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hwangyu · 8 months ago

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brand new, full throttle!

beomgyu finds out you're the perfect way to get under his stepfathers skin.

pairing(s); stepbrother!beomgyu x fem reader

warnings; STEPCEST, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap the willy!!!), creampie, reader is a virgin and kind of naive, reader calls her father daddy, beomgyu calls reader sis, beomgyu is a little manipulative, lowercase intended, ... bad writing (esp at the end bcus i can't write conflict to save my life). proofread in the sense i skimmed through it (so not really). lmk if i forgot anything! MDNI 18+

wc; 5.2k

beomgyu fucking hated his stepfather, everyone in the house knew that. you knew it, his mom knew it and your father most definitely knew it, too. beomgyu would purposefully get on his nerves whenever he could, whether it be by playing his guitar or music at times of night which he knew your father would be sleeping or intentionally bumping into him in the hallway.

over the many years, though, your father got used to beomgyu's bothersome antics—which had only pissed him off, feeling as if annoying his stepfather was the only control he really had—your father living peacefully, unbothered, was like an itch he couldn't scratch. that was until one night he had heard your father yelling at you for trying to bring a boy home.

that's when beomgyu had realized that you were the key to not just getting under his skin but the key to getting him so angry that his head would probably explode. his precious and innocent little daughter who could do no wrong, and would never do anything as dirty as even kissing someone. you were daddy's little girl and your father loved to baby you all too much.

ever since then, beomgyu's wondered how he would react if he heard you getting your brains fucked out and how he would react if he knew it was by his own stepson.

it had been about three weeks since your father had gotten angry with you for trying to bring a boy over—even after you had insisted that it really was just to hangout, that you've never even liked a boy like that, that a boy had never even liked you like that, he told you no. which wasn't the issue, but you felt humiliated he got so upset with you, and you really don't even know what you did wrong.

beomgyu consoled you that night. came into your room and rubbed soothingly at your back as you let out your tears. you've always been thankful for beomgyu, he was always accepting of you, as you were of him, even if your father seemed to disapprove of his appearance and hobbies.

despite the fact your father and stepbrother couldn't get along for the life of them, you and beomgyu's relationship was pretty good. you two hung out occasionally, mostly in his room but sometimes in yours, too. he'd invite you to watch a movie or play a game sometimes and you've met a couple of his friends. you liked him and he liked you, surprisingly enough—considering your families blended in both of your early teens.

so, when beomgyu had asked you if he could spend the night in your room for a movie-game night, you happily accepted.

you always brought out your best pillows and comfiest blankets when you two hung out in your room. usually you'd have brought a bunch of snacks in from the kitchen, but beomgyu had told you not to worry about it this time, that he had it handled.

you turned on your console and took your game controllers out of their charging docks, making sure both of the controllers were actuually charged and your dock hadn't failed it like it has in the past—you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that they were both fully charged, smiling to yourself as you started to navigate towards netflix.

it was 10:00pm when beomgyu had gently knocked on your door and your smile grew, excited to spend time with the boy. "come in!" you shouted, although your voice was still rather quiet. thankfully he heard you and the doorknob slowly turned. beomgyu smiled at you as he walked in and even while he quietly shut the door behind him.

he was wearing a black graphic tee with grey sweatpants, which contrasted the lighter colors you were wearing—white pajama shorts with a loose pink crop top. beomgyu always thought it was amusing that you two dressed totally opposite to one another. even in your room, beomgyu stuck out like a sore thumb, usually being dressed in dark, edgy clothes while your room was covered in cutesy stuffed animals and photos.

you'd always tell him that's why you two complimented each other so well, why you got along.

beomgyu hadn't said anything yet, only looking you up and down. if you were any smarter, you'd think he was checking you out. but you weren't and the only thing you noticed was that he had come in empty-handed. tilting your head, you pouted. "where are the snacks?"

"huh?" beomgyu blinked, his eyes shifting from your thighs to your face. "oh," he forced out a chuckle. "there…wasn't any. sorry. i'll get extra next time to compensate."

you hummed, somewhat disappointed. "that's okay…don't worry about it. i wasn't all that hungry, anyway." you told him, hoping that he wouldn't feel as bad. you sat yourself down on the pink beanbag in front of your tv, patting the white one right next to it.

"come on, sit down! let's find a movie to watch before it gets too late."

beomgyu dragged his feet over to the beanbag, sitting himself down with a sigh, watching as you reached out to grab your controller so you guys could look for a movie. "what kind of movie are you in the mood for?" you asked him while keeping your eyes on the screen, "like…something animated or…scary?" you started to list the options—turning your head to face him as you waited for an answer.

you flinched a little to see beomgyu was already looking at you and you briefly wonder if he had been the entire time you were scrolling through the movie selections. he seemed to notice your surprise and he chuckled.

"let's watch catching fire, i know you like that one." he told you—hoping that you would agree and wouldn't try to argue with him and get him to choose a movie that he wanted to watch instead.

luckily, it seems you didn't feel like arguing tonight. in fact, you smiled, "okay! that's a good one." you agreed with a nod, looking back towards the tv to turn the movie on. this time, beomgyu managed to tear his eyes off you.

things grew rather silent from then, besides your guys' comments about the character's choices or asking a question that wasn't entirely relevant to the plot at hand. it was only about forty minutes in when beomgyu leaned in towards you and asked you a question that wasn't regarding the movie at all.

"is your dad here tonight?"

you turned to look at him, absentmindedly reaching for the remote on the floor so you could turn the volume down a little. "y-yeah, he's got work early tomorrow so he's probably already asleep."

the boy placed his hand on your thigh as he nodded with a hum and he noticed you didn't seem to mind the touch by the way you had only offered his hand a glance. "my mom's spending the night at my aunt's, has to watch her dog for the night or somethin'."

you opened your mouth to speak, likely something in regards to the fact you would've volunteered to watch his aunt's puppy instead, but beomgyu managed to speak before you.

"is it true you were just going to hangout?" he suddenly asked and beomgyu noticed the immediate confusion in your face. "with that guy you wanted to bring over a few weeks ago."

truth be told, he felt bad when he saw you frown but seeing your face turn red from the embarrassment that you still felt from the situation was cute. "you of all people know i'm not gonna bring a boy over for anything else…" you mumbled, "i— i don't even do stuff like that." you quietly admitted.

"i know, i know, i'm sorry." beomgyu sighed, "it's just that…you know, guys are kind of sneaky. he probably just told you that he wanted to hangout at your place but who knows what he would've tried with you when he had you alone in here."

you squirmed in your beanbag, uncomfortable with the thought that your friend was possibly trying to sleep with you, even if you still didn't really believe such a thing. not to mention it's kind of embarrassing to talk about this sort of thing with your stepbrother. "i don't know if that's true…i don't think anyone has even had a crush on me before."

beomgyu knows that is certainly not the truth but he can't find it in him to tell you that. "what i'm trying to say is that your first time should be with someone you really trust. someone you know isn't gonna hurt you…someone like me."

your face heated up and you couldn't stop the immediate visual of beomgyu laying you down in your bed and being oh-so gentle with you. you tried to ignore it, because you don't think you should be thinking of him like that—besides, that can't be what he means.

"what are you trying to say?"

he squeezes your thigh like he's trying to reassure you or maybe calm you down, maybe he can tell how fast your heart is beating. "i mean, you're definitely curious, aren't you? if your first time is going to be with anyone, it should be me, since you can trust me, right?" he said—beginning to run his hand up your thigh and up your stomach to find the hem of your crop top, playing at it with his fingers.

beomgyu wasn't wrong, you're curious. you've touched yourself many of times before, but you don't even have any toys, and you've never been brave enough to use anything other than your fingers. you might be kind of naive, but you still want to know what the real thing feels like.

"we don't have to, if you don't want." beomgyu adds, though he doesn't stop playing with the hem of your shirt and you realize that his fingers are playing a little too close to your breasts, but you don't say anything. "n-no, i…i don't know. i'm just thinking."

"what is it that has you nervous, sis?"

you gulp, rubbing your knees together. "are you really sure we should do something like that? you and i?" you ask and beomgyu has to hold back a smile because he knows you're leaning towards letting him have his way with you. "why shouldn't we? like i said, we trust each other and it's not like we're doing anything bad. plenty of stepsiblings do this sort of thing, there are even stepsiblings who date each other."

"oh…well, if that's true…then it's probably okay, right?" you ask him with a hint of hope in your voice and this time, beomgyu allows himself to smile. "of course it's okay. i'll go real slow, so don't worry too much, you just tell me if you want me to stop?"

you nodded, though beomgyu could tell you were still nervous. "h-how are we supposed to start?" you ask him as he leaned in closer and he ran his fingers down your side, "people usually start with kissing, are you okay with that?"

you give yourself a minute to think, wondering if you think you'll end up getting too nervous after a kiss or two. but you do really trust beomgyu, you trust him with your life, so you think you'll be okay. "yeah, that's fine…"

beomgyu was quick to bring his other hand up to cup your face, bringing you closer to him as he pressed his chapped lips against your soft ones—he was gentle with you as to not freak you out too much. the hand on your face travels down to your neck while his other hand remains on your side. unfortunately, you pull away to take a breath.

he watches your face as you lick your lips, looking for any signs of discomfort and he doesn't see any, so he smiles. "was that good?"

a smile breaks out on your face and you let out a giggle, "it was really good. you're a good kisser…i think." you tell him—biting your lip. beomgyu laughs at your cute behavior and leans in to press another kiss to your lips.

"come here," he whispers, standing up from the beanbag and grabbing your hands to stand you up with him. you almost asked him what he was doing, but decided to trust him. the boy picked you up, earning a squeal from you.

your bed, covered in a white blanket with pink flowers—which is fitting for you, he thinks—squeaks a little as beomgyu lays you down, he digs his fingers into the hem of your shorts, but he speaks before he takes them off. "can i take these off?"

your face heats up, growing shy from the realization that he's going to see you naked, but you're too turned on to back out, and you wonder why he's asking when it feels like he was already going to. "y-yeah." you stammer and immediately after your go ahead, he takes them off, throwing them to the floor and being met with your lacy panties.

he noticed the wet patch in the middle, smiling to himself, proud to have gotten you like this. he presses two of his fingers to your clothed cunt and you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut. while beomgyu rubs your pussy in small circles and up and down, he leans down to press kisses to your neck and along your collarbone.

with his free hand, he rides it up your stomach and into your shirt. you feel him grin against your skin when he feels you have no bra on, "you're wearing this with no bra? jeez, were you wanting to flash me tonight?" he asks you with a laugh and you only whine in response.

he ghosts his thumb over your hardened nipple and you gasp. when you feel his lips leave your skin, you open your eyes to look at him and you see him smiling down at you. "i'm gonna take your panties off now, okay?" beomgyu tells you and he waits a short second in case you wanted to say no, but you nod, "just…be nice."

"of course, sis." he says before pulling your panties down, revealing your pretty pussy—he feels his cock straining against his sweatpants. struck with an idea, beomgyu grins. once he throws your panties to the floor, he grabs your wrist and presses your hand to his cock, watching the way your eyes go wide, "beomgyu!"

"see? you're so pretty, you've got me all worked up, too." he reassures you, "can't wait to feel your pretty cunt around me." beomgyu admits. "i've dreamt of this, you know."

"what?" you ask him in disbelief, "have you really…?"

"how couldn't i when you're just so cute?" beomgyu chuckles, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. "lick my fingers for me so i can stuff you with them." he says, his words are embarrassing and they fluster you, but you obey him anyway—keeping your eyes on him as you hesitantly take them into your mouth.

beomgyu's thoughts wonder as he feels your tongue swirling around his fingers. he thinks about how your tongue would feel on his cock and he starts to wonder if maybe he's not entirely doing this just to piss off your dad anymore. maybe he's partially doing this for himself.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, "good girl." he praises you and the way you smile makes it clear that you like it. pressing his fingers to your entrance, he pushes them in slowly, watching your face carefully, he notices your brows furrowing. "it's not too much, is it?"

you shake your head, "no…it's okay, just more than what i'm used to. y-your fingers are longer than mine." you sigh, letting out quiet moans as he continues pushing his fingers deeper inside of you. "your moans are so cute." beomgyu tells you with a soft laugh and it earns an embarrassed whine from you. he means it, too.

beomgyu curls his fingers and you sigh deeply, "that's good." you whispered as he slowly pumps his fingers. "just getting you ready for me."

"w-what do you mean?" you stammer, a moan escaping your throat right after. you try to hold back your moans but his fingers feel so much better than yours and the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy, so you just can't.

"means i don't want to hurt you." beomgyu explained, he thinks that going into detail would've scared you and selfishly, he doesn't really want you backing out now. he worries a little when he notices you frown, "gyu…your fingers feel good but i— i really want you to, uhm, you know…"

his heart soars at your confession, plus the fact you're too shy to tell him that you want him to fuck you and he smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "you'll get to feel my cock real soon, i promise."

you reply with a barely audible 'okay', allowing yourself to focus more on the feeling of his fingers stuffed inside of you—you're a little afraid that you may never be able to feel as good as you do right now with your own fingers.

with his free hand, beomgyu lifts your crop top, exposing your breasts. you want to cover yourself but you can't find it in you to move your hands as he eyes your tits. he takes your nipple between his thumb and index finger, squeezing it gently before letting go. "such pretty tits, too. you really are the cutest."

butterflies continue to explode in your stomach, no one has ever complimented your body—especially not like this, and you think something about hearing it from your stepbrother is making it ten times better and a part of you wonders if you should feel wrong for that.

beomgyu finally pulls his fingers out of you. slowly, but he does. you watch him as he lifts his hand up and spreads his fingers apart to see your arousal. you hear him let out a curse under his breath before he licks his fingers clean, "shit. i'd love to taste you someday." he says and beomgyu thinks about it for a minute, being in between your thighs, your hand gripping at his hair while you squirm and tell him it's too much.

"maybe next time we can taste each other." beomgyu offers. next time, you think. a next time sounds nice. "you'll…have to teach me." you know he knows that, but you told him in case for some reason he thought otherwise.

"i don't mind." beomgyu assured you with a smile. "you think you're ready for me?"

you gulped, glancing down at the obvious tent in his sweatpants. you squirm and you're incredibly nervous. "is it gonna hurt?" you ask, looking back up at him and meeting his gaze.

"we'll go slow." he said before pulling down his sweatpants, letting his cock spring free. spitting in his hand, he stroked his dick before lining it up with your entrance and he slowly starts pushing the tip of his cock in.

"wait, wait!" you suddenly exclaim and his movements stop immediately, his head snapping up to look at you. "aren't we supposed to be using something? like— like a condom?"

fuck. beomgyu thinks. "it's okay, we don't need one. it'll be fine, you trust me, don't you?"

"of course i do, gyu, but i thought—"

"then it'll be fine, sis, don't worry."

his words don't totally calm you down but you don't want to stop now, so you push your worries down. "o-okay. okay…if it'll be fine."

beomgyu lets out a breath of relief and he hopes you don't notice. continuing to slowly push his cock into your cunt, he goes in between watching the way your pussy swallows him and your face, which contorts from the stretch. "you feeling okay?"

"yes, yes…keep going, please." you reassure him and he hopes you're not just pushing through any sort of discomfort. either way, beomgyu kept going until his pelvis was flush with yours, and you dragged out a moan when you felt his cock buried inside of you.

beomgyu grabbed your hands, intertwining your fingers with his and placing both of your hands by your head. he squeezed your small hands, offering you a lazy smile. "okay?"

"okay." you said with an eager nod, "feels so…full."

as much as beomgyu knew he should wait a moment, let you adjust, he couldn't wait any longer. "i'm gonna move now." he warned you—waiting until you gave him a nod before he started pulling out slowly, letting just the head of his cock rest inside of you, before pushing himself back in.

you couldn't hold back the moans from escaping your throat and your noises had beomgyu grinning, not to mention the low groans that left his throat, too.

beomgyu squeezed your hands again, finding himself starting to go a little faster than he maybe should be. "your cunt feels so good around my cock, sis."

your bed started to creak as beomgyu's pace fastened and the head of your bedframe began to hit against the wall lightly, all while your moans grew in volume. suddenly, you remembered the fact that your dad was still right across the hall from you—that he had work tomorrow and that he definitely wasn't the world's deepest sleeper.

"o-oh, gyu! too loud, we're gonna—"

"shh, no, no. it's fine, your daddy won't hear anything." beomgyu insists. he's lying to you but you don't know that. "don't think about that, just focus on how i'm making you feel. it's just you and i right now."

you want to believe that no one can hear you two but you have your doubts, yet the way he's fucking into you is starting to feel so good, and the way the speed of his pace keeps increasing, you can't find it in you to really care.

beomgyu pulled one of his hands out from yours, earning you a frown, but it was quick to fade and your mouth fell open when he pressed the pad of his thumb to your clit—rubbing it in small circles, a whine left you as your back arched slightly off the bed. "fuck! s-so good, gyu!"

he grins hearing you swear, it's something you don't usually do, and it's definitely not something you do in front of your father. but even disregarding your father, knowing he's making you feel so good that he got such a reaction out of you, it inflates his ego. it makes him feel good.

your bed continues to creak and thump against the wall, along with the sound of skin slapping, as beomgyu fucks you—it's still not as hard as he's really wanting to but he still doesn't want to hurt you. besides, he thinks it'll be good as another excuse to fuck you again sometime, anyway.

"i'm gonna cum, gyu." you squeak out.

beomgyu can feel the excitement in his stomach, eager to feel you cum around his cock. "so soon, baby?" he teases you with a laugh and you whine in embarrassment. "i-i'm sorry…!"

leaning down, he places a kiss on your cheek. "it's okay, i know it feels really good. i'll cum with you, okay?" beomgyu says before his thrusts start to grow sloppy, rubbing faster circles around your clit and he's fucking you harder than he was just a moment ago. he's a little worried you won't be able to take it, but from your moans and whines, you seem to be taking it well.

"kiss me, kiss me, please." you manage to get out and this time, you squeeze beomgyu's hand. "i want you to kiss me."

beomgyu's quick to smash his lips against yours and you don't know it, but the same butterflies that were in your stomach are in his, too. you're thankful he doesn't pull away from your lips as you come undone around his cock and clenching around him, moaning into his mouth—moans he happily swallows.

it feels good as beomgyu fucks you through your high, and his lips are still attached to yours, but the stimulation eventually becomes too much, between him rubbing your clit and continuing to fuck into you, desperately chasing his own orgasm—squeezing in hand and humming against his lips in some attempt to get him to stop but he doesn't, and you're squirming against the bed.

he's so close, though, that he doesn't stop, regardless of your whimpering and squirming, the way your leg twitches from the overstimulation, too.

just as you think beomgyu might have you cumming again, he pulls his hand away and his thrusts come to a halt. he keeps his cock buried in your pussy as he cums. pulling away from your lips, a hoarse groan leaves his throat—his chest heaving.

"you came inside." you spoke up with a pout. beomgyu blinks, like he was out of it for a moment and trying to come back, which he likely was. "sorry, sis. you just felt so good, i think you're the best i've ever had." he tells you with a lazy smile, "it'll be fine."

you nod hesitantly. you trust him but you're still a little worried. you're also worried that you'll never be able to get off on your own again now that you've felt both beomgyu's fingers and his cock.

"what are you thinking about?" beomgyu asks you, his voice is soft and he still hasn't pulled himself out of you yet, but it's somewhat comforting.

it's embarrassing to answer his question but you don't want to ignore it either. "how good you felt." you admit quietly. "and if i'll ever be able to…feel good on my own again."

beomgyu chuckles at your worries. it's kind of…cute, he thinks. "if you ever need my help, you know where my bedroom is."

you fall silent as you process his words. does he want to do this again with you? is it wrong for you to hope he does?

he finally pulls himself out of you and you whine quietly at the loss. "you'll feel me again sometime, don't worry." he reassures you as he pulls his sweatpants back up.

you lick your lips and find the courage in yourself to ask. "do… i mean— you want to do it? again?"

beomgyu smiles at you again, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. "i still have a lot to teach you, don't i?"

beomgyu fell asleep in your bed that night, arms wrapped around you as you both dozed off. despite your activities, the two of you still fell asleep relatively early, but the sound of doors and cabinets slamming was enough to wake you both.

you hum in complaint from the noise while beomgyu yawns and starts to wipe his eyes. reaching out, he grabbed your phone off your nightstand to check the time. 6:03am.

"why's he being so loud?" you ask, muffled as your face was nuzzled into neck. you knew it was your dad making all the ruckus because who else could it be?

beomgyu was pretty sure he could answer your question, but he wasn't going to tell you that it was certainly because your father heard him fucking you last night. "i'll go make sure he's okay." he says before pulling away from you, starting to slide out of your bed.

if you weren't so tired, you'd question his intentions because you know the two don't get along at all, but all you wanted was to fall back asleep, so you hum in acknowledgement and let him. "don't be gone too long." you mumbled.

he doesn't say anything but he smiles at the thought that you still wanted to cuddle as he leaves your room, quietly shutting your door as he made his way downstairs. your father was still making a ton of noise, dishes clashing in the sink and more cabinets slamming.

beomgyu walks into the kitchen to see the one and only and he can't seem to wipe the smirk off his face even as your father turns to look at him. he wasn't just pissed, he was seething.

your father was quick to approach beomgyu, grabbing at the collar of his shirt. his brows were furrowed and his teeth were clenched, "you're lucky i don't kill you here right now, you piece of shit."

he laughs at his reaction. this is exactly what he wanted. "guess you shouldn't shelter your daughter so much next time." beomgyu tells him with a shrug before he's roughly let go. he stumbles a little but he doesn't fall.

your father scoffs and he places his hands on his hips. it's like he's so angry he doesn't know what to do with himself. "you're fucking crazy if you don't think i'll tell your mother, beomgyu. that her son's a disgusting, lowlife piece of shit."

the idea of him telling his mom does worry him a little, but beomgyu tries not to let it show. "i mean, you can try. i really don't think she'll believe you." he told your father. "we'll try to keep it down next time, though."

beomgyu thinks he might just earn a punch to the face from the way he notices your father balling up his fists. hell, he might just get beat entirely—even if he does, he'd still fuck you again in a heartbeat. whether it was to piss your father off or not.

"what's going on?" your soft voice suddenly interjects and if your father was about to beat the life out of beomgyu, you've just saved him. they both look at you, beomgyu looks careless while your father looks angry. beomgyu wonders what made you decide to come down, if you realized that it wasn't like him to make sure your father was okay, or maybe you just had a gut feeling.

you're all staring at one another and everything's silent. beomgyu has nothing to say, you're clueless as to what's happening and your father is trying to decide whether or not he wants to confront you about what he heard last night.

"daddy?" you question with a tilt to your head, you're waiting for him to say something but he doesn't. he only sighs and shakes his head, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter and bumping into beomgyu as he walked out of the kitchen and eventually out of the house, slamming the door shut.

beomgyu wonders why he didn't say anything, but he figures that your father couldn't handle the reality that his little girl really let her stepbrother fuck him. he probably thought he raised you better.

you were pouting, though, turning your head to beomgyu. "he usually says bye to me. did i do something wrong? did he tell you?"

beomgyu shook his head, bringing his hand up to pat your head. "probably just had a rough morning." he reassures you. he certainly had a rough time sleeping last night.

"say, you're free today, aren't you?" beomgyu asks you with a smile and your pout starts to disappear as you nod. "yeah, why?"

"i'll take you for a ride in my car. my treat."

a/n; i dont rly care for how this came out but i think its a little better than the first one i wrote TT also this is probably my second time ever writing conflict so i hope it's not too bad :') </3

#txt hard thoughts #txt smut #beomgyu hard hours #choi beomgyu smut #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu scenario #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu hard thoughts

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angvl3tears · 13 days ago

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐎𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃⋆.˚

she smells like strawberry and vanilla… bsf!chris x angel!reader .. sweet, pure and delicate ׂ ִ ₊ 𓈒⊹ ݁ ౨ৎ

content 𐙚 fluff, no use of ‘y/n’, chris pining

❛ angel? y’coming? ❜ chris questions. voice laced with urgency and desperation. his need to be around you showing. he fidgets with the rings on his fingers, twisting and turning. restlessly moving ‘round on the couch as he hears your commotion in the kitchen.

“m’coming!” you call out, tone sugary and sweet. like you always were.

matt notices chris’s restlessness, eyebrow raising in his direction. “chill kid, she’s been gone all of five minutes.”

chris pays no mind. just waiting for his sweet angel. he doesn’t even really care about the movie waiting to be watched on the tv. jus’ wants you. his best friend. the ache in his chest growing the longer you’re away.

you grab the bowl of popcorn, delicate hand taking hold of your hello kitty mug in the other. peach and strawberry wafting through your senses as the teabag settles. button nose scrunching up in delight.

“anyone want anything while m’ in’ere?” you wonder, asking the triplet boys. so considerate. so sweet. just as you were about to step foot out of the kitchen. fluffy sock covered foot toeing the line.

chris’s heart warms. sound of your voice so sincere. his hands settling. god, you’re just so sweet. always were, he can’t help but think. lips quirking up. jus’ can’t get enough of you.

“no, thank you!”

“all good!”

“chris?” you call out sweetly. “y’want anything?”

he smiles to himself, messing with the material of his fresh love hoodie. “no, m’okay angel. thank you.” he replies and your heart stutters. swelling and fluttering. that nickname like music to your ears.

with that, you take the step out of the kitchen and into the living room. glossy lips turning up into a sugary smile as you spot chris in the corner of the couch. a space beside him just for you. little baby flutters swirl in your tummy. giddiness washing over you.

you gently place the bowl of popcorn on the table, bending down to do so. the fresh love logo stretching on your ass, giving chris a good view of the pink sweatpants he specially designed as you do so. he coughs, ears turning pink. eyes not straying.

you spin, like the angel you are. beautiful hair bouncing. practically like a halo around you. you flash him a grin, holding your mug in both hands.

“c’mon, you jus’ gonna keep me waiting?” he tilts his head. stare meeting yours. your cheeks turn a shade darker. even as you giggle, shaking your head ‘no’ in response. chris smiles at the sound, his chest aching with something so familiar.

you take a tentative step forward, chris scooching so you have room to crawl in beside him. careful of the mug filled with hot water. you sigh as you sit down on the cushiony couch. chris’s arm falling over your shoulders so naturally. you don’t even notice the tingly feeling in your stomach.

nick presses play on the movie, everyone focused on the screen. you take small sips of your tea. you couldn’t tell whether it was the presence of chris warming you or the hot drink. either way you were engulfed with warmth. feet tucked under you. hair splayed across his hoodie covered chest. chris’s favourite sight.

he smiles in content, fingers brushing over the smooth skin of your shoulder. breathing in your sweetness. strawberry and vanilla. his favourite. everything about you was. so angelic. doll hearted. precious.

“m s’glad your here, sweet girl.” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. you pause, mug inches away from your mouth. your cheeks warm and you gush. turning to face the boy.

the smile you give him will be embedded into his mind. so beautiful. god his heart nearly stopped right then and there. “m’glad i’m here too, chris.” doe eyes glazing over with love. cheeks full and rosy. you lean up ever so slightly and press a sticky, strawberry scented kiss on his cheek.

chris feels himself go warm and fuzzy all over. wanting to feel you do that over n over. till he’s sick of it. you give him a small smile before facing the tv once again. snuggling back into his chest. sipping on your tea happily.

matt glances over at his brother, finding him sitting there stunned, blush coating his cheeks. chris meets his stare and matt smiles shaking his head.

chris ignores him, tightening his arm around you. resting his cheek on the top of your head. you shuffle closer, if possible. embracing the warmth. so warm. so safe. in his arms. your best friend. always protecting his little sweet angel.

god he loved you.

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aliyahwritings · 29 days ago

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MECHANIC!RAFE & BOSS' DAUGHTER!READER

masterlist.

MECHANIC!RAFE... has been in love with you since you were kids. He’d watch you from afar, telling Topper and Kelce with unwavering conviction that he’d marry you one day. They’d laugh in his face, but Rafe wasn’t joking—not for a second.

MECHANIC!RAFE... started working for your dad at the garage when he was just fourteen, helping his family make ends meet. Though his love for mechanics runs deep, he can’t help but steal glimpses of you from the window above. He knows your routine by heart—the way you blast music and dance when you think no one’s watching, the intense focus you have while studying, and the cute frown you make when you're deep in thought. His favorite moments? When you come downstairs to talk to your dad and pointedly ignore him, like he doesn’t even exist.

BOSS' DAUGHTER!READER... pretends to be annoyed by him because you love watching him try so hard to get your attention. There’s a thrill in the tension between you, and you thrive on it. Secretly, though, you have a crush on him—but you’d never admit it. If your dad found out, Rafe would be out of a job, and you can’t let that happen.

MECHANIC!RAFE... who drops everything when Barry calls, saying his girl—you—are getting way too drunk at a party. He doesn’t hesitate. He jumps in his car and heads straight there. It doesn’t take long to find you, swaying unsteadily with a drink in hand. Softly, he tells you it’s time to go home. You protest, whining about wanting to stay, but Rafe isn’t having it. Without a word, he lifts you into his arms, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and carries you to his car.

MECHANIC!RAFE... who always had your back—even sneaking you into your room without your parents catching on.

When you both turned 18, MECHANIC!RAFE finally mustered the courage to ask you out. Of course, you said yes, and the very next day, you were buzzing with excitement as you got ready for your first date. He surprised you with a fancy restaurant, insisting on covering the bill despite your protests. The entire evening, Rafe was effortlessly charming, his romantic side on full display.

MECHANIC!RAFE... drove you home, you couldn’t stop thanking him for such a perfect night. But as you stood there under the soft glow of the moonlight, Rafe wasn’t listening—he was too captivated by how breathtaking you looked.

MECHANIC!RAFE... leaned in and kissed you.

A year later, and BOSS' DAUGHTER!READER is now his girlfriend… but in secret. You’re hiding your relationship from your father, sneaking into the garage during breaks to steal moments together. Sometimes, it’s just to talk. Other times, it’s for a quickie with your boyfriend.

It’s risky, but neither of you can stay away. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word between oil-stained tools and the scent of gasoline only fuels the fire.

MECHANIC!RAFE... is always teasing, smirking at the way you try to keep your composure. “Careful, princess. Don’t want Daddy walking in on us, do you?” he’d say, his hands brushing against your waist as he pulls you closer.

But it’s not just the physical moments that keep you tied to MECHANIC!RAFE. It’s the way he remembers all the little things about you, like how you like your coffee or the song that always gets stuck in your head. It’s the way he works tirelessly at the garage, all grease and grit, yet somehow finds the time to make you feel like the only thing that matters.

Still, the secrecy wears on you both. There are nights when you lie awake, wondering how long you can keep this up. MECHANIC!RAFE always reassures you, his voice low and steady. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises, his rough hands brushing against your cheek. “I’m not losing you, no matter what.”

For now, you live for the stolen moments—his heated kisses, his playful smirks, and the way he looks at you like you’re his whole world, even when the rest of it is trying to pull you apart.

INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!

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jasvtsc · 2 months ago

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dean winchester x angel!reader.

dean had been feeling down for quite some time now. he was quieter than usual, his snarky and teasing comments basically being reduced to zero. he was like a shadow of himself, closing up in his routine.

wake up. coffee. hunting. booze. go to sleep. repeat.

and it was like that over and over again.

like he was dead inside.

you knew he was hurting — as an angel, you could sense those things even though you weren’t sure what they meant exactly. but you were pretty sensitive to them, especially when it was dean who was experiencing such mental turmoil. it was breaking your heart even though it was literally impossible. you were an angel, a celestial being too powerful for a mortal to wrap their head around it.

yet you were sad when your favourite human was suffering.

it didn’t suit him. and you didn’t understand why he had to go through so much. in your eyes, he was just this precious human who was dealing with all your questions and things you were curious about. he was there for you. and you wanted to be there for him.

which is why you decided to cheer him up a little. you wished you could take all his pain away, double it and give it to the next person (coughs john winchester), but (unfortunately), as an angel, you couldn’t hurt other people. that wouldn’t be good. and you didn’t want to deal with that right now — dean was your main priority.

so you were limited to doing what you did best — healing troubled souls.

however, you weren’t exactly sure how to approach him. he didn’t want you using your powers on him — he thought it was a waste of time, and he didn’t like supernatural forces messing with him in general. even if they were coming from his little birdie. he had some limits.

that’s how you were back at the starting point, sitting in the war room and silently debating what to do.

you tapped your fingers on the table, your lips pursed out as you hummed some song you overheard playing on the radio while returning from a hunt with dean. you learned to love car drivers, especially the late–night ones, with music faintly playing in the back, as you admired the sky and all the stars. dean showed you so many amazing things about humans and their customs. and you just wished you could bring something into his life as well.

you even debated recreating some scenes from his favourite movies. cas told you about them, but you weren’t sure why would dean have to become a pizza man all of a sudden. so that idea was also put in a dumpster.

you couldn’t figure out a single thing you could do for him. with a groan of frustration, you stood up and headed to his room to simply ask what he’d want you to do to make him feel better. that was probably the best idea. he, for sure, must’ve wanted something.

in a blink of an eye, you arrived at his door. you barged in without knocking, as always, and looked around the room. and then, your heart just broke. dean was lying in his bed, his hand draped over his face as he just lay there. you didn’t know for how long he’d been like that, and you noticed that he was still in the same clothes that he’d been wearing three days ago.

yeah, it was bad.

“deano? what are you doing?” you asked softly, nudging his shoulder with your finger. he just sighed and looked at you with those tired, green eyes.

“not now, birdie. just go,” he said, pushing you away. but you didn’t budge, not even a little.

“no. you look like shit. i can’t let you be like that,” as always, you were being a little too straightforward.

“thank you. that’s exactly what i needed to hear, pigeon. i’m being serious, just leave me alone,” his voice grew stern. but you didn’t care. you weren’t about to give up.

“hey, i did that. i left you alone this past week, just like you asked. but enough of that. you went past your limit,” you huffed and basically lifted him from the bed as if he weighed nothing.

at this point, dean didn’t even try to protest. you were an angel. you’d most certainly beat his ass if he started a fight — you wouldn’t tho — you were too sweet for your own good.

yeah, you were doing a good job proving to him that not all angels were assholes. you were his little birdie, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world. however, he knew damn well that you deserved better than him. you deserved someone on your level, someone who’d be good for you — not an old, washed-up hunter with trauma and plenty of issues. he’d just corrupt you. and that was the last thing he ever wanted. you were supposed to stay his sweet angel forever.

you dragged dean to the bathroom and sat him down in the bathtub. you ordered him to take his clothes off, and when he did that, albeit begrudgingly, you filled the tub with warm water.

dean visibly relaxed and closed his eyes, just winding off the pressure he felt on his shoulders those last few days. however, he opened one eye as soon as he felt your fingers treading through his hair, washing it for him.

“darlin’, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, a small smile slowly appearing on his face.

“shush. i’m washing your hair. i think,” you mumbled, biting on your tongue as you tried to wash his hair. he did that for you plenty of times, and you tried your best to repeat those movements for him.

dean chuckled lightly but didn’t say anything. yeah, you were putting a little too much pressure on his head and shoving it from one side to the other — but he didn’t have it in him to correct you. you were too much of a sweetheart, and he knew you were trying your best. so, he’d let that slide.

as you massaged his scalp, he reached for his razor, planning to shave off the scruff on his face. but you were faster and slapped his hand away with a huff.

“huh?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“no. leave that. it looks better that way,” you said matter-of-factly.

and in this exact moment, that characteristic smile of his came up on his lips. he chuckled and ran his fingers through his scruffy cheek.

“you just say that 'cause you love how it scratches your thighs,” he muttered lowly, leaning back with a cocky smirk as he obeyed your order.

and you just blushed heavily, clearing your throat.

oh, he knew damn well you absolutely loved the carpet burn.

a/n: sooo surprise!!! it’s not totally emo lol

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x angel!reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester one shot #supernatural one shot

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hoseoksluna · 11 months ago

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SOJU | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. hobi)

genre: heavy angst, heavy smut

word count: 10.4k

summary: jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

playlist: soju / pinterest board: wine

warnings: sex flashbacks, alcohol consumption, jungkook is drunk emotional and a mess, jealousy, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), almost heavy dd/lg themes, plushie used during intercourse, inner child healing, use of a sex toy, oral sex (f. receiving), ass play and nipple play, provocation, dirty talk, hair pulling, dry humping, rough sex, overstimulation, pain felt during intercourse, jungkook instructs reader like the teacher he is, pet names and one particular title used, squirting, praise kink, jungkook is mean and cruel and just so horny

note: i will never forget this fic. never. this is the third part of 'wine' and therefore the very end to this adventitious series. even though, this part has a little bit information and quirks in it from the other two fics, it's fine to read as a standalone, but i do recommend reading all three parts as they interlink and you can beautifully see the process and the change of their relationship. i want to thank the lovely soul who asked me to make this a series because writing this made me incredibly happy—and all the themes i used mean the world to me. i also want to thank all of you for reading and for all the love. i hope you like this as much as i do. please, heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that not everyone can be comfortable with. with that being said, enjoy your reading and let me know what you think, let me know your favorite parts. ᡣ𐭩

side note: drunk 3D jungkook being all mean, dominant and daddy is, quite literally, the epitome of my sexuality.

Jungkook will always be a man of his word.

It’s the foundation that keeps his back straight as he leads you through the crowd. The core of the whole promise is the very strength of his fingers as they clasp around your much smaller hand because he notices, under the washed out lights of red and violet, that you’re the center of attention.

He feels as though he’s dragging the hand of a child like a protective father. Except, he has the impulsive need to cover you with his body.

It’s a blasting alarm within the ear splitting chaos of his mind. Louder than the modern music he cares little for; louder than the song of the hard, quickening beats of his heart that he’s unable to ignore. He promised he’d make it up to you about the party because he’d made you drunk with lust. Now that he’s taken you here, he’d much rather be back home with you. Wouldn’t even have the need to seduce you—he just doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want you to be the apple of everyone’s eye.

Sweat glistens on the planes of his forehead.

Jungkook returns every inquisitive look of people he doesn’t know with a stern furrow of his brows. Figures he needs a drink; figures he needs his hyung, at least one familiar face among strangers.

A strong one, to calm the storm within, and a big hug from the host himself.

He hates people.

Leading you to the makeshift bar of spirits in the kitchen, he has a protective hand over the small of your back as you climb on the bar stool. Watches as your ass lifts over the leather and almost jumps out of his own skin when the outsole of your high-heeled shoe slips on the footrest and you fall back onto the chair with a thud. A precious set of treble giggles billow out of your mouth, followed by a reassuring flick of your hand that you’re okay, and Jungkook’s own hand trembles when he lifts it off your back. While you open your purse to reapply your lip gloss, he hides behind his tight, feigned smile the need to run and calm his breathing.

His irises wander over the contents of that purse of yours. Finds a long brown pencil there, your phone, a pack of cigarettes with a purple lighter and a ring of keys adorned with the tiniest Hello Kitty he’s ever seen. No wallet, no cash tucked beneath. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth, hand acting out of its own will—coming over to your long hair, smoothing it down as you focus on lining your lips with another set of glitter and pinkness. Perhaps the gesture is owed to the proudness he feels due to the fact you’re expecting to be provided for throughout the night, wherever it takes you both after this party. Blurred within is the smugness that he’s the reason you’re dolling yourself up again because he couldn’t help but make a mess of your mouth in the car. It makes his cock grow tight in his pants.

He wears the smugness all over his features. From the gleaming cosmos in his eyes, to the smudged kiss stains of all the roses in the world scattering over his nose and cheeks, down to the deepening smirk. He thinks he’d buy you anything your eyes would linger a heartbeat longer on, with snacks included in case you’d get hungry, as he silently praises you for your good behavior, for that smart brain of yours by the brush of his hand down your hair. A sick part of him wants to even get in debt for you for the pure fun of it—the fun being the primal core of your wishes and needs being gratified, for your satisfaction to shine through the veins on your skin like little sun rays, all while having the time of your life on the night out he promised you.

He’s not afraid to admit he’d do anything for you as long as it stays safely stashed within his system. Can’t risk voicing it out. Can’t risk you knowing. Can’t risk shit.

Studying the shape of your lips as you hold up a small heart-shaped mirror, he twirls the ends of your hair as he waits for you to be done to ask you what you want to drink. Is reminded of the way those pillows wrapped around the straw of the banana milk you brought for him the last time he saw you. Of the way they sucked his fingers when he used them for lubrication to rub your clit while he was fully buried inside your tight, dew-sprinkled cunt. He suddenly feels hot under his collar.

He’s a slave to flashbacks. Always has been.

The celestial concoction of your needy moans and his, kept safe within the confines of his car, loop in his brain. The look of agonized lust when he bit your bottom lip in a heated kiss that he soon alleviated with the swipe of his tongue, with the suction of his lips that begged him to take more of you. Jungkook hears it as if there wasn’t any music at all, as if its thrumming wasn’t enveloping the corridors of his panic-stricken heart. He hears your words, embellished by those giggles of yours, in his ears all over again: “Stop, you’re making me horny. We should go inside.” His own, too: “You dance better for me when your panties are wet. I know you do.” Sees again, as if the moment is happening again and you’re standing in front of him, the way you reacted to his hands warming up your sides in the cold after you stumbled out of his car. Sighing softly, glossy eyes whirling upwards to the drowsy sky full of quivering stars, tipsy on the desire he’s obsessed with awakening in you while being tipsy just the same. The smile rising on your lips when he asked: “Show me how you’re gonna dance for me.” The way you moved your hips in such a silly way that squeezed his heart until it was difficult to breathe.

He’s fucked. Knows he is. Has known it for a while now.

You’re the origin of the chaos within his mind. The body of it itself. He has a teeny-tiny version of you in his mind that lives there, and lives there well because he feeds her, brushes her hair and gives her kisses, despite the storm.

He could never tell you—how much he thinks about you daily.

To a certain extent, he almost did the last time you came around, in a frenzy of sensuality and pent-up desire that consumed him. Prayed you didn’t see it for the way it really was.

It’s not just lust, and it’s more than just a friendship.

He figured as much—doesn’t have any fucking idea what to do with it.

Not a single one. Especially not when you pucker your lips at him and screw the applicator back into the tube.

He doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t ever want to lose the sight of that pucker of yours. And he fears that if he tells you of his weakness for you, he might never see it again.

So, he opts to keep things safe, keep things casual. That is until he eventually bursts.

That’s another promise, too.

He pulls on one of your strands. Your head knocks back, eyes wide at the audacity of it all. He laughs at your reaction.

“Can you stop?”

Jungkook does it again just to see the shock written over your face, full on belly laughing.

“What the fuck?” You slap his shoulder, the impact so small he barely feels it. “You want me to pull your hair, too?”

He grabs his stomach. “No, what I want to know is what you wanna drink.”

You purse your lips in feigned anger, fingers outstretched by the back of his head to play-pull his hair or perhaps slap him into oblivion. If you could manage it.

He doesn’t think you could.

He goes around you to sit beside you on the bar stool, studying the bottles of liquor his hyung bought. Is ignorant to the way you’re studying him, to the way the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly at the discovery of the current situation in his intimate parts.

Pulls out one to acknowledge himself with it. Asks you if you wanna drink it.

You don’t say anything.

When Jungkook lifts his eyes to scold you for not paying attention, all the words get hitched in his throat. You’re grinning from ear to ear. All those damned words are forgotten immediately.

“Are you hard?” you whisper, flushed at the face, glossy eyes glimmering, ever so excited about your discovery.

He feels himself twitch. Hides it by cupping himself discreetly.

Averts his eyes. “I’m always hard around you,” he mutters, twisting the bottle open. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

He doesn’t look at you when he pours you a shot, but he focuses on the way your breathing gains speed. Fights the smile threatening his lips caused by how easy it is to provoke you.

“You wanna get out of here?”

You’re hasty as you ask, looking around you, inspecting which room you could use to drag him into and relieve him of his problem, but he assures you it’s no problem at all with a curt shake of his head.

Strangely, he found a way to like the tension in his pants. Thinks it digs deep into the depth of the moment—simply makes it more exciting.

“We just got here,” Jungkook says flatly, screwing the lid back on. “Don’t be rude.”

He filled your shot to the brim not necessarily with the intention to make you drunk as fast as he can, but to watch your eyes widen the way they do so sweetly. And you don’t disappoint him at all when you do just that, the smile on your lips blossoming still. An aura of shyness envelops you in softness due to his disapproving words and Jungkook realizes he grazed your submission by reprimanding you. While it magnifies his smugness, he feels a little bit bad for you. Knows how much it turns you on when his fatherliness looms out, but blames you for it nonetheless. You rouse it in him.

You may have never told him about your father wounds, but his instincts sensed it in you—sought it out like its own child and cradled it in his arms, promising to never let go.

Promise. There it is again.

He wants to spend the rest of his life promising you things. Doesn’t matter what. He just wants the security, the cord of trust, that you’ll be here; that you’ll be here for a long time. It truly doesn’t matter if he promises you things internally or outwardly.

Jungkook cups your chin. Wants to say something. Wants to reassure you that you can take the shot, encourage you a tiny bit. But what you say to him dries up his throat completely.

“You don’t want a blowie?”

Your words were a mere silky noise, but he heard you. Curled his fingers tight into fists in order not to bend you over the bar stool and take you right then and there in front of everyone.

Decides he will provoke you right back.

“You don’t want a lickie?” he murmurs, drawing close to you so you’re the only one who hears him. “You don’t want Daddy’s tongue on your little clit?”

You gasp and grip his knee, your legs intuitively spreading.

Jungkook skims his surroundings to see if anyone’s watching. When the coast is clear—people mindlessly mingling, having conversations—he hovers his lips against your ear, hand coming in between your legs, not to touch you but to cover you. Whispers, “or you don’t want Daddy’s tongue fucking you fast? Licking over your little ass? Hm, you don’t know how good that feels yet, do you?”

You’re holding in a sob—Jungkook sees it in the way your eyes and lips round, brows furrowing. He made you wet. Serves you right.

He pulls away to pour you a chaser. Asks which one you want.

You take a deep breath, flicking your hair back. “Coca cola,” you chirp, despite the deathly grip you have on his knee, perhaps to hold your sanity together, other fingers wrapping around the shot. Small, so fitting for an equally small glass.

Jungkook laughs. Loves it. Loves…

The realization, of what he almost granted access to within his system, strangles his heart. He hears nothing for a moment, not the music, not the tremor of his weak heart. Nothing.

A can of Coke waits for you behind the bar on the kitchen counter and before any thought flicks through his brain, Jungkook stands to his feet to fetch it for you—to get his blood pumping again so he can gain control of his senses. It scares him, the nothingness. Even his eyes fail to focus as he looks for the metallic red can he swore he saw hardly a minute ago. He feels a slap on his back and a familiar face, at last, comes into view.

Hobi.

The first thought that resurfaces is filled with thankfulness enveloping around that name, dispersed with tiny kisses of ‘you saved me, hyung’. Jungkook dives head-first into the offering hug of his savior, his senses returning to him like magnets attaching to metal. He takes in a deep breath as if he was under water and just came up for air.

“So glad to see you,” Hobi says, rubbing his back.

Jungkook squeezes his shoulder. Says something that doesn’t reflect what he truly wants to say, keeps up the small talk while burying under layers upon layers of mud the confession that he almost told himself he loved you.

Which reminds him that he didn’t introduce you.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jungkook says, grabbing the can of Coke his eyesight is now clear enough to spot and an empty, tall glass for you. Guides his friend to where you’re sitting but what he sees almost makes him jump out of his own skin for the second time in the span of an hour—almost sobs tearfully at the unfortunate discovery.

A mop of dirty blonde curls shaking at the impact of his laughter as he whispers sweet nothing into the shell of your ear. He towers from behind you, compressing you in the muscly width of his half-barren chest. An electricity of anguish spasms down the course of Jungkook’s body, for in a flash he’s reminded of the way you towered above him just the same the last time. His sweat cools as you listen to him, a pang after pang of jealousy stinging him in his abdomen. He’s frozen on the spot—Hobi says something, but Jungkook can’t hear him—that is until you make a face of discomfort.

Jungkook sees red.

His heart slams hard against his chest, but he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel its intention to break his ribcage.

The words unfurl out of his tight mouth before he can think them through. “Can I fucking help you?” he hisses through his teeth, setting the glass and the can down harshly. The noise makes you jump, which instantly drives him to regret his actions—and it puts an end to his rage.

He didn’t mean to scare you. Doesn’t want you to regard him this way.

The sudden softness welcomes his senses back with a gentle beckoning.

Lifting his eyes, the guy ignores the question. Whispers something again that forces you to pierce your stare into the fire that burns within Jungkook’s irises. Not the fire he let you see throughout the trajectory of your casual relationship, the blue, the dreamily sultry one.

The one that licks over his eyes is black. Pitch black. No sign of stars, no dots of reflection of light. Pure pitch black.

But you hold his gaze, unafraid of the darkness.

For a reason unknown to him, it ignites you with strength to shove raggedy Barbie Ken away. Your touch lingers on his chest for a mere second and is not as scorching as the bite of your words: “Yes, I’m here with him and I’m not interested in you. Go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t look at the guy. Doesn’t give two shits about the painful twists of his features as he staggers away. Forgets about Hobi; forgets about the questioning looks of strangers digging into his back. All he sees is you. All he hears is the sigh of relief once he’s gone. And Jungkook is hasty as he reaches for you, relieved himself—relieved that he didn’t have to fight the fucker and alter the trust you have in him—needing you close, needing to gain back his control. He’s almost smiling uncomfortably at the ridiculous twist of events, but then the tug of his mouth stills.

You slip out of his grasp and move past him.

There’s silence within Jungkook’s ribcage. Not one beat or flutter, not one kick.

Nothing.

***

Knocking back shots after shots, Jungkook remains silent. Doesn’t answer any of his hyung’s questions. Doesn’t look at any of the girls who sashay to Hobi’s thigh to chitchat. His gaze merely remains fixed on the empty glass of the chaser he never had the chance to pour you.

Your shot of the dark liquor is also left untouched.

It’s the twinge of pity he feels that gives the order to his feet to rise. Hobi grabs his arm, long fingers digging into the hard leather of his jacket. Jungkook doesn’t reciprocate his stare, despite its heavy energy. Keeps his head low instead.

“Give her more time,” Hobi says, lugging him down to a seated position but Jungkook untangles out of his grip.

Grabs a bottle of soju as he mutters, “half an hour is more than enough.”

He makes a way through the corridor towards the door you slinked into, the translucent bottle swinging by his jean-clothed thigh. Doesn’t knock on the wood, instead walks straight in as if he owned the place.

You’re sitting by the foot of the bed. The yellowness of the subdued bedside lamp drapes your sagged shoulders in gold, filtering through your hair that obscures your face. You had taken off your shoes and they lie crooked and alone by your stocking-clad feet. Jungkook wonders if that’s how you feel.

His weakness caused by the unfortunate events and the sadness engulfing you stops him from moving a step closer to you as he beholds your puny form, but Jungkook fights it—fights for you. He needs to be in control. Of his own body and emotions, no matter how strenuous he finds it. He needs to be strong—and he needs to be strong for you to make things right.

He clicks the door shut behind him. As he walks towards you, he opens the bottle of soju with the firmness of his phone and takes a long sip. Settles in between your legs on the ground, crossing his legs at the ankles. Probs you on the calf to make his presence known to you, cooing your name.

You sniff your nose, gathering your hair to the side, curling the shorter pieces behind your ear. Your face glistens from the rivers of tears he wasn’t there to wipe away, cheeks flushed from all the onrush of emotions that wasn’t of the coy or sensuous kind he likes so much. The hard stone of his heart cracks at your broken countenance and the back and forth swipe of his fingers on the nylon of your stocking grows more tender the more he takes in your sadness. He wishes to inhale it, rid you of it once and for all. Thinks it doesn’t belong to you. Wants to fight the guy, make you laugh—make a fool out of himself—and make love to you. Wants all of those things at the same time, but he realizes he can’t tear himself apart.

He decides being here is enough. He can fix whatever has been broken here in Hobi’s room.

“This is so fucked up, Jungkook.”

You’re the first one to break the silence and it takes a slight weight off of his shoulders. Jungkook hums, prompts you to speak further on what hurts your heart. Wraps his entire hand around the muscle of your calf, thumb tracing figures of eight on your skin.

The warmth helps you look him in the eye, but you don’t say anything else.

Jungkook figures it’s his turn.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he says softly, hand drifting down to cradle the heel of your lifted foot. You’re mine, he doesn’t add.

Your mouth rounds once again in a wave of emotion that clutches you. You don’t let the tears fall, looking up to the ceiling so the little pearls don’t trickle out of your tear ducts. Jungkook notices puffy marks of darkness under your bottom lashes, where he swore he saw thin pathways of glitter, small shooting stars traveling around the globe of your eyes. They’re nowhere to be found now, you’ve rubbed them away.

“I know, it’s not about that.” You sniff, hands hooking under the hem of your skirt just to have something to hold onto, to busy your fingers a little—as if he wasn’t right there. “I think I kinda get you know.”

Jungkook makes a sound that asks you to enlighten him, taking a swig of the sweet liquor to aid him in forgetting what he didn’t say. But the more he drinks, the more he remembers—the more his feelings splutter to life. It’s like he didn’t drink a drop at all.

“I never understood why you need to be in control all the time,” you start, fixing your gaze on his. “But I finally did when that guy had his arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I wished I had even a small bit of control in that moment when I was alone. I hated feeling like I had to endure it when all I wanted to do was run away.” You break apart at your last words and Jungkook’s world crumbles in his hands.

There’s chaos in his mind. A chaos of selfish nature that wants to prove you wrong because no, he doesn’t have any control when it comes to you, when you’re dressed, perfect and broken altogether. He doesn’t have shit—he’s nothing. A complete mess. And perhaps it’s his bruised heart that acts out despite this self-pitying mayhem grappling him, shutting it out into eternal darkness, for Jungkook doesn’t even know how he does it when he pulls you down onto his lap by a careful drag of your legs and encases you within the heated snugness of his arms.

He doesn’t even understand his own words when he says, “You can take all of mine. It’s yours.”

Jungkook doesn’t care about anything at all because when you start to sob into his shoulders, he breaks along with you—bursts at the seams completely.

“I know you were scared, but that won’t happen again. Not when I give you all of my control.” His words are smooth amidst the stream of his liquid emotions and Jungkook is glad for it—glad to be a pillar you can lean on. He imagines transferring all of his being, not just his control, to you like a blanket draping around your shoulders, so the situation never happens again.

His tears soak your hair strands and they carry his sorrowful kiss to the crook of your neck. He doesn’t want to utter a sound, wants to remain strong, but his heavy exhales betray him, wafting against you as he tightens his grip around your violently shuddering body in effort to soothe it. Considers this moment to be yours alone, doesn’t want to be selfish. Wants to be there for you.

“You helped me when I saw you,” you say against his skin, the sound muffled but he hears you—tightens his lips in a firm line in order not to wail. “When I saw that you were there, I was strong enough to push him away. You were my backup, Jungkook.”

He agrees with a soft sound, rocking you back and forth as he cradles you. Leans his head against the side of yours, shielding you from the world and its wickedness.

Your cries quieten. “But I want to be strong even when you’re not there.”

Jungkook strokes your hair, understands you even when it pains him—his attachment to you pulled so taut he fears it’ll break. “You’re strong now. I gave you my control, didn’t I?”

To his surprise, you nod.

After you pull away to breathe and Jungkook sweeps your tears away with his thumb, he’s smothered with the reminder that he made a promise to himself—a promise that is on the brink of being fulfilled.

The walls close in on him, but he doesn’t care. He promised to keep things casual until he bursts. He refuses to go another day pretending you’re just a friend he feels nothing for. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the heavily charged emotions that make the decision for him, but he simply doesn’t care about the outcome anymore. The truth has to come out into the light.

Jungkook calls you by your name. Brushes your hair back so he can look properly in the faded lush of your eyes; cradles your face in his hands like that. You call him by his name as well, whispering it into the shadows of the room. Such a soft, silky sound that puts pink plasters over the cracks in his heart. He says your name in the same intonation just to get a taste of liberty.

“I’m yours,” he confesses, a lump forming in his throat, and he’s too late to blink the tears away. “I’ve been yours since the day I met you; since the moment you laid your hands on me. Yours for the taking. My heart, my control—it’s all yours.”

The bridge constricting his throat collapses when you give him a look of endearment, your features softening, rounding in emotion. Jungkook watches as a tear rolls down your cheek; feels an identical one going down the same path on his own skin, fiery and hot.

“I’m sorry.” He breaks into sobs—and break, break, break is all he does. “I’m sorry if you wanted to stay casual, but I can’t… and-and I can’t let you go. I can’t let anyone else have you.”

You bunch the material of his wife-beater in your fists under his jacket, mewling tender weeping sounds. Jungkook bites his lip to prevent himself from spilling in your hands, needing you to say something, anything, so he can straighten his back and call it a night. You bury your head in his chest and Jungkook lulls you to calmness while needing it himself. He suddenly feels alone. Alone and crooked like your shoes, as if he said the wrong thing, as if he didn’t deserve any reassurement, any love for what he just did—

You mumble something into his skin.

His heart jumps.

“I didn’t catch that, baby.”

You lift your head, clutching the sides of his neck. “I like you, too, Jungkook.”

Your words tell him a lot of things.

He didn’t make a mistake tonight. He didn’t do anything bad, didn’t lose you for the rest of his life. He will see that pucker of yours for the months to come, your glitter and all your shooting stars will be there to guide him home.

And the other thing is—he fell for you first. Because while you like him, he absolutely and irrevocably loves all of who you are.

He smiles at you, though. The bridge takes the heft on his shoulders along with it and disperses into nothingness. He wants to thank you. He wants to thank you for the kindness you expressed towards him, for your hands that hold him. And he does by kissing you, by inhaling you, taking away all your sadness and the bad events that caused it.

“You mean a lot to me,” you say against his lips, pretty wet eyelashes fluttering. Jungkook feels their dewiness; wants to feel yours, too. There’s a pout to his mouth as he listens to you. “You changed my life. You make it better.” He nods at your words, senses them opening a window in his heart to let the fresh air in. “I don’t ever wanna lose you, Gguk. You’re too important.”

He almost says it. Those three words. But he keeps them stored within the now brisk chamber of his heart, full of spring. Flowers grow, in place of the plasters.

Jungkook caresses your cheek. “I want to make you forget.”

You beam at him—and there he feels it, the pulse of his heart, its song and its steady, balmy notes.

“Make me forget about tonight, please.”

He kisses you, adds in a million tiny pecks in between, sliding his tongue inside your mouth in brief greeting. His fingers blindly find the bottle of Soju and when he withdraws with a pop, he presents it to you.

“Look at what I got you,” Jungkook says, chuckling.

You wrap your hand around his on the bottle and he tips it to your mouth, helping you drink it. You widen your eyes at him when he wants you to drink more than you do, and he lowers his hand with a grin. Loves those eyes of yours. Loves your mouth as he wipes it clean with his thumb.

It’s lighthearted, the state of his emotions. He had tasted liberty by fondly mimicking your intonation, but now it courses through his veins, now it’s his. He feels so very glad to be alive at this moment and he wants to celebrate in the only way he knows he can.

“I got you another thing as well, but it’s back home,” Jungkook says. “I can’t drive but we can take an Uber.”

“Let’s go.”

Jungkook straps your heels, fixes your skirt and swipes his thumbs under your eyes to rid you of black mascara stains. Offering you his hand, you take his pinky and ring finger and he leads you out of the room with you following behind. He skims the living room to find Hobi but, again, he’s nowhere in sight until you tap his shoulder and point to the right side of the corridor. Hobi is rising to his feet from sitting on the stairs. The thought of his hyung staying around for him instead of enjoying the party squeezes his heart in gratitude. He hugs him and when it’s your turn to say your goodbye, Hobi pulls you in for a hug as well, rubbing your back as he asks you if you’re okay.

The soju remains in your hand. Sitting on the curb outside, both of you finish it while waiting to be picked up with Jungkook’s hand on your thigh and rough kisses shared in between. The wind doesn’t dare to disturb the intimacy, but watches on with a fond care, the stars hanging low, peeking through to witness at least one good thing of the night.

***

“If this breaks me out, I’m gonna kill you.”

Jungkook is carefully tender as he drags the makeup wipe along the perimeters of your cheeks, scowling at the sun-filled tint coloring the whiteness of the wet cloth. He had spent half an hour choosing the right brand in the drugstore earlier in the morning because he decided you were going to sleep over without telling you, reading each small letter on the packaging, despite the fact he understood shit.

You’re still clothed and so is he, resting in the middle of the comfort of his bed as he hovers above you, knees perched at the foot of the bed. The aching ball of your own foot grazes the bulge in his intimate parts and Jungkook himself is at wonder how he’s able to focus when it stimulates all of his senses, adding heat to his body.

“It’s Korean, it won’t break you out,” he mutters, swiping along the underside of your eye with extra care.

“I once had a toner that—”

Jungkook covers your mouth with his palm. “It’s Korean,” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you.

You giggle and he drops his glower, beaming down at you.

“You know I can do it myself. I’m not that drunk.”

He focuses on your forehead now, cleaning off your foundation and all those sparkles.

“I know you can, but let me.”

You babble on and Jungkook decides he’s had enough of it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m gonna shut you up.”

He dumps the makeup wipe on your face and rummages through his bedside drawer. While you use it to cleanse off your neck, Jungkook spoils your surprise and opens your present. Is discreet as he smuggles it between your legs, pressing it against your clothed clit.

The soft vibrations spread throughout his whole hand. He increases the intensity.

You freeze, flicking your eyes to his, makeup wipe long forgotten. You roll your hips against the toy.

“Oh my god.”

Serves you fucking right.

“Keep talking,” Jungkook mutters. “Hm, keep fucking talking and dare to come.”

It’s maniacal, his laugh, but gentle and amorous in nature because he fucking loves you, loves to tease you, loves to make you feel good—show your body new things that it willingly accepts. You wiggle your hips, chasing the pleasure, mouth fallen open, emitting tiny satiny legato whimpers, which cause his cock to twitch in his pants—so much that he begins to move the purple toy all around your femininity while palming himself. He notices your lack of babbling.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in feigned sympathy. “You suddenly have nothing to say?”

You smile at him, and it stops everything. The roleplay of his mean dominance, the vibrations buzzing his hand. He turns the toy off and is straightforward as he says, “undress.”

Does so himself.

He takes off his leather jacket and unbuttons his pants; watches you as you drag the skirt down those hips he wants nothing more than to kiss and hold in his hands. When it pools around your knees, he chucks the material behind him. You hook your thumbs beneath the waistband of your stockings and Jungkook thinks about how he’d like to tear them apart and make you lose your mind through the hole he’d create as he strokes the outer side of your thigh. He wanted to be gentle with you tonight, but he just can’t help it.

You rouse it him and he just listens.

His hands are quick as they rip a hole above the center of your rosily pink panties. He smirks at your shocked gasp, so short and dry, drawing close to your pussy, kissing her, nuzzling his face in her. The tension in his intimate parts is almost unbearable when you run your hands through his hair and incite him to do more. He licks over the tiny wet spot on the frail material that he’s the artist of, adding to it, and watches the roll of your eyes because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. It’s a dance what your hips do, the most unkind torture and he longs to squeeze them.

He’s a good boy when it comes to listening to his body’s desires.

Making a way through the beige hole, ripping it further in the process, he grabs the supple skin, thumbs fondling over your hip bones. So small, so delicious. Jungkook licks his lips, pushes your underwear to the side to reveal your dewy little seashell—fixes it so it stays put. Looks up at you. “Top off. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

You’re a good girl, too, when it comes to obeying his wishes.

A praiseful coo ripples out of his mouth once you reveal your black padded bra. Jungkook decides he wants it to be in line of his sight, so he lowers the straps down your arms and merely tugs the undergarment below your breasts. The spillage and the ripple of their fullness almost makes him die right then and there. Jungkook bites his bottom lip until he draws blood.

Two hindrances. The silky straps on your arms, the stockings he will soon lower down your thighs. Jungkook curses under his breath; thinks he should’ve gotten the ropes he was eyeing after his drugstore run. Pink and rough, just the kind you would’ve liked.

Perhaps it isn’t needed for the lovemaking he longs for with you. Playtime and lovemaking are two different things, he concludes.

He’s so horny he might lose his mind first. And he does—with nose pressed against your sternum, babbling nonsense while he buries his head in your tits. Inhaling your vanilla and tuberose scent, he kisses the valley leading up to the peak of your stiffened nub, trails it with his tongue, goes the extra mile to suck it into his mouth, hearing its call. He’s just listening—listening to your body language that asks for him. His eyes are blurry when he gazes at you. You’ve fled to the pink planet again, but he wants you here with him. While he flicks your nipple with his nimble tongue, he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks. Would die for your adorableness. Would go to war for it, a thousand times over.

Jungkook sucks the nub to make your travel back to Earth faster and he accomplishes what he wants. With a roll of your body and a moan, you’re back, looking down at him, cradling him, brushing his hair back. He makes sure you see the way he toys with your nipple—keeps his mouth open as he circles it, flicks it before he sucks it back inside.

“Stay here with me,” Jungkook mumbles, switching to the other nipple. “Please.”

You nod, grinding your hips against his stomach. Another call. Your hands slide lower to his neck and Jungkook understands you want more.

“Take control of me, baby,” he says. “Flip me over.”

Your breath is shaky. A light flickers in your eyes, glints like his saliva adorning your nipple in the yellow dimness of the room. You grab a hold of his neck with your one hand like he does to you every time while the other comes around his shoulder and you push him to his back in one swift motion.

Jungkook feels proud. You learn well from him. So studious, so smart, so cute.

You straddle his hips and Jungkook begins to trace your thighs, fingertips gliding back and forth on the nylon, until he grips your hips—and grips them hard. He forces you down on the bulge of his cock, hissing at the pleasure rising up his abdomen. He feels your dewiness against the material of his boxers soaking it through. He guides your hips in a steady but firm rhythm and once you familiarize yourself with it and hump him on your own, he brushes his fingers across your wet nipples. The sensation sends you toppling back, spine arched as you ride him like you rode his Hello Kitty plushie, but Jungkook keeps his fingers on those two little nubs. Your tits bounce and slap against each other and he just follows their movement, squeezing, grazing, leading you to the burst of your climax. When he lets go, you lower your body enough for him to nuzzle his face in them, moving you to the tip of his cock that peeks out of his boxers. The contact of your little soaked clit with his oozing arousal makes Jungkook moan into your skin, and he feels his balls tighten.

He lets you know by squeezing your arm, as if his furrowed brows, flushed face and the planes of his forehead shining in a layer of sweat weren’t indicating the matter enough.

You enjoy every second of the torment you bestow upon him, back upright now, fingertip playing with his navel.

Even more so as you flip around and ride him reverse cowgirl style, the nylon of your stockings stretched taut over your ass. Jungkook feels faint.

You’re wearing a thong that is but a thin fabric and would cover absolutely nothing if it were in its right place. He can see your little puckered hole that he’s very hungry for, starved actually, with each backward movement you make. He yanks his boxers down, granting you access to paint his manhood with the loveliness of your shiny dewiness. Grunts at the sloppiness of your flesh gliding back and forth as you toy with his ballsack. On the top of his cock, your juices mix with his—creating a pretty, pretty palette.

The way your pussy lips barely wrap around his girth, your little breaths and sobs—Jungkook can’t take it. White flashes in his eyesight, the build up of his orgasm nearing the end.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, flicking your hair behind your shoulders as you arch your back, your hair like a waterfall cascading down your spine.

Jungkook pulls on it, halting your torture. “You’re gonna make me come,” he purrs. “What a waste that would be—for me to come all over my pants like a teenager when your cunnie is right here.”

He rips your stocking further to reveal more of your ass. Pushes you towards his face until you’re sitting on it and—

He devours you.

You cry out. The sound propels him to tighten his grip around the small of your back, to quicken the shakes of his head while his tongue stimulates your engorged clit, occasionally flicking against the muscle to hear more of your little noises. Your palm feels up his wet shaft and Jungkook rewards you for being such a good girl that thinks of her Daddy by taking your bundle between his lips and sucking it. Your body quivers, plays tag with his tongue and Jungkook growls, your taste the sweetest thing he’s had all week and he can’t get enough. Needs more, needs…

“Fuck yourself on my tongue.”

He guides you. Spanks you when you find him. And the sobs you let out, interlaced with the naughtiest of whimpers, make him ache. Your walls press against him—stars fill his vision—and he can’t breathe. Needs you to come, needs a release himself, needs to taste your tiny hole that has never been touched before.

His hand extends for the purple toy, keeping it on the low setting. He presses it against your clit and the way you tighten around him lets him know you’re soaring; mere seconds away from ascending fully to the pearly gates.

Jungkook lets you reach your climax on your own, even though his hands itch to grab you and invigorate your thrusts. He wants you to have full control; wants you to get a heady taste of that liberty.

Wants you to get used to it.

You slow down your movement and Jungkook hears your cry first before your body begins to convulse. He holds you through your orgasm whilst he rubs the vibrator all over your clit and is ever so fucking mesmerized when he catches your pussy drooling and clenching.

He aches—aches badly to be inside of you.

Ridding you entirely of the mere cobwebs that your stockings have become, Jungkook holds your panties in place. His tongue darts out to swipe at your trickling hole, drags it past your skin across the other hole he’s yearning for. He feels you clench; he hears the litany of your incoherent words as you take in the new pleasure. He doesn’t touch your clit—he knows how sensitive it is after such an intense orgasm, so he just drags his tongue up and down both of your holes, swirling around the tight entrance.

When he penetrates you there, you scream.

You scream a bunch of yes’ in a row and Jungkook imagines your eyes are rolling back like they always are—imagines a grin on that fucked-out face of yours, eyelashes fluttering and wet with liquid emotions. It drives him to drill his tongue there in faster staccatos, moaning against you; the entirety of his bloodstream flowing to his intimate parts. He’s so hard he might burst, length heavy and solid against his stomach, but it brings him a great deal of pleasure to have you open like this, to taste you in a place no one has ever touched before, to give you a new experience that you’ll remember for a long time and possibly beg him for again.

He sighs against you, drinking you to relax his jaw. Is drunk on the moment, probably enjoys it more than you do.

You begin riding his face and he just offers you his tongue. Lets you do whatever you want.

“Feels so fucking good, Jungkook, oh my god.”

You’re fast now and Jungkook feels proud of you. You’re taking charge, chasing your pleasure. His heart skips a beat when you want him in your ass again, and he willingly obliges, fucking you there until the tremor of your body signals him of the thunder of your approaching orgasm.

You come on his tongue violently. Shuddering, screaming, leaving his neck, mouth, chin and cheeks wet. Dewiness for tears—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Turning around, you don’t let him breathe before you grab his face and kiss him, licking into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your own rich flavor. Jungkook reciprocates all of your kisses and swipes of your tongue, doesn’t try to dominate you but instead revels in the nasty kiss, bucking his hips against your heat. So slippery, so fleshy. He grunts into your mouth.

When Jungkook sees your blissed-out face, he grins at you. Is blissed-out himself. “How’s that?” he asks. “You have all of my control. All of it.”

Your voice is hoarse when you say, “so fucking amazing, thank you,” and grin down at him just the same.

Joy beats through his chest, illuminating him from within as if he had his own tapestry of the whole night sky right there above his heart.

You sink lower down his thighs and pepper kisses along the length of his sticky cock. The gesture moves him and he lets you stay there for a moment while he briefly ponders over how a paralyzing form of pain led him to such a pure, expanding joy that he feels right now.

Tears well up in his eyes.

“Come here,” Jungkook pleads and you lift your head like a puppy.

He decides that he doesn’t want any restrictions on your body anymore. Each move of his hand is calculated as he unclips your bra and tugs your stockings, along with your underwear, down your legs. Even his own clothes come off in a blink of an eye because all he wants is skin to skin contact, to be connected with you on the deepest, most raw level that there is.

There’s a bit of nervousness coating his voice when he asks you to ride him due to his vulnerability. And when he feels the beginning of you, your heat encompassing him like the warm wind he last had grazing his body in his summer childhood days, the tears that loom in his eyes rush out.

It feels like he’s back in those days, but only this time all things are made right. But he can’t lie his head down in that tall grass of his childhood and escape—not when you struggle to take him from the angle you’re not used to.

He doesn’t think he ever let you ride him. Not even once. He apprehends you don’t know how to go about it.

“I know it hurts from this angle, but you can take it,” he says, willing his voice to be smooth as if he wasn’t crying at all—is thankful for the dimness that obscures his vulnerability from you. “You’ve taken me before, you can do it. Relax for me, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, stay frozen on the spot, and Jungkook can’t see. Filmy vision, emotions hurling at him like an incoming surge of waves. But all of that takes a step back when you mewl a pained noise and let yourself fall on his chest, his cock only a quarter of the way in.

“I’m scared. It’s too sensitive, it hurts.”

You shift your hips so he slips out of you. Jungkook kisses your forehead, wraps an arm around you while the other travels further down, below the roundness of your cheeks. Makes sure you look at him as he says, “don’t be scared, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

He looks at you for a long while—recognizes only some of your features in the dark—and so do you whilst he lulls you into a state of serenity by humming a song his mother sang to him during those summer days, by petting your head ever so fondly. He never realized how broken his inner child truly was until you kiss his tears away—see them, alas—and the boy inside him leaps into the sun-breathed air of the past. Grows into a young man with a dream in his heart and pensive thoughts beneath the thick set of black hair. Transforms into an adult man with love for a dream instead, for all that has become of his ambitions is the desire to be loved, to be wanted.

Dream or desire, none of it matters now because all of it, in a strange way that heals him, intermingles with each exhale of your breath against his cheek—and with the inch you think you’re ready to take—all of it is fulfilled.

A dream come true. A desire gratified.

You’re his and he is yours. And he tells you.

You kiss him everywhere. Nose, cheeks, neck. Grab his bunny plushie and tuck him into the crook of his elbow. Jungkook holds onto him as you take another inch, other hand holding his shaft as you sink down little by little, stopping whenever it gets too much.

“You’ve always taken it so well,” he murmurs onto your pained expression, unable to take his eyes off of you. “I was made for you. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.”

You clench at his words and the noise that you squeak makes him grunt onto your lips.

“That’s right, baby. I’m so proud of you for trying to take me so well like this when your little pussy is so sensitive from my tongue. You deserve to be rewarded, don’t you?”

The smile blossoming on your mouth is dangerous with its coyness but confidence at the same time. He falls in love with you all over again, feels the tall grass of his childhood bending over his head, sifting through his hair.

“I’m doing it for you,” you say. “I want to make you feel good.”

A hum of appreciation. A kiss full of tongue. “Throw your hips back a little. Just like when we dance.”

He’s not fully sheathed inside of you, but he feels your gummy walls smothering the half of his length and it’s enough. He doesn’t want to hurt you by filling you to the brim—he’s heedful even as he guides your hips with his hands, rolling them back as if you were grinding against him. Both of you danced like that many times before and because you know the move, you’re comfortable once you latch onto his hands and lift them, intertwining your fingers with his, pinning them down onto the mattress. Your hips gain speed, bouncing on him as your chest lifts a little, hovers above him and the bunny in the middle of his stomach, and Jungkook doesn’t let himself feel pleasure until your eyes lid and turn to the ceiling.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re a fucking”—Jungkook whines at the impact of a distinct hard slam of your hips down on his—“pro. My little fucking pro. Doing so good for me.”

He’s losing it and it’s so quick. The change of energy in the room, the arousal rising like fine dust in the air. All because his words nourished you with confidence that blazes the atmosphere around the bed. It’s just you, him and bunny in this microcosm and Jungkook longs to hold onto the plushie. Feels so much like you when he’s the one in control; feels as though you’ve become one in this emotionally charged act. He can’t differentiate between himself and you anymore.

He’s simply become you because he loves you. Or has been you the whole time due to that very fact. Perhaps loving someone truly means becoming them because what you learn from them, what you mimic from them is perpetually yours.

An awareness of how tired you must be drifts across his mind. He knows that with each excellent performance comes the burning of the muscles so without thinking twice, he maneuvers you to his favorite position—remaining on his lap with your back against his chest and bunny stacked on top of you. He takes the lead but lets you decide the pace. You’re the boss. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.”

Jungkook hums, raising a brow. “Fast? Cunnie isn’t sensitive anymore?”

You shake your head ‘no’, propping an arm behind his neck. “I want it fast.”

It’s simultaneous—the deed of two hands, yours and his, grabbing a hold of the fluffy belly of the plushie, fingers traveling and interlocking without a thought, without a direction, and yet meeting. Like two shooting stars. Like the ones you wear under your bottom lashes.

One person. One mind, one heart.

Jungkook taps your belly button with the tip of his cock. You laugh softly. He remembers how wide your eyes were in fear when you sat upright on his lower stomach and could clearly see how far he reached inside of you.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He sinks his length into your warmth. The grass, the caress of the summer wind. You’re the personification of his childhood and Jungkook kisses you hard, tells you of it by the press of his lips on yours. Is ruthless as he ruts into you. His free hand clutches the vibrator and finds your clit under the small dangling legs of bunny. The low intensity is but a thrum, though by the gasps you emit, by the moans that rise in echoes within the atmosphere, he deduces it’s good.

Smugness returns, hand in hand with his control. He presses the toy harder against you, rubbing it side to side—and this time he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop fucking you.

Vigorous with strength, empowered by the free rein of his emotions that were accepted and loved, he pistons his hard cock into that tightness of yours, regardless whether you can handle it or not. Feels right at home, feels—

“Who’s your Daddy?” he questions without slowing down the rhythm of his brutal pace. “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You hum, licking your lips, and your confidence fucks with him, strips him bare of any sanity he had left. You give him the eyes, flick your tongue against his lips before you tilt your head to kiss him with a brief passion. “You are.”

Butterflies.

Jungkook drops the vibrator on the bed. Has to touch you, has to grip you—and he does. His hand finds your throat and he squeezes, kissing you with the same passion, prolonging it because what you did wasn’t fair. He needs the passion; he needs to swallow it down and feel it course down his body. And when you give him just that, along with your luscious moans, he rewards you.

Gives you all of his cock.

He rams himself into you, balls deep. Repeats it over and over, each thrust harder than the one before. Watches your irises disappear from your eyes, mouth agape, voice gone. Jungkook senses you’re leaving planet Earth again and he stops you.

“Is this Daddy of yours your boyfriend now?”

Like a bell, his heart is clanging and the freedom in that sentence losing its principle of ever being a risk causes his eyes to fill with tears again. He’s a mess. His emotions are a mess. But he’s so happy.

And the smile you give him due to that question—it charges him with the longing power to own it, own you, so he grabs you everywhere. Your chin, your cheeks, your mouth, and you never stop smiling, not even when you say, “he is my boyfriend now, you got a problem with that?”

The chuckle that rumbles out of his chest is a surprise to him because dizziness takes a hold of his entire being. He’s gone—he’s about to die. This is it.

He kisses you and the act of your lips wrapping around his makes this so much more real. He squeezes you and bunny in his arms, hips grinding his circles now. “Does it hurt when I’m this deep?” he murmurs.

“No, feels good.”

“Let me know if it starts hurting, alright?”

You nod, pecking him, gripping his hair.

Jungkook lets go of your hand and slowly lifts you up and down on the hardness of his cock from behind. You’re so light in his hands, like a little angel assigned to his side, just his to play with. You tip your head back, the smile of yours having bloomed into a full grin. Jungkook watches you in awe.

“Look at you riding me. You don’t need any help.”

You giggle. Jungkook feels his cheeks fire up. Thinks the sound is angelic, it must be. Thinks the squelch of your pussy taking him, leaving him dewy, is angelic, too.

It makes him stop playing with you and fuck you properly instead.

He sits up. Angles your head so your lips touch his, but he doesn’t kiss you. He wants you there so you swallow all of the words that will come off his tongue, so you remember them even when the delirium wears off.

He pounds into you.

You’re no longer smiling.

Takes the vibrator again. Provokes you, just because he can’t help it, by turning up the intensity and letting it only float above your clit, never letting it touch you. He’s not fast as he fucks you. On the contrary, his thrusts are hard.

Merciless.

He feels evil when he removes the toy completely, makes sure you watch, and presses it down into the softness between bunny’s legs. He turns your head back to face him and he mimics your moans, scrunches his features in pleasure, giving life to the plushie—acting for her.

But his meanness makes you come and you fall apart in his hands. He feels bad, terribly bad for you, and the feeling begins to consume his insides—so much that he gives you the pleasure he denied you mid climax. He presses the toy against your clit and—

You’re gone.

Your stream of pleasure forces him out of you and it makes him moan loudly. It makes him moan when he rubs the vibrator all over your absolutely drenched cunt and you just keep coming. And it makes him moan when you beg him to keep fucking you.

Who is he to say no to you?

“You just want it bad, don’t you?”

You nod against his head. Gone, gone, gone. He follows you into that rabbit hole, pounding you rough and fast this time, keeping you caged against him, fingers back in an intricate interlock. You smother him with your femininity and Jungkook is perpetually at wonder how you manage to do that, how you manage to never have enough. It makes him lose his fucking mind, lose everything—lose his identity. He just blurs into you. The stars in his chest pour like liquid into your ribcage. He feels them quivering when he touches your breasts all over. Wonders if you’ll come again for him.

“Pussy molded just for me, hm, isn’t it?” he breathes. Hot, sweaty, on the brink of insanity. White flashes. Balls tight. Dizziness stealing his senses. “Good little pussy, always wanting more.”

The air grows dense.

“Mine,” he growls, voice strained—so close, so fucking close. “My pussy. Mine to fuck. Mine to eat. Mine to love—”

His gut tenses. Flames burn it hot. Time stops. Knuckles turn ivory in the feverish grip of your fingers upon bunny’s tummy; your walls, too, splattered in magnificent white. Jungkook fucks his cum into you, once, twice, for the last time—pumping you full. Giving you all that he has.

He falls limp against his pillows. The toy buzzes on upon the comforter, long abandoned.

His exhaustion doesn’t let him open his eyes. Not when his eyes sting with tears once more, not even when your warmth leaves his manhood. He knows you didn’t come this time around, however he doesn’t have the strength to fix it. His vigor oozed out of him and nestled within you—like his control, like his love, like his cum.

He will make it up to you tomorrow morning.

Now he needs sleep. He needs the tears to halt their hurting by leaking out of the inner corners of his eyes. Would prefer if you weren’t the witness to it because with his vigor departing, his vulnerability heightened. He’s ashamed of the sea of his feelings, but there’s nothing he can do to change that. He just loves you.

He’s so happy that he’s yours and he fucked you so good and—

“You tired, baby?”

You sound just like him.

Jungkook suppresses his sob, swallows it right down.

“I’m spent.” Too emotional. “Too spent to wash up.”

He feels a kiss on his nose, the comforter lifting, small warm hands on his body as he’s being tucked into his bed. Jungkook lies on his side. Feels too lonely. As if you had insight into his soul, you settle into the spaces of his form that you know are there for you to hide in.

With a barrier in between.

You push bunny’s back against his chest. Click the lamp off.

In the darkness, Jungkook allows his lungs to expand in their silent weeping. Finds bunny, finds your arm. Moves you closer until the plushie serves like a heart in the middle of your bodies. Fingers petting your hair, he allows another thing—

“I love you.”

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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r3starttt · 14 days ago

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STOCKINGS

PAIRING: Abby x Reader

SUMMARY: You made her a stocking

CW: tlou universe. sfw. fluff. lev included!! cs Abby is such a boy mom and ughh cute.

NOTE: For this fic Abby did not try to go and look for the fireflies again so the last fight with Ellie did not happen.

*Can you tell I love acts of service... can you tell I wrote this while listening to music for indigo...

TAGLIST: @twopeoplee @greysontheidiot @sapphic-ovaries @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @1-800-fantasy @prwttiestbunny @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @abbys-muscles @lott6i @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight @fakevalentine

The cold floor hit your bare feet as you tiptoed your way toward a small chair near the bed, reaching for an old hoodie to shield yourself from the chill. Abby was still asleep, her steady breathing and quiet snoring letting you know she was deeply wrapped in the comfort of her cocoon. You didn’t have much time, though—she would wake the second the bed grew too cold and her arm could no longer find you, desperately pulling you closer to warm herself.

She lay on her stomach, one arm draped across the mattress, reaching into the warmth you’d left behind. The white sheet beneath her, its soft folds matching the pine-green ones above, held her gently. Loose strands of hair from her thick braid fell against the sides of her face, barely brushing her skin with each soft exhale. Her eyebrows, usually so bold, were peacefully soft, and her lips—plump and rosy—mirrored the flush of her cheeks. You couldn’t resist leaving a soft kiss near her ear, a gentle touch before you left the room.

Each step toward the door made you regret not putting on socks last night—maybe Abby’s old slippers would do. With your steps now messy and hesitant, you made your way downstairs. The worn wood creaked slightly beneath you, the house itself groaning in the quiet of the morning.

You had eventually made yourselves comfortable in this small house nestled in the heart of the woods, large enough for the three of you—Abby, Lev, and yourself. Together, you had worked tirelessly to make it a safe and secure place, not just from the infected, but from other, more dangerous people. You had made it a home.

You ensured that everyone felt welcome, particularly Lev. You took every opportunity to talk with him, to teach him what he hadn’t yet learned, and to share the things you loved—books, music, art—while helping him discover his own interests. And with Abby, your love deepened with every day she returned from her small patrols, always bringing back something for Lev—a plushie or a trinket—and for you, perhaps a new vinyl to play. She would ask you to show her the record, and later, you would listen together, the soothing classical music filling the house while you shared a quiet dinner.

As the months passed and your future materialized in the present, you found yourself gathering small gifts. It would be Lev’s first holiday, and Abby’s too, at least with you. The first time you would all celebrate Christmas together. You wanted it to be special, a way of thanking them for everything they had done for you. All the words Lev had shared when he realized you were just as broken as he was, and how, despite it all, he allowed you into his life. And Abby—your way of giving her the love she had always shown you, in the form of the most precious gift.

You knew Abby would appreciate it—celebrating the season was something she had learned from her father. She had told you once that receiving a gift was the way she could feel loved, a reminder that she was not a monster. And you wanted to show her that—wanted to remind her that she was seen, that she was loved, and that you all had each other.

Since the weather had turned colder, you’d offered to join in the patrols, even begging Abby to let you go outside. She always insisted it was too dangerous, but you knew you could take care of yourself, and somehow, you managed to sneak out on occasion. You gathered small things—some fabric, trinkets, and a few essentials. And when Abby took Lev to care for the animals you’d gathered, or when she napped after lunch, you’d use your quiet time to craft their gifts.

It wasn’t too difficult, given that they were often busy—Abby tending to the animals or decorating the little pine tree you’d dragged home from the nearby woods, with Abby’s approval, of course. You had to be careful, though, not to trust too easily that they would be distracted. But it worked.

The sight before you made your stomach flutter, like a child eager with excitement. Three stockings hung from the mantle, each chosen with care—yours in the middle. Beneath the homemade tree, a few gifts waited for everyone—unwrapped, because there wasn’t enough paper, but neatly arranged, placed with care just as the stockings were.

The next task was to light the fire, to warm the house and prepare breakfast, just as you had for months. It was small, but it had become part of your routine—after all, lunch and dinner were a family affair, something you all shared.

Once the food was ready, you made your way upstairs. The light from the cloudy sun streamed through the windows, warming the house with its yellow hues. You returned to the bed, noting that Abby was still asleep—though not for long, it seemed, as her lips were slightly parted and her breathing had shifted into quiet mumbling. You sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand and brushing the stray hairs from her face before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Abby... Abs—baby?" you murmured, tracing soft circles on her back, the rhythm calming her as her mumbling slowed.

"Abby..."

Her eyes opened slowly, clearly disoriented by the nightmare and the sudden waking, but you were quick to soothe her. "Shh, I’m here... It’s alright. You were dreaming."

She grasped your hand, groaning quietly before turning to face you, her face flushed with the softness of sleep, her lips plump and cheeks full. The sight made you smile, warmth blooming in your chest.

"Merry Christmas," she murmured, trying to pull you back into bed.

You chuckled softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Not yet..."

She rolled her eyes, laughing softly. "Is Lev awake yet?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep as she rubbed her eyes.

"I haven’t checked, but... probably not," you hummed in response, pausing to study her, to savor this moment of quiet contentment with the woman you loved. A slow, peaceful morning like this was a dream come true for many—and here you were, living it.

"Breakfast’s ready," you added, patting her stomach lightly.

You leaned in for a kiss, despite her typical aversion to those unshowered, still-groggy moments. But you couldn’t care less—she was the woman you loved, in all her unrefined beauty, even in these fleeting moments.

"See you downstairs, alright?" you murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

She nodded, but you knew her well.

"Abigail... I’m serious."

She laughed quietly, rolling over and letting her arms fall to her sides as she stretched out. You left the door open as you moved to the curtains, letting the light in while ensuring Abby wouldn’t fall asleep again. You then made your way to Lev’s room, the blue walls of his space greeting you.

He was tangled in blankets, his back to you, but you gently brushed his shoulder, calling out in a soft whisper.

"Lev... morning."

"Morning," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

You smiled, the privilege of caring for this young boy—who still had so much ahead of him—filling your heart.

"Breakfast is ready, alright? Take your time." You caressed his shoulder before stepping out of his room, hearing Abby’s groan as she dramatically climbed from the bed.

"Did you take my shoes?" she called out loudly, too much for the quiet of the morning.

"Yep! I took your slippers," you teased, and Abby laughed quietly in response. She was falling in love with you all over again.

You went downstairs, retracing your steps from earlier, and settled on the couch, waiting for them to come down. Neither of them knew about the stockings or the gifts—it was supposed to be a small, intimate gesture, a simple way of celebrating the season. Just making food together, exchanging small self-made gifts—maybe a letter.

But as much as you were excited, there was a hint of anxiety too. What if it was too much? What if they didn’t like what you had chosen?

"What is that?" Abby’s voice broke you from your thoughts, and you turned to find her standing at the foot of the stairs, still in her pajamas, holding the railing for support.

Her eyes, illuminated in the soft morning light, met yours—she looked so precious.

"Did you seriously make us a stocking?" she whispered, so amused she barely seemed to believe it. Maybe she thought she was still dreaming.

"I did," you said, standing and moving toward her.

"You told me once that you wished someone loved you enough to make you one. I do... I love you."

The words hit her, and you watched as she fought back tears, her jaw clenching, her teeth biting at her bottom lip before she looked back at you.

"I didn’t... Come here." She opened her arms, and you stepped into them, feeling the weight of the moment settle in.

She buried her face in your neck, wrapping her arms around you as all her emotions—fear, love, anxiety—washed over her.

You were real, and so was this. She had someone who listened, who remembered her words, who cared enough to create something special—something that said, "I love you."

And as much as she feared that this day might bring painful memories of her father, the love that surrounded her now was taking up more space. This was hers—this love was real, and it was for her.

You felt Lev coming downstairs, his confused expression slowly softening as understanding spread across his face. You had told him about the stockings, explained what they meant one evening when you and Abby had talked about Christmas traditions.

Lev hesitated, cradling the fabric of the stocking in his hands. He peeked inside, then looked up at you for reassurance. With a nod from you, he carefully pulled out each gift, his eyes brightening with quiet joy.

There was nothing extravagant or meaningful in the traditional sense—but the gifts held things they liked, things they could use, things they wanted. They weren’t

about purpose, but about love. They were a reminder that you saw them, that you loved them, and that they were always safe in your arms.

#A𝕽𝐂𝐇𝖎V𝕰 ( abby )#abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby x y/n #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson fluff #abby fluff #abby tlou

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oikasugayama · 1 year ago

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HOW HE F--KS YOU pt. 3

pt. 1 Dazai, Ranpo, Ango | pt. 2 Chuuya, Kunikida, Tachihara | pt. 3 Poe, Atsushi, Fukuzawa

SMUT AGAIN, gn!reader but multiple anatomies mentioned, MDNI

Poe

He fucks you submissively.

He whimpers. He whines. He cries. It just feels so good, he can't help it. He loves when you press him down into the mattress and fuck him. The weight of you on his hips holding him down while your cock/strap buries in his ass makes his whole body burn and tingle. When you lay on him and buck your hips repetitively, even if only shallowly, it makes him mewl and whine oh so prettily. He cums all over himself and the bed and makes such a mess and you tsk and tell him he has to clean it up before he's allowed to make you cum.

He was incredibly nervous the first time you started to get intimate. He almost backed out with tears in his eyes, saying he was just too nervous and he wasn't sure if he could please you, but you reeled him back into your arms and reassured him that you would help him figure things out. "I'll take good care of you, precious boy," you whispered, sending a shiver down his spine. You felt his erection against your leg and knew he liked you taking the lead, so you sank to your knees and once he gave you the green light you sweet talked him between sucking him dry.

He's only comfortable having sex at home, either yours or his. He's a creature of habit and of safe spaces, so he has to be somewhere he's very comfortable to start taking his clothes off and getting down. He gets more confident as time goes on and as he gets more practice, but he's still quite the sub for you.

He's calling you mommy if you identify as female. you can tell him to knock it off if you want.

When he takes the lead, he's very vanilla. He wants to eat you out and/or suck you dry, he wants to finger you and watch you squirm, he wants to fuck you and cum inside and tell you he'll make a pretty baby with you, though he always reassures you afterwards that he can pay for whatever necessary aftercare you need to avoid pregnancy, if that's what you require.

Atsushi

He fucks you obsessively.

If he could drown in your pussy/ass he would. He's diving in there headfirst every chance he gets. He loves when you wear dresses and skirts because he has easier access to your cunt. He'll dive under your skirt, tongue already out, lapping at your pussy like a dog drinking water. He gets so over excited that his hips are bucking even without anything for him to rut against.

When he fucks you doggy style, he fucks you doggy style. His arms are locked around your waist TIGHTLY, his back arched, he's panting and he's humping you as fast as he can, filling the air with obscene slapping sounds, moans, huffs, and whines. He thanks you for the use of your cunt/ass, telling you over and over "it's so good, thank you thank you, fuck, you're so good, baby please, I wanna cum, please can I cum?"

he! needs! praise! he needs you to tell him he's good, that he's making you feel good, that you're gonna cum because of him. He needs pets and kisses and your hands running through his hair. when he's feeling down and asks you for sex, you know the best position is lying on your sides facing each other, arms around each other, you kissing him and playing with his hair while he thrusts slowly, occasionally switching his cock for his hand to pleasure you then going back to his dick when his orgasm isn't so pent up. He likes to make these sweet sessions long because they're his favorite.

he likes sucking on your tits. even if you dont have any, he likes playing with your nipples. if your boobs are big and/or squishy, he's pawing at them every chance he gets, and he wants them in his mouth bad.

Fukuzawa

He fucks you expertly.

He's a good bit older than you, so he has more experience. After all, he's a lover not a fighter ;)

He makes everything feel special and sensual. He's the type to set up candles and gentle music and give you a full body massage before the first time you have sex. His hands gliding across your body, sneaking closer and closer to your crotch until finally his fingers are slipping inside/wrapping around you, making you moan his name out softly. he'll suck on your breasts, eat you out for a few minutes, and then fuck you (very responsibly with a condom) with confident, measured thrusts. he knoooows what he's doing ;)

He may occasionally joke that he's an old man, but he's still very fit and spry. No weak knees here, he's climbing on top of you or holding you up while having sex just like a "younger" guy would do.

He's theoretically against having sex anywhere that isn't home because it's very disrespectful, but sometimes his urges overtake his rational mind and he may ask you to come to the office in the middle of the day and it may or may not end up with you riding him in his office while the ADA employees are none the wiser on the other side of the door.

If you ever ask him to call you names or degrade you, he'll sternly tell you no, he doesn't like calling you names or being mean to you. But if you call him daddy... especially if he's already inside of you... he's getting a rush of arousal so strong it makes him cum instantly. he'll tell you not to do it again while blushing and secretly hoping that you will, so you hold onto it like a secret weapon. when you want him but he's busy, all you have to do is send him a tit pic and say "waiting for you, daddy <3" and he'll be home ASAP and bricked

#bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #atsushi x reader #atsushi headcanons #poe x reader #poe headcanons #fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bsd smut #atsushi smut #poe smut #fukuzawa smut

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motthe · 1 month ago

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Hello! If you're taking requests, can I pls have young!Silco and reader dancing in the Last Drop during an event/celebration?

I've been listening to all the bangers in the S2 soundtrack and the Ekko + Powder dance in ep 7 has my heart, they're so young and carefree 🥺 Maybe reader comes through the door all glammed up, leaving Silco awestruck and his mind spinning ✨ Cue him being all stiff on the dance floor but reader encourages him to dance with them. No revolutionary leader this time, just a young man in love 💖

Pls feel free to modify this as much you like, your writing for Arcane has me in a choke hold, esp Young! Silco and Viktor ones. Thank you! 🥺♥️

+ @locinne : hii can i request silco and reader sharing a cig or just having a moment together.

It’s a lively time for the Last Drop. Silco’s used to a crowd most nights—the bar stood as a comfort for many wandering souls in the Lanes—but not one of this wild nature. While he didn’t enjoy the noise, he couldn’t judge the people’s delight. It was a celebration, after all, the after party of a wedding of one of Vander’s friends.

“At least drink, Sil,” Felicia called over the music, a soft hand curling over his shoulder. “I’d give anything for one.”

He smirked to himself, turning from his seat at the bar to eye her swollen stomach before meeting her tired gaze.

“I’ll bring your favorite bottle as soon as the little troublemaker is born,” he promised.

She grinned and sat next to him, cupping an arm under belly as she got settled. “Where’s your party spirit?”

“Have you ever seen me entertain such gatherings in the time we’ve known one another?” he questioned in return.

“I’ve seen you drink at the very least.”

“I’ve had a glass,” he admitted. “I’d rather not nurse a hangover like half of the Lanes tomorrow.”

She purses her lips, head swiveling to scan the crowd. “So it’s not because a certain someone isn’t here yet?”

“Now, you’re reaching,” he chuckled.

“And you’re waiting,” she laughed right back, nudging him with her shoulder. “One glass to loosen up but you don’t want to lose your charming wit, huh?”

“I think that baby of yours is stealing precious brain power.” He twisted back to the counter where his journal lied with countless plans and future prospects.

A sharp whistle came from Felicia in response, but it was when she patted his arm with the back of her hand that he realized it wasn’t towards him.

He glanced over his shoulder, breath seizing as your frame stepped through the doors. You were practical with your everyday style, but tonight you’d brought out a few pieces he’d never seen. You were a feast for the eyes and he’d been starving since you’d left the wedding venue.

“Feeling parched?” Felicia’s voice snapped him back to present as he saddled her with a soft glare.

You were mingling with the happy couple of the night, passing greetings. He needed to recover. That one glass of whiskey felt a bit too warm in his stomach now.

“I’m going to step out for a smoke,” he said, cutting her off with a shake of his head as she went to disagree. The path to the door was relatively clear and you were too busy with conversation to clock him as he slipped into the shadow of night.

As the door closed behind him, you found Felicia at the bar, smiling bright enough for her to see it across the bar as she laughed and twiddled her fingers at her temple. You finished up with the people around you before scurrying over and wrapping your arms around the woman.

“You look amazing,” she said, taking in your outfit.

“Thank you.” You stepped back, taking in her stomach. “How are you feeling?”

She groaned instead of answering, the both of you embracing each other again as you fell into laughter.

“Ay, there you are!” You looked behind her to find Vander. “The usual?”

“Sure,” you called, observing the spot next to Felicia. “Silco out?”

She raised two fingers to her lips as you nodded, accepting the glass sliding down the counter. It was a sipper, but you downed that shit in one gulp.

“I’m dragging that man back in here. He needs to socialize.”

“Yes!” Felicia cried, patting your back. “Please, Gods, he needs to let loose.”

“What’re you two scheming?” Vander shouted over the song, eyes narrowing.

“I can’t hear you!” you lied, putting your glass down as you headed off. Felicia just laughed.

Pushing through the crowd as more people filtered out to dance, you shivered as you stepped out into the cool night. The moment the door shut behind you everything became muffled leaving you to the distant ambience of the Lanes.

Looking to your left, you smiled to yourself as you spotted the figure leaning against the wall, the tip of a cigar mounting from red to bright orange as he took a deep drag.

As soon as you stepped towards his corner his head turned, a dark eyebrow ticking up in question.

“All by your lonesome,” you hummed, shuffling up to his side and eyeing his past time. “Those the ones I got you?”

He held out a few seconds before expelling it away from you. “Splendid choice.”

You smiled, the scent clinging to each word. If it was between his secondhand smoke or oxygen, you’d wouldn’t live long.

“I’ll return momentarily.”

“Not here to rush you,” you said. “Just wanted to see you.”

The silence while enough to unnerve you at times was warm as it filled the minute space between you. A hidden smile in the corner of his lips was enough of a push (and maybe that double pour). You reached for the collar of his shirt, fixing a crease. He tilted his head away but moved closer, accepting the preening.

“Look good dressed up.”

He shook his head as you withdrew, taking in another pull. “I’m afraid you’ve got me beat, pet.”

Holding up the cigar, you happily leaned back into his space, wrapping your lips around the end and breathing in.

“Mm,” you let the smoke spill from your nose, the flavor settling over your tongue, “damn, that is nice.”

He watched you, keeping his thoughts to himself as you rested your head agaisnt the wall. You wished you could read him, understand that look that overcame him in the quieter moments like this.

“Dance with me,” you asked, gentle as you tugged at his sleeve.

“You’re asking the wrong person,” he rumbled, focusing back on your little gift from months back.

“No, I’m not.”

Another warm beat of silence.

“I don’t dance.”

“Just one,” you begged, fingertips brushing the side of his hand. “Just dance with me once, and I’ll leave you to your lonesome if that’s what you want.”

His jaw flexed, another cloud dispersed. When he stubbed the cigar out, you were practically beaming, happily pulling at his elbow back into the bar.

Almost everyone was dancing, leaving the two of you to blend seamlessly into the crowd as lights flickered and colors crossed. Silco was stiff—a common occurrence in most settings—but with your guiding hands you got him to sway. Making a fool of yourself, spinning circles around him, it was enough to get him chuckling and nodding along until his feet followed yours in a fever across the floor.

When the fast paced song melded into something slower, you prepared for him to move away but his arms slipped around your waist, your chests grazing as he led you into a new rhythm.

“You don’t dance?” you asked him, voice lilting as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“In this, I’m capable,” he replied, forehead brushing yours, sending your heart into a frenzy, “and I’d rather not be by my lonesome. Not now that you’re here.”

Holding back the grin that’d make anyone look stupid (but you most of all), you rested your head against his shoulder as you both swayed together.

In the background, Felicia cheered glasses with Vander at the bar, happily sipping on her juice as he sipped his whiskey.

#young!silco #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane series #arcane silco #arcane fic #arcane drabbles #arcane oneshot #young silco #silco #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n #masterlist #arcane content

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tvhsleb3ww · 11 months ago

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NEW IDEAS - MIYA OSAMU

short bf samu drabble 🍚

"whaddya think?"

he asks and wipes his hands with a small handkerchief as he leans on the spot on the counter next to you. his eyes gazing at you as he awaits your response.

"is it too salty? does it taste weird?"

he bombards you with questions and you muffled out something.

"mmfh, iwts- dhwood hmmf"

he chuckles as he puts a hand on the small of your back, leaning down to your height.

"sorry, love. finish it first then answer ma questions, kay?"

you nodded and continued to bite down the new onigiri recipe he had created. he smiles as he sees you enjoying his new onigiri recipe that he has been experimenting for the past couple of days.

you swallowed the last part of the onigiri.

"tastes amazing, samu!"

you exclaimed excitedly as he just grinned. his arms crossed as he looks at your messy lips.

"ya say that to everythin' i make. how am i supposed to know if i should sell it or na?"

he chuckles and wipes the rice stuck on your lips with his thumb, making you snicker at the sudden touch.

"can't help it, everything you make is good"

you grinned up at him and he just cups your cheeks with his hands.

"a might actually just make a new menu specially for ya"

he grins and presses his lips against your forehead to which you just smiled and enjoyed his lips on your skin.

"but i'm bein' serious ere'. a need some new stuff for ma shop. can't let it go bankrupt, yeah? or else ain't no one gonna spoil ya rotten"

he brings his calloused hand to your cheek and pinched it, making you yelp. you laughed and smacked his chest playfully before rolling your eyes.

"maybe you should sell all of those onigiris you did. i think your customers will love it"

"ya think so? bet they won't love it as much you love it"

"i know so"

you said proudly and crossed your arms with a small huff escaping your lips. he chuckled and wraps his strong arms sround your waist, pulling you close.

"am gonna put yer name on the menu. so the customers can thank ya for the new stuffs"

"what an honour"

he laughs at your words. he loves this atmosphere. the one filled with love. he loves seeing you enjoy his food and spend time with him like this. there's nothing else in this world he can ask for.

"should i make dinner for tonight?"

he scoffs at that, playfully rolling his eyes at you.

"an' let ma precious kitchen burn down? ain't no way that's gonna happen"

he presses a kiss on your pouty lips before turning away to grab some ingredients from the fridge.

"i only burnt it one time!"

he snickers and places the ingredients on the counter.

"yeah but you burnt water, honey. i didn't even think that was possible until you showed me"

you groaned at his tease and watch him roll up his sleeves to get ready to cook.

"don't forget to kiss the chef for a good meal"

his words were teasing as he looks at you with a toothy grin. you rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss on his cheek. he then started cooking as you played some music using your phone. he glances at you from time to time with a lovesick smile on his face.

and that was all he ever wanted in his life.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu osamu #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n

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corroded-hellfire · 5 months ago

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Tiny Dancer - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish Story

Summary: It’s your daughter Eliza’s first recital and Eddie couldn’t be prouder

Note: This idea came to me and would not leave me alone until I wrote it 💕

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie

Words: 1.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Why did I have to wear a tie?” Luke complains, yanking at his buttoned-up collar.

Eddie leans forward so he can see Luke around Ryan, who is seated between them.

“Because this is a special occasion. Your sister’s first recital.”

“They’re three-year-olds,” Luke hisses in a whisper, one hand gesturing towards the empty stage.

“Hey,” Ryan says to his brother, “she cheered louder than anyone for you at your baseball game. You can do this for her.”

Eddie nods at his oldest in thanks.

Luke turns to you and asks, “Think her hair is still all up in the bun?”

Wrangling your daughter’s dark curls into the ballerina bun on the top of her head had been a massive undertaking. Some spirals were shorter than others, so there were always a few popping out right as you would go to secure the hair with the white bow. It was an immense test of patience to try time and time again all while Eliza became more antsy and less appreciative of you tugging on strands of hair. She ended up with enough hairspray on her little head to make her hair as hard as a helmet.

“It’s out of my hands now,” you say, wiping your hands and holding them up in defeat. “If Ms. Benson wants to deal with a curl going rogue, that’s on her.”

The lights dim and eight little ballerinas walk onstage, all with hands on their hips, poofy pink tutus flaring out just below them. Their instructor, Ms. Benson, follows them out to make sure they’re all in the spots they should be.

Eliza is the third ballerina from the left, and she looks so precious you think your heart might burst. Her white tights and ballet slippers somehow aren’t stained even though they’d been in your house longer than forty-eight hours. The pink leotard and tutu give her the regal air of a princess, though that might just be Eliza’s own aura. She’s nothing if not captivatingly glamorous. It looks like all of her unruly curls are still on their best behavior, but it would be hard to see one or two offenders that sprang loose from the audience anyway.

You peek over at Eddie and see him beaming as he looks at your little girl up onstage. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet your eyes. The pride on his face makes your heart melt against your ribs. Eliza hasn’t even done anything yet and Eddie is over the moon.

“She’s so beautiful,” Eddie whispers.

“Like her dad,” you reply, giving him a wink.

He playfully rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the touch of pink that colors his cheeks. Luke puts his hands on his stomach and pretends to gag. Eddie thunks him on the back of the head.

Ms. Benson finishes her inspection and gives the girls a thumbs up. She scurries off stage, all ballerinas still with hands on hips. None of them can truly stay still, though. A few are swaying, one is twisting from side to side, and Eliza shakes one little leg, her knee bouncing up and down. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or anticipation.

A few moments later, the speakers above the stage crackle to life. The opening notes of music tinkle and the voice of young Shirley Temple singing On The Good Ship Lollipop floats through the air.

Eliza and her fellow dancers start to move, tapping the slipper on one foot on the stage in front of them, then switching to the other foot. It’s hard to tell what foot they’re all supposed to be on, since it’s split about fifty-fifty with what foot each girl is using.

On The Good Ship Lollipop

It's a sweet trip to a candy shop

Where bon-bons play

On the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay

Arms go above Eliza’s head as she spins around, little feet stomping around in a small circle rather than spinning on one foot. Once she’s facing forward again, her arms come down to shoulder level and her knees bend and straighten, bend and straighten, as the ballerinas bounce. Again, all girls are going at different times and speeds, so it’s hard to know on which notes they’re supposed to be up or down on.

Lemonade stands everywhere

Crackerjack bands fill the air

And there you are

Happy landing on a chocolate bar

Next, it’s one hand back on the hip and one hand waving out to the crowd as the dancers rock from side to side. You specifically remember Eliza practicing this move at home and she kept reiterating how her toes needed to be pointed on the foot she wasn’t balancing on. Only two other girls have their toes pointed at the appropriate times, so you can tell they didn’t take this step as seriously as your daughter.

The moves of the eight tiny dancers are clunky and mismatched, which makes the performance all the cuter. When they all walk to the right on tippy toes, they’re at varying heights, some more flat-footed than others. On the march back to the left, one girl stomps so hard you can hear the clacking of her slippers.

With arms out, the girls do one more twirl and then take their bows.

The crowd breaks into applause and the small girls smile, appreciating the praise for their performances. The ballerina farthest on the right jumps up and down in excitement and the one on Eliza’s left waves furiously to her family. But Eliza stays in her final position, grinning from ear to ear as she looks out at you and her guys.

“Yay, Eliza!” Luke cheers.

Ms. Benson comes out, leads the girls in one more bow, then ushers them all off. The applause is still going.

“There’s my ballerina!” Eddie grins and catches Eliza as she runs over and leaps into his arms. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek and squeezes her in his arms. “Mwah!”

“I did good?” she asks as the other girls reunite with their families all around you.

“You were wonderful,” you tell her, leaning in to give her a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Did you hear me cheer for you?” Luke asks.

“Yes,” Eliza says with a giggle. “So loud!”

“Of course, it’s Luke,” Ryan says. He ignores Luke’s jab to his ribs as he reaches up and presents his sister with a bouquet of white flowers or different varieties.

Eliza beams and takes the crinkling plastic wrapping from him. She leans in to sniff the flowers and giggles as a few brush her nose.

“I got flowers!”

“For being the best ballerina ever,” you tell her.

“I love! Can you hold ‘em, Daddy?”

“Of course, my little ballerina.” He takes the bouquet from her with his free hand.

Ryan pulls on the bottom ruffle of his little sister’s tutu. “You look like a pretty poof ball.”

“Mama, can you take bow out?” Eliza asks.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

Eddie bends down a bit so you can see the top of her head. As gently as you can, you unwind the bow from her hair, wincing when you accidentally tug on it. Tough little girl that she is though, Eliza doesn’t whine.

Once you get it out, you do your best to stifle a laugh. It’s not good enough though, a snort of laughter breaking through your hand covering your mouth. Luke and Ryan laughing as well doesn’t help, either.

“What?” Eliza asks with a pout.

“Sweetie,” Eddie says, also with a small chuckle, “I think Mommy used so much hairspray on you that your hair is stuck up in a bun all by itself.”

She gasps and her hands go to the top of her head. She feels around the stiff hair, moving backwards to the curly bun that hasn’t fallen one little bit since you took the bow out. Short fingers inspect the bun and Eliza turns to look at you with panicked eyes.

“Mama!” she cries. “My hair!”

“It’s okay, Liza,” you tell her, not able to help a small giggle coming out with your words. You pat her back soothingly. “As soon as you take a bath, it’ll be good as new.”

Your words visibly calm her. Her shoulders lower, though she still keeps her hands up on her hair. Now that she knows it isn’t stuck that way, she’s able to find the humor in it. Small giggles turn into loud laughter as she begins to shake her head from side to side like a wet dog getting out of the bath. Her hair hardly moves, only wobbling a little when she really whips her head around.

“Do you want me to put your bow back in since we’re going out to eat?” you ask.

Eliza gasps. “We are?”

“Yep! Wherever you want,” Luke says, but adds under his breath, “despite my begging.”

“Yes, bow please.”

“What do you want to eat?” Ryan asks as you secure the soft white bow back around her stiff bun.

“Mmm…pancakes!”

“Ooh, breakfast for dinner,” Luke says, nodding his head in approval. “Nice choice. I’ll gladly wear my fancy schmancy suit while eating a waffle.”

“Okay, you can take off the tie now,” Eddie says. “I don’t feel like washing syrup out of it.”

“You don’t feel like washing syrup out of it?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at your husband.

Eliza pats her dad’s shoulder three times, as if she didn’t already have his attention.

“Mama does wash.”

“You tell him, kid,” Ryan says to his little sister.

“Why you taking the girls’ side?” Eddie asks as you all begin to head towards the doors.

Ryan looks over at his little brother who is wrestling to get his tie off over his head. It’s currently stuck around his eyes and Luke just keeps tugging on it.

“I’m not on his side,” Ryan says, looking back towards his dad.

“Well, help him!” Eddie scolds Ryan.

“I gotcha, Luke,” you say.

A few strategic pulls and you have the knot undone, the green tie falling away into your hand.

“Thanks,” Luke says as he reaches up to rub his nose. “How’d you learn to undo ties?”

“Taking dad’s off,” Ryan says with a smirk.

Both you and Eddie whip your head towards Ryan with wide eyes. Luckily, both of his siblings are too young to get his innuendo. The further he gets into his teenage years, the more subtly inappropriate comments he makes.

“Dad doesn’t wear ties a lot,” Luke says.

“You’re right, Luke,” you say, ruffling his curls. Then you step closer to Ryan and wrap your arm around his head, your hand closing in over his mouth. “And you need to watch yourself, Mr. Teenager.”

Ryan mumbles something beneath your hand and the muffled sound makes Eliza laugh. When you still don’t move your hand, Ryan licks it, and you yank it back. Eliza laughs even harder at that.

“You think it’s funny?” you tease, wiping your saliva-coated hand off on your daughter’s tight-clad leg. She squirms in Eddie’s arms, her legs kicking and almost catching him in the crotch.

“Ewww!” Eliza squeals.

“I don’t have germs,” Ryan says.

“Yes, you do,” Luke and Eliza say at the same time.

“Can I eat at a different restaurant?” Ryan asks.

“Nope,” you say, looping your arm through his. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Yep!” Eliza echoes. “You’re stuck!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS #dad!eddie

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thelostconsultant · 5 months ago

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Down Bad

pairing: Lando Norris x reader, but the point of the story is that Max is madly in love - which is one-sided

summary: Lando starts dating a woman he loves more than anything, but when Max gets to know you, he has to realize that he needs you like air.

warnings: stupid behavior, intoxication. Oh, and it's unedited.

part two

It was quite ridiculous how Lando’s shoulder began to hurt after a bad move he made while golfing. Max knew an injury was in the cards with every sport, but this? This involuntarily made him laugh when his friend wasn’t around. Not because he was rude, he just always imagined golf to be relatively safe. Hitting a ball that was still on the ground didn’t sound nearly as dangerous as driving an F1 car.

Then Lando went to see a physiotherapist specialized in helping athletes to fix the problem, and the Dutch had to listen to endless stories about how much you helped him, how beautiful you were, how kind you were with every single person who came for your help, and how amazing your sense of humor was. After three months it became quite tiring, but he never complained. This little crush made Lando happy, and as long as he felt that way, he was willing to listen.

He never told him your full name, and he didn’t show any photos, as if you were his precious little secret, someone who he decided to shelter from this part of his life. It became obvious that this was the case when therapy was over and he asked you out on a date. You hesitated, telling him that his life was too much for you, you didn’t want to be someone the media and fans talked about, so he promised to make sure you could stay away from the circus.

It was only four months into your relationship, just at the beginning of the summer break, that Max got to meet you in person. Lando jumped in with you by his side, saying you were having lunch nearby and he had to ask him something that couldn’t wait. This is when the trouble began, the moment you flashed that friendly smile at him as you shook his hand. His eyes always found their way back to you during the conversation, watching you even when it was your boyfriend talking.

Because you were naturally beautiful. You looked nothing like those girls in the paddock with their heavy makeup and designer clothes, you looked perfectly normal and down-to-earth. Your voice was like music to his ears, just like a siren’s song that made him want to get on his knees in front of you to confess his undying love for you. How could you have such a strong effect on him? Was it because he had already known so much about you thanks to Lando’s stories? Or was it something else? Was it love at first sight?

Things only got worse with time. Lando began to ease you into events that involved his friends from the paddock, so Max saw you on a regular basis during the break. And every single time he found himself back home drunk and alone, lying on his bed with his hand inside his jeans as he touched himself at the thought of you, his moans muffled by the pillow he bit on. He imagined you coming home with him, showing him how much you loved him, wanted him. And every single time he was cleaning up his mess, he felt ashamed for thinking about his friend’s girlfriend like this.

One day he was over at Lando’s place, sitting in front of his friend’s computer to log into one of his accounts when you walked in with two glasses of lemonade and handed one to each of them. Max only flashed a thankful smile at you before turning back to the screen, hoping this would avert his thoughts for a while. But just as he began to type something, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he smelled your sweet perfume, which was followed by a short laugh next to his ear. When he turned his head to look at you, his breath caught in his throat.

“Is that really how you type?” you asked with a teasing smile. When he nodded with a confused look on his face and asked you why, you just straightened up and shrugged. “My fifty-six year old aunt types faster than this, and she sees a keyboard like twice a month.”

He had no idea how to react. He knew it was a joke, and he knew you didn’t mean to offend him, but deep down he only wanted to hear you compliment him, he needed to know if you thought he did something right. He wanted to impress you, he wanted you to be proud of him. But then Lando began to chuckle as he walked closer and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you against his body.

“You should give him lessons, baby,” he suggested as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. Then he turned back to Max. “She’s crazy fast when it comes to typing. I have absolutely no idea how she does it, but it’s amazing.”

Max took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face. He wanted to say something, maybe crack a joke, but nothing came to his mind. Lando was in love with you, it was painfully obvious, and you seemed equally enamored with him. How could he compete with that? So he quickly finished what he was doing, logged out from everywhere, then said goodbye and went home to figure out what to do now.

His home race was just around the corner, he had to get a grip on himself again, because you sure as hell would show up in the paddock one day, and what then? Maybe you were like a poison, he just needed small doses to get used to you and become immune in the end. You loved Lando, and Lando loved you. He wasn’t a part of the equation, he had to understand this.

Yes, he was an idiot. He was self-aware enough to know what he was about to do was reckless and stupid, but maybe this small dose theory wasn’t as bad as it first seemed. This is why he was now standing in the waiting room of the clinic where you worked, waiting for his appointment with you. He was okay, nothing hurt, but for the sake of a conversation and some alone time with you, he was willing to say his hand caused him pain. Just a little white lie, nothing serious.

He instinctively locked his phone and looked up when he heard a familiar sound, your melodic laughter that came from a nearby hallway. And within seconds you appeared, beautiful like a dream, and he jumped up to greet you even though you hadn’t noticed him yet. He was too excited to control himself, which is why the moment your previous patient left, he walked up to you with a stupid smile on his face.

“Max, hi,” you said happily before giving him a hug.

It took all of his willpower not to wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on top of your head as he held you close, feeling the warmth that radiated from your body. Instead he politely squeezed your shoulder quickly before stepping away to give you some space. “Thank you for finding the time for me, I guess you have a tight schedule,” he said with a sheepish smile.

But you just waved your hand to tell him it was okay, then motioned towards the hallway you came from. “Come on, let’s see that hand,” you said as you began to walk.

Max followed you like a shadow, standing awkwardly in your examination room as he waited for your instructions. This was your domain, he was just a guest, and he was more than happy to follow your orders. At this point you could have asked him to do anything, even to show you his bank card details, and he would have done it without hesitation. You pointed at a chair next to your desk, and once you both sat down, you rolled over to him, one of your knees between his legs to be closer to him.

As you took a look at his right hand that was injured as far as you knew, he had to focus on his breathing. You chose a different perfume for today, something that was a nice floral scent that invaded his brain, making it all he could think about. When your pretty eyes finally turned to him, he tilted his head to the side and watched you with an intrigued look. “So, what should we do about this?” he asked you.

Leaning back, you wanted to push yourself away from him, but he didn’t let go of your hand and just yanked you back gently. You seemed surprised at first, but then you nodded and gulped. “Well, I couldn’t feel anything irregular, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was related to simulators and video games,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’ve heard esport athletes complaining about the same kind of pain in their hands, so I guess this is what we’re dealing with. I’ll show you a few exercises you can do at home, but we can also find a slot in the evening that’s okay for you, and I can jump in to help. As you said, my schedule here is pretty tight, and you’re Lando’s friend, so the least I can do is be flexible about the when and where.”

Fuck, if you only knew what was going on in his mind at this very moment. Maybe it would scare you away, because he couldn’t help thinking about having you at his home alone, and how he wanted that ‘flexible about the when and where’ part to be about clandestine meetings with you. He wanted to be your dark secret, your partner in crime in an affair that you both had to hide from Lando, but right now you weren’t ready for it. Your first thought was Lando, not him. You were doing this for your boyfriend, because you valued him enough to know he cared about his friends.

It was killing him. Waiting for you as he paced the living room as a caged predator, he couldn’t help but envy his cats who were minding their business somewhere in the apartment. They didn’t have to deal with the pain of being desperately in love with their friend’s girlfriend, the only person who was supposed to be off-limits. When you finally arrived, he had to force a smile on his face, acting like everything was okay, like he wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Things went well for a while, but then as you sat on the couch, drinking a glass of wine that you accepted as a token of gratitude, Max couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. “Lando is lucky to have you. I wish I could find a girl who was as nice, and caring, and funny, and intelligent, and sweet as you are,” he said out of nowhere.

You slowly pulled the glass away from your lips and put it on the coffee table. “Where did this come from?” you asked, your chest heaving from your sped up breathing.

He was cursing himself in his head, knowing full well you were seconds away from running out of his home. How could he be this stupid? But what was the point of going on with his life as if he didn’t have feelings for you? He could just as well come clean about it, finally getting it off his chest so he would know if he was crazy for thinking you could be interested. And if you decide to go no contact with him… Well, at least he would know he never had a chance.

“You and Lando are good together, you make him happy. But,” he began, stopping for a moment to get his thoughts in order. “So I just… Ever since I met you, ever since I got to know you better, I can’t help but wonder what if you loved me instead. You are one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met, I can’t even imagine living my life without you. If you gave me a chance, just one chance to prove how good we could be together–”

You raised a hand to stop him. “Max, just don’t. Don’t fantasize about something you can never have. Don’t torture yourself, please,” you asked him with a strange smile as you put a hand on his arm. But how could he stop? He was way past the point of no return. Before he could speak up again, though, you started talking. “You’re a great guy, you’ll find someone who makes you happy. It’s just… not me.”

“Why can’t you love me? He doesn’t have to know, I can keep a secret, I promise,” he said, his voice now pathetically desperate. But he couldn’t stop himself, even if he was making a fool of himself.

Without answering, you nodded a few times and gulped, then leaned over to press a soft kiss on his cheek before standing up and taking a few steps towards the door. Max was frozen in his seat, still under the effect of that kiss, but he truly felt like he was stabbed with a dagger when you said, “This conversation never happened. I don’t want Lando to find out about your feelings.”

And with that, you simply walked out of his apartment, leaving him behind with the feeling of defeat and shame, and the flurry of thoughts that didn’t let him sleep that night. The next few days weren’t any better, really. He spent them locked inside his apartment, only leaving it for half an hour to pick up what he ordered for lunch, but other than that, he was on his own. No phone calls, no streams, nothing.

But one night he hit rock bottom and began to drink, and he drank a lot, and when he was almost crying from the pain he felt in his heart, he had the not-so-bright idea to take some painkillers that would surely help with that. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to think, but he was good enough to type in a series of messages to you. Messages that were full of mistakes, and sentences that didn’t always make sense, and his thoughts that all revolved around you. When you asked him if he was drunk, he replied, ‘drunk and high,’ because those pain meds were the good stuff from a previous injury.

Though he didn’t expect anything, half an hour later there was a knock on his door, and when he saw it was you, he quickly wrapped his arms around your body. “You came. You love me,” he mumbled with his face buried into the crook of your neck.

With a groan, you pushed him inside and closed the door behind you. “What did you take?” you asked him with your arms folded.

“Are you mad at me?” he slurred, but when he saw your pointed look, he let out a long sigh. “Painkillers. Really good painkillers.”

“How much?”

This made him think, but then he began to count on his fingers and held up a hand. “Five. I think.”

You shook your head as you grabbed his arm and began to drag him towards the bathroom. “You need to throw them up, so go ahead, smartass,” you ordered him.

Max tried to give you the puppy eyes, hoping you weren’t serious, but then you threatened him that you would shove your finger down his throat if he didn’t do it himself, so he groaned and got to making himself vomit. It was disgusting, the taste in his mouth was enough to make him want to throw up again, but he chose to brush his teeth instead. You stood there in the door with your arms folded over your chest, watching him with a disapproving look on your face.

After you successfully convinced him to stay in bed for the rest of the night, you brought him lots of water and made him drink some. If you were simply worried about him, he would have been really happy, because that would mean you cared about him, but in reality you were both worried and incredibly mad, which wasn’t a good combination. So he crawled over to you on the bed and lied down so his head would be on your lap.

“Sorry, schatje,” he mumbled as he looked at you, waiting for the room to finally stop spinning.

Your eyes watched him closely, full of anger and disappointment, but then he felt your hand in his hair and it made him smile like a satisfied cat. “You’re such a moron, Max,” you groaned.

“I love you so much that it makes me stupid,” he admitted.

“No doubt.”

He watched you in silence for a while, enjoying the way your fingertips massaged his scalp, and somewhere along the way he fell asleep. Later in the night he woke up, only to see you were still there with him, curled up at the end of the bed with your phone next to your head. He moved closer to you, this time choosing to be the one who ran his fingers through your hair, letting his thumb brush over your cheek as he placed a clumsy kiss on your temple.

You stirred in your sleep, but didn’t wake up, for which he was grateful. All he wanted was some time with you when you couldn’t tell him that you didn’t love him, when you couldn’t push him away, and when he could honestly tell you how he felt about you.

Little did he know it was only your phone’s screen that went dark, the caller on the other end of the line you had been talking to before dozing off was still there, listening to every word.

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