were aware that you were having the very conversation that you’d stopped him from pursuing a few hours ago on the street. But your response to him was vastly different now.

Really, the situation felt different, too.

The second thing is that I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

You couldn’t imagine yourself leaving.

There was no place in the whole world that you would have rather been in right now. And no one else you would have wanted to share that place with.

It felt reasonable to stay. And wish for him to stay, too.

Jungkook had to scoot closer on the bed to reduce the distance between you two, and as soon as he did, he leaned in right away. He’d hesitated before, got scared, panicked and changed his mind. Tonight, he would do nothing of the sort.

His lips touched yours before you could formulate a single doubt and his kiss effectively silenced all the noises and echoes in your head.

Truthfully, he knew that there was a third thing he didn’t tell you, but when you kissed him back, less tentatively than the first time on the bus, he couldn’t imagine ever saying anything to you again. Speaking seemed like an immeasurable waste of time.

Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips locked on yours as one of his hands held the side of your face. His gentle fingertips contrasted with the coldness of his lip ring against your lips as he touched the skin of your cheek like he wasn’t sure, not even now, that it was really you he was holding. His other hand found its way around your waist and settled there—the gesture so intimate, so familiar.

He kissed you and it felt inevitable. Like everything you’d been doing up to this point was meant to lead you here – even the break-up four years ago.

As Jungkook felt your hands on his chest, careful and barely there, he mentally cursed himself for wearing this white shirt yet again—the fabric was too thick for him to properly feel you.

Still, he recognised the ghost of your touch as though he’d never been apart from you. As though you’d always stayed like this, locked in a desperate embrace in the tenth-floor room of a hotel in Amsterdam.

There were endless somethings bursting persistently in his chest as he tasted you, deepening the kiss by bringing his tongue over yours. Fireworks and flames and entire conflagrations all wreaked havoc on his heart.

This time, there were no promises of five minutes, and no curtains to separate you from everyone else. When you whimpered quietly, in response to him pulling you up until one of your legs was thrown over his and you were seated firmly on his thigh, he was the only one who heard it. The only one who felt your heavy breathing on his lips as he kissed you.

And if, by a lucky chance, there was any oxygen left in the room, neither of you needed it as your holds on each other grew tighter, hands grasping whatever materials they could reach and pulling—until he took your shirt off, until you took off his.

Every single one of your nerve endings was focused solely on him—his taste, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the roughness of his dark jeans underneath you, the softness of the skin on his chest. Your body instinctively drew closer, prompting him to clench his thigh as he wrapped his arms around you even more tightly.

His lips gently trailed kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, and it was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. He remembered your body—how could he forget when it haunted his dreams almost every night?—but he yearned to create new memories, to trace the lines of your figure that he’d memorised and bring them to life in a new and different way.

You helped his eager hands find the edge of your sports bra and had to briefly pull away from him to slide it over your head. He pulled you back to him as soon as you did, needing to get lost in your touch, to feel your skin against his.

Your hotel room was filled with so much electricity, the two of you could have lit all of Amsterdam up.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I have to say,” he breathed against your lips while his hands caressed your exposed sides, tracing the familiar maps on your skin.

You pulled him closer by gripping the back of his neck and exhaled, “show me instead.”

The meaningfulness, or rather, meaninglessness, of the moment seemed secondary. You wouldn’t analyse what this symbolised or where you stood.

Instead, you’d analyse how kissing him—touching him, feeling his skin, hearing his breathing—felt good. How it felt right. Like you’d been lying to yourself by doing everything else but this.

Sitting on his lap as he held you firmly in his arms—essentially trapping you in his grip, in his scent, in him—you could feel the rest of the world fade away into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t consider important at this given point.

Focusing on the feeling of his tongue against yours and the firmness underneath you, you allowed the scorching heat of the moment to take control of your movements as you instinctively moved your hips against his and forced him to suck in a shaky breath.

You undid the buckle of his belt and he had to pull back just a little, breaking the kiss. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by your closeness and the rapid beating of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you had been this close, but it had been so long, and he’d wanted this so much, that it felt like he’d never done this before.

Noticing your trembling hands, he helped you with his belt by loosening his grip on your waist. As soon as your fingers reached the zipper of his pants, he grabbed your forearms—successfully halting your progress in ridding him of his jeans—and swiftly flipped you over onto your back on the bed.

Your eyes met for a split second as he hovered over you, silently exchanging a conversation that neither of you dared to voice.

He leaned in to kiss you again and allowed you to get back to the previous task. Kissing him back, you finally managed to lower his jeans to his knees, and the simple feeling of your touch on the back of his thighs nearly made him see stars. Leaning his forehead against yours, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to regain his composure.

He briefly sat up to kick off his jeans—as quickly as he could, because the room temperature fell a hundred degrees when he wasn’t touching you—and you took a moment to trace the patterns of ink on his arm with your eyes.

You were with him when he got his first tattoo.

He acted tough in the tattoo parlour, but once the artist took you both down to the basement, all of his bravery faded. It was rather chilly down there—Jungkook was pouting when he took his jacket off, revealing his shivering skin—and he’d chosen his knuckles as a place for his first tattoo. It was going to hurt.

He knew that, in theory. But the way he squeezed your hand and bit his lip when the needle pierced his skin for the first time still surprised you both. You weren’t sure who was in more pain by the end of the session—him, from the fresh ink on his hand, or you, from how hard he’d been squeezing your hand.

Now, he had a full sleeve. And you felt a pang of pain in your chest, because there were so many tattoos that you hadn’t seen him get.

You hadn’t been there when the needle pierced his skin again and again. You hadn’t seen the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and placed a hand on your knee—for support, for reassurance, for overwhelming love.

You hadn’t helped him apply lotion on the fresh ink, hadn’t teased him for being a baby, hadn’t been shut up with a kiss. You hadn’t traced the intricate lines on his skin with the tips of your fingers—careful, gentle, loving.

You hadn’t been there for four years.

But you were here now.

Just as your gaze reached his shoulder, your eyes locked on the patterns you’d never touched, Jungkook turned to you and caught you staring. The dazed look in your eyes before he had even done anything affected him in more ways than he could count.

With a wide, shameless grin and a raised eyebrow, he leaned into you again. You noticed right away that he was about to say something that would surely ruin the moment, but you pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before he could.

“Don’t,” you warned. There was humour and light and excitement in your eyes.

Chuckling as if you’d read his mind, he pressed a kiss to your lips and mumbled, “wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar,” you exhaled against his mouth as he quickly slid your biker shorts and panties down your hips, your back barely leaving the bed.

“Honest,” he countered in a soft whisper, his lips hovering over your neck as his hands returned to your waist and he aligned your hips with his. “I have better things on my mind.”

It was hard to determine which one of you was to blame for ending this unnecessary bickering by inhaling too sharply – you, who reached the edge of his boxers and pulled them down, removing the last layer of clothing between you; or him, who gently caressed your thighs, drawing deliberately slow, teasing circles that inched closer to your core.

He managed to kick off his boxers without letting go of you—which was a talent that was difficult to advertise, but a talent nonetheless—and kissed you deeply. One of his fingers slid over your thighs and traced over your folds, causing your body to twitch in anticipation as you gripped his forearms for support.

His touch felt foreign and familiar at the same time – he knew how to find every single one of your nerve endings, but your body seemed to have forgotten that he knew.

It was almost frightening how he sensed exactly how to touch you to elicit a response—the pillows of his fingers effortlessly reached the bundle of nerves on your clit at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed involuntarily, seeking more friction. Your breathing grew louder every time he applied more pressure to his touch.

It really didn’t feel fair at all—the way he appeared to know your body better than you did, even after all these years.

A frustrated whimper escaped your lips when he added another finger, picking up the pace. He alternated between gentle rubs and teasing caresses, and his touch made your head spin, but you wanted more of him. All of him.

He only inserted a finger for a fraction of a second before lightly brushing it over your folds—the motion so sweet and then suddenly not enough. Your nails were about to draw blood from how tight you were gripping his arms.

“Don’t tease,” you exhaled, more a plea than a command. “Not now.”

There was a hint of promise here, and Jungkook smiled before nodding. He kissed your lips, but instead of pulling away, he increased his pace—toying with your clit with just enough pressure and at just the right angle that you could have cried out if you hadn’t been biting your lip so hard.

“Fuck,” was all you could respond with as your eyes rolled back from the intense sensation. “Jungkook—”

This time his name was encouraging. It was begging. It made him groan as he leaned in, already almost painfully hard as he rubbed your clit, spreading your wetness with his fingers.

“Hmm.” He touched your neck with his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you repeated, the relentless ministrations of his fingers rendering you incapable of a more coherent sentence. “Fuck.”

And just when you felt the pressure in your stomach building, he pulled away abruptly.

The loss of contact made you exhale with enough agitation for it to resemble a whine. This earned you a smirk from him as he pulled back slightly, convinced he was just doing what you’d asked because he did indeed stop teasing.

To be fair, it was for his benefit, too. Your body, your warmth, your heavy breaths—he knew it all teased him more than he could ever tease you.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he bit his lip and reached for his length, giving it a few languid strokes.

The first glimpses of concern started to creep in when he realised he had no protection, but he saw you nod at the pile of suitcases by your bed. Confused initially, he rolled off of you and approached what appeared to be a welcome basket on top of the pile.

“Don’t tell me…” he mumbled in disbelief as he picked up the wicker basket—decorated with an appropriate white bow.

“Yeah,” you confirmed his thoughts and sure enough, among complimentary bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, he found a box of condoms.

Under different circumstances, he would have embraced his inner teenager and dropped everything to giggle at this, but he tried to stay composed. That is, until he looked at you and saw that you were biting your lip in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.

“Well, this is quite convenient,” he remarked, encouraged by your amusement, as he climbed back on the bed. “Almost meant to be, no?”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” you warned, pressing your lips together to conceal your smile. “Just hurry.”

“Say that again for me?” he teased. “I love it when you beg.”

Undeterred by the punch on his shoulder that he received in response, Jungkook laughed and ripped the bag open. He unrolled the condom onto his length with relative ease despite the slight shake in his hands.

You reached out to help him, and he realised he might actually pass out when he felt you touch him. The tips of your fingers were on the tip of his length as he brought it closer to your entrance.

He shook his head and warned breathlessly, all of his previous confidence gone, “I’m not—not going to last long.”

He could tell as much even before he entered you, but after you nodded—giving him voiceless permission—and, slowly, almost agonisingly, he slid inside, he realised he may have miscalculated.

He might not last at all.

Lowering his head as he paused, not even halfway in, he bit his lip in concentration and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get himself together when you looked like that under him—almost too lost in the feeling of him, in the pleasant stretch, in the way you couldn’t help but clench around him as your walls anticipated fitting all of him in.

“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily as you tightened around him. He really needed to get a grip. More sternly, he repeated, “fuck,” and, with a more forceful thrust of his hips, he fully bottomed out.

You threw your head back at the sudden motion, needing a second to adjust to the stretch. This was helped greatly by one of his hands as he caressed your hips, your waist, your breasts while he gave you as much time as you needed. Hė toyed with your nipple between his fingers and the gentle touch and the utmost admiration in his dark eyes sent sparks straight to your core.

After you quietly urged him to move, it still took him a whole minute before he felt confident enough to pull almost all the way out and then push back in, testing both of your limits. He looked at you—because he couldn’t not look at you underneath him, not even if it meant he’d lose himself right away—and the expression on your face was so dreamy that he didn’t even realise he shuddered in exhilaration.

Your head was still thrown back as you held your lower lip in a tight grip between your teeth. When you slowly opened your eyes, your gaze met his right away. And there was barely anything—fuck it, there was nothing—that he could have done to prepare for it.

He thought he may as well have died then and there because nothing in his life would ever compare to the colour of your eyes when you looked at him.

Swallowing the groan in the back of his throat, he leaned in to press his lips to yours as he began to move. It was slow at first, then his hips gradually gained more speed as he felt your warm walls pulling him in. Your fingers found their way to his hair, getting tangled in the dark strands as his hips pressed into yours harder—not just faster, but with more force, too, each brush of his length igniting a new fire inside of you.

He made it impossible for you to catch your breath as he kissed you with as much fervour as before, not once slowing down the pace of his hips. Everything he did was in response to you—the way you arched your back, your whimpers in between the messy, open-mouthed kisses, the way you pulled his hair, the way you held onto his shoulders.

He knew that if he lost concentration, he’d unravel immediately. It’s been so long, too long. He’s wasted far too many nights in foreign beds, chasing highs that had always felt forced and artificial. He wasn’t prepared for the real thing. He wasn’t prepared for you.

“Fuck. I’d missed you, my love,” he whispered hazily between kisses, each word accompanied by a thrust of his hips, “so fucking much.”

You felt shivers run down your spine again. If you could have formed a sentence—let alone voiced it—you would have reciprocated.

You would have told him that you missed him too. And you would have told him how much it scared you, the way this feeling was so intense that you seemed to disregard everything else.

But you couldn’t focus.

His length stroked your walls with an exemplary balance of force and tenderness. His tongue was in your mouth, the kiss hot, heavy, messy. His hands were all over your skin, warm, eager, relentless.

He filled your head with stars.

You could not speak, you could not say anything that wasn’t a breathless whisper of his name every time he pulled away to give you both a chance to inhale.

He understood you without words, however. And the response you had to him was about to tip him over the edge. His movements became too fast to be precise, his thrusts grew sloppy, his breathing got heavier, his groans louder.

The knot in your stomach formed much faster than you would have liked. You wanted this to last longer, but all of it felt reckless—dangerous and outrageous—and so good—too good—that you broke the kiss, a strangled cry of his name passing your lips as a warning that you were close.

“Yeah?” he whispered, kissing your jaw as he pressed his thumb on your clit. The rubbing motion matched the speed of his hips and the intensified pleasure caught you so unexpectedly that you could no longer control how loud you were.

Your heavy breaths mixed with curses and broken fragments of his name—he knew these sounds would echo around his mind for every waking moment—as your back arched off the bed and into him.

And when he heard you cry out, when he felt your grip on his arms tighten as your body jerked forwards, your hips meeting his, then lowering again in uncontrollable muscle spasms, when he felt your walls clench around him so much that they nearly stopped his movements, he almost whined, sensing his own high, brought on by the feeling of yours.

There were curses spilling from your lips as you came and you held onto him so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises on his arms tomorrow morning. Already, he couldn’t wait to look at them. He couldn’t wait to do this again.

His hips drove into yours—sloppily, accompanied by loud sounds of skin slapping on skin—until he fell over the edge, groaning loudly as he spilled himself into the condom. His body twitched as he pushed into you—one final stroke of your soft, sensitive walls—then he stilled completely.

His face was inches from yours, and you were the one who reached out to connect your lips, turning his groan into a dangerous whimper. Your kiss burned through him like electricity and, impossibly, seemed to prolong his climax.

He kissed you back like it was the first time, still powerless from his high, still feeling like he was floating, unable to come down, to pull out, to stop kissing you.

Breathless, you whined against his mouth and felt him stir inside of you, sparking a sudden new fire in your stomach before the previous one could fully go out.

He wanted you, needed you still—maybe he’d never stop. But it was the way you responded to him, the way he felt you need him as much as he needed you, that made him growl into the kiss as his hands reached for the parts of you that he'd touched hundreds of times tonight already.

It was almost desperate, the way you were still clinging to one another—like you’d never touched each other before and never would again.

Finally, you pulled away to inhale. And to, hopefully, recover.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, summarising all that you were about to say.

You both chuckled, giddy, excited, almost euphoric.

He rested his forehead against yours and pressed another soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, and stepping back to discard the condom.

In no more than three seconds, he was back on the bed next to you, pulling you to his side and kissing you once more.

It was three seconds then, he decided, that he could survive away from you.

For a good minute after that, the two of you just watched each other, your chests rising and falling as your bodies tried to fathom something that your minds failed to grasp.

Suddenly, you shook your head.

“What?” he asked. His lips were stretched into what felt like a permanent smile.

“Nothing, I just… it would be very difficult to explain where we were if someone noticed us missing,” you said—your words humorous, but the meaning behind them serious.

Even though you smiled as you spoke, Jungkook swallowed and nodded, solemn all of a sudden.

“I know,” he said. “And I don’t care if anyone knows. I only care that we do.”

You ran your tongue over your swollen lips, preparing to say something that he knew he wouldn’t like. But he was paralysed as he watched you. He swore your lips were the colour of his dreams, and he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t lean over and kiss you again.

He forced himself to roll onto his back and spoke up before you could, making sure his voice was as nonchalant as possible, given the hurricane inside his chest, “can we—can we not talk about that right now? Can I just stay here instead?”

You looked at him—which was incredibly easy when he wasn’t looking back at you—and forgot, for a moment, that you had to reply.

He looked almost ethereal like this, with his head resting on the pillows next to you, his hair tousled, stray curls sticking to the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his lips pursed slightly as he stared ahead. A part of you wished to take a picture, to hold onto this moment forever. But a different part of you didn’t want anyone else to witness him like this, not even the lens of your phone camera.

He suddenly turned his head to look at you and you blinked, averting your eyes as you remembered that you hadn’t spoken.

“Hmm. Yes,” you said, the word scratchy as it caught in your dry throat. You cleared it and tried again, “okay.”

Jungkook hummed somehow ambiguously and looked away.

“What?” you asked, confused by the look on his face.

“I thought you’d still tell me to leave,” he admitted.

You sighed. “You should. But I want you to stay. I’m fine with doing what I want tonight, however stupid that might turn out to be.”

He ignored the doubt in your voice—he was getting good at that—and looked at you again. He knew you probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of fire your words ignited inside of him, and just how far the sparks travelled on his skin.

“Then I hope you know,” he said, “that I’m fine with only getting ten minutes of sleep tonight.”

Quietly, you replied, “I think I’m fine, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, briskly turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow with renewed excitement.

His abrupt jump made you chuckle despite your best attempts to remain serious, and his grin widened as he brought his hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you once more. Then, twice more. Then three more times—in perpetuity, he hoped.

He knew that he was blessed to have experienced a lot of happiness in his life. But nothing came close to the feeling of your lips on his as the two of you played around in your hotel bed in Amsterdam, two nights before his band’s inaugural performance in The Netherlands during their first European tour.

This was a dream, it had to be.

And he was determined to do everything to make sure he never woke up from it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “like that”

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#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au

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moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami · 7 months ago

Text

heartthrob ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

note: the year is 2007, and as all romcoms do— none of this makes proper sense. (inspired greatly by notting hill, 1999)

summary: a coffee shop, the owner, hollywood's most famous actor, and a meet-cute

warnings: a cuss word here and there

genre: romcom

“Hello,” A baritone voice came after the telltale toll of the shop bell— baritone yet young, vaguely familiar but definitely not someone she knew well. “Are you open?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” She yelled back from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she gave the cupboard a final thrust, the dodgy thing has always been a right pain in the arse.

“Hi, how can I help you, sir?” She asked cheerily as she emerged from the side door, the soles of her boots tapping loudly against the aged wooden floors.

She paused in her steps when she saw the sopping wet figure at the door, standing awkwardly and apprehensively at the threshold. Droplets of water trickled down from the sleeves of his coat down to the WELCOME rug placed conveniently at the entrance. “Oh, gods! Are you alright?”

“You don’t happen to have any tissues in here, do you?” He asked with a tight smile.

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve run out at the moment.” She scrambled to grab the nearest tea towel from the cabinet before rushing over to help him. “This’ll have to do.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers grazed as he took the fabric from her hold. “I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

“It’s fine! The floorboards needed a bit of a clean anyway.” She joked with a half-hearted grin in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “I can have your jacket dried in the back if you want.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude any further.” He waved his hand to veto her suggestion before tending to himself once more.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked with a sudden interest. With each minute he spent in her presence, she felt like she was closer and closer to figuring out exactly who this man was. She’d seen him enough times, surely. His name was at the tip of her tongue.

“The accent wasn’t a dead giveaway?” He grinned at her.

“Well, you get your occasional round of Americans here and there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The sunnies were a bit on the nose though.”

He clicked his tongue, quickly pulling the pair down his face and placing it against the neckline of his shirt. “The weather report said it was going to be sunny.”

“Weather reports are dodgy.” She raised her eyebrow knowingly.

“I’m guessing it doesn't rain often where you’re from?”

“Twice every year,” He pursed his lips. “But I’m never around enough to know how true that actually is.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.”

“A fair amount. My work keeps me away from home.”

“Ah,” She nodded her head. She must’ve seen him in a travel advert somewhere. “What do you do exactly?”

“Well, I’m an actor.”

She stopped to look at him more carefully, tilting her head sideways from one direction to the next to get a hint. She met his gaze momentarily, her eyes squinting as she wracked her brain for any clue of who he might be. He looked at her expectantly.

The dozens of movie posters she'd seen at the cinema came to her with a dazzling clarity. Ecstatic by her epiphany, she slammed her hand against the counter loudly— inducing a painful bang and an equally pain-stricken howl almost immediately.

“Are you OK?!” He asked with a panicked edge to his tone. He shoved the tea towel down his pocket carelessly as he ambled over to her. “I don’t know the emergency numbers here so I’m gonna have to either carry you or drag you— whichever comes first.”

She laughed loudly in amusement whilst nursing her hand, the pain slowly ebbing away as he continued to fuss over her. “I can’t believe it! Luke Castellan is in my depressing little shop!”

“Wait, fuck, are you sure you’re OK?” Luke mouth twitched, as if contemplating whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. Maybe she did, maybe she actively was. This oddly seemed like the stuff of delusions.

“Yes, I’m fine!” She flipped her wrists as if to show him. “Healthy as a horse.”

He cracked a smile at her comment.

The bell let out a loud clang as a young man peeked his head into the shop, his umbrella left out in the street to protect him from the rain. “Luke! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour!”

“I suppose that’s your cue to leave then.” She smiled bashfully, the embarrassment catching up instantaneously. She was rubbish at this.

“I guess it is.” He hummed lowly with a grimace. He gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Luke, maybe hurry the fuck up?” The young man grumbled impatiently.

“Right,” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Thanks for coming around.”

“I’ll come back and actually buy something.” He said as he turned to leave.

“I’ll put you up to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

She was in the middle of a yawn when a loud voice called from across the street, a familiar tea towel gripped between ring-clad fingers and a head of black curls bobbing through the crowds.

It was still quite early in the morning, but Notting Hill was buzzing with life.

“Hey!” Luke yelled as he hurriedly walked towards her, expertly maneuvering himself between the masses of people and the stalls that lined the road. “I accidentally brought this with me. I had it cleaned and everything.”

“Thank you,” She said as she received it. The keys to the shop dangled between her fingers, waiting to be used. “You could have done away with the old thing.”

“It felt right to give it back.” He gave her a smile, more performative than yesterday— dazzling and charming, nothing less from an actor, of course. “It might have been sentimental, being in a display cabinet and all.”

“Well, it’s memorabilia from a royal wedding some decades ago.” She responded with a blush. “My mum likes to collect these things.”

“At least it’s got some national value to it.” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s that, yeah.” She chuckled. “My mum’s gonna be relieved, I’m sure. Thank you, Luke— may I call you Luke?”

He stared at her for a moment; what for? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was certainly magnetic. She couldn’t move away and it felt like everything else aside from the man in front of her was a blindspot. Her eyes met his, and Luke’s grin grew imperceptibly wider and her heart thumped indescribably faster.

“Sure, yes, definitely.” Catching himself, he stood straighter. His face looked ruddy, either owed mostly to the sunbeams warming his skin or the excitement thrumming underneath his flesh. “I’d like that.”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, just in time to tend to his phone’s shrill ringtone and its incessant vibrations. Luke groaned as he pulled it out. “It’s probably my manager. I have to go, unfortunately.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, equally as red as his cheeks despite the lack of direct sunlight against her skin. “Sorry to hear that. Have fun spending the afternoon slaying monsters.”

“The movie's about a bunch of kids on a cruise ship actually,” He laughed as he began to walk away backwards, his eyes completely fixated on her.

“Well, have fun doing that then.” She waved him off with an amused smile.

“I doubt it.” He winked at her before turning around at the curb then jogging down to god knows where.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Hey, mum.” She greeted when she walked into their shared flat, the whistle of the kettle loudly whooshing from the kitchen. “Did someone ring the shop while I was gone?”

It took her mother a minute to respond, too enraptured by David Beckham’s impeccable left-leg hurl into the opposing team’s goal. She listened attentively to the live play-by-play narration as she made herself a cup of tea, the announcer was basically gripping his seat with anticipation. Telltale cheers of a victory echoed through the walls.

“Mum?” She called again.

“Oh, yes, sorry, dear!” Her mother replied distractedly. “There was a young bloke that called… think he mentioned his name was Luke.”

Thank the gods she was alone in the kitchen because the silent giddy squeals and foot stomps were definitely concerning. Christ, was this real life?

She cleared her throat and feigned nonchalance. She drummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, her nails absently digging against old remnants of a sticker. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’s staying at the Ritz under Hermes, so give that name to the concierge if you wanna call.” A beat. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

“He’s not.”

“Be more definitive,” Her mother snapped. Teasingly, she added: “Not ever or not yet?”

“I’m not so sure, actually.” She clicked her tongue, wracked by pensive thoughts of juvenile daydreaming. She was getting ahead of herself, surely. She needed to approach this from a rational perspective: Luke Castellan had a whole life in Hollywood, decidedly not London. He had a bombshell girlfriend back at home with a career just as luxurious as his. He was a star burning brightly and she could barely get herself to flicker.

“Doesn’t sound like a ‘not ever’ to me.” Her mother responded with a lilt to her voice.

She swallowed thickly at how foreboding it sounded.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson

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sissybabycucksophia · 1 month ago

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The Adult Baby Adoption Part 3

(This story is complete fiction and although i may desperately wish it isn’t, there is no fact or real world experience behind this story, and themes reflected in the story may be triggering, these themes are not my actual beliefs and are only part of a fantasy kink scenario. Also non of the images belong to me)

“Wakey Wakey Jadey bear~” a familiar voice melodically hummed, slowly i began to open my eyes having fallen asleep on daddy’s lap. Now however i appeared to be somewhere else. Slowly coming too I realised i was sat in a changing room, with daddy stood between me and the door. Looking down I realised I was sat in nothing but my diaper and my pathetic little girls flower cross necklace, even the pink wig on my head was removed and I gradually noticed that the diaper was a brand new diaper. “Well aren’t you a sound sleeper Jadey bear? I managed get you completely undressed, remove your wig and change your diaper all without you waking up! Also i added a few diaper stuffers to your diaper just to make it last longer” daddy said gently patting my head.

Feeling the embarrassment rush through me i reacted oddly to my nakedness and crossed my arms across my chest trying to cover up, “daddy…. Why have got no clothes on?” I whimpered looking up at him. At that daddy would pull out of his bag and begin securing on my head a more realistic looking Brunette wig which reached down to my nipples. “Because silly little baby! We need to get you more appropriately dressed obviously” daddy chuckled as he kissed my cheek and I noticed hanging on the door in front of me a big puffy white dress. “Ready for what?” I whimpered to which daddy stood up right after securing the new wig and said “ready for your Christening baby! Your going to be christened Jade Ulysses Carmichael and from then on you’ll be one of god’s soldiers. You’ll live a life devoted to this church, its flock and your fellow babies also being christened today. We’ll get a certificate with your new name and we will never again have to refer too you by that vulgar name you used to have. I can’t wait for you to legally have my first name as your middle name and my surname as your surname! You’ll truly feel like my child once my name is part of your name!”

Shock hit me like a bus as daddy spoke, I don’t believe in any god or any religion! And yet this man was not only going to christen me a follower of his religion but also change my name and add his name into mine like a stamp of ownership! “But daddy I Don’t beli….” I tried to protest but daddy cut me off as he pulled me too my feet and took the puffy white dress from the door, unzipping the back of the dress it was clearly it had been designed in a most child appropriate style but in adult dimensions. “Ssshhh jade, i know your excited baby but we really must get you ready!” Daddy said as he then raised the dress over my head and dropped it down over me.

Man handling my arms through the waste, the dress would stop with the waist resting on my diaper waist band. Guiding my arms into the dress’s sleeves daddy pulled the torso of the dress up into place. Before i could object i felt the torso of the dress begin cinching tight around my body from the waist up as daddy zipped me in. Looking down i saw a tight bodice with little sparkly detailing, puffy shoulders which tapered into form fitting sleeves which were lined by sparkly detailing and a skirt which poofed out from my waist hiding everything beneath. As I studied myself daddy would begin guiding my feet into whilte socks with frills around the ankle and a pair of white dolly flats with an ankle strap and white flowers across the toes. Stepping back too look me up and down daddy would turn me around too look at myself in the mirror, as I studied myself daddy would reach over my shoulders and dig out the little girl flower cross necklace to make sure it was on show.

Hugging me from behind daddy whispered “my beautiful little angel, your the vision of femininity my gorgeous baby girl. I honestly cant wait to christen you my daughter! Remember when your being christened that your giving yourself to god and this church baby! Isn’t that great?!” Daddy whispered in my ear. Not that i really heard it as i stood looking at myself in the mirror… why was I Allowing this, surely any embarrassment from being seen chastised and diapered couldn’t be as bad as this! As i stood totally enraptured and entranced by mental fantasies of escape and freedom i didn’t even flinch as daddy secured a thick black collar around my neck which on the front had my new baby name ‘jade’ in big metallic letters and from the back of it i felt something hanging down my back. However it wouldn’t be until i felt my right wrist being grabbed by daddy and manoeuvred behind my back that i would stop day dreaming and begin too panic.

As i felt a thick cuff lock around my right wrist I panicked asking daddy “have you not embarrassed me enough by dressing me like this? Can i not even have my arms free?” I whimpered as I tried too tug my right arm back round it would tug on my neck as the two collars seemed connected. Ignoring my concerns daddy would secure my left wrist into the other cuff and before i knew it i was helpless once again, turning me around too look at me daddy crouch before me and placed a hand on either side if the bodice of my dress and looked deep into my eyes as he said “you know why i agree to take such a yucky, ugly, weak, pasty and pathetic little boy from the agency to be my Baby girl? Do you know why i picked you? Your eyes…. Your beautiful big blue eyes. So innocent and adorable, i knew that once i fixed the rest and made you a little girl that those eyes would be far more comfortable once the face and body around them matched their feminine and beautiful charm!” Daddy said as I suddenly stopped struggling to get my arms free and blushed with embarrassment as i said “you chose me because my eyes are pretty? But you said you didn’t want a boy baby from the agency? You said we had to make do with the fact this mix up had happened and it was my fault for reading the paperwork wrong” i said with confidence and even upset building in my voice. He’d chosen me! Had he stolen me away before a mommy dom got the chance too choose me?. “Sssssshhhhh jade there there. Yes i chose you, your right I didn’t want a baby boy but i knew looking at your innocent blue eyes i could make you perfect! Now we best go now, its your turn now to be Christened!” Daddy replied standing up and opening the changing room door, tears began to fill my eyes as visions of a different life flash through my mind. Leading me out the door of the changing room I followed behind like the submissive little baby faggot that I was, leading me too the stage I looked out as “parents” sat with their “babies” sat all dressed up. The adult babies all wore white, the adult baby girls all wore dresses like me and the baby boys wore white suits.

Looking too daddy he motioned for me to sit on the chair behind a school desk in the middle of the stage, shuffling over i sat down struggling to keep my dress from poofing out in all directions as I struggled to free my arms. Sat before me was a piece of paper on which was written ‘This Document hereby states that James Valence will be Transitioning To and will be changing their name too Jade Ulysses Carmichael. As such this document also states that the afore mentioned James, willingly grants Ulysses Carmichael Full Power of Attorney while still of mental capacity to do so. As such this legally binding document states that James Valence will be legally adopted by Ulysses Carmichael and will turn over all decision making capabilities and freedoms too Ulysses Carmichael.’ Oh god no! This couldn’t be happening! And it got worse! My signature had already been faked on the document! Watching daddy go into his pocket and pulling out a pen and reaching past me to sign and accept legal authority over me, “no please! Daddy stop! Don’t do this!!! Im a man but i swear i’ll never resist you again as long as you don’t sign that please!! Please!! You cant do this!!! You can’t take my freedom like this!!!!” I begged and whimpered as tears gushed down my face and dripped onto my dress. Signing to contract regardless, daddy would proceed to kiss me on the lips and begin making out with me before pulling back too whispering “sh’up faggot, your mine now! No ones coming to save you! Now dry those helpless blue eyes and lets get you christened!” With an evil smile as he grabbed the underside of my left arm and dragged me too my gay little dolly flat and frilly sock coated feet.

At that the crowd of parents and subs cheered, clapping, throwing diapers, Dresses, Bras and stuffies onto the stage at me. As they did reverend imelda would come onto stage and stood at her podium, then from the floor of the stage next to daddy arose a large Tank of water. “Well as you all know Today we Christen all of your new babies with their new names and identities as your children. The first beautiful baby to day to be Christened in the eyes of god is the absolutely pathetic Jade Ulysses Carmichael!!!!” Reverend Imelda said excitedly as daddy push me over too the tank of water pressed me up against it so my knees were against the tank. Then i felt his hand on the back of my neck and suddenly before i could say a word i was bent over at the waist, my ribs against the rim of the tank and my head fully submerged. Panicking i screamed under the water and desperately thrashed around trying to free my arms and push myself out but the straps holding my arms behind my back were far too tight. My life began flashing before my eyes as I inhaled water and coughed wasting valuable oxygen, whats worse was i knew no one was helping me nor was reverend Imelda stopping the ceremony. After 2 minutes and thirty seconds daddy would pull my head out of the water, dropping to my knees in my puffy christening dress I began coughing up the water i’d swallowed as tears rolled down my face and sissy cum’s leaked into him diaper. “I now hereby announce Jade Ulysses Carmichael christened!” Reverend Imelda said excitedly as a cheer filled the room. Dragging me to my feet Daddy picked me up bridal style once again and would carry me off stage too an empty seat at the end of the front row. Sitting me down right night too the man who’d humped me against my will. “Babies need to sit in the front row, daddy will be just a few rows back. Welcome to my family and the church Jade… daddy’s so proud of you” he said as he then disappeared.

For the next two hours i sat watching every Adult baby sign a name change and power of attorney document before having there heads dunked in the tank. Like me some were horribly distressed and uncomfortable but every baby had some kind of restraints on their hands or arms too stop them fighting the dunk. Tears slowly dripping down my face the entire time and sniffling like a sad little girl eventually the event began to reach its conclusion. Being lifted to my feet by daddy I was escorted to a group picture with all the “babies”. However as though a cruel taunt I was stood next to the only other Adult baby who had been forced to crossdress. Recognising her from earlier the girl was beautiful, she had such soft skin so soft and feminine looking, her eyes a beautiful golden brown and her lips plump and shapely. However much to the sheer devastation of the girl she had had her hair cut and shaven to a buzz cut, her chest was clearly being binded, her nails has been cut short and was stood wearing a white formal suit. Her hands were mittened and cuffed together in front of her and a pacigag held a blue paci in her mouth.

Stood next to her I begun to feel less alone as she balled and whaled with tears of sheer devastation and despair. As they arranged us to take the picture, I stepped closer to her pressing my chest against her side. Looking at me she tried to shake her head and say she wasn’t a man, “its ok! I’m a boy! Look just snuggle up to me like we’re getting along then when you get home tell your captor that you would feel better if you got a playdate with Jade Carmichael!” I whispered as I then rather humiliatingly rested my head on her shoulder and smiled. As the picture was taken so marked the end of the ordeal, grabbing my by the shoulder my now legal guardian and decision maker would lead me out of the church, forcing me to curtsy goodbye to every adult we stopped to talk too on the way out.

(Pictures for reference, Jade is forced to wear this dress in an adult size that fits him)

#permanent feminization #feminized sissy #crossdresser #loser humiliation #forced ferminization #pathetic loser #sissy crossdresser #adult diaper #controlling sissy daddy #daddy diaper sissy #bd/sm daddy

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taintandviolent · 2 years ago

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Chantilly Lace; Jimmy Darling x virgin!reader

{requested by: @the-goblin1} summary: 2.3K words. Friends pressure you, a shy little virgin, into seeing 'Jimmy', whoever that is. w a r n i n g s // notes: virgin reader (adult), loss of virginity, fluff(ish) smut, explicit descriptions. // I'm so not a fluff writer, so hopefully this wasn't horrid!!!!

ao3 link here! | full fic under the cut!

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaissweetlamb / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @petersevans / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @evanpetersfansblog / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @nova-kayne67 / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr

“Oh, please,” you quivered, heels skidding in the plush carpet as they pushed you towards the door. “Don’t — I’m not… I’m a….”

“Oh, live a little, would you? God, you’re such a prude!” “He’s great, I’ve seen him three times and I haven’t had a sleepless night since!”

Your friends spoke about this Darling fellow like he was some sort of miracle worker, like one of those fancy massage therapists in town. A spare bedroom is an awfully strange place for this….

“Have fun!” The shove Becky gave you was nearly hard enough to make you stumble and Diane yanked the door shut so hard that the picture frame clattered against the wall. Some friends, you thought. The room was quiet except for the quiet murmur of the radio on the dresser. Elvis crooned about love not waiting — you swallowed the lump in your throat. How oddly appropriate.

Still standing at the door, you couldn’t help but feel like a child on a stage; you interlocked your fingers behind your back and rocked nervously on your heels. You’d always held your innocence close, despite heading towards twenty-four. All of your other friends had lost their V-Card and at this point, you were the odd woman out.

“Hi,” you stammered, choky, addressing the man lounging seductively on the bed across from you. “Are you Jimmy Darling?”

“Sure am. C’mere, baby, I’m not gonna’ bite ya’.”

Putting one foot in front of the other, you made your way — slowly — over to the bed, apprehensiveness muddling your ability to move any faster. The rustling of the duvet was deafening as you sat down, but finding words was like finding a strand of blonde hair in a haystack. You cleared your throat, fingering the eyelet lace hem of your dress. You felt like a fool. And you couldn’t stop stealing glances at his hands…. I suppose that’s part of the appeal for the girls?

“What’s wrong, honey? Nervous?”

Keeping your head down, you lifted your big, misty eyes to him and nodded twice. He scooted closer to you on the bed, folding his hands neatly in his lap. From this angle, they looked normal. You swallowed hard.

“Don’t be nervous, I’m not gonna’ hurt ya, babydoll.”

As he sat there, respecting every boundary you had, you believed him. The warm, yellow lighting of the room was relaxing, and after a few moments, you raised your head and turned your body so that you were facing him.

“Mr. Darling,” you started, ready to spill your guts to this strange man. “I —

“Jimmy.” He insisted.

“…Jimmy. My friends made me do this…. Not that I wouldn’t do it because you’re very… handsome. I’d do anything, I really—” Rolling your lips inward, you took a moment to steady yourself, feeling the words coming a little too quickly.

“You’re very handsome…. But I’m… well….”

Jimmy — god, he is handsome. Really handsome…. And he’s so patient. Jimmy sat quietly, listening intently to every word. Every time those big, dark brown eyes blinked, another butterfly took flight in your stomach. It was getting crowded in there.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” “Aw, heck - that’s okay. I’ll take it sl—“ “I’m a virgin.” You interrupted.

Those three words landed like bags of bricks, each one of them weighing two tons. You both went silent; neither sure what should or could be said. After a few agonising minutes, you unfurled your fist and set the folded money on the nightstand. Even if you two didn’t do a single thing, you had every intention of paying him for wasted time. Jimmy looked at it with sullen eyes, unsure if he even wanted to take it.

“Oh, this is silly. I’m sorry, Mr. Darling. Er, Jimmy.”

You pushed yourself off the bed, huffing in frustration. You’d made a fool of yourself in here, and you were about to make a fool of yourself out there. You’d be the butt of the virgin bride joke for the rest of your days.

“Doll face, wait.” His claws caught your wrist as you got to your feet, enveloping it entirely.

“Listen,” he continued, pulling you back towards him. The action had you trembling in a completely foreign way; you weren’t scared. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do - but not to brag, but… I’m real good at makin’ pretty girls feel like a million bucks. Besides all that….”

Jimmy pulled your arm a little closer to him. “…it’d be a real treat for me…. Because I think you’re the prettiest girl that’s walked through that door.”

Whether or not that was true, you again believed him and allowed yourself to be towed towards him, onto him. He pulled you onto his lap, wrapping both his arms around you. The heat came off of him in waves, and he smelled freshly showered, with a hint of warm summer air.

“Is it alright if I kiss that pretty neck of yours?”

Your cheeks were instantly hot and redder than the wild strawberries in the backyard of your parent’s home. In response, you tilted your head to the side, exposing the delicate, slightly sweaty flesh. Jimmy dove in like a man starved, smearing his plush lips over every inch and nipping sporadically.

Overcome by the sensation, you had no chance in stopping the aroused whimpers. His hands snaked around your torso, pausing to graze your nipples over the fabric of your dress. He glided up your arms, then back down to slither along the tops of your thighs. Beneath your thighs, Jimmy had started undulating his hips ever so slightly, unable to ignore the demands of his cock as it stiffened. You may have been a prude, but you knew what that growing warm spot was.

“You doin’ alright, baby?”

You nodded lazily, still overwhelmed by the feeling of his warm, large hands as they skated over your thighs. Truthfully, your body was overstimulated, and he hadn’t even got to your —

Jimmy tapped the sides of your body, urging you up. You understood every silent cue he was giving you, and when he pushed you back towards the bed, you shivered in anticipation.

“You’re real pretty, you know that?” Delicately, he lifted your dress over your knees, the cream-coloured Chantilly lace gliding over the tops of your thighs. You looked up at him, wondering if this was just a run-of-the-mill encounter for him. Underneath the sun kissed skin of his neck, his pulse throbbed rapidly.

Gasping, you felt the tips of his conjoined fingers press into your entrance. Jimmy curled his bottom segment back towards his palm, keeping that one out of the way. You were a virgin after all — he couldn’t handle you like the other women craving spice in their otherwise boring marriages. He eased his fingers in further, feeling resistance. She’s not there yet… He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, watching as your lashes fluttered. Gradually, your cunt opened up for him, getting slick enough that he could slide his fingers in.

“You tell me if you wanna’ stop. Okay, sugar?” There was a gruffness in his voice that wasn’t there before. You nodded.

Jimmy rotated his hand, palm up and curled his conjoined fingers inside you, rubbing delicately at a spongy, tender spot within you. Your body immediately responded by arching your back, and letting a high-pitched whine echo against the walls. The roiling pleasure that you felt within your core was indescribable and made you see stars. Pinpricks of white glitter decorated the white, popcorn ceiling above as you, paralysed with euphoria, laid on a lady’s bed in the middle of Jupiter, Florida. He tested your boundaries by finger-fucking you a little faster, still letting the pad of his thumb press into your clit every time he made contact.

“M-more…”

Your begging drove him wild — he could feel the coils of arousal in his groin, making it harder and harder to focus on stale decency. I wanna’ fuck her so bad….

Jimmy withdrew, uncurled his bottom claw and slipped that into your warm, weeping cunt. Now she’s gettin’ the full Darling treatment.

Your eyes widened, pupils dilating. His — your mind hesitated on the word — pincers were inside you now, gliding in and out with ease. You felt the change in girth and the tips of some of the conjoined fingers as they hit you in new angles. Oh,…. God… Gut instinct kicked in and you began rolling your hips into his hand, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

“Atta’ girl,” Jimmy said, praisingly. “You’re a natural. That feels good, huh?”

You nodded, but you wanted more. More. “Can you…. Can you… take it?”

Jimmy paused, taken aback by your immodest, pitifully innocent request. It had only happened a few times before, and usually, it was the virgins that asked for him to fuck ‘em. Usually, all the gals left dripping and satisfied and he’d have to tuck a rock-hard erection up into the waistband of his briefs while he raced back to his trailer. “I can… long as you’re sure, baby.”

He knew you were though. Your eyes were begging him, pleading with him to rail you into a new era of womanhood. Jimmy straightened up, shrugging the striped shirt off his shoulders. “You want it, babydoll?”

“Please.”

Jimmy slid the strip of leather out of the buckle, yanking it hard. With an iron focus, he unzipped his pants and reached in, taking himself in his hand. It was tender to the touch, and the underside was slithery with pre-cum.

After a few strokes, Jimmy lined his cock up, pressing only the tip into you at first. He was giving you the reigns and wasn’t about to go any further until you’d asked him to. You gasped again, but this one was laced with a shrill whine. With a deep inhale, you shimmied your hips down, urging Jimmy’s cock in deeper; about halfway. There was a sudden sting, replaced by a fiery warmth that you never would’ve been able to imagine.

Sure, he was a gentleman. Underneath it all, his mama had raised him right and he knew how to respect a woman. Still… he was a man. A hot-blooded man with an insecurity that was only ever quashed by reassuring praise… and women. He was going as slow as he could, you saw that in his eyes and felt in the way his hips quivered every time he backed them out. He wanted to pound into your cunt and feel your tight, virgin walls squeezing desperately around his cock.

Though, through pants, he still managed to ask if you were okay.

“It’s…. It hurts a little, but I’m alright. You’re just bigger… then I thought you’d be.”

Now what the hell’s that supposed to mean? That confession bit at Jimmy’s heart a little, but he wasn’t about to let it kill his boner. He’d think about that later, maybe with a bottle of whiskey.

“Just do it.” You hoped it sounded like the demand you intended it to, and not a scared little peep.

“Do it?”

Sinking down between his shoulders, Jimmy Darling pressed the sweetest kiss against your lips, his tongue creeping out to sweep across your pouty bottom lip like he was cleaning up some popsicle you’d left behind. It was so sweet and so tender, you almost didn’t feel the way that he bucked his hips up into you to bottom out, the girth of his cock splitting you open wide.

He thrust into you rhythmically, the tip of his cock hitting you deeply. Everything was white-hot and your head felt like it was underwater — aroused. That’s what that is…. He’s got me so… oh I need him.

You threw your head back into the satin pillow, hearing the crackle of the down feathers as your weight pressed down into them. A moan escaped your throat, loud enough that Jimmy pulled back from his necking to see if you were okay. You were. The way your eyes rolled back in your head, and your mouth had parted slightly told him everything he needed to know.

You’d lifted your hips up to him and Jimmy took that opportunity to pound it harder than he should’ve, letting out a deep groan. You couldn’t help but wail repeatedly, each cry broken by the contact of his hips against yours. That made him moan louder and more often, taken by how god damn good you sounded. Outside, a collection of women had their ears pressed against wood, jaws hanging slack.

Jimmy dropped his head, angling his lips to your ear. “You like that, baby? You like me takin’ you hard like that?”

You mewled out that you did, asking for him to keep going. Harder. He obeyed. Your lids snapped open, pupils dilating. There was a thick, hot coil in the pit of your stomach and it was winding tighter and tighter around itself.

“Jimmy, something is happening,—“ Your moans grew louder, more shrill and more desperate. The coil strained.

“Damn right somethin’s happenin’, doll fa—aauugh!” Jimmy bucked his hips, burying his head deep within you to spurt thick ropes of cum hard up into you.

You felt everything all at once; the warmth that filled you, the way his cock twitched inside you, his hot breaths on your chest. You screamed as the coil snapped and your cunt began pulsing with pleasure, throbbing like a heartbeat. His thrusts slowed as he emptied, and you let out a dreamy, breathy sigh.

“Usually, I’d charge extra for that, sweetheart. But,” Jimmy paused to kiss you one final time before he got up to start redressing himself. “Like I said, that was a treat for me.”

As you laid there, looking at the ceiling (which was no longer sparkling), you mustered up the courage to rejoin your friends. Earlier, you thought you’d be embarrassed, having to make the walk of shame because you’d chickened out. Now, you were trying to find the words to explain what had happened — though you were sure everyone had heard exactly what had happened.

#Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x you #Jimmy Darling x reader #Jimmy Darling x yn #AHS smut #american horror story #american horror story freak show #AHS Freak show #myfics #requests

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todorokis-girl · 7 months ago

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I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (VI)

Chapters: Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter

masterlist

taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02 , @alien-00715-blog

After the intense fighting earlier that day, she decided to take the rest of the day off. She had regained some sensation to her fingers and nose simply by warming herself up (and to be honest, Shouto had insisted on standing as close to her as possible until she felt better). Every time any of Touya’s family members treated her so kindly, she remembered what was going on with him, and how by extension, she was lying to them too. Would they forgive her? Would they think less of her?

The living room, usually a sanctuary of calm, felt oddly oppressive. She changed into her home clothes and settled into her couch the moment she was done preparing to spend the evening in. It had been a while since she had any semblance of normality. Her free time had consisted of correcting assignments, dangerous hero work, and late-night walks attempting to find a peaceful resolution to the situation with Touya, or more like Dabi. She was already starting to feel the toll of it all over her body. Something had to give, but she couldn’t figure out what to give.

Giving up on her responsibilities as a hero meant forsaking the very essence of who she was, the reason she fought so hard every day. Abandoning her hero students, the bright young minds she had vowed to protect and guide, was unthinkable. They looked up to her, depended on her. But giving up on Touya meant abandoning hope, surrendering to the idea that he was beyond saving. It meant accepting that she had failed him, and she wasn't sure she could live with that. The conflict gnawed at her, a constant battle within that left her weary and restless.

After a while of watching a movie, she heard a subtle knock on the sliding doors to her balcony. Turning off the TV, she was settled in the dark, deciding if it was actually what she heard. She was on the top floor of a very high building, and the fire escape was the opposite way. A knock on her balcony sliding doors was unrealistic; but, she heard it again. She stood up from her space on the couch and walked over to them, slowly making a silhouette on the other side of the curtain.

“Stop being so paranoid, it’s just me,” The familiar voice settled in her ears. Touya. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself now that she knew it was him. She took a step forward and opened the curtains, leaving the doors closed and locked.

“Are you going to open up?”

She glared at him and leaned her head a little to the side, making sure not to move a muscle. They had already had one encounter today. Yes, he had decided that he wasn’t going to kill her and tried to warm her up before she was rescued, but she still didn’t feel out of the edge quite yet. She felt his eyes roam her body, taking her in. “Appropriate home attire, makes me wanna come over more often,” he remarked with a smirk. She looked down at herself, remembering that she had worn an old crop top and a simple pair of underwear, obviously not expecting visits.

“I’ll go change.”

“No, please, I can’t have that,” he looked at her and tapped on the window one more time with his pointer finger. “I really just want to talk though. I want to hear our story from your side. Then I’ll tell you mine.”

She swallowed and looked over at a distance in consideration. “You seem very calm.”

“I thought I said I wouldn’t kill you. If I wanted you dead, there wouldn’t be a better chance than today.”

She looked him over once more, trying to gauge the sincerity in his eyes, the tension in his posture. Slowly, she walked to the door, taking a deep breath and sliding the door open, stepping to the side to allow him to pass.

As he stepped inside, the cold night air followed him, a stark contrast to the warmth she had been clinging to. He glanced around the room, taking in the modest, cozy décor. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

"Nice place," he commented, his tone neutral.

"Thanks," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why now, Touya? Why come here tonight?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I can't keep pretending that everything is black and white. I need to understand. I need you to understand."

She nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. Despite everything, despite the chaos and the pain, there was still a part of her that wanted to sweet, intense, determined boy she never got to meet.

"Alright," she said softly, gesturing to the couch. "Let's talk."

They sat down, the space between them feeling like a chasm. She could feel the weight of his presence, the deepness of his gaze.

"Start from the beginning," he said quietly. "What’s your story"

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and began to speak, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "It all started when you ‘died’..."

She paused, her throat dry from the emotion welling up inside her. “Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee, or something stronger if you prefer.”

He looked at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Tea would be nice.”

She nodded, grateful for the brief reprieve. She moved to the kitchen, the familiar routine calming her nerves slightly. She put the kettle on, her mind racing with the story she was about to unfold. As the water boiled, she glanced back at Touya, who was watching her intently, his eyes softer than she remembered.

Returning with two steaming mugs of tea, she handed one to him and sat back down, cradling her own mug for warmth and comfort. The room was dimly lit, with a soft glow from the various electronics and the room, and the yellow light of lamp casting shadows on the walls. Shelves lined with books and trinkets hinted at a life filled with memories and secrets. The aroma of the tea mingled with the faint scent of burning wood, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and reflection.

She watched him take a sip, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. Accepting his look of satisfaction as her cue to continue, she began, her voice stronger this time. “It all started when you ‘died’,” she repeated. “Back then… Endeavor never stopped looking for your soulmate, and after a couple of days of your death, he found me. At the time, I was at an orphanage. From what I hear, my parents weren’t soulmates and decided to give me up when they finally found theirs. So he took me in.”

Touya sipped his tea again, his gaze never leaving hers, his blue eyes intense and searching.

“I was given all the ‘benefits’ that would’ve gone to you,” she continued, her tone tinged with a mix of bitterness and nostalgia. “I had the privilege to bond with Shouto during his training. Endeavor encouraged me to pursue hero work and figure skating. I always felt a little confused and disoriented because of the constant conflicting emotions. I was told over and over again that it was a normal sign of ‘soulmate loss,’ so I never really thought about it twice, always assuming it was just a thing I had to deal with.”

She paused to take a sip of her tea, savoring the warmth as it spread through her.

“And then?” he asked, moving an inch closer to her, his interest piqued.

“And then,” she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “I found out about Dabi. Some random stroke of luck sent me on a mission where I had to save some people from a building being on fire with his flames. It was an odd sensation. I started looking into him after that, and everything confused me. The connection between you and him. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but the more I learned, the more it made sense. It broke my heart, Touya. It broke me. But I couldn’t give up on you. Not then, not now. The idea that you’ve been alive all this time…”

She placed her mug on the wooden table in her living room, her fingers lingering on the rim as she tried to relax herself. It was the first honest opportunity she had had to properly talk to him about everything. It had been a year of this back and forth, and the building realization that this might finally be getting resolved, even if partially, allowed her to release some tension.

“I…” Touya started and paused, his eyes searching hers as he thought over what he had to say. “We’ve met before.”

“What?” she looked at him, surprise etched on her face. The revelation hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with the promise of more secrets to unravel.

“We were fifteen, you were buying some snacks at a convenience store. I had heard about you previously and had been watching you, making sure you were okay knowing you were living there.” He chose his words carefully, aware that from her perspective, this might have been a fleeting moment, easily forgotten. “I followed you there, and as you were choosing some snacks, I decided to approach you and introduce myself.”

Her eyes widened, and her breathing quickened. Memories she had long buried started to surface, each one sharper and more vivid than before. “I remember that… I thought you had read my arm and just wanted to hit on me…”

He swallowed hard, the weight of the past pressing down on him. “Your face mostly read disgust, and I could see how much you wanted me to die.”

“I believe you,” she said, her voice trembling. “The very idea of anyone pretending to be you would drive me into a rage. I thought…”

“I know that now,” he interrupted gently, his tone filled with understanding. “I didn’t realize then how much pain and confusion you were carrying. I just wanted to see you, to know you were real.”

She looked down at her hands, the warmth of the tea seeping into her skin. “That day… I told Endeavor about it, and he himself flew into a rage, a bad one. I…felt something strange when I saw you then. I couldn't put it into words, but it was like a part of me recognized you, even though my mind didn’t. It was painful to think about then, so I moved on.”

Touya nodded, his expression softening. “I felt it too. It was a lot. I knew I had to keep my distance. From my perspective, you rejected me, but it was hard. Every instinct told me to stay close, to reveal everything, but I couldn’t. It just made me angrier to think about you. The more I thought about you, the more I wanted you dead along with him. And your name on my arm, your emotions consistently there, never allowed me to forget.”

A silence settled between them, filled with the unspoken emotions of years lost and a connection rediscovered. The light in the room played across their faces, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the complexities of their past, it added an almost surreal quality to the moment, as if the past and present were merging into one.

She finally met his gaze again, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I wish I had known. Maybe things could have been different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice low and contemplative. “But we’re here now, and we have to deal with the consequences.”

She nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yes, we do. And I want to know everything, Touya. No more secrets.”

He reached out, his hand covering hers, offering a silent promise of honesty and connection. “No more secrets,” he echoed, the weight of his words carrying the hope of a new beginning. Even though he knew, in the back of his mind, that as much as he craved being with her and living happily ever after, they would probably never get the chance.

He moved closer to her, his eyes flickering down to her lips. In one swift movement, their lips met, the kiss filled with a mixture of longing and desperation, a culmination of years of unspoken words and hidden feelings. His sadness seeped into it, the taste of the tea lingered between them, mingling with the raw emotion that surged to the surface.

As they pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “More than you can imagine.”

He didn’t know if she has processed what would happened next but even if just right now, qhile they were together, they could have a normal moment, he wouldn’t break the spell they were in. He never though they’d have this, and she probably gave up on it years ago, why would he break the hearts of both of them now? They had a life time to do that.

They stayed like that for a moment, absorbing the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence, they had found a piece of solace in their shared truth.

“Whatever happens,” she said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, “we face it together.”

He nodded, determination hardening his features. His current thought procesess tempting to leak out, but at the end“Together,” he agreed. “No matter what.” Even if it was a lie.

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