#i’m really not used to writing things like this that are more physical so sorry this isn’t the best | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovieku · 13 days ago

Text

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국

𐙚 if you were my boyfriend… and you were my girlfriend…

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

based on this ask

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairing: fuckboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: fwb au

warnings: small smutty moments (cunnilingus, fingering, tiny boob play), angst, fluffi maybe idk, whipped and jelly koo, ft. namjoon!!!, oblivious oc, deep down she feels it too but jk is simply too much of a simp so it doesn’t look like it at first, he’s also so petty and sassy, jokes about ending it if oc doesn’t give him a chance </3, he’s just a little shit, peep the lyrics from boyfriend hehe, oh btw happy ending!!!

word count: 18k

a/n: wowww i’m so sorry for this pile of nonsense, it’s so bad i vomited a little in my mouth. i hate every single thing about it but i didn’t wanna leave you guys starved. i love u sm and thank u for the support, but u’re allowed to leave hate asks for what u’re about to read rn ❤️ also i’m SO SORRY for being unable to write a jungkook who isn’t a simp

🏷️ perm taglist: @ceellliiinee @jaytheatiny @dolligguk @luvismenu @theyloveyams @stillwjk-channie-lixie @bookstoread199 @girlygguk @vieviela @myngiii @angelxkoo @nnybtitts08 @mpbrinkss @https-mei @lyywst @mhdelu @apobangpogirlyyy @khadeeeeej @awrkive

────୨ৎ────

Jeongguk was only supposed to clean you up. That’s what he calls it when his angelic face finds its place between your spread legs, sinful eyes locking with yours, paired with a smirk you can hardly ever survive.

After all, he’s a man of simple devices. Why bother fetching a towel when he can use his own mouth? When he can let his tongue lap at your juices, slurp every last trace, have an excuse to taste you again, and again, and again?

It’s barely even effective as a way to clean you up, of drying the slick mess that sticks to your inner thighs from cumming three times under his merciless doings— you both know that. Then, how does he expect you not to break a fourth when he runs his wet muscle so torturously along your slit, getting ever more soaked?

Jeongguk is not really trying to end the night. He’s drawing it out. He already had you unraveling in phases— first on his fingers, then all over his cupid lips, ending with you convulsating just another time around his thick length.

It was rough, left purplish marks of his harsh hold digging into your sides, a faint trace of a forbidden hickey just under your collarbones, where you can easily hide it.

In all fairness, he couldn’t help it.

It was you who provoked him. You always do, getting under his skin, teasing him about his skills, downgrading them with playful indifference and nothing more than a meh, as Jeongguk rasps in your ear, clearly affected by your session of foreplay when asking, “Does this make you feel good?”

You’ll be sent straight to hell for lying like that, with seemingly no remorse, but you’re unable to resist the dangerous game and the familiar thrill that comes from it. Nothing compares to the dark wave that takes over his hooded eyes, his motions ever more intentional, almost overwhelming.

He moves to prove something to you, to show you there’s no one quite like him, even with all the guys in your phone, on your lips, inside your sheets.

Jeongguk is your fuckbuddy, and your friend on top of the rest. So, when he first laid his lips on yours, the bottom line plumper than his cupid’s bow, it had taken a great amount of alcohol to flow through both of your veins and blur the lines, let instinct take over.

From there, it was like you couldn’t help yourselves; the physical attraction was undeniable, it’s what brought you here in between the mess of his bed. If you ignore the silly crush you had on him during the first year of college, this was perfect.

Your fuckbuddy contract (Jeongguk hates calling you that, he prefers my friend who makes me cum a lot) includes a heavy emphasis on a no-strings-attached relationship, that can be interrupted whenever one of the two feels uncomfortable, and that should not come before your friendship. On top of all, you both are not exclusive. No commitment, no jealousy. You’re perfectly free of meeting other people, fucking other people. Unless you’re going to date one of those, of course. Then, bye-bye friend who makes me cum a lot.

These rules were established almost a year ago, after your hands couldn’t help themselves from roaming hastily all over his body, pulling him impossibly closer. It was the second time you allowed yourself to feel him, following the night when he initiated things under the clouded lights of a club.

You couldn’t help it. You had been thinking of that moment for weeks now, and when you were left alone with him in his dorm room, pulse racing, it’s all your thoughts were reduced to. Kiss him, kiss him, fuck him.

You felt guilty. A friend shouldn’t be thinking of another friend like you were about Jeongguk. Especially after you promised yourself you wouldn’t let your buried crush resurface and ruin what you had built— even if the memory of that infatuation is honestly just laughable now (you would never think of dating him, pft).

But Jeongguk, ever the gentlest when it comes to you, assured you it was okay to feel as you did, because he felt it too. And was dying to touch you again. His words, not yours.

It’s only sexual. A casual, sexual relationship. Two friends who happen to find each other irresistible.

So when he reacts with a flash of competitiveness at the mere suggestion he might not be the best you’ve ever had, it’s… weird, the feeling that overcomes you. You acknowledge it for a split second, as if you’re searching to name that something inside you stirring, but before you can, it seems to make you fall apart immediately, your grip tighter, back arched, moans high-pitched.

He basks in his silent victory, in the factual demonstration that he in fact can’t be compared to all your other guys.

Except, there’s actually no other guys.

Back when this friends-with-benefits arrangement first started, you were occasionally fooling around with an older guy from campus named Mingyu. Jeongguk knew him, given that they’re in the same photography class. He was also aware of your casual fling with him. And yet, Jeongguk still kissed you. Actually, did so much more than just that.

Either way, the line has always been clear: he has no right to question who you spend time with and what you engage in, Jeongguk isn’t a saint either.

You love him, you truly do. With time, he has become one of your closest friends, and you honestly can’t see yourself getting through college without him.

But there’s no denying the fuckboy allegations, the ones that are constantly thrown at him all around campus. He is a fuckboy. It must be his easy charm, flirting as natural as breathing, tripping out his tongue with seemingly not much thought. At some point, the majority of the girls in your campus got to have their moment with Jeongguk, either because of mindless teasing or one night stands, occasionally turning into casual arrangements.

You have accepted it as part of who he is. You know his fuckboy habits haven’t magically changed when you two started fucking. He doesn’t really spend much time talking about it with you, occasionally mentioning his doings every now and then, but you don’t need to know; his friends and the people whispering in hallways and lecture halls fill in the blanks.

That is exactly why you’ve let Jeongguk believe that your sexual life is equally as busy, floods of boys from your inbox to your sheets, as if you aren’t too much of a hopeless romantic to even think of anything that isn’t exclusively monogamous.

But this isn’t the case. Jeongguk isn’t yours, you aren’t his. It’s just about sex, and you’ve accepted that. You don’t want anything more from him. You tell yourself the only reason you’re not seeing anyone else is that the idea of it makes you uneasy. That you’re more than satisfied with Jeongguk being your friend-turned-into-fuckbuddy, and you don’t need other ones.

Jeongguk is more than enough. Oh, he is.

“Fuck, Gguk. You’re gonna make me cum— Ah, shit— again.”

Your head is thrown back in his pillow, legs weakly tightening around his head nestled so close to your core, and it’s clear his goal has completely shifted from getting you clean and neat when the tip of his tongue moves to flicker on your sensitive nub, relentlessly abusing it with casual kissing and sucking.

He opens his mouth to take more of you, his wet muscle tracing your slit and teasing your entrance for— sadly —the shortest second, and the way he hums approvingly against you brings you even closer to the breaking point.

You’re a fragile mess, overstimulated from the previous orgasms but desperate to chase yet another climax, his hands roaming up to find your breast only spurring you further.

Jeongguk knows you by now, and is aware of all the subtle gestures that make you come undone under him. He knows just what to do to push you over the edge, and when to do it exactly.

You’re a sucker for dirty talk and praise, and occasionally, when the ideal situation comes, you love being degraded. It’s a side of you that only ever arises during sex, mind hazed and irrational, the delirious need for release clouding all your usually composed senses.

At first, he teased you for it. Not because he’s not as much of a fan as you are of talking during sex, but because he never pictured you to be the loud type. And you truly are.

Jeongguk pinches your nipples in hopes of you getting the message and lowering your volume, but it only makes you whine higher, your moans surely not going unnoticed by the other students in the dorm.

It can only be worse when he decides to speak against you, his voice a low, almost unintelligible growl, “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. All mine, fuck. Want to taste your cum once again, c’mon babe. Give it to me.”

And you, always obliging and well-behaved, let go for a fourth time, hips furiously rutting against his face, his words making your surroundings spin, the way his nose would brush your sensitive nub having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Your gasp is strained when he retreats with one last wet stripe between your puffy lips, sealing the orgasm with a kiss on your clit, and when he finds your face again there’s a cockish grin spreading across his, chin coated with your juices.

He immediately meets your mouth then, sharing your own taste, and you both moan shamelessly at the action.

Jeongguk collapses next to you, his body warm and relaxed, pulling you closer by your waist and almost making you straddle him with the force of his hold. He sighs into your hair, kissing the root of it, “You did amazing for me, pretty girl.”

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine at the praise and the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. It’s ridiculous.

With your cheek pressed against his chest, you glance up at him through your lashes and a lazy smile threatens to take over your face, but your playful pout is more prominent, almost convincing, “I’m never letting you do that trick on me again. Next time, I’m just going to take a shower like a normal person.”

The laugh he lets out is rich and unguarded, his chest rumbling under your ear, and it makes you pull away with a mock glare, brows knitted together as you swat at his toned stomach, “Don’t laugh. I hated that.”

His dark eyes soften as they dance with amusement, the corners crinkling, and he hums, going along with your blatant lie from the way your lips struggle to contain a grin, “Oh, absolutely. You were screaming in horror, couldn’t stand it.”

“Whatever,” you mutter incoherently, standing up to escape from the inevitable loss. The slick between your thighs reminds you of why you need that shower in the first place, causing you to awkwardly wobble your way to his bathroom.

Jeongguk watches you with a lopsided smirk, stretched out on the bed, his brown hair a messy halo on the pillow, and it completes the concept he goes perfectly with, the one of a devil dressed up as an angel, even more when his voice drips with faux desperation, “Hey, come back. I need my cuddles.”

“You’ll live,” you toss back before pulling the door shut behind you and stepping into the warm embrace of the shower. The hot water stings at first, then soothes you, sliding down your skin.

Jeongguk already knows the outcome of what he’s about to do isn’t going to turn in his favor, but he tries his luck regardless, standing up hastily and limply making his way to his bathroom door.

He only knocks twice, then puts on his best begging voice, talking loud enough to be heard over the shower, “Toots?”

“No!”

A scoff filters through the steamy air, followed by the unmistakable creak of the door handle as he steps inside. He’s relentless, voices his thoughts with the kind of logic only he would find convincing, “C’mon, we’ll save water!”

You stand with your back to him, his body wash traveling down your skin in soap bubbles, the scent filling the air, and you let your shoulders shrug. You don’t turn around. Number one, because you’ll give in. Number two, because you can hear the pout on his lips, and that’s the reason for number one.

You try your best to sound annoyed, “Jeongguk, just leave. You don’t even pay for it.”

“Our poor earth pays for it,” he quips, stepping further into the cramped space, body still bare, and that’s maybe a number three for you, “Because you wanna be so unfair to your best friend and leave him out in the cold.”

“You’re not my best friend.”

His gasp is dramatic, you even hear it echo through the tiny room, and you fight hard to contain the giggle locked inside you, but it escapes in the shape of a snort, which you quickly try to conceal by clearing your throat. You even further go with the lie, “You heard me.”

“Unbelievable. I’m kicking you out the second you’re done here,” he tries his best menacing tone, the threat barely harsh and effective, closing the door behind his back with an exaggerated thump, followed by unintelligible grumbling.

You take your sweet time in his now steamy bathroom. You shampoo twice, deliberately squeezing out a generous amount of his own fancy product in your palm, making sure the squeak of the bottle is heard through the door so he knows you’re helping yourself. His high-quality hair dryer blasts warm air over your damp hair until it’s only mildly wet. And you even rummage around his cabinet, indulging in his collection of expensive skincare creams. These little luxuries are exactly why you never pass a single occasion to shower over at his dorm room.

And the second you’re done in there, he doesn’t kick you out like he threatened. It takes a moment for him to move his attention from his phone to your figure, wrapped around in his fluffy robe, and he doesn’t even try to keep up the menacing act. Still spread on his ruined bed, his furrowed brows relax, and his lips break into a grin. He scans your face, then giggles, “You’ve got a massive pimple on your forehead.”

“Fuck you. I’m taking one of your hoodies.”

“It’s called borrowing,” even in the midst of checking out your freshly-washed naked body, now being stripped from his bathrobe, he’s still committed to the game of banter you two always play.

“It’s not if I’m not giving it back,” you counter, voice muffled by the fabric of one of his many black sweatshirts you’re already pulling over your head, quickly shuffling into your jeans, helping them up with some small hops that make him grin.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your comeback, too used to losing his own clothes to your closet; rather, he watches you move with what seems like hurry around his dimly lit room. He shifts higher, letting the sheets slip to reveal his still bare, and slightly sweaty torso, “Wanna hang out together at the party tomorrow?”

”Hmm, I’ll just see you there,” you don’t pay him much attention, using your phone camera as a mirror to wipe away any smudged mascara under your eyes. “I’ve already got a partner, actually.”

Jeongguk fully sits up now, vision a little blurry from the hasty and sudden movement, phone forgotten, “A partner?”

The way you casually let a smile tug at your lips while talking about a man is new, “Yeah. A guy from my English class asked me to go with him. He’s pretty cute.”

You’re too busy shoving your belongings in your bag and mentally cataloging every single item to notice the expression your best friend is currently sporting, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Tank top, makeup, laptop… where the fuck is— oh, here. Lip balm. What else?

Jeongguk thinks you’re forgetting something deathly important. A fucking explanation, maybe? He’s known you to occasionally fool around with random guys, but he thought it was just that. Occasional and random. When did it get to having a partner? That sounds silly. Or maybe a little too formal, a little too real. What the fuck does having a partner even entail?

You’re blissfully unaware of the stubborn storm taking over Jeongguk’s thoughts, especially because you’re not exactly sparing him a second glance, moving with single-minded focus, hurrying to leave. Because apparently it’s so bad to want to spend the night with your best friend. Share a bed, watch a movie, talk gossip (it’s been so long since you’ve updated him the way only you can about the latest campus stories, ugh). Amazing, yes, that’s totally fine with Jeongguk.

And he does manage to sound unbothered, “What’s his name?”

“Namjoon.”

Jeongguk focuses on your slim fingers slipping your lip balm into the front pocket of your bag, syllabes leaving his lips in a slow mumble, “Ah, Namjoon. I know him. I guess.”

Fucking Kim Namjoon. Of course he knows him. 6 feet tall, polite, model student Kim Namjoon. Shit. Great choice. No, really, he’s the perfect catch.

“Hm? Well, I think he’s very nice. And hot as fuck.”

He grimaces, “Gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” pulling the hood over your head, you finally meet his eyes. You’re completely oblivious to the thoughts gnawing at him, so you think his disappointment is only caused by your next words, “I should get going now.”

“What? You’re not staying over for dinner?” The way he looks up at you with doe, puppy-dog eyes almost makes you trip on your own resolution, but you only ruffle his hair from your stance next to his bed, hoping the small action is enough to satisfy your hunger. Not for dinner.

“Nah, sorry Gguk. Gotta get up early for English class.”

He scoffs, moving stubbornly from your soothing touch, “Sure. English class with Joohyuk.”

“…Namjoon.”

“Right, that’s what I said. Namsun.”

You raise an eyebrow, half-laughing, “No, it’s Namjoon.”

“Namgi.”

“Namjoon.”

“Whatever, don’t care.” The words have barely any space to roll out through his pout, and along with his petty little slip-ups it’s the most childish act you’ve seen him pull so far. To be completely honest, he seems to break a new record every other day.

You fight the urge to roll your gaze at the ceiling, finding it impossible to deal with pouty, hungry and cuddle-starved Jeongguk. You sigh, muttering, “Insufferable.”

“Give me a kiss, brat.”

The teasing comes so naturally that for a second you don’t ponder on the demand being something a normal friend wouldn’t exactly ask. But it isn’t one you’ll deny.

You bend down to meet him as easily as he let the request out, muttering a playful Oh, I’m the brat now? before brushing his pushed lips with yours in a sweet, short kiss, enough to draw a soft sigh from both of you. You hum against it, voice warm with something that contradicts your words entirely, “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Sure,” rolling your eyes, you grant his cocky figure that little win, too tired to put up a fight, even if you almost rethink it when he confidently leans back against the pillows, smirking up at you. You decide to cut it short, it’s for the best, throwing your bag over your shoulder as well as one last look at him, before readying yourself for the walk of shame through his frat.

────୨ৎ────

Namjoon is, by all standards, the perfect guy. He’s genuine, smiles sweetly with his dimples showing and his eyes crinkling into crescents that make him seem both wise and youthful.

Careful, even protective over you, making sure you’re comfortable. With your drink, with your seat, with your conversation.

Almost too attentive, which should calm your nerves, but instead you feel yourself unable to fully let go. Open up to him like he’s doing with you, like you think you want to do.

You’re not sure. You can’t feel that mysterious spark everybody talks about. That spark Jeongguk admitted he’s never felt with anyone so far, no matter the number of girls he’s been with. The one he’s confessed he’s desperate to feel. The one you hope he can find.

Wait, why are you thinking about Jeongguk?

Said boy has yet to acknowledge you, standing across from you in the crowded living room of your mutual friend’s house. Each weekend, the same ritual brings you back here, whenever Taehyung’s parents head off for one of their rich-people, luxurious trips. The space is familiar, a backdrop to countless parties, all too often ending in someone’s drunken confessions and stolen kisses that’d become the talk of campus until the next party came around.

As tradition would want, with the clock ticking its way past midnight, you’d be drunk out of your mind already. Tonight, however, you’re not even sure you want to be here.

Namjoon is keeping close tabs on your drinks, monitoring each glass you reach for, and you know he means well; ordinarily, you’d find it sweet, endearing even. But it only seems to heighten your anxiety now. It just reminds you of how out of place this whole thing feels. You want to drown your awkwardness in a wave of liquid courage, and the irony isn’t lost on you: the very reason why you’re nervous is keeping you from numbing it.

Namjoon makes you way too aware of yourself. You wish your first proper hang out wasn’t at a filthy frat party, the blasting music causing you both to lean into each other to make conversation. The proximity makes your palms disgustingly clammy, and you hope he doesn’t reach for your hand.

You also think this isn’t the type of scenario that best suits Namjoon. You would have loved to be with him somewhere softer, with less noise and more light, talking over coffee instead of loud techno, his poetic speech lulling you into infatuation. Maybe then, this would have gone like you had imagined it might. Like you wanted it to go, just to prove something to yourself. You’re still not sure what exactly.

But this house — this party — is a natural habitat for people like Jeongguk. It’s a playground he navigates with ease, his charisma amplified by the darkened rooms and faint cigarette smoke that seems to follow him, just like everyone around him. They exist solely to orbit his mood.

It’s as he saunters back inside after yet another smoke break that you spot him again, his focus entirely on whatever girl is currently at his side. With Namjoon leaving to grab a drink for the two of you to share, you take the short moment to be a shameless creep and study your friend’s movements from the other side of the room.

You can’t help but feel a sting of irritation. Jeongguk is fully aware you’re here. You’d texted him earlier, just something casual to say you’d arrived, maybe even expecting him to meet you or give you a quick wave. Instead, there’d been no reply.

Just like the TikToks you’d sent last night, after you told him you wouldn’t be staying over at his, that also went ignored. You didn’t think too much of it, figured it was probably one of his petty acts. You aren’t any better: it’s not like you’ll go up to him to say hi, not after he ignored you. Those videos were funny, too. He’s the one missing out.

But now, your eyes squinted to try and get the best possible view on each detail of the scene in front of you, what you notice is nothing about him and everything about who he’s currently spending the time he could have used to acknowledge you with.

It’s not just whatever girl. It’s Haeun.

You haven’t seen them hanging out together in what feels like months, and frankly, you’re thrown. Maybe that’s also the reason why he suddenly had no time for you. You scoff.

You’re just confused, really. Jeongguk didn’t mention a thing about her, and it’s not like he’s ever kept his hookups or flings a secret. But Haeun was never just that. She was the one he seemed almost ready to get in his first serious relationship with, the one girl you thought could make him forget all about his usual habits.

When Jeongguk had first started hanging out with Haeun, he’d seemed uncharacteristically interested. You naturally found yourself rooting for him, hoping he’d take a leap and start something real after many failed attempts.

At that point, your casual arrangement with him had been going on for a while, but you knew it wasn’t built to last. You’d expected it to end sooner rather than later, and you were okay with that. You just wanted him to be happy with himself and his choices.

But on the night he was supposed to take Haeun out on a date, the one that could have changed everything, it’s like a magic vacuum turned on and sucked all his progress away. He’d shown up in front of your door instead. No explanations, no details about what had happened; he didn’t want to talk. He only wanted to be near you and sink into silence.

That night you laid next to him, his head on you, hair sprawled out on your stomach, and said absolutely nothing.

Since then, he hadn’t mentioned Haeun at all, and you’d assumed it was over. The right side of your brain was irrationally glad for that, greedily geeking at the prospect of still getting to keep Jeongguk close in ways that go over a simple friendship. In ways that have you thanking God for not taking your friend’s sex skills away from you; in ways that have your nose scrunching whenever he leaves small, delicate pecks on the side of your neck as you watch a movie cuddled in his embrace. If he had decided to go on that date, you would be denied all of this luxury.

The left side of your brain is a little less greedy, a little more rational. The half of your mind responsible for keeping some logic instilled in you even thought it could have been a good thing for Jeongguk to experience a different side of relationships.

You’ve always sensed there to be deeper reasons beneath Jeongguk’s carefree front. You’ve watched him jump from girl to girl, dip in and out of flings with seemingly no thought, as if he’s not trying to bury issues he should find a different answer for, to avoid whatever insecurities he’s run too far away from to face.

He’s never had to spell it out for you. You never pressed him on the topic either. And you think he’s grateful for it, for your silence that offers him the stability he won’t admit he needs, for simply staying and understanding. For allowing him to be vulnerable.

You wish you could give him more than that quiet comfort. Wonder if you should try your luck and push him to see that he does deserve something real— more than the distractions he uses to keep his fears at bay.

Jeongguk would make an incredible boyfriend. He always spots the small details, the slight changes in your mood, and he picks them up before you can even notice yourself, caring in a silent way that doesn't go unnoticed. Not by you.

It’s easy to imagine him being the kind of partner who’d cater to his girl’s needs effortlessly, even in quiet, even if hidden. You know he could be that person if he could just let anyone in beyond sex. When he’ll find the one, it’ll be clear it’s all he was made for.

Right now though, if anyone were to ask you that, you’d advise them to just go and look for another one, because he’s a little, lying piece of shit. You’re just a tad bit upset about it, if your crossed arms and furrowed brows are anything to go by.

You don’t understand why he’s now there, standing next to the girl he himself stood up, the one he looked ready to fix everything for, and then wasn’t. Leaning in close as if nothing had ever happened.

Why couldn’t he tell you, at least give you a heads-up if he was reconnecting with her? You know it shouldn’t bother you as much as it does, but the fact that he’s hiding it stings. Are you overthinking this?

When he lifts his head from her ear and scans the room, his eyes landing right on yours for a brief second just to look away, you don’t think you are. His attention shifts back to Haeun as if he hadn’t seen you at all. What the fuck?

You question what’s the point of having eyes to see when you are now forced to witness Jeongguk leaving the room with Haeun hanging her draggy weight on his arm, his smile cockish as he helps her up by her waist, fingers digging dangerously close to the curve of her perfectly shaped peach.

Their chemistry is undeniable, hands finding skin with unpracticed ease. It must be the way Jeongguk can effortlessly work his charm with any girl he deems attractive enough to fuck, his smirk and the way he lets his nose scrunch almost timidly, as if you can’t see right through him, making women potty in his sculpted hands.

The prospect of your best friend getting laid by the girl he was almost ready to change it all for should make you happy. Smile, at least.

Instead, you frown, mindlessly taking long sips from the straw in your glass and letting it stir your too watered-down cocktail that lacks any real flavor. You don’t even try to find answers as to how another drink landed right on the counter you rest your back on, but you’re glad for it.

You’re more upset at the fact that he decided not to tell you anything. You would have helped him through it, supported him, advised him on what to do, how to move in such a situation. But even if he didn’t need any of this, you would have appreciated just knowing. From him.

The ways in which the two of you are intertwined right at this moment don’t exactly allow him to completely leave you unaware of his actions. It’s not fair.

But then, are you even supposed to feel like this in the first place? Is only sex supposed to have this impact on you? Is even the smallest cell in his brain producing a thought that might take him back to you, and could it compare to a third of what you think and feel?

Does he not get that tingly sensation with you, ‘cause he’s used to it? ‘Cause you’re nothing too different nor special from all the choice he has laid at his feet, nothing out of the usual routine?

A gentle hand on your arm jolts you out of your thoughts. The touch is delicate, but the way it pulls you from your spiral is rough, making you stumble on the already wobbly stool you’re sitting on. When you look to your side, Namjoon meets you with a warm smile.

You hadn’t even noticed him being back next to you, and you figure that’s probably how that drink found its way in your hands. You’re a deer caught in headlights as you look at him, then down at the almost empty glass, then back at the boy. Your eyes widen impossibly more, and you struggle with finding a louder volume to your voice, almost fading with the music, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish this all by myself.”

You remember him saying he’d get a drink for the two of you to share before leaving you with your haunting thoughts. He just laughs in a way that should soothe your nerves, but it doesn’t, “It’s okay. You look like you needed it. I’m getting another one for me and catching up with some of my friends over there. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?”

“Yeah, totally. No problem,” your words roll out your tongue in a slurred hurry, face already turning to the opposite side of the room, and you’re not even sure what you’re agreeing on. You just feel Namjoon slip away from the seat next to yours again.

The brief interaction was enough for Jeongguk to have time to completely disappear from your strict observing, and just like the boy who should have had your undivided attention tonight, he equally slips away. From your vision, from the party. And from you. He’s with Haeun now, after all. And you’re alone.

Being truthful, Jeongguk is once again slipping away from his problems only. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Haeun by his side, but when he found your big, confused eyes in the midst of what should have been his escape for the night, he thinks he could name a few reasons.

It’s suffocating, the grip you have on him. He can almost feel one of your slim, delicate hands around his throat. He’s a dirty little sadist, of course he enjoys the pain. But he shouldn’t, so he runs from it until his back hits the wall, and the hold only gets tighter.

There’s nothing to do but face the truth. And you’re in front of him, eyes lost and inviting him to tell you. What should be easy for him to say, what he owes you. But the words get stuck in his throat, right where you’re pressing, and he feels like he might stop breathing.

He could die like this, with your narrowed orbs pitying him, and he badly wishes you would call him a coward. The hold is just enough to hurt him, not to make him lose his senses; if anything, it only makes his head spin around the one thought he wants to avoid. You.

With the quickest distraction he could get his hands on, he keeps adding to it: Haeun clinging to his side, he steps out the packed room to light the nth cigarette, the smoke clouding his vision and making the image of you fade from behind his eyelids. You release your hand from him and disappear. He almost whines. He misses you already. But the faint ache is a reminder.

Instead, in front of him is the only girl he should have truly avoided. Haeun is another reminder. Not because she looks similar to you, you’re way prettier. You’re beautiful.

No, it’s just because he remembers Haeun being his first victim, using her to bury something stronger growing inside him. But it didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work now.

She’s the only girl he tried his luck with to avoid his now unavoidable feelings for you. Then, he physically couldn’t touch another woman beside you. So he started flirting with more cigarettes and alcohol. Maybe some joints then and there.

Jeongguk would love to know why he prefers destroying himself rather than just be the confident man he lets everyone else think he is, go up to you and be honest, like you make it so easy for him to be. The fact that it almost slipped out of him more than a couple times scares him.

It shouldn’t. He wants to fall into that soothing caress, but could he even handle the possibility of you simply, and rightfully if you deemed it the correct choice, rejecting him?

The answer is no. He can’t afford losing your touch on him, your lashes fluttering when you look up at him, your fingers tracing secret maps on his back. He wonders if you’re outlining the safest ways for him to escape from the maze he himself created, of which he forgot the exit to.

With Haeun pressing herself to his side, he thinks he’d rather stay trapped there at this point. A maze built by lies, letting you believe he’s fucking other girls on the side when he feels sickened just by the thought of it, his hand now coming up to push the girl back to a safe distance. Built by insecurities, preferring having you think that you’re simply one of the many he has when he firmly believes you’re the only one that the universe has especially assigned him to.

It’s making him lose his mind, while you live unaware, free from the truth. He’s sure in the stretch that went from yesterday, when you told him about your fucking partner, and tonight, seeing you so close to said partner’s face, your dress custom-made by the hands of every angel populating heaven, Jeongguk developed some kind of clinical illness. The flame of jealousy in his toned tummy has eaten him whole.

And he feels slightly ashamed of himself knowing this is how he found himself circling back to his first poor attempt at running away from you, in the form of a short girl, her eyes now questioning him just like yours had done earlier. Haeun furrows her brows, “Are you seriously doing this again?”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing away to take a long drag from his cigarette that fills his lungs and almost aches. He avoids the eye contact that would be needed for a conversation like the one he’s forced to have — one that wouldn’t have occured in the first place if he could just be a normal person — instead he looks back to the room through the glass doors, “I’m sorry, Hae. I— I can’t do this—“

“Yo, Gguk. You need to come with me now. ___ is throwing up in the bathroom.”

It’s Taehyung sliding the glass door open with more force than what he usually puts, and right now nobody would tell he’s the same one always advising his friends to be delicate with it. The look on his face is panicked and it quickly reflects in Jeongguk’s eyes, flickering between his friend and Haeun.

Next, his reflexes are quicker. He steps inside the house, skipping past Taehyung and the flood of college students dancing their Friday away to Usher and seemingly not caring about the urgency written all over his expression.

He makes it to the bathroom where people have started to crowd around as if lining up to an unmissable show, and he doesn’t care if his pushes are too rough as he makes his way through.

You’re quite literally hugging the toilet, your face one with the lid as a few girls try and help you with your hair. The moment they see Jeongguk, it’s like they know he’s the one that you need, that he’s finally here and you’re in good hands. He shoots them a quick nod as they step aside and then, he’s immediately crouching next to you, gently gathering your long locks into his fist.

He moves some stray strands behind your ears while you keep letting it all out, and as much as his broad back is enough to hide you from watchful eyes, he can still hear murmurs from onlookers.

It’s as Jeongguk is debating whether he should cuss them out or keep his attention on you that Taehyung comes to promptly clear the crowd, closing the bathroom door behind him only after making sure his friend doesn’t need any more help.

Jeongguk appreciates the gesture, knowing how overwhelmed you can get in these scenarios with too many people around. Although, no matter how calm he appears for your sake, his heart races even as you seem to settle and sit on the tiled floor, your back resting against the cool wall.

You gulp down a few times, squeezing your eyes to try and ground yourself, the way you can feel Jeongguk’s hand hold the side of your leg, his thumb delicately brushing the inside of your thigh, definitely helping.

“Toots,” he whispers, face close to your own, “Hey, doll. You’re okay now, hm? What happened?” His voice is low, slow, almost scared of flowing past his lips.

When you open your eyes he’s directly in front of you, squatting down to stay on your level, and his brows are drawn high in worry.

You sniff, your voice still rough from the scratching on your throat, “Fucking— Jimin. I met him in the kitchen and we mixed too much shit together—“

“Weren’t you with Kim Namjoon?” Jeongguk interrupts you, both his tone and the way his eyebrows now dip inquisitive.

You shrug, looking down at your fingers fidgeting, “Dunno. Why the fuck am I still not sober,” the way you tone the question doesn’t make it sound like one, and you end up giggling at yourself, hiccuping in the process.

Jeongguk sighs, unconsciously tightening his hold around your leg, his fingers digging and making you whimper subtly. He notices, soothing the skin only to take both his hands to scoop you up by your armpits, lifting both your bodies on your feet.

You yelp, throwing your weight on him with another one of your senseless chuckles, looking up at his bothered face through your lashes. He straightens your posture with wide palms on your waist, throwing one of your arms around his shoulders and causing you to step out of the small room on your tiptoes. He grumbles, “I’m taking you back to the dorm now. And we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?”

“Namjoon.”

You stay quiet as the both of you, your body snug against his, walk through the party and out the house to reach Jeongguk’s car. Your thoughts are sluggish, failing to grasp why he’d even want to talk about Namjoon. Isn’t he just a nice guy? You’re more concerned with Jeongguk’s seemingly irked tone and the distressed way his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

A soft, involuntary whine escapes you when you think you might be the reason for that, shuffling yourself closer into his warmth, but the contact is brief as he gently settles you into the passenger seat and clicks the belt, then he closes your door and circles the car to the driver’s side.

Awkward. The only sound that can be heard is the soft hum of the engine, beside the fuzzy buzz in your ears. You feel laughter bubbling up in your chest but you hold it there, turning to study Jeongguk’s side profile. Inhaling, you start, “Can you— can I put on—”

“No.”

Your smile falters, “What? C’mon, give me the aux.”

“The last thing I want right now is to listen to those songs.”

Any previous tipsy instinct that made you want to laugh at the situation fade with his words and the way his grip on the steering wheel says more than what he’s letting on. You’re hazy, but his clenched jaw and laser focus on the road make you sit up straighter, adjusting your slouched posture and the skirt of your dress with it, pulling it further down your thighs.

The tension coming off him feels so heavy that it leads to irrational, childish tears pricking your eyes, and you sound defeated when you whisper, “Are you mad at me?”

He brakes a little too hard at the red light, and you both lurch slightly forward. Jeongguk seems to realize just now that he’s unfairly taking his anger out on you, and the way you let out the question in the smallest voice makes his heart speed up, turning to you with apprehension, “No, toots. No, why would I be? I’m mad at that fucker.”

“He was just talking with some of his—”

“He left you alone. He was supposed to take care of you. Not let you get fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk sounds final, his tone allowing no more condoning nor excuses for the tall guy now left behind you, back at the party. But you don’t seem to focus too much on the meaning of his words, rather you bask in the consequences of them. He’s not upset with you!

That spurs you to contradict him further, this time on the accusation he threw at you, but it’s less than credible when you say it through a sheepish smile that unconsciously made its way on your lips at the protective edge to his tone, “I’m not fucking wasted.”

Jeongguk only sighs, but you can see him visibly relax, shoulders going down and leaning against the back of his seat, right hand coming to pat your bare knee with a small smile on his pierced lips.

You share a look that fully sobers you up only to get you high all over again off his doe eyes, the artificial lights dotting a universe of their own in those orbs, undiscovered galaxies and planets inviting you to move there, even with no water, no oxygen, no way of surviving.

When the soft hue of the red light reflecting on the side of your face morphs to green, he moves his attention back on the road, taking his hand with it to shift gears. Then, he concedes, “Put on the playlist.”

You blink, a little taken aback by his sudden shift in mood, but just as quickly you recover. Your brain seems to be able to focus on one thing at a time either way, so you don’t ponder on your insides collectively moving at the way he looked at you and instead reach for the aux cord, fingers tapping on your phone screen absentmindedly, with a conscience of their own.

Music interrupts the quiet, and you can’t help but join, “The night we met I knew I, needed you so. And if I had the chance I’d, never let you go. Sing with me!”

Jeongguk breaks into a grin, no matter how much he fights it, “You’re so fucking wasted.”

“So won’t you say you love me? I’ll make you so proud of me. We’ll make ‘em turn their heads every place we go, so won’t you please,” Be My Baby by The Ronettes fills the previous silent tension, which you seemingly already forgot everything about, using Jeongguk’s free hand as your own personal microphone, folding it in a fist between your palms.

Jeongguk would never say it out loud, especially now, after he only pretended he had to be begged to put it on, that he’s actually grown attached to this playlist. Started as a little mishap and turned into something that got under his skin, much like you have.

Its creation came about from a comically embarrassing moment that gave you ammunition to tease him for weeks. Although, he’s glad for it when he reflects deep enough: the whole episode helped shape the bond between you two, adding to its foundation.

He still doesn’t know how you managed to slip so sneakily into his dorm that evening, but what’s sure is that he wasn’t expecting you, taking the time of his life in his bathroom, fresh out of the shower. Simply following his usual routine, one that you wouldn’t have exactly considered usual since you only ever knew him as an avid Drake listener, he hummed along to Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling in Love flowing softly from his phone speaker.

It wasn’t just that, of course, because then he started styling his wet hair in an exaggerated pompadour and fully got into character, strutting dramatic poses in front of the mirror and even practicing Elvis’s iconic curl of the lip. If his soul was by any chance watching over the scene, you’d hoped he’d agree with you that Jeongguk was truly giving Austin Butler a run for his money.

The private show sadly ended when he caught sight of you in the foggy glass, your lips sealed shut to try and hold your delighted laughter, but it got ripped out of you in the form of an obnoxious snort the moment his eyes went wide in horror and his face crimson in shame.

It was hell for a few weeks after that. You didn’t let him off so easily, teasing him for being a secret softie with a love for old-school romance under all the layers of his tough fuckboy image that only ever seemed to handle trappy beats.

When you jokingly suggested he might as well get fully into the act and start calling you toots or something, he didn’t back down from the tease, scoffing at you with narrowed eyes. Somewhere along the way, the dry, sardonic tone with which he first used that pet name on you stuck, and it became less of a joke, more of an endearing way to refer to you, and only you.

Before either of you could second-guess it, the playlist was born. You two crafted it together in fits of laughter and late-night texts, with Jeongguk suggesting songs from his secret stash and you contributing the ones you grew up on.

It quickly became the soundtrack to many of your aimless car rides, something that neither of you acknowledged outright but silently cherished. Sometimes, you’d get so carried away and slip into the roles of a ‘60s couple, playfully reciting cheesy lines back and forth.

No matter how much Jeongguk pretends he hates it to save what’s left of his bad boy reputation, he really doesn’t. Not even a little bit. Even the way he rolls his eyes and groans isn’t enough to hide the spark in his eyes when you sing along.

He feels worse than a pubescent teenager when he lets his guard slip to hear you hum words he can only imagine are just for him, meant in the way he wants. You swing side by side and smile up at him with dimples digging long slits into your cheeks, and he has to act as if it makes him feel completely normal and not like he’s going to crash his car any second.

Each lyric that spills from your mouth feels like it’s tying him down, even with your sweet voice a little unsteady, thanks to whatever is still left from the night’s drinks. You’re so not aware of what it does to him.

Your eyes are on the road, but Jeongguk’s linger on you, his fingers unconsciously tapping the steering wheel to the tune.

“I’d save every day like a treasure, and then, again, I would spend them with you.”

Jeongguk purposefully veers off onto streets he doesn’t need to take, buying himself a few extra minutes with you, but you don’t notice and he pretends to not know either. Would never admit it’s because he wants to hear you sing a little more, and that this ongoing joke between the two of you might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

“But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them. Hold on, this one’s a little lower. I’ll find my note, wait,” you’re mostly talking to yourself, cheek pressed to the cool glass of the window, but you glance at Jeongguk as if seeking for approval, clearing your throat, “I’ve looked around enough to know that you’re the one I want to go through time with.”

Just as Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce fades out, Jeongguk pulls into the campus parking lot, turning the engine off and cutting the music with it. None of you move right away, accepting the stillness in the car.

You don’t accept the silence, though, letting your mind speak a thought that has been nagging at you, “Can you fuck me here? Right now?”

The way you voice the request would make anybody who didn’t understand English think you’d just asked for something as mundane as a glass of water, your eyes unfaltering, a small smile on your waiting lips, voice barely slicing through the quiet. It’s almost as if you don’t know it’s the kind of thing that could derail Jeongguk’s entire thought process.

Jeongguk lightly chokes on his own breath, giving a few coughs before turning to you, his tattooed hand messing his hair further, “Jesus Christ, ___. You know I can’t.”

You tilt your head, considering him, as if this is a serious debate rather than drunken rambling, “Why not?”

Jeongguk can only sigh. He takes in your disheveled state and notices the way your exposed skin prickles with the cold, reaching for the leather jacket he carelessly threw on the backseats before heading to the party, having had no idea you’d be the one wearing it by the end of the night.

He wraps it gently around your shoulders, moving sticky, stray strands of hair from your face, “You’re so drunk. Look at you.”

“I told you I’m not,” you protest weakly, but your confidence falters when his fingers ghost over your face.

“There’s vomit in your hair,” he shuts you bluntly, tone softer than the honest words.

“Oh,” your stubbornness doesn’t work this time, and you’re mortified as you glance down at your lap, where his fingers fall to mindlessly play with the zip of his bomber jacket, brushing your tummy in the process. Your voice doesn’t sound so sure now, especially when each subtle graze sends small shocks through you, “That’s disgusting.”

The soft chuckle he lets out has you stealing a look upward, and when you catch his expression your slowed down brain can only come to the conclusion that maybe he doesn’t find you all that disgusting: he sports a rare, wide curve of his bunny smile, eyes crinkling when that same fondness finds its way onto your lips. You can’t help what they do next, a mind of their own as you rest them on his own mouth, the tip of his nose tickling your cheek.

It’s the faintest of kisses, and it’s delicate, fleeting, over far too soon, but you’re the one to pull back first no matter how much longer you need it to be, “That was probably disgusting too.”

As you rest your back on the seat again, his eyes are still closed, and they flutter open as slowly as a smile stretches on his mouth when he meets you. You’re giving him a look he doesn’t deserve, one he shouldn’t lean into.

His voice is a whisper, and it fans over your face, still close to his, “Not at all.”

Gleaming eyes scan every angle of you, as if trying to find anything that’ll hold him back from what he really wants to do. But, of course, his need only grows when he lets his gaze wander down, then up again.

He glances to the side with a gulp, moving his body back to reach for the car door handle, “You think you can walk or should I carry you?”

“Carry me, please,” you mumble, not even pondering on the first option, and the moment the sound leaves your lips he’s out and reaching for your side, opening your door and scooping you up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The walk to his dorm is a blur, with you dozing off in his warmth and being lulled by the hums escaping him and reverberating through his chest, melodies of the earlier songs playing against your ear.

You regain awareness when a splash of warm water cascades over your now naked body, the sensation startling enough to make your lashes flutter against your damp cheeks. The water runs over your face, washing away the remnants of the night, the drowsy yet oddly light sensation taking over you causing a giggle to echo against the walls.

You’re still too disoriented to process the tenderness with which Jeongguk’s hand moves, brushing through your soaked strands of hair and moving them from where they flattened on your face, combing through the sticky locks.

With half-open eyes, you’re met with the sight of him in front of you, standing close enough without needing to step into the small space with you, his brows furrowed as he works the shampoo through your hair. It’s a soothing, slow motion, the one he massages your scalp with, and it only melts you further into sweet slumber.

If it weren’t for one of his hands resting tightly on your hip, grounding you as the scent of the shampoo mingles with the steam curling around you, you would have gladly swayed into his palm, letting your weak body fall into his strong one.

You sniff, leaning into his care, voice small and oddly sincere, “I’m sorry for,” hiccup, “taking you away from Haeun. You two seem close again.”

Jeongguk stills for a moment, his fingers pausing in your hair before resuming their soft motions. He pretends he didn’t hear, and you pretend you never talked in the first place when he guides you to steady yourself as your knees wobble, “Hey, stand still. You’ll get shampoo in your eyes. Close them.”

You obey, letting your eyelids drop shut as you feel his hand gently tilt your head under the spray, his touch as tender as the words he isn’t saying.

If you weren’t a victim of both sleepiness and alcohol at this very moment, your thoughts would be racing each other like eager contenders in the Overthinker Marathon, each one fighting tooth and nail for the gold medal. They’d be dissecting every little detail of the night— the way Jeongguk had ignored you, his lingering hand on Haeun’s waist, only to be there the second you needed him, the girl from earlier not even worth mentioning.

Instead, your every thinking cell has taken a rare vacation, lounging together on an imaginary green field, clinking glasses filled with leftover cocktails from earlier, lazily watching clouds drift by.

Although there’s one cell in particular, too tipsy to sit still. It hops around gleefully, urging your lips to move before the Thinking Cell General can intervene. The way it jumps up and down, up and down, makes you giggle as you blurt out, “I don’t know if it’s the water, but I’m very wet.”

The silence that follows is thick, punctuated only by the sound of water cascading down your back. Jeongguk freezes as if the words have physically reached out and yanked him into stunned stillness. He can only let his throat bob in a visible swallow and look away, warning you in a strained mutter, “___. This is your last warning. Stop teasing me.”

You whine, pathetically wiggling your weak and pliant body in his hold to seek for some kind of reaction, but he doesn’t budge. He’s uncharacteristically focused on his tasks, ensuring every trace of shampoo rinses from your hair, rather than your hardened nipples bouncing with your stubborn movements.

But you recognise the way his jaw clenches so tight it must hurt, how he refuses to let his gaze wander lower where the steam of water outlines your form. His restraint is razor-thin, yet he holds it tightly, breathing only slightly uneven.

You’re not deterred by his warning; you never are. It’s the tiny tracks in his resolve that keep you pressing forward, voice laced with a vulnerability that makes his hand twitch against your scalp, “Just… I just need your fingers. Please.”

Jeongguk exhales sharply through his nose, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he angles the spray to wash the last suds away, hyper-focused on the practical task as though it’s a lifeline to his dwindling self-control.

But you’re persistent. You reach behind you, fingers messily finding the knob to twist the water off, and with the spray halting you’re left only with the hum of the bathroom fan and the faint drip of water.

Your other hand finds his, guiding his wide palm to rest on your lower stomach, just above where your want is written in every inch of your body. You whisper, plead clear in your tone, ”You know I want this. Won’t ever regret it. I’m conscious enough to be sure of that.”

Jeongguk huffs, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at you, fingers flexing slightly against your skin. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as if accepting defeat. He can’t win this battle.

The brown-haired boy steps into the shower, the small space shrinking even further with the addition of his broader frame, forcing you to back up against the wall. Fully dressed, water clings to his fabric, and the contrast of his damp clothes against your bare, exposed skin makes you irrationally wetter.

Jeongguk keeps silent, and at this point you don’t care how desperate you look, pushing yourself against him and getting his clothes wetter in the process. It pushes him to initiate a torturous path along your skin, using his middle finger to trace a journey from your chest, savoring the way your breath hitches, down to your warm core.

The droplets of water he collects on the way are used to spread your puffy lips and press right on your sensitive nub, making you gasp. You’re a trembling mess from the simple motion, and he has to use his free hand to steady you against the wall.

Your breasts aren’t left without being taken care of, because the moment he begins circling motions on your clit that have you seeing stars, he lowers his head to envelop one of your tits in his ravenous mouth, teeth teasing it punitively, all while looking up at you with sliced, sinful eyes.

He’s greedy, and you can’t believe he managed to hide it so well until now. But his resolve crumbles the more he revels in the way you fall apart for him, and he loses control on your chest. The sensation is sharp, delicious, and the contrast between the harshness of his bite and the softness of his tongue has you whimpering.

You’re ashamedly aware of how close you already are, his digits picking a fast speed that urges you to let go and coat him in your juices. He knows, simply from the way you let your mouth fall agape and release loud moans in the steamy air, pushing your nipples further in his swollen lips.

When he inserts one finger in your warm hole, you jolt in his secure hold, eyebrows shot upwards in the shock of your sudden orgasm, one that hits you all too harshly. It drags on deliciously, Jeongguk never wanting it to end, the slurping sound of his sucking on your tits making your surrounding spin, along with his thumb accompanying the way his single digits thrusts into you.

He only stops when you unconsciously run from his doings, slim hand wrapping weakly around his wrist, and he retreats with one last wet stripe along the curve of your boob, promptly collecting your taste from his fingers, and he thoroughly hums around them, eyes closed and cheeks hollowed.

You think you could come again from the sight alone. Panting, you smile through your ragged breaths, “Fuck. Thanks.”

Five minutes later, no one would bet you’re the same girl that begged him for his fingers and came in record time around them. Now, you sit serenely on the toilet lid, wrapped up in Jeongguk’s warmest hoodie. The oversized fabric swallows your frame, knees tucked under it as you hug them close to your chest. You look as innocent as ever.

Jeongguk stands in front of you, meticulously brushing through your damp hair with practiced gentleness, each stroke of the comb a soothing lullaby. You rest your chin lazily on your folded arms, eyes closed, the edges of sleep blurring your thoughts.

You let out a contented sigh before murmuring, words unfiltered, “You’d make the perfect boyfriend. You always take care of me. And kiss me when I need it.”

The motions of the brush stop for a fraction of a second before resuming, and what you hear next is Jeongguk’s throat clearing, his voice low and almost shaky, “That sounds so very wrong, toots.”

“What do you mean?” You don’t open your eyes as you ask the question, the warmth of his presence and the excuse of the last traces of alcohol still flowing in your tired body making you bolder than usual.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?”

“In another life, maybe. Yes,” you don’t waste time replying, words carrying a dreamy quality, “I mean, would be cool.”

“Cool?” He chuckles, but it’s the kind that’s half-exasperation and half-something else entirely, voice strained with an edge of desperation too, “God, I don’t even know why I’m still putting up with you.”

You only nuzzle closer into the borrowed hoodie, giving voice to your next thought, your thinking cells now hosting a 60s themed party, “Be my, be my baby. My one and only baby.”

The sound of your singing fades under the whirring roar of the hairdryer, and Jeongguk is quietly thankful for the way it drowns your sweet hums completely, fearing if he hears another one of those tipsy love confessions leaving your lips he might drop to his knees, undone by something he knows he can’t claim.

You rest your head against his stomach, full weight leaning on his standing figure, his long digits pulling through your strands. If you’d look up at your best friend for even one fleeting second, you’d probably laugh at the concentration on his expression, his only goal drying your hair enough to not have you waking up with a headache the following day.

You sniffle and snuggle impossibly closer to him, the heat radiating from his tummy and the white noise lulling you further into drowsiness, every careful motion of his hand coaxing you closer to sleep.

When your phone pings from the bathroom counter, the sudden buzz makes you jolt slightly. You lift your head sluggishly and gesture toward the phone, mouthing up to Jeongguk, “Pass it.”

He hands it to you without turning off the hairdryer, keeping an eye on your sleepy movements. You blink at the bright light for a moment before your expression shifts, eyes widening.

You’re completely jolted awake at the only notification on your home screen: it's Namjoon.

You tap Jeongguk’s stomach with the heel of your hand— softly at first, then with increasing urgency. The repeated motion forces him to stop the device and place it on the counter as he looks down at you, trying to peek at the screen, “What?”

You hiccup and sniff before blurting out, “Namjoon. He texted me”

The boy that was just now carefully drying your hair scoffs, arms crossed over his chest, “What does that asshole want?”

The response to the rhetorical question doesn’t come, either because you decide to ignore it purposefully or unconsciously: you look totally engulfed by the words on your otherwise empty chat with Namjoon, and Jeongguk can’t help but subtly lean his body lower to read the same texts you’re going through.

Kim Namjoon [4:26 a.m.]: Hey. Sorry for texting late, I heard from someone you threw up back at the party. I’m so sorry. I completely lost sight of you in that mess. Are you feeling any better? Very sorry again.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: It’s totally okay if you don’t want to hear from me again. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to make it up to you.

Kim Namjoon [4:27 a.m.]: I’d really like to take you out on a date. Would you let me?

Jeongguk kisses his teeth irkedly, “Why the fuck does he text like Prince William? Fucking English major,” and he truly tried his best to sound unaffected, but the words leave his mouth before he even knows he’s thinking of them.

Luckily, you don’t seem to notice, reading the message aloud like you can’t quite believe it yourself, “He said he’d like to go on a date with me. Like, he asked me on a date. And said he would like it. To go on a date—”

“Yes, we got it.”

“He doesn’t hate me, Gguk!” Once again, his petty comments go unnoticed as your face lights up, eyes crinkling with joy as you practically beam up at him.

Jeongguk wants to be annoyed, but he simply can’t when he’s met with all the stars in the universe right in your glossy, tired eyes. He swallows hard and forces a soft chuckle, “No, he doesn’t, toots. Anyone would be crazy to hate you.”

The grin on your lips only widens, nose scrunching adorably as you let your cheek sheepishly brush against your shoulder, “Oh my god, Gguk. I’m going on a date with him! Heh.”

“That’s nice,” he says, picking up the hairdryer again before your words can settle too heavily in the space between you. “I’m not finished with your hair, though. Stay still.”

The device roars to life once more, its noise filling the room and covering your excited giggles. Jeongguk keeps brushing through your hair with steady motions, his face impassive, but he feels something tighten, heavy and unyielding in his chest.

He tells himself the noise is a blessing, a shield from the silence he wouldn’t know how else to fill—or from the sound of his own voice, betraying him in ways he can’t afford.

────୨ৎ────

“I’ll miss the sex when Namjoon will ask me to be his girlfriend.”

In the quiet of the library, your sudden whisper startles Jeongguk. The chair screeches under him and it gains the both of you a few annoyed looks. He nods in apology at their way, moving closer to the table again, and he has to blink a few times before he can even meet your eyes. The scattered pens all over the white surface looked more interesting either way.

“When he— his— what?” He feels pathetic for being unable to even form a senseful sentence, but there’s no absolute way he blames his brain for that. It’s his heart, stuttering along with the barely intelligible question.

It cracks at the middle the more your grin splits your face in half, nose scrunching adorably, and he may be a horrible friend but he can’t bring himself to return your irony, nor the masked excitement under it.

If he were handed pen and paper and asked to write about how he feels right at this moment, he wouldn’t put down a single thing. Not because there isn’t anything to say. He fears your innocent teasing has done something catastrophic, snapping that one damned string that connected his brain to his heart, and the two aren’t communicating. Jeongguk is in the middle of two angered parents, fighting and on the brink of divorce. That’s what he gets for being a total pussy.

You shrug, frowning slightly when all you’re faced with is his blank expression, eyes unresponsive and detachedly looking elsewhere, but you keep yours on him, studying even the small movements, “I mean, he’s a nice guy. I think he’s serious about getting to know me.”

The word serious causes an involuntary twitch of his head, tilting almost imperceptibly to the side, and he sounds way too defensive, “And are you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his unexpected reaction, you return to your previous mindless doodling, keeping your voice low, “Well, he’s cute. Let’s see where this thing goes.”

“What about me?”

The question catches the both of you off guard. Your pencil halts as you glance at him through the corner of your eye, and even if you can’t see him clearly, the way his dark orbs widen is almost comical that you would laugh in any other situation. But now, the air is oddly tense and it makes your nose scrunch in awkwardness.

He breaks it with a chuckle, a subtle tremor in it that luckily goes unnoticed by you but that will probably keep him up at night for the next five years, and he lightly shoves your shoulder in an effort at feigning ease, “You really wanna pass on this dick?”

“God, you’re gross,” the annoyed roll of your eyes has Jeongguk releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; it’s odd, but that’s just who he is.

The second you return to weightless banter, he’s back in his element. He can smirk, tease and deflect— these are tools he’s mastered over the months. But the thought of stripping naked for your eyes to see, and not in the sexual way you two engage in almost every night, terrifies him.

The waters are safe for what seems a fraction of a second before you pull him down in the deep, dark seas again, this dynamic between you foreign. While it is a simple, innocent question, your deceptive tone triggers unfamiliarity within him, “Besides, how’s it going with you and Haeun?”

“Huh? Oh. Haeun, yes,” his attempt at buying himself extra time is laughable, especially when Mr. Brain is now yelling at Ms. Heart for always wanting to get in the way of things he can handle alone, “Wonderfully. We— She— Huh, kissed me.”

Ms. Heart is furious. She has no other choice but to reach in her purse and slap the divorce papers on the dinner table, the glasses clinking against the plates, and Jeongguk flinches. Brain is speechless, clueless on how to react.

You only seem slightly taken aback, eyebrows raising in mild surprise, “Really? That’s nice.”

Jeongguk is equally clueless, subtly squeezing his eyes shut as if hoping to wake up somewhere else entirely, maybe in an ideal world where Kim Namjoon doesn’t exist and Mr. Brain and Ms. Heart are happily married.

Instead, he’s still in the library, and you’re still sitting next to him, scribbling on your English textbook. He frowns, getting pitiably lost in the view of your side profile, “Yeah, nice. Huh, when’s your date?”

When you glance up at him, you seem to be realizing just how odd it is for the two of you to spend this much time talking about your respective hook ups, and you cringe slightly at the unusual formality, wishing Jeongguk would just tease you like he usually does when you tell him about your untruthful and made up sexual adventures.

You purse your lips in thought, “Tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. He’s going fast.”

“I like that.”

“I know you do.”

No matter the effort you put into trying to hide your amusement, a snort escapes you, and you quickly look away to recover from the childish grin spreading on your lips. You shake your head, closing the book in front of you, “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Jeongguk only smirks in an oddly proud way, nodding at your flustered state when he realizes he successfully managed yet again to shift the conversation from topics he doesn’t want to hear or talk about. He shrugs, “You just said that.”

“And I’ll say it again.”

“Whatever,” a small chuckle follows the dismissal, his hand coming to brush through his fluffy hair, getting too long for his liking, “I really wanted to see you tomorrow.”

Once again, Jeongguk is way too honest, way too easily. Ms. Heart is marching hastily with Mr. Brain walking close behind, trying to make sense of the situation and pushing her to reconsider her actions, but it’s no use: she’s tired, and sick of being walked over, again and again.

He doesn’t like the underlying meaning behind that, and wishes Mr. Brain would grow a pair and just swoon her back into love again. Jeongguk doesn’t like the genuine surprise etched across your face either, or, well, he doesn’t like the effect it has on him: it’s almost unbearable to accept that the blush dusting your cheeks, the one you’re probably unaware of, is caused by his unfiltered honesty. Because sincere bluntness isn’t exactly something he tries to show. Then, why does it spill out of him uncontrollably? Why— why do you look so beautiful like this?

“Hm,” your smile is small, but your dimple betrays it, Jeongguk’s whole resolve cracking with the way you sound dangerously decisive, “Too bad. You’re late.”

Jeongguk shouldn’t overthink this. You’re simply engaging in the usual dynamic, teasing him like always, no reason for his palms to sweat. He shouldn’t panic over the way nothing about what you said feels simple, nor usual, and your tone carries more than what you both want the words to mean.

He doesn’t know if it’s a warning or a test—or worse, the truth. Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe Brain just misinterpreted the comment, too distracted by its constant squabble with Heart, both of them ignoring Jeongguk, who is still sitting at the cluttered kitchen table with his plate half-full, surrounded by a mess of inky emotions he doesn’t have the courage to clean up.

The sound of forks clinking against plates grates against his ears, drowning out the hurried excuses spilling from your mouth, the ones you’re babbling and making up along the way of gathering your things and standing up from the round table, shouldering your bag in the same hurry you left his room with before the next time he saw you was nose to nose with Namjoon.

You huff, giving a small, tight lipped smile that should be meaningless, but to Jeongguk it isn’t, “I’ll go now. See you around?”

“Huh, sure. Let me know how it goes with Namsun.”

You roll your eyes at the playful attempt, his grin just as empty, “Right. Bye Gguk.”

You’re off the hallway before he can add anything else. Not that he would have been able to. Your bag swings with your big steps, slim hands coming to absently tug your plaid skirt lower, and Jeongguk thinks and thinks.

He realizes he really doesn’t want to know how your little date goes. Would rather shoot himself rather than hearing you talk about another guy taking you out to dinner, stealing you from him and sealing the end to whatever the two of you have.

His options are narrowed. He either commits in front of you and forever changes the trajectory of your life or does something about Namjoon. But why does the option of ending his life sound much easier than stepping up to big, buff Namjoon, infatuated with the same girl he likes?

Oh.

The admission jolts him. It’s a physical reaction that causes his chair to shriek again under his movements, but this time he’s not polite enough to apologize for it. He must look crazy, wide eyes burning holes into his hands planted steadily on the table in front of him.

The girl he likes. You’re the girl he likes.

And every signal is there. The spark he sought for now lights a nervous feeling in his stomach, its fireworks interrupting Brain and Heart’s incessant arguing.

Does he look stupid not doing anything for the girl he likes? Not fighting for the girl he’s been falling for all this time?

────୨ৎ────

It should be easy. It is easy.

Jeongguk can’t let the sleepless night spent reciting lines to his ceiling go to waste. He’s sure not even theater kids could match his determination. And as he marches across campus toward the gym, where the squeak of sneakers and the echo of grunts will lead him to the person needed to put the plan into action, he reviews step by step what he’s told himself to do. It’s a well-rehearsed script, each word, every calculated expression—he’s gone over it a hundred times, accounting for every reaction.

Step one, be casual. Friendly, even. Approach Namjoon like there’s nothing calculated about this interaction—no ulterior motives, no scheme brewing beneath the surface. Just a casual catch-up between two guys.

“What’s up, Kim,” when Jeongguk spots the slightly taller boy exercising at a steady walking pace on the treadmill, he immediately hops onto the free one beside him.

Namjoon startles slightly, then smiles with those stupid, charming dimples of his, and it’s one that Jeongguk would probably only give if forced, “Hey, Jeongguk. Long time no see.”

The brown-haired boy nods, setting the speed and quickly catching up to Namjoon. He keeps his tone deliberately cool, even borderline disinterested, “You been good?”

On his left, your almost-boyfriend shrugs, jogging along, “Yeah, just studying, man. What about you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he hasn’t cracked open a book in weeks, and that study session from yesterday was just an excuse to be with you. But he can’t afford to let his thoughts linger on you too long or he’ll lose focus. He needs focus. “You catch that last game?”

Step two, pretend to care about what Namjoon is saying and then proceed with the acting skills only to suddenly remember something totally random he wanted to mention.

“Fuck, don’t remind me. I was so sure we would win,” the sweating man sounds way too affected by the recent football match, and Jeongguk fears if he asks one more question for the sake of pretending he’ll never get to the actual point.

So, he goes straight to it, “Yeah, it was rough. Oh, by the way. You know ___, right?”

The simple mention of your name causes a small stutter in Namjoon’s step, but he recovers with the stupid smile from earlier, only this time it’s wider, “Of course I know her. Why do you ask?”

Step three, just be honest. He just has to lay it all out. Be straightforward. Tell him the truth about how he’s felt for so long and what this whole thing with you is doing to him. It’s not a confrontation—it’s a conversation. Jeongguk will politely explain that he’s liked you for a while now, that he’s been in your life long before Namjoon, and, as a courtesy, he’d appreciate it if he would step back from pursuing you.

Civil. Calm. Totally chill. There’s absolutely nothing to get worked up over.

"You really don't know? Have no idea?" Jeongguk asks, his voice dropping, tone more pointed than he intended.

Namjoon slows his treadmill slightly, glancing over with furrowed brows and a faintly amused smile. “No, man. Enlighten me.”

“She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

What. The. Fuck.

That wasn’t the plan. Not even close to the plan.

────୨ৎ────

You feel stupid.

Wrapped around in your warmest coat, you still shiver. It could be the way your legs are exposed under your wool dress, high black boots reaching just beneath your knees. But there’s something else to the chill, making you shake in fading jitters. The excitement of the evening you told yourself you were looking forward to morphs into anxiety, and the passing looks of people mean more than they should as minutes tick and tick; they seem to glance at you for too long, their looks heavy with what you can only imagine is judgment.

A young girl swaddled in small but striking details from head to toe — delicate earrings that catch the light, a scarf knotted perfectly at the neck, polished nails clutching the strap of an expensive-looking bag, hair done up in a neat slicked bun — glancing nervously at her surroundings can only mean one thing: she’s been stood up.

Namjoon was supposed to meet you in front of the cozy cafè just outside the campus, its warm tones and surely even warmer ambience so very inviting. Maybe you’d go in, order a steaming hot chocolate for yourself, and chalk this up as a lesson learned. But instead, you chose to wait outside, shifting on your tiptoes every so often, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the first man to ask you out in what felt like ages.

You feel as though you’ll be forever destined to wait more when thirty minutes go by and Namjoon is nowhere to be seen.

You frown, swaying on your heels. What you feel is not disappointment— not at first. But that only causes you to feel worse about yourself when you realize you’re almost relieved the tall man hasn’t shown up, and he’s not here to turn fears into even scarier realities. The date would have given a concrete meaning to your actions, and the thought stirs something not exactly pleasant within you.

The scratch at the back of your mind grows harder to ignore, and no matter how much you try to shake it off, your subconscious finds ways back to it when your hand instinctively dives into the depths of the expensive purse you had specially chosen for this occasion. A purse meant to complement your carefully selected dark ensemble— an effort that now feels entirely wasted. You spent so much time getting ready for something you’re not ready for at all.

Pulling out your phone, your thumb scrolls to Jeongguk’s number with a natural automatism, typing before you even register why he’s the first person you feel the need to tell.

You [9:39 p.m.]: hi

You [9:39 p.m.]: namjoon stood me up lol

The typing bubbles appear faster than you anticipated, and as you watch them dance across the screen, you burrow deeper into the fragile warmth of your jacket, the tip of your nose numb from the cold.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: Whattttttt????

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:40 p.m.]: He’s such an asshooooooole

Your first instinct is to snort at his reaction, a childish grin tugging at your lips, but it turns into a scowl when the more you reread the text, the more it sounds weird. He usually never texts like a six-year-old using his mom’s iPad.

You [9:40 p.m.]: yes he is

You [9:40 p.m.]: why are u textin so weird btw lol

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: Wym weirddd

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:41 p.m.]: I’m totally normal

You [9:41 p.m.]: wtv

You [9:42 p.m.]: u still wanna hang out?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Yes please

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Want me to pick u up

sassy queen 💁🏻 [9:42 p.m.]: Where are u rn

The head tilt is unconscious, but you feel it click in place. You’ve mentioned how Jeongguk is caring, how he can read your needs like no one else and caters to them quietly, but he’s never this pliant, this malleable. You like him because it’s hard to get him to bend (and you’d rather die than let Jeongguk know about this).

You [9:43 p.m.]: is ok

You [9:43 p.m.]: i’ll just walk

You [9:43 p.m.]: be there in 10

The walk usually takes you less than 10 minutes, but before meeting him, you decide to head back to your dorm and change out of these stupid fancy clothes you picked out for the date.

You keep your head low as you walk through the hallways, the full glam you put on impossible to miss as it sparkles under the fluorescent lights, just as your boots' heels echo through the corridors.

Taking off the dress and heels feels like peeling away the embarrassment of rejection, the weight of disappointment settling in as you realize you couldn’t prove to yourself that you could do it, that you can do it, take the leap and let something serious into your life.

You question whether you're even cut out for it when the guy who seemed perfect ended up proving the opposite.

Now, back in more comfortable clothes — Jeongguk's black hoodie from the other day and baggy sweatpants — you feel a little more like yourself. Scared of emotions, scared of commitment, no matter how many hours of your day are spent daydreaming about it.

The second you click the door of your room open, it��s like you can smell a weird shift in the air. And you do, literally sniff, scanning your surroundings for any hint of something burning or out of place.

But it’s not about the dorm in its physical state, no— it’s the odd silence that you’re met with, the people you’re used to sharing the space with now uncharacteristically careful with their volume.

“Oh my god, ___,” that is probably why you’re visibly startled by the sudden voice coming from your side, Iseul looking like containing excitement is the hardest task she’s ever been asked to deal with, just like the few other girls behind her, all practically vibrating, “You’re finally here.”

You furrow your brows, chuckling confusedly at the unusuality of it all— well, it’s not like you don’t get along with these people. It’s just that you’ve never gone over meaningless jokes and talks about the state of the dorm, plus you’ve never exactly been the center of attention like this. It feels off, and it reflects in your uncertain tone, “I am?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Binna chimes in next, grabbing your shoulders with way more enthusiasm than the level of your relationship with her would normally allow, and the way all of their heads nod along that it feels like a coordinated performance is starting to scare you.

“You’re… happy for—”

“I’ve always known you and Jeongguk were perfect for each other,” the affection dripping from Binna’s voice sickens you, maybe even more than the words she’s speaking.

Huh?

You swear you feel your heart skip a long beat before you mask it with an obnoxious, nervous laugh, only growing more when none of them crack a smile or react, “Me and— okay, is this a fucking joke?”

“C’mon, ___,” Iseul says, her sweet voice doing nothing to calm your tension, and if anything it only heightens it, “You don’t need to hide anymore, Jeongguk told Namjoon that you’re his girlfriend.”

Oh. So this must be a fucking joke.

And you can’t stand it.

You barely manage to shake off their relentless curiosity, the entire dorm suddenly buzzing with an interest in you after years of peaceful and civil indifference, and it only overwhelms you to the brim.

Fury boils in your chest as you step out of the building, the cold air failing to cool the anger that flares up within you. With every step, your frustration grows, and you hastily type on your phone as you make your way toward the one person that’s responsible for your temper.

You [10:07 p.m.]: what the actual fuck jeongguk

The response comes so quickly, almost as if he were waiting for you to type it, and you scoff in disbelief. In that moment, you feel a twisted sense of understanding with serial killers. It makes you question how much control you actually have over yourself.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:07 p.m.]: What’s up?

You [10:07 p.m.]: why’s the whole dorm asking me how's it like to be your gf?

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: Eeehhhh???

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:08 p.m.]: That’s so weird

You’re actually gonna fuck this man up.

You [10:09 p.m.]: jeon jeongguk.

You [10:09 p.m.]: they’re saying you told namjoon i’m your girlfriend.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:09 p.m.]: Don’t use my full name and the period please 🥺

You [10:10 p.m.]: i’ll fucking kill you.

sassy queen 💁🏻 [10:10 p.m.]: You’re so hot when you’re like this

You [10:10 p.m.]: shut the hell up.

The banging on his door comes shortly after, and Jeongguk doesn’t even flinch. He knows it’s you, and frankly he was even expecting your arrival to be louder, hit him a little harder than it does. And when he lets you in, you storm in his space with no room for oxygen, door closing behind you but unable to contain the volume of your rage private.

“Can you explain why the whole campus thinks we’re dating? ‘Cause you’re not my boyfriend, and I’m not your girlfriend, and this is not fucking funny.”

But Jeongguk evidently does find it funny, chuckling under his hand coming to cover his mouth while the other one lifts to show you the bright screen of his cracked phone, “Really? The uni Instagram page is shipping us.”

“Shipping us?” You snatch the device from his hands, eyes widening as you scroll through the amount of stories posted in the last hour, everyone and their mother feeling entitled to weigh in on your nonexistent relationship. You whine, a hand resting at your forehead in disbelief, “Oh my god, this is ridiculous.”

“What, are you ashamed of me?” Jeongguk asks casually, walking back and sitting on the bed with a soft thud, his whole demeanor relaxed with a nonchalance that makes your left eye twitch.

You scoff, unwilling to grasp how this is even an actual thing happening to you, tossing the phone back at him, “A little bit, yeah. You think this is a fucking joke, huh? I’m now apparently dating the uni’s most popular fuckboy.”

The damned boy in front of you leans on his forearms, pouting just for show, “Hey, that’s mean. I’m no fuckboy.”

Bag thrown to the ground with a violence that it does not deserve, you start pacing back and forth in his room, letting out a borderline insane laugh, not knowing whether to scream or cry, “Yes, you are. You went through every single girl in this building.”

“Do you really think of me like that?”

The sudden sincerity that you think you spot in his tone makes you halt your steps, body turning to him as he sits straight again, his head tilting slightly.

You sigh, frustration mounting, and you throw your head back at the ceiling for any signal from the universe that this is indeed a joke, a bad, huge joke on you, “Jeongguk. Please.”

Silence fills the room next, but it doesn’t make it any easier to think nor does it quite register in your brain, mind racing with jumbled and chaotic thoughts, barely coming through as coherent words, getting intertwined with one another.

But the more you walk from one side of the room to the other, the more you’re almost able to untangle the mess, just enough to start processing what’s happening.

Then, a nuclear bomb wipes it all out, Jeongguk’s words the missile, his quiet tone the explosion, “I don’t want you to see nobody else.”

“What the fuck?”

The aftermath of the destruction is not only loud, ears ringing with a shrieking alarm going off, your figure stiff with shock, but you feel its heat burning your whole body in consuming flames that threaten to swallow you whole if you don’t let them take over, rise, flood every nerve until all you can feel is the rage boiling in your veins when you practically scream at him, ”What the hell does that even mean? You're being selfish!”

“Am I?” Jeongguk asks calm, calculated, gaze locked on yours as if daring you to challenge him further. His tone is maddeningly measured even as he pushes himself off the bed and closes the distance between you.

It’s like he’s planned this— attack after attack designed to destabilize you completely. Not only did he thrust you into the spotlight without warning, claiming you for the whole campus to see as if you’re worth nothing more than a stupid prank and a few laughs.

But now he talks with a grace that belies the chaos he’s stirred, as if his words are just another fact, something as simple as the weather, “I haven’t been seeing anybody since this summer. Since we started using no condom.”

Your pupils tremble with something far more complex than just anger, though you refuse to give it a name. He’s practically towering over you, his stance purposeful, making you feel small; as if the intensity of his gaze is not enough that it makes you falter, as if the humiliation he’s putting you through isn’t either. Head shaking, your voice does too, “That’s— not true. You’re a fucking liar. You— What about Haeun?

“Nothing even happened with her.”

The speed of his denial sets you off, an incredulous scoff breaking free as you roll your tongue against the inside of your cheek—a habit you’d picked up from witnessing his easy tempers, “Then why did you tell me you kissed?”

“Because—” Jeongguk hesitates, and the pause is so out of character that it almost gives you whiplash. The boy who always has something to say suddenly seems unsure. His hand flexes at his side, a nervous tick you hadn’t noticed before, and he exhales as if the words are fighting their way out of him, “‘Cause— I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Your voice cracks on the word, a laugh bubbling out of you that’s sharp and fractured, borderline unhinged. It cuts through the room like broken glass, and his expression tightens, jaw clenching. But he doesn’t interrupt.

“Jealous,” you repeat, louder this time, your incredulous tone thick with rage. “You’re telling me you made up that bullshit because you were jealous?”

He doesn’t respond, and it pushes you closer to your limit, on the verge of exploding. You don’t know how you find it within you, but with a long exhale and a quick prayer up at the ceiling, you meet his gaze in an almost patronizing manner, “Jeongguk, we are not exclusive. I thought that was well implied. You don’t get to act like this. You don’t get to be jealous.”

Nodding along to your words, Jeongguk’s brows draw together, his expression somewhere between anxious and defensive. There’s something in his eyes, something close to fear, but fear of what, you can’t quite place.

When he speaks, his voice is softer than yours, as though he’s trying to keep it from breaking, “I know. We both agreed to that, yes. We’re both allowed to see other people.”

The words feel rehearsed, like he’s repeated them to himself a hundred times. But with the silence stretching, it’s clear he’s struggling to say more. His lips press together briefly, and his gaze flicks to yours, searching. It’s as though he’s waiting — no, hoping — you’ll interject, offer something to fill the space.

You don’t. You hold firm, tilting your head slightly, your confusion evident. Your wide, questioning eyes, so big, so honest, pull the truth from him in a way you don’t intend, and he exhales like it’s been forced out of him.

“But I don’t want you to.”

The sheer audacity of his words hits you like a slap, the kind that stings more because of its unexpectedness. You snort, although there’s nothing particularly amusing about your heart cracking at the middle, but you manage to keep it from resounding in your words, "That’s so fucking mean. Do you even hear yourself? You get to fuck whoever you want, and I’m kept hostage? And now—now everybody thinks we’re dating!"

"That’s good," he says, simple, unflinching.

You blink, disbelief coursing through you as your lips part in a strangled gasp. "What?" The word is half a whisper, half a shout, and it escapes before you can temper it, "You’re so selfish. I fucking hate you.”

The emotion is foreign from what you’re used to showing him, softness in quiet ways, affection in silent gestures. But now, it’s all loud rage, the opposite of love spilling out of you in volatile waves. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, itching for release, something, anything to make him feel the way you’re being forced to feel, to cut through the weight of his seemingly impassive expression showing only the barest twitch in his brows, a crack too small to satisfy your anger.

It isn’t enough. You need more.

Your palms find his chest, shoving him with the force of every burning feeling inside you. “You’re stupid,” you spit, watching him take the push without exactly budging, like he’s made of stone. It only stokes your frustration further, your hands pushing again, harder this time. “And dumb.”

Jeongguk doesn’t step back, doesn’t fight you. He stands there, his chest steady, absorbing your hits without a word. His lack of resistance only makes the storm inside you rage harder, and the tears you’ve been holding back threaten to spill over.

You scramble for more, anything to turn the reality of what you truly feel into the illusion of anger, “And— and— Why the fuck are you silent! Say something!” You aim another punch at his chest, but it’s impossibly weaker, the exhaustion showing in your useless attempts at getting at him.

You sniff, and you know you lost against his indifference, your voice wavering feeling like a confession you didn’t mean to make. “Asshole. You’re being so mean. You’re making me cry.”

That’s what finally breaks him. Only the tears slipping rapidly from your eyes get his resolve to crumble. His hands are on you instantly, gripping your shoulders gently but firmly, refusing to let you squirm away. You slap at them weakly, but his touch is steady, his fingers brushing strands of hair from your face, cupping your chin to tilt it up toward him.

“Toots, no. Hey, hey,” he whispers, his tone soft in a way that disarms you completely. His thumb swipes at a stray tear, but your face turns away, evading him like it’s your only line of defense. He doesn’t back down, “Stop crying. Hey, look at me. Will you?”

“Stop calling me that!” You finally snap, jerking your face away again. The tears are spilling faster now, no matter how much you want to fight them, no matter how much you want to cling to the fury. “I hate you. You’re fucking all the girls in this college, and I’m only fucking you, because— because—”

“God,” Jeongguk groans, exasperation dripping from his tone. You’re about to hurl another half-formed insult or maybe even take a swing at him again, aiming low, but his next words stop you cold.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone is quieter now, more deliberate, the vulnerability in it cutting sharper than anything else he’s said. “I like you. I broke the rule.”

You’re sure your heart will fail you today. It misses at least four beats, and it steals the oxygen from your lungs, along with the color from your face.

You stammer, eyes widening as your pulse picks up again and pounds in your ears. “Don’t—don’t say shit like that. I swear to God, I’ll actually fuck you up. Stop—lying to me.”

“What the fuck, ___? I’m not lying to you,” Jeongguk’s voice attempts to be steady but it can’t hide the desperation, as if he’s holding on by a thread. “Why would I?”

The question is simple.

Why would Jeongguk lie to you? Does he have a reason to fake this?

The world seems to tilt, the ground beneath you shifting in some irreparable way.

You should feel scared. You should feel repulsed at the thought of commitment, the weight of his words pressing against you like a cage. But you don’t.

Instead, your eyes dart between his, searching for cracks in his sincerity, like a frantic spectator watching a tennis match, every glance like a volley in the game of something bigger than either of you. The matchpoint sends a thrill through your chest, something overwhelming and terrifying but not unwelcome.

Jeongguk watches you closely, feeling the weight of the silence between you stretch on longer than he can handle. He knows he’s the one that should break it, knows the truth he’s holding inside has to be spoken now.

It’s now or never. He can’t keep pretending—this isn’t just some casual thing to him, and he’s not ready to let it slip away without a fight. You’ve become everything he didn’t know he needed, and yet here he is, paralyzed by the fear of rejection, of being vulnerable, of watching the one thing he wants most slip right through his fingers.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he doesn’t speak up now, he’ll lose everything. His fear has no place in this moment anymore.

It’s a long exhale before his voice drops in soft honey, shaking with the weight of the truth, “Look. I know it’s hard to trust me. You’ve seen me fuck up multiple times over this stuff. But I want to stop this cycle. I want to allow myself something good,” his eyes search for any signal that he should stop talking, but in yours he finds every reason for him not to, “And you’re everything good that life will ever concede me. I can't… I can't let you go. I can't lose you.”

"Jeongguk…" His name slips from your lips like a prayer you've been too afraid to speak aloud until now. But you see it— he’s ready to find every solution, even if it means confronting the fear that has held him back for so long.

“I like you so much it’s killing me,” he admits, voice low and raw, every syllable cracking with vulnerability.

It’s a slow realization, like a tide that comes in quietly, softly. You’ve felt its caress for so long, and now that it embraces you wholly, you feel your heart expand, filling with the same warmth, the same longing.

The words you wish you could say are caught in your throat. You look up at him, eyes wide, trying to comprehend, to take in what he’s offering. You’re almost afraid to ask, as if the answer will shatter something you’ve worked so hard to protect, “You like me?”

“I lose my fucking mind when it comes to you.” His confession is a rush of honesty that sweeps through you, his eyes not leaving yours, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.

The world feels like it’s slowing down. There’s so much you’ve been holding back, but you don’t know how to make the words fit, how to make them sound right.

Jeongguk takes a small step back, his voice quieter but still heavy with emotion. “It’s okay if you wanna end it here,” he murmurs, his words barely above a whisper, like he’s bracing for the worst. “At least it wasn’t because you got with some other stupid guy.”

You shake your head, the thought of losing him too painful to bear. “Stop—” You let out a frustrated sigh, hands curling into fists at your sides. “God, you’re so dumb. This could have been so much easier if you’d told me sooner.”

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

You feel your chest tighten, the truth slipping out before you can stop it. “I like you too,” you admit, the words finally leaving your lips hastly, like they were just waiting for the right moment. “I agreed to the date because I thought you were still… fucking around.”

His face softens, and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes. “I wasn’t. Haven’t been in so long.”

“...No Haeun?”

“Hell no. I don’t want no kiss if it isn’t from you.”

You laugh, a low sound that fills the air between you. “Cheesy fucker,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest now, a feeling you can’t ignore. “Well, if you want to know, I wasn’t seeing anybody either. Namjoon asked me out randomly, but I haven’t been with anyone else since… this started.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, everything is quiet. He looks at you like he’s just heard something he never expected to hear. “Oh,” he says softly.

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk steps closer to you, his hands reaching for you, voice thick, “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant to make you cry. It’s breaking my heart.” His thumb brushes across your cheek, gently wiping away the remnants of the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your heart swelling with both regret and tenderness. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry for yelling all that stuff at you. I don’t hate you. I…”

Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours, and all the confusion, all the fears, prove themselves to be worth this moment.

They dissolve into something real, the kiss trying to make up for lost time, for all the things left unsaid.

When you pull away, your foreheads resting together, Jeongguk’s voice is quiet but determined. “Come here, baby. You’re mine.”

“Prove it.”

3K notes · View notes

honeydewandcake · 3 months ago

Text

“Shrimpo, you’re pathetic”

This was based on the note found in Shrimpo’s room! I have so many theories and speculations on everything in his room it’s actually making me go crazy

Read more if you want to listen to my insane ramblings!! ↓

So I have so many things to talk about —

Firstly, the punching bags and holes in the walls. Shrimpo’s hatred towards everyone is always usually verbally, but in his room there’s proof that it’s physically too. This leads me to believe a lot of things:

— Shrimpo is somewhat strong, at least strong enough to break through the walls.

— Shrimpo tries to at least control his anger. He could easily beat someone but he limits himself by only being a verbal bully. He must relieve all his more aggressive emotions in private in his room.

— The wardrobe in his room is partially blocking holes he presumably made. This could either mean that he is embarrassed or he’s trying to hide it to avoid getting in trouble.

Overall, it’s clear that Shrimpo’s anger is a lot more than people might have expected

Secondly, the papers. There’s plenty of other toons that also have crumpled paper in their rooms but to me Shrimpo is the most interesting. Shrimpo is definitely not the type who writes, but the note and trash says otherwise. A few things I immediately think of is:

— Shrimpo can write, but everything he writes is always deemed “not good enough” by him and thrown away.

— Shrimpo is either willingly writing things or being forced to write by others (possibly as a required thing by directors and such).

— The note on his desk can tell a lot about him. The fact that he only writes about the things he hates is expected, but the way it continues is more interesting. He repeatedly writes “hate” over and over and it gets bigger. To me, this looks like Shrimpo having a mental breakdown. It’s not uncommon for someone who’s venting out their frustrations to repeat a phrase or word, but the fact that it gets bigger makes me think Shrimpo is writing it more desperately. He could have been writing to relieve stress but it only made him more frustrated, causing a slippery slope into a terrible episode. If this was in writing and not text, I expect his note to be sloppier than it seems.

— Shrimpo’s discarded paper can mean anything, but the thing I immediately think of is ideas or failed writing. Someone in a server I’m in brought up the idea that the reason why Shrimpo has only posters of himself in his room is because he’s reminding himself of all his flaws. Maybe his writing helps him cope with that or he’s trying to come up with ideas of how to be better.

Shrimpo’s room also has many knocked over furniture. He has multiple desks, traffic cones, trash cans, and a coat hanger.

— This supports my theory that Shrimpo is a lot more aggressive in private. He knocks over furniture out of frustration, imagine someone flipping a table because they got upset at something.

— Shrimpo’s room could have been a storage room. It seems to be more bland (could just be Shrimpo not liking decorating) and it has a lot of useless things. Really, the only thing that makes sense for a room is the desk, wardrobe, and bed.

— A confusing thing to me is the airhorns in his room. Shrimpo could be using these or they just came with the room. If he did use them, it would probably be on other toons as a “screw you” signal.

Sorry I talked so much, usually I don’t like doing this but I needed to yap for a good 5 minutes about my favorite toon. I love you Shrimpo!! No one could make me dislike you!! I will make many, many more theories for you. . . .

#Dandy’s World #Dandys World #Dandy’s World Shrimpo

2K notes · View notes

ellecdc · 3 months ago

Note

hii!! i rlly like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request ? remus (or wolfstar ) x reader where its like posthogwarts and she went to a diff wizarding school and the wizard thing was hush hush cuz she was a muggle, but then one day she like accidentally uses magic and they were like “ omg wait what” and like yeah. anyways pls feel free to ignore this its a very odd request LMAO. thank you so so much for taking the time to read this !!! (im sorry if this sounds weird i dk how to talk to ppl) ok bye 🫶

this was a very cute prompt! thank you so much for your request and your patience in my writing it!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who they believe to be a muggle [1.8k words]

CW: fear of werewolf prejudice, fear of muggle born prejudice, I also included a line in French and you can find the translation at the bottom of the work

Sirius knew that they were, perhaps, being a little bit selfish by keeping such a big secret from you.

Statute of Secrecy be damned, they were well beyond the point in your relationship where they could have (and likely should have) told you that he and Remus were wizards (oh, and, while we’re at it, Remus turns into a beast once a month so there’s that, too).

And while their friends all suspected it was Remus who was hesitant to tell you the truth on account of his lycanthropy, it had actually been Sirius who kept procrastinating the long overdue conversation.

But Sirius had to admit that he was very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he wasn’t willing to muck it up by scaring you off. How many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

Sirius had already met Remus which felt like nothing short of destiny, and then they met you, and that felt prophetic. And who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

“You cannot chicken out tonight.” Remus muttered as Sirius rapped on your door, earning him an indignant scoff from his boyfriend.

“I’ve never once chickened out in my entire life, thank you very much. That’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Remus merely snorted. “Sure, that’s why this is our seventh attempt at breaking the news, yeah?”

Sirius refused to look at Remus before banging (slightly louder) on your door once more before you finally opened up.

Gods you were so bloody beautiful; smiling like you couldn’t physically be any happier that your two boys were here, eyes excited and bright and so full of love and fuck sakes he couldn’t do it.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted for the both of them, seeing as Sirius’ brain was short circuiting on account of your beauty and loveliness, pressing a kiss to your hairline and all but shoving Sirius past the threshold of your door. “It smells amazing, what are you making?”

Your smile seemed to grow impossibly brighter at the praise. “A vegetable bake! It’s sort of Mediterranean, and I’m making pasta to go with it.” You explained excitedly, and Sirius honestly felt like he was going to start overflowing with the amount of fondness he had for you.

“You going to say hello to our girl, Siri? Or are you just going to keep staring at her?” Remus taunted as he walked further into your flat to place the flowers he was carrying for you in a vase - the routine of bringing you bouquets every time they visited so practised that he knew where to find your vases.

“Of course, gorgeous. Sorry for being rude.” He murmured as he pulled you into his chest and breathed you in. “You’ve got to stop answering the door looking so bloody beautiful; I completely forget myself.”

You giggled into his chest and then leaned on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips that he - the selfish bastard - didn’t find nearly enough before he pulled you into a second deeper, lingering kiss.

“It’s good to see you, Sirius.”

Sirius sighed happily - because really, it was even better to see you - as he shuffled the two of you towards the kitchen Remus was now fussing in.

“Beautiful!” You cheered as Remus positioned the bouquet in the middle of your kitchen island; and Sirius could see the mischief in Remus’ eyes even if you couldn’t.

“Just like you, dove.”

And, quite possibly one of their favourite sights, they watched you turn bashful as you opted to fuss with the arrangement instead of looking at either of them.

“Listen, sweetheart, we were wondering if perhaps before we eat, we could chat with you about something?” Remus decided to rip the bandaid, and Sirius wanted to hex him for the way your body tensed and you looked at him with what appeared to be mild horror.

“Oh- uhm, okay, yeah, sure that’s… that’s fine.” You stuttered as you moved to the kitchen table to take a seat, both boys following obediently.

Sirius watched as Remus moved last week's bouquet - which Sirius had secretly cast a stasis charm over so that they would last longer - out of the centre of the table and closer to Sirius so that they could both have a better view of you.

“Is…everything okay?” You asked cautiously as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Sirius wanted to throw up.

“Of course, dovey.” Remus assured you, though it was Sirius’ thigh he gave a comforting squeeze under the table. “We just know that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’ve grown to care about you quite a lot- you know that, right?”

Sirius watched as the divot between your brows only deepened as you nodded hesitantly. “So much, gorgeous; we care about you so much.” He insisted when it didn’t look like you truly believed them.

“But we just, well, we haven’t been completely honest with you, is all. And now that we’re at this point in our relationship, we…we feel like we owe it to you to be honest.” Remus continued, clearly beginning to feel just as out of his depth as Sirius was.

Your face fell completely blank, though Sirius could tell you were still tugging nervously at your shirt sleeve.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t bad, we- I rather think I’m in love with you, and-”

But as Sirius went to reach his hand over to rub at your arm in a way he hoped to be comforting, he ended up knocking over the vase stationed in front of him.

It didn’t break, thank Merlin, but it did topple over before Sirius could catch it and the water poured over the table.

Remus went to stand quickly to avoid being soaked, but no sooner had he pushed his chair away from the table was the vase floating towards you and the water completely vanished.

Not looking at the boys in front of you, you righted the vase and repositioned the florals to your liking before looking up at Remus who was now standing and staring at you owlishly, and Sirius who was gaping at you from his seat.

“Did you just-” Sirius started, voice no more than a whisper, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a timer in the kitchen.

You waved your hand in that direction mindlessly before sinking back despondently in your chair and staring down at your lap, the timer silent.

“Y/N.” Remus rasped. “Did- was that…are you a witch?”

You appeared to flinch as if you’d just realised what you’d done before you looked up; all colour seemingly draining from your face.

“What? I-” You started with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? There’s no such thing as witches…”

But Sirius knew what he saw, the first could have been an accident - a trick of the mind - but the second act of magic was all the confirmation he needed.

Silently, Remus summoned the vase of flowers towards him before charming them to dance to imaginary music, plucking one from its stem and turning it gold before reaching across the table to put it behind your ear as you gaped at him.

“You’re…a wizard?” You whispered in disbelief.

At that, Sirius stood and spun, turning into Padfoot and panting excitedly at your feet as his tail whacked against the table leg with every wag.

A wet laugh escaped you before either boy realised you were wiping your eyes.

“Oh my gods?”

“Awe, dovey.” Remus cooed as he moved over to Sirius’ chair so he could take your hands in his. “Don’t cry.”

“Is this what you guys were going to tell me?” You asked cautiously, hopefully.

Padfoot melted back into Sirius, but he stayed kneeling at your feet as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your calf. “Yes, baby; this was it.” He assured you. “I’m sorry we scared you.”

“So, that boarding school you went to in France?” Remus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Beauxbatons.” You confirmed with a nod of your head. “And your boarding school in Scotland?”

“Hogwarts.” The two boys chorused, and you all let out a chuckle.

“It’s almost embarrassing that didn’t give it away right there.” You laughed breathlessly.

“Since we’re, uh, being honest about stuff…” Remus continued, trailing off awkwardly as he shared a grimace with Sirius. “I’m also, well, I’m also a werewolf.”

“Oh.” You breathed quietly.

Sirius held his breath as he watched you consider this before you nodded your head decisively.

“I’m muggleborn.”

Sirius and Remus shared a quick look before Remus let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that- …what?”

“Baby, are you trading that information like we might think that’s a negative?” Sirius teased you lightly.

“I suppose it depends on who you ask…” You whispered, and both boys softened.

“Not us, dove.” Remus offered. “Good.” You smiled at him. “Then me too.”

“Is that really how you feel about it? About me?” Remus asked quietly.

“No, it’s not how I feel about you.” You denied. “J'ai l'impression de tomber très amoureux de toi.” You admitted shyly, and Sirius couldn’t be held responsible for the mortifying cooing sound that resonated from the back of his throat.

He grabbed your face roughly and started peppering you with kisses: “how”, a kiss, “did we”, a kiss, “manage to find”, another kiss, “the most brilliant and beautiful witch”, kiss kiss kiss, “in the whole world?”

You were giggling and trying - not very hard, mind you - to pull away from Sirius’ ministrations when you stilled and let out a gasp.

“What?” Both boys paused.

“Supper!” You nearly shrieked as you went flying into the kitchen, muttering to yourself in French as you turned off the stove top and fussed with various pots and dishes.

“I am so unbelievably in love with her.” Remus murmured, eyes glued to your form as you danced through the kitchen.

Sirius scoffed as he leaned against his boyfriend with his arms crossed, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t believe you were so scared to tell her.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Remus to know he was glaring at him; he could feel it.

But he also felt his heart grow three sizes when you turned to look at both of them with a beaming smile and a steaming dish in front of you, completely unphased that one of your boyfriends was a werewolf even though as a witch you knew exactly what that meant. And not only were you unphased, but you were still falling in love with them regardless.

Sirius had admittedly been very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he didn’t want to muck it up by scaring you off. Because really, how many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

If meeting Remus had been destiny, meeting you was prophetic; and who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

(translation: I feel like I’m very much falling in love with you).

931 notes · View notes

juniperskye · 26 days ago

Text

Three’s Company

This is just a lil blurb about Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan and you being in love! Based on the following Request: @satans-bitch Hi! Idk if you would be comfortable writing it, but I love the idea of Aaron hotchner x reader x Derek Morgan just all being so in love with each other. Thank u Xx – I took some creative liberties…I hope you like it!

Hotch x BAU! Fem Reader x Morgan

Word count: 883

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, poly-relationship (I’m not the most familiar with this lifestyle) canon typical violence, mantion of babies and pregnancy, Let me know if I missed any.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, neither Derek nor Aaron ever and I mean EVER thought they’d be in a polyamorous relationship. But let me tell you, when you arrived at the BAU, they both knew they had to have you. Aaron had gone to Dave time and time again seeking advice and Derek did the same with Penelope.

They’d both complain that there was no way you were interested, because clearly you like the other guy. Only, that wasn’t quite the issue.

You didn’t just like Aaron or Derek, you liked them both. They were so similar and yet so different and there was no way you could ever choose just one of them.

After many instances of the men fighting for your attention and affection, you pulled them both aside to have a serious conversation.

“I think I should leave the BAU.” You stated.

“What? No!” Derek blurted.

“Why would you think that?” Aaron inquired. “If our behavior has made you uncomfortable, I am so sorry. It was never my intention, and I would hate to see such a talented agent leave because of my idiocy.”

“It’s not your guy’s behavior that’s making me feel this way. It’s my feelings for you.” You said, gesturing to both men.

“Feelings for who?” Derek questioned.

“Both of you.” You blushed.

That evening you’d explained to the men that you had feelings for both of them and had the situation been different you’d have suggested a poly relationship, but you knew that it was too much to ask of two alpha males who’d never been in one before.

What you hadn’t expected to happen was for them to give you a quizzical look and then ask you to give them some time to think about it.

It had been nearly a year since then and the three of you had developed something truly beautiful. Aaron had been so stoic at work but at home he was soft, and he always did everything in his power to ensure you and Derek were both cared for.

And well Derek, he was clingy at home. Always wanting his hands on you and he’d come to really enjoy having physical contact with Aaron.

Like when you’d watch a movie, Aaron would have his arm slung over the back of the couch while you cuddled up into his side, and Derek would be sitting as close to you as possible, practically sitting you in his lap. This position would allow for Aaron’s hand to rest around Derek as well and that warmth became a comfort for him.

There had been another shift shortly after that, pet names…they’d been slipping out more frequently. And not just them men using them with you either.

“Sweetheart can you pass me my phone?” Aaron had asked, looking directly at Derek.

“Sure thing sugar.” Derek had replied.

You had been shocked initially, but it ultimately had warmed your heart to see them falling into this relationship more and more. Their comfort in this had been your main priority, you hadn’t cared about anything else.

Work had been the toughest part of this newfound dynamic. When any of you got hurt on a case, the other two couldn’t exactly hold it together. And with the team being out of the loop of your lifestyle, well they definitely suspected something.

The most recent had been Aaron, he had been shot while taking down an unsub. Thankfully it had been a flesh wound, but when you heard the shot and saw him go down, you couldn’t help the wail that tore through you. The paramedics had requested you step away, and Derek pulled you into his embrace to get you to comply.

“Baby he’s gonna be okay!” Derek said while holding you close.

“He was shot D! What if he’s not?” You cried.

“I know he’s gonna be okay baby. He has to be.” Derek mumbled the last part.

You looked up to see the tears falling from his misty eyes, and you held him tighter. The team sat by and watched the situation play out, fully convinced now that something was transpiring between the three of you. More than they had initially assumed.

The newest development had been the discussion of children. The guys had baby fever, they had seen you interacting with your sister’s newborn and you swear you saw them both drooling over the sight of you.

So…have you ever thought about having kids princess?” Derek posed.

Currently you were lying on the couch, your head in Derek’s lap and him pressed against Aaron. The movie playing, long forgotten as Derek combed his fingers through your hair and Aaron traced shapes on Derek’s bicep.

“Um, yes…I have thought about it. Why do you ask?” You sat up.

“Well, honey, we had a conversation about it the other day.” Aaron clarified.

“You two…had a conversation about me having a baby?” You questioned.

“About us…having a baby.” Derek said, gesturing to the three of you.

Your jaw dropped in shock. What had started as inappropriate flirting in the workplace had developed into a serious relationship between the three of you. One fueled by love, safety, and trust.

“I would love to have a baby with you guys.” You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

430 notes · View notes

pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 2 months ago

Note

HELLOOO first off love your writing and how you write the characters!

I don't know if you requests are open or not, if they aren't then just ignore this

Can you please do a reaction of whoever you want in stray kids being used to dating gold diggers they usually pay for everything and when they don't their s/o would get mad

So when they cancel your date to a very fancy restaurant because they were sick they expected you to be mad but instead you came to his house made him soup and took care of them the whole time :))))

Plus points if they're touch starved and love having you physically babying them and play with their hair

Midas Touch | Seungmin

Seungmin x gn!reader

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Seungmin wasn’t sure what to expect when he sent the text.

He stared at his phone, the screen glowing with your contact, hesitation gnawing at him. Cancelling plans was never easy, but it was particularly hard when he thought about your excitement for tonight’s dinner. He could still remember the way your eyes lit up when he mentioned the reservation at that fancy restaurant downtown- a place he was far too familiar with, thanks to his past relationships.

Those relationships had been…transactional, to say the least. Each time, Seungmin found himself with people who seemed more interested in what he could give them than who he truly was. The constant gift-giving, the endless high-end dates- it was what they expected. And when he couldn’t provide it, when life happened and plans were cancelled, it always led to the same disappointed reaction.

The expectations weighed on him, but with you? He wasn’t sure what to expect. Would you be upset like the others?

With a sigh, he hit send:

I’m sorry, I have to cancel dinner tonight. I’m not feeling well.

He pressed his phone to his chest, his free hand tapping on his knee lightly while waiting for the inevitable “Oh, really? Can’t you just power through?” or the disappointed silence that followed whenever he wasn’t able to meet those expectations.

But your response came much quicker than anticipated.

Oh no, poor thing! I’m coming over, sit tight <3 !!

His brow furrowed as he re-read your message. You were coming over? No protest, no irritation at the lost reservation? He blinked at his phone, almost unable to believe it. The kind of reaction he was so used to- the irritation, the sigh of inconvenience -it didn’t come like he expected.

An hour later, there was a soft knock on his door, and when he opened it, there you were, holding a bag that smelled like fresh soup. Your face was laced with concern, your nose red from the harsh cold as your eyes scanning him over like you were already assessing his health.

"Y/N, you didn’t have to come all the way here," Seungmin murmured, already feeling a little guilty for dragging you into this. His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat.

But you just gave him a soft smile and stepped inside. "Of course I did. You’re sick, Seungmin. Who else is going to take care of you otherwise?"

That simple question left him speechless.

He wasn’t used to someone wanting to take care of him- he was used to being the one who was expected to provide, to look after others. He watched as you took off your coat, making yourself comfortable in his space without a second thought, moving toward his kitchen like it was second nature to you.

For the next few hours, he watched in disbelief as you fussed over him. You made sure he drank water, helped him eat the soup you'd brought, and even tidied up his apartment a little, though it wasn’t necessary since he was a clean man. And each time you checked on him, each time you brushed your hand over his forehead to feel for a fever, or when you gently ruffled his hair, something inside him sparked- or rather melted.

It was strange, this feeling of being cared for. He realized how touch-starved he truly was, how much he craved this kind of closeness without even knowing it.

How much he actually loved it when it came from you- as he hated it from others.

Every time your fingers skimmed his hair, he felt a warmth that had nothing to do with his fever. When you tucked him in on the couch, playfully patting his arm and settling beside him, he leaned into your touch without even thinking about it.

And that’s when the weight of it all hit him- the difference between you and everyone else who had been in his life before.

He’d always thought his value was in what he could give, how much he could provide. But with you, it wasn’t about that. It never had been.

Seungmin’s thoughts drifted to the legend of King Midas- the man whose touch turned everything into gold. For Midas, his gift had become a curse; no matter what he touched, it lost its warmth, its life. He realized he had been living like that -surrounded by gold, by riches and luxury, but none of it held meaning.

But you…you weren’t like that.

You weren’t interested in the gold, in the material things he could give. You were interested in him. Your touch wasn’t a curse; it was warmth, real and alive. It brought him back to life in a way that no extravagant date ever could.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Seungmin’s voice came out quieter than he intended, a mix of vulnerability and genuine curiosity. "I thought you’d be mad that I cancelled. Especially since it was a nice restaraunt...expensive..." He trailed off, his puppy eyes trailing up to your face to gauge your reaction.

Were you...truly not upset about this at all?

You turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowing like you couldn’t believe he’d even ask that. "Mad? Why would I be mad? You’re sick, Seungmin. Of course I’m gonna be here. Besides, this is cheaper anyway! A nice little stay-in date. The second cheapest soup in the store is the best soup." You stated matter of factly. "Paired with some kimbap and drink of your choice-" You held up your finger in an "okay" sign and winked. "This is even better than if we ate out!" You saaid clapping once as you reached for food.

He blinked at you, a little taken aback by the sincerity in your voice.

"You...mean that?"

"Mhm, why wouldn't I?" You asked, stuffing the closest thing into your mouth, not looking at Seungmin, rather focused on your convenience store goodies.

"It’s just…I’m not used to this."

"What do you mean?" you gently tugged the blanket over him, sliding yourself under the corner as well, your fingers brushing his arm as you adjusted it.

"I’m used to…" He hesitated, feeling a little exposed. "People getting upset when I can’t…provide. Fancy dates, expensive gifts. That kind of thing."

You smiled, soft and a little sad, as if the idea of anyone expecting that from him was ridiculous. "I’m not here for any of that. I mean, yeah, those things are nice, but I’m here for you, Seungmin. I like you for you. Not for what you can give me."

He swallowed hard, the words sinking deep into him. He had heard it before, in half-hearted reassurances from past partners, but this -this felt real.

You meant it.

And it hit him harder than he expected. His heart hammered in his chest.

Is this what real love felt like...you guys hadn't exchanged that word yet...but...

In this moment he felt the urge to.

"I guess I just don’t know what that feels like," he admitted, his voice softer now, his gaze dropping to the blanket covering him, as he fought that temptation.

You reached out, running your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. "Well, now you do. You’re stuck with me, even when you’re sick."

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that shook his chest and made him wince slightly from his sore throat. "I think I’m okay with that."

And just like that, Seungmin felt something crack open inside him -a part of himself that had been so tightly guarded, so afraid of being hurt. But with you, he felt safe. Safe enough to lean into your touch, to lay in your lap to let himself be cared for without fear of what you might want in return.

I think I'm in love.

No...I am in love.

As you continued to softly play with his hair, Seungmin’s eyes fluttered closed.

He realized that this was what he had been missing -this golden touch that wasn’t about wealth or status. It was about love, about care, about someone being there for him even when things weren’t perfect or glamorous.

He had spent so long being afraid of turning everything around him into something superficial, something gilded and lifeless. But with you, it wasn’t about gold or riches.

It was about your golden touch -the one that brought him comfort, warmth, and something more valuable than anything money could buy.

When Seungmin finally drifted off into a fevered sleep, the corners of his lips were curled into the softest of smiles. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly cared for.

He truly felt loved.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz stay #stray kids #skz reactions #skz fluff #stray kids reactions #skz #seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin fluff #kim seungmin fluff #skz seungmin #skz seungmin fluff #pnutbutternjelyy #🥜🧈🪼

423 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 3 months ago

Text

♡ And They Were Roommates ♡

chapter 1 : The Guard Dog

Pairing | Joel Miller x Logan Howlett x f!reader

A/N: this chapter got away from me so fast, but I’m really pleased with how it turned out! After seeing Deadpool & Wolverine for the first time a couple weeks ago, I immediately re-entered my marvel phase and rewatched both Deadpool movies and all of the x-men/wolverine movies (yes, it’s an obsession) the Wolverine was always one of my favorite marvel characters outside of Deadpool and Iron Man. I’m so happy that myself and others are taking the leap to write for him and other characters 🥹 I hope you all enjoy this mini series! I’m super excited for it 💗 comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you @sinsofsummers for betaing and letting me yap at u! And thank u @syd-djarin for also letting me yap 🥰

word count: 8.8k

Summary: after saving the world with Wade, Logan finds himself in a new, strange world. Human life is scarce, (as far as he can see). There’s weird looking mushroom-headed fucks, and he doesn’t have a clue what year it is, either. After traveling aimlessly for months, the Wolverine runs into you, and your guard dog of a boyfriend, Joel Miller.

Warnings: mature themes, smut, implied age gap, brief mention of a gunshot wound, touch of angst, language, derogatory comments about mutants (by Joel) alcohol consumption, brief mention of ouid, pining, hints of a throuple/love triangle, voyeurism (sorta) this Logan is the ‘worst’ variant, but you can picture him however you’d like!, reader has no physical descriptions (I imagine her to be short, but she is a blank slate) +18, minors dni!

series masterlist

If someone had told you before the outbreak that in 20ish years, (math is not my strong suit, sorry) you would be living the life of “luxury” with not only one guard dog as a boyfriend, but two who also were boyfriends, you would have laughed in that person's face and told them that they were in fact insane—but now? Now you wouldn’t even question it. Your life in Jackson before meeting Joel Miller and Logan Howlett was the closest thing to normalcy that you had experienced since the outbreak. You had a home again, a job, and a purpose. But like all things, you were craving more; something new and exciting. Instead of you finding it, Joel Miller found you—or was it the other way around?

He was old fashioned in every sense. Insisting on properly pursuing you after you caught his eye at the corner of the bartop of the tipsy bison. Your care-free spirit and intoxicating aroma had his mind reeling at the thoughts of what he could be doing to you if it was just the two of you in the Bison, all alone with no distractions or disturbances.

He hadn’t thought about women, or sex, or settling down with someone in over 20 years. But here you were, throwing back another shot of whiskey and subconsciously unnerving him further without having any idea as to what it was that you were doing to him.

You were, however, aware that he was watching you, carefully between his harsh swigs from the glass that was perfectly perched in one of his meaty palms.

Mr. New and Exciting is right there. What are you waiting for? Your mind pointed out the obvious as if there was a flashing arrow right above the man’s head of thick, salt and peppered streaked curls that you were dying to run your fingers through.

You downed the remaining contents of your glass for that extra boost of liquid courage and made your move before he could even properly execute his own plan to approach you.

He stiffened, jaw ticking when he felt the bare heat from your arm brush against his own, sending sparks shooting down his forearm all the way down to where his large hand was tightly gripping the glass.

“I’m here to break the ice between us, stranger. Y’know, considering you’ve been staring at me for the past…hour.”

“Excuse me?” He scoffed, bringing the rim of his glass up to his lips for a moment. “Think you oughta get your eyes checked out first before ya start makin’ accusations.” He grumbled, low and deep. His eyes flickered in your direction, brows furrowed together across his forehead in a harsh line.

“Think my eyes are working just fine, thank you very much.”

He tore his harsh gaze away from your face and focused his attention on the mounted moose head on the wall instead. “Buzz off, darlin’. I ain’t lookin’ for conversation.” He snarled and went to slide off the worn down seat, but he was frozen in his spot when your hand wrapped around his bulging bicep, and he felt like a leashed, obedient dog.

“You think I’m here to talk?” You laughed and he immediately felt a hot flush rise from his neck and creep up his face at your brash confidence.

“Ain’t that what most women want nowadays?” He countered your boldness with a gravelly chuckle that sent warmth immediately spreading across your entire body at the scratchy, deep, sound that emitted from his throat.

“Lucky for you, I’m not like most women. Now, how about instead of eye fucking me from across the bar, why don’t we skip the small talk and you take me home instead?” You said with a coy smile and a suggestive tilt of your chin. You loosened your grip around his bicep only to then drag your fingers down the expanse of his arm, watching the muscles there subtly flex from your featherlight touch.

He weighed out his options, glancing around the crowded bar, leaning in close to crowd your personal space entirely. His eyes flickered down towards your lips, and then his heedy gaze met your own almost in a challenge.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, darlin.’” He rasped, reaching for your hand.

And only when you found yourself with your back pressed against Joel Miller’s front door, and his lips attacking your own, did he finally tell you his name between bruising kisses and wandering hands.

And well, the rest is history.

Your arrangement with Joel worked flawlessly for an entire year, and while you both were content without having any labels, being known as Joel Miller’s girl never failed to make your heart melt, and he fucking turned into a goddamn puddle on the floor anytime he got to hear refer to him as your boyfriend.

Life truly could not have gotten better for either of you, but it certainly could get worse in Joel’s case of repeated misfortune. That misfortune being Logan Howlett, the last standing mutant to exist in this universe and now the bane of Joel’s existence.

“What in the fuck are those things comin’ out of your hands?!” A very angry, cold, and bewildered Joel Miller barked over the metallic click of the Wolverine's claws being unsheathed between his knuckles.

“Ya got two workin’ eyes, don’t ya, pal? The fuck do they look like to you?!” The stranger growled, advancing towards the other man.

“Joel?!” Another man’s voice was heard in the distance, followed by thundering hooves and a sharp whinny.

“I got this handled, Tommy!” The other man snapped when Tommy rode up beside him, immediately hopping down from the saddle with his rifle at the ready at the immediate threat in front of them.

Logan was able to quickly piece together with limited information that these two men were brothers, just based on their similar looks and mannerisms.

“Listen, boys, if I was you, I’d lower them guns and pretend that ya never crossed paths with me.”

“Are those fuckin’ knives coming out of his fists?!” Tommy Miller whispered to his brother who nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, he’s some mutant freak. Somethin’ FEDRA musta cooked up.” Joel responded in an equally hushed whisper.

Logan swiftly turned his head to the side, an audible cracking sound in his neck could be heard through the chilling evening air. “You’re really gonna regret callin’ me that, bub.” He snarled, barring his teeth like a rabid dog and advanced forward with full intent to slash his claws through the other man’s chest.

Joel’s reflexes were surprisingly fast even in his age, and when Logan advanced forward, he pulled the trigger on his own rifle, the shot ringing through and startling a flock of birds in a nearby tree, sending them flying upwards towards the sky in a haphazardly direction, squawking loudly.

The bullet hit Logan square in the chest, but the Wolverine barely even staggered backwards from the force of the bullet, and he let out an animalistic, nothing-short-of-pissed-off growl while the two men a short distance away had equal looks of horror on their faces when Logan’s body began to push the embedded bullet out from his chest and heal the once open wound.

The single bullet landed in the snow beneath Logan’s boots just as a high pitched whistle could be detected in the distance.

“What the actual fuck…his body can regenerate itself?!” Tommy whispered to his brother in disbelief.

Joel ignored him and raised his rifle towards the Wolverine again, thumb hovering over the trigger when you appeared on your horse through the snowy cluster of evergreens.

“JOEL! HOLD YOUR FIRE!” You demanded and swung your leg over the saddle, landing on the ground without fault and quickly inserted yourself between the Miller Brother’s and the seething Wolverine with your hands lifted in the air above your head.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?!” Joel diverted his attention to you and your untimely arrival. “Get behind me! We don’t know who or what the fuck this guy is, and he’s clearly dangerous!”

“Listen to your girl, bub. Lower your fuckin’ gun and jus’ let me pass, and we can forget this whole thing fuckin’ happened!” Logan yelled over your shoulder, nostrils flaring and muscles flexing with unbridled rage.

“Will you both just shut the fuck up?!” You snarled in frustration and glared over your shoulder at your unpredictable boyfriend. Let’s all just lower our weapons and take some deep, calming, breaths.”

“Un-fuckin’ believable.” The Wolverine scoffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at your assertiveness.

Joel and Tommy both slowly and very reluctantly lowered their rifles towards the ground, but the Wolverine’s extended metal claws did not retract at your demand.

“That includes you too, knives.”

Logan couldn’t help but smirk at your choice of nickname given the current circumstances. Man, you had some bigger balls than your boyfriend, that was for damn sure.

“Say it to me a little more gently, sweetheart. Your boyfriend over there got me all riled up, and I jus’ really wanna slash him to bits right now.” He cooed, smirk only then expanding into a wide, toothy grin at both your reaction, and Joel’s.

“Hey! Don’t you fuckin’ talk to her, you—”

“Alright, boys!” You hissed and turned your back so it was fully facing Joel. “Now, this ain’t some contest to see who has the bigger cock, alright? Looks like y’all got off on the wrong foot…clearly.” You stated the obvious.

“Yeah, and I was just passin’ through the area when your boyfriend and I unfortunately crossed paths.” He said gruffly, hackles raised in irritation.

“You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend, he can be trigger happy at times, but within reason. So, let’s start this whole thing over, alright?”

“Think we should just send this freak on his way—”

“JOEL!” You and Tommy whispered loudly in unison.

“Maybe you oughta put a muzzle on that one. Seems like he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.” Logan snickered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about him, alright? He’ll get muzzled later. So, uh—where exactly are you headed…?” You questioned him warily, realizing that you still didn’t know this mysterious man’s name.

As if he was capable of reading your mind, he could tell by your facial expressions and body language alone that you were wondering what his name was.

“It’s Logan.” He answered your hypothetical question softly, far softer than he had spoken to Joel. “Logan Howlett. That’s my name. And to answer your question, I’m not headed anywhere in particular. Like I said, jus’ was passin’ through the area. Not lookin’ for trouble.” He lowered his fists to his sides, claws finally retracting into his knuckles, the skin healing over instantly.

“Logan.” You repeated his name just as softly. “I understand that you were just passing through, but unfortunately, we can’t just let people pass through without stopping them and questioning them.”

“Yeah, well, don’t think your boyfriend had any intention of just questioning me, sweetheart. S’a good thing that you arrived jus’ in time, cause the way that I see it…” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and cockily tilted his head to the side, “you wouldn’t have a boyfriend anymore, and woulda been bringing what’s left of him back home in pieces.”

Joel’s muscles went rigid and his eyes darkened, appearing like two black holes instead of the comforting warm brown tone that you were accustomed to. He shook off Tommy’s hand immediately when he went to grab his shoulder to drag him away from the intense brewing situation.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your temples with your gloved fingers. Fucking men and their big dicks and even bigger egos. Un-fucking-believable.

“That is quite enough!” You snapped through the frigid air. “Tommy, please be a doll and escort your brother back to town. I can handle this on my own.”

“Like hell—”

“She’s got this handled, Joel. She’s more than capable. If she ain’t back within the next hour, we’ll come back.” Tommy reassured him with a gentle, yet firm squeeze to his shoulder.

“Fine.” Joel muttered under his breath, pulling his shoulder free again and took a few steps towards you. “See you at home, baby.” He whispered only for your ears to hear and pulled you in for a swift kiss on the lips.

Logan couldn’t help but let out a low wolf whistle at the sight. Fair play. He mused to himself.

“Yeah, see you at home.” You mumbled against his lips, kissing him back and gently shoving him away towards the direction of Tommy and their awaiting horses.

“That’s some guard dog of a boyfriend that you got yourself there, darlin’,” Logan said in amusement, unsheathing his middle claw in Joel’s direction with a condescending and dripping in arrogance grin.

“You have no idea.” You said with a light laugh, turning on your heel to face him again. “So, you’re just passing through the area, right?”

His middle claw retracted slowly with a clink, and he crossed his broad arms against his chest with a tight nod of his head. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Are you infected?”

“The fuck—infected? I don’t got a goddamn clue what you’re talkin’ about, sweetheart.”

“Y’know, the cordyceps infection? The outbreak happened like…twenty somethin’ years ago, but there’s still infected roaming about.”

“Huh.” He chuckled softly, balancing his weight from one foot to the other. “That would explain the lack of humans that I’ve run into lately. This earth seems pretty damn scarce.”

“This…earth? I don’t think I quite pick up what you’re putting down, Logan.”

He pushed out a deep sigh and slowly dragged a hand over his face. “Don’t even get me started.”

“Alright, and your claws…have you always had them?”

He steeled his expression, lips curving downwards into a subtle frown, and his body language alone was an indication that you crossed an invisible boundary.

“Since I was a kid, yes.” He flexed his hands and stared at them as if they weren’t attached to his body. “Used to be less…metal.”

“And what about the fact that your body can regenerate itself and heal? Is that…part of your mutation?” You gestured to the bullet laying in the snow by his boots, still stained with his blood, and yet there was no sign of a wound in his chest any longer.

“Yeah. I still…feel physical pain like everyone else, but it only lasts for a second at most. Well, depending on the severity of the wound, and how many I sustained.”

A hidden flush rose up his cheeks and he coughed into his shoulder to hide his bashfulness from your prying eyes. He gave you a disgruntled look, nodding in an attempt to be polite, but it came out gruffer than he intended. “The hell is FEDRA?”

It was your turn to feel flustered beneath his stare, and stoic demeanor. You almost didn’t notice the way you spewed out the facts, familiar to you like the back of your own hand.

He inclined his head, but looked back up and narrowed his eyes. “And these…infected? They used to say that about us—I mean, me. What’s the difference?”

You tried not to look so shocked at his confessions of ignorance, and somehow managed to blurt out an explanation.

“Oh, those mushroom head lookin’ freaks? Yeah, I’ve run into them a few times here and there, but they all run away from me.” He shrugged. “What in god's green earth is a rat king?”

Your eyes widened drastically. You had never heard of such a thing. “You’re telling me that the infected run away from you? There’s no way—I mean, that’s a first. The rat king is…never mind. Let’s just hope you don’t meet one.”

“Might have somethin’ to do with the Adamantium is my guess. Gotta say, they’re pretty nasty lookin’.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You snorted under your breath. “Look, Joel is probably gonna kill me, but given the current circumstances…do you want to come back to town with me? You’re a long way from wherever you came from, and well, you look like you could use some rest and a proper meal.” You knew with full intent that offering Logan to come back to Jackson with you was risky for a multitude of reasons, and the biggest reason was knowing that Joel was gonna throw a fucking fit.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would really like that idea, sweetheart.” He said with a sigh, picturing what the next few months would be like in total isolation, with no reprieve or end.

“He’ll give me an earful about it, but morally, I can’t just leave you out here alone. So, are you capable of riding a horse?” You gestured with your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of your horse impatiently pawing at the snow.

“I suppose a bit of hospitality doesn’t sound all that bad. Y’all got liquor? Could use me a stiff drink about now. And yeah, I know a thing or two about riding.”

Oh.

“We got more than just liquor, Logan.” You leaned in with a small grin, “we got a bar, bacon, and endless whiskey that has since been perfected by Joel’s brother, Tommy. He’s the more reasonable one out of the pair.”

“Shit. Are ya serious? Bacon and whiskey?” His mouth was already watering at the phantom taste of liquor on his tongue. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a damn good drink.

“Deadly serious.”

“Well then, lead the way.” He nodded in your horse's direction.

You made the choice to stay in the front of the saddle while Logan situated himself on the back and instinctively wrapped his arms around you. “Sorry.” He whispered when he felt your body tense up in his loose grip. “Old habits.”

“S’alright. I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” You tighten your grip around the leather reins, squeezing your calves against the horse's side followed by a gentle click of your tongue to urge the horse into a trot.

The ride back to Jackson was a comfortably quiet one, and it was obvious that Logan wasn’t much of a small talker, and you were more than okay with that.

The only sound between you and him was the occasional squeak of the saddle, a soft snort from your horse, and the thundering hooves across the almost frozen landscape. You slowed to a lope, reaching behind you blindly into the saddlebag and grabbed a white flag, raising it in the air above your head.

The large, looming gates that protected Jackson from outside forces were suddenly pulled open, revealing the hidden community inside and Logan was completely awestruck.

You looked over your shoulder to see his reaction, and you couldn’t help the smile that slowly crossed over your lips at the sight of this brutish, and conflicted man, almost with tears in his eyes because he was seeing what remained of civilization and humanity at the core.

To say that Joel was pissed when you showed up with that fucking mutant freak outside his front door was an understatement. Joel was livid—furious—charged up with rage the second he locked eyes with Logan.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. You brought him home?!” Joel hissed between his teeth, almost trembling from how riled up he was.

Man, imagine if this fucker was unfortunate enough to meet Wade fucking Wilson. Logan thought to himself, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath at the mental image of Joel meeting Deadpool for the first time. What a sight that would be.

“Joel, I know you’re angry, and rightfully so, but he’s not infected, and it felt morally wrong for me to just leave him out there on his own.”

“Oh, so I guess we just fuckin’ take in strays now? Is that it? Y’know, you’re supposed to run these things by me first before you just do something irrationally stupid like this!” He hissed.

“Ellie was a stray, and you took her in. I see no difference in this, Joel.” You attempted to reason with him.

“Who’s Ellie?” Logan chimed in, leaned against the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest like he owned the damn place.

“None of your goddamn business, bud.” Joel snapped back quickly, his words cold and biting, but they had no effect on the Wolverine.

“Ellie is his kid. Well, his adopted daughter. Actually, wolvie, she’d lose her goddamn mind if she got to meet a real superhero like you.”

“Not a chance in hell. This—thing isn’t staying here, and he sure as fuck ain’t meetin’ my kid.”

“Ah, so we’ve gone from mutant freak to thing? I’ll take that as an improvement.” Logan snickered under his breath. “I ain't a hero. Far from it actually, so she would unfortunately be met with disappointment.”

“Okay, well, unfortunately, you aren’t the only one who calls the shots around here, Joel. Now, I promised Logan that I would get him a proper meal and a stiff drink. So, either suck it the fuck up and come with us, or stay here and pout like a little kid.”

Damn.

“I hate when you act like you got the bigger set of balls in the relationship, baby.” Joel grumbled under his breath and was already reaching for his discarded coat that was hanging along the well-loved couch.

“Actually, I do have the bigger set of balls, hun. You just need a little gentle reminder now and then.” You shot him a playful wink and pivoted on your heel just as Logan quickly moved out of the way so you could pass through the doorway.

Joel gave the other man a cold stare as he passed him, one that was returned with an acknowledging nod and a small grin before the door swung shut behind the three of you.

Logan had five straight glasses of whiskey in under 20 minutes, leaving you, Joel, and Tommy equally impressed and a tad concerned considering a normal man would surely be on his ass by now after consuming that much liquor in one sitting, but Logan didn’t even appear to be tipsy at all.

“Wanted to apologize to you fellas for how things went down earlier.” Logan announced over the loud chatter and leaned in over the bartop where Tommy was drying off a glass and Joel was swirling the amber contents of his own glass, lost in thought.

“No hard feelings, man.” Tommy was the first to speak up. “I’m sure she told ya why we acted that way in the first place, yeah? We get all kinds of folks crossin’ our paths on patrol, and as long as they ain’t infected, or appearing to be an immediate threat, we let ‘em in.”

“Well, apparently those who appear to be an immediate threat surpass the rules and get let in anyway.” Joel added, tone dripping in sarcasm over the rim of his glass against his lips.

Logan stiffened, jaw clenching and unclenching and he could feel the concealed claws beneath the skin on his knuckles just begging to be unleashed, but he held them at bay.

“I get it, bub. You’re viewing me as a threat, ain’t that right? I show up in your town as a stranger, an outcast with your girl, and you got your hackles raised like a goddamn guardog. Well, I can assure you that I’m not a threat. Learned the hard way a long time ago to not impose on another man’s relationship.”

“As if I’m gonna trust your word?” Joel scoffed, rolling his shoulders forward before he directly looked over at the other man. “I ain’t gonna win a fight with her on this one, but if I even catch a whiff of you tryin’ somethin’ on her, I’ll kick you out so goddamn fast.”

“Noted. Although, I think I’ll stick around for the time being. If your ego wasn’t so inflated, you would probably realize that keepin’ me around is gonna benefit you and this community.”

“Benefit me how exactly? If you’re talkin’ weapons, we don’t need your assistance there. We’re stacked with enough manpower in case there ever was an attack. No one’s got the balls to do that.”

"Like, adamantium.” Your voice floated sweetly over the two brooding men, as you slid into the empty seat between them. “Not only that, but the infected literally turn the other way when he’s crossed paths with them, and oh, let’s not forget that one of his mutation powers is that he can regenerate and heal himself which means he’s pretty much immortal.”

Joel’s face turned red hot with embarrassment with a twinge of irritation. He downed the rest of his glass and slammed it on the counter. He barked an order at his brother to top his glass off. “Bullshit.”

“Would be a shitty lie.” Logan rasped, sliding his empty glass in Tommy’s direction. “I’m older than you, bub.”

“I think I’ve had enough of fantasyland for one fuckin’ day. Adamantium this, mutation that, fucking knives coming out of your hands? Yeah, sure. Older than me? Fat fuckin’ chance, pal.” Joel scoffed, shaking his head and muttering more profanities under his breath.

“He’s like…at least a century old, Joel. If not older.”

“Who is at least a century old?” Ellie chimed in next to Joel as she leaned over the bartop. “Uncle Tommy, can you pour me a beer, pretty please?”

“Ellie.” Joel grumbled, “shouldn’t you be at home doin’ homework?”

Ah, so that’s the old man’s kid. Fitting.

“Dude, it’s the weekend, and I already finished my homework. Dina and I are goin’ to the movies later, but she’s at home freshening up.” Ellie reached over to mess up his hair, but Joel already knew what she was about to do and gently caught her wrist in his hand before she could even get close to his hair.

“The movies?” Logan's question immediately drew Ellie’s attention as Joel dropped her wrist.

“Never seen your face around here before. You new to town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Logan shrugged. “You're Joel’s kid then?”

“The one and only.” She beamed proudly while Joel scowled. “Wait, so who is at least a century old? I know we’re not talking about you, dad. But you are getting up there. Is that another gray hair I’m detecting? Soon you’re gonna be wearing diapers—” her playful rambling was cut off by Joel’s sharp and scolding tone cutting through the air like a sharpened knife.

“ELLIE!” He half yelled, cheeks inflamed and face turning and even brighter shade of red.

“I’m only kidding! Well, half kidding! One day you will be wearing diapers, old man.”

Logan laughed, a full on, belly-ache inducing laugh where the corner of his eyes crinkled and his smile lines appeared. “Holy shit. Your kid’s a riot!”

“I’ve been telling him that forever, and he just won’t admit it!” She giggled and gently wrapped her arm around Joel’s shoulder to give him a half hug to which he begrudgingly hugged her back, trying to hide his small grin from being noticed.

“You remind me a lot of…well, an old friend of sorts.” Logan looked down.

Ellie finally found her chance to ruffle Joel’s and seized it before he could stop her. “What was the name of your friend? I’m assuming he’s dead, so rest in peace.”

“Ellie!” Joel softly scolded her, “it’s rude to assume that someone died—”

“Wade Wilson.” Logan said softly, staring down at his empty glass with a sigh.

Ellie’s eyes expanded, blown wide in shock and utter disbelief. She was a comic book nerd, and well—a nerd in general. Perhaps it was just sheer coincidence that this stranger knew a Wade Wilson. Surely, it couldn’t be the Wade Wilson that she immediately was thinking of, right?

“Holy fuck. Please don’t crush my dreams and tell me that I’m wrong, but are you talking about the Wade Wilson as in Deadpool? Dude—are you an Avenger?” Ellie leaned over the bartop in Logan’s direction, voice low in a hushed whisper.

“Kid, I’m the furthest thing from an Avenger.” He said quietly, sinking his weight back against the bartop stool. “But I did know Wade pretty well. The fucker is probably alive, somewhere. He’s like a cockroach that you can never kill.”

“Okay, but if you’re not an Avenger…then what are you?”

“I was an X-Man at one point, but they’re all dead now—because of me.”

“Oh my god, are you—you’re the Wolverine, aren’t you? What in the fuck are you doing here? Is this real life? Someone pinch me right now, because there is no way that Logan fucking Howlett is here in the flesh! Dude, can you show me your claws?!” Ellie asked excitedly and it was Joel’s job to rein her in a bit.

“Alright, kiddo. That’s enough questions, alright? Don’t wanna go and overwhelm him. He can show you his…claws another time. Last thing we want is all these people freaking out and screaming bloody murder, right?” Joel said softly to her in his usual dad tone.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry about that, Logan. I’m just like—a huge fan of you and the comics. I actually still can’t wrap my head around the fact that this is real life. Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Hope you stick around!” She said sincerely before swiping up her glass of beer that was waiting for her and walked away to a different section of the crowded bar.

“Sorry about my kid. She is a huge fan, and definitely meant no harm by freaking out like that. I hope she wasn’t too invasive.”

“S’alright. There’s no harm done.” Logan reassured him.

Joel tapped his knuckles along the bartop, looking over at his brother first who was now at the other end of the bartop where his wife Maria was sitting. And then he looked at you and finally Logan. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot earlier today and I’m sorry about that. If you don’t got nowhere to go, you should consider staying in town. Sounds like you could be useful, like you said, and my kid would probably kill me if I kicked the Wolverine out for no good reason.”

“I don’t wanna impose, I swear. My plan was to just have a bite to eat and a few drinks and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Logan.” You finally spoke, “you should stay. There’s plenty of room for you here. We’ll have to figure out living arrangements, but in the meantime, you can sleep on our couch?”

The Wolverine’s warm hazel eyes slowly flitted over to you, a soft smile gracing his face before he glanced over at your boyfriend whose jaw was beginning to tick, again.

“Only if your guard dog is alright with that arrangement, sweetheart.”

Joel took a deep breath and released the built up tension that he felt in his shoulders. “The couch is all yours, Logan. We’ll get you out on patrol starting next week. You’ll fit right in.”

And boy, did he fit in.

Logan did more than just fit in, he added a new welcoming dynamic to Jackson and he was an absolute hit with the kids both old and young. (He may or may not have smoked weed with Ellie, Dina and Jesse one night, but no one will ever know the truth)

He looked forward to being on patrol with Joel and Tommy every single day, (sometimes in the evenings). Having a purpose in his life again made him feel complete, and there was that extra perk of getting to kill people—bad guys, every now and then. Logan took numerous bullets for both Miller brothers and he felt this swelling sense of pride in his heart when Joel would go out of his way to tell him that he did a good job out there and sometimes there was even a firm, lingering pat on his shoulder followed by a, thanks for keeping the town safe, Logan. Don’t know what I’d do without ya.

Logan liked to hear those words from Joel’s mouth more than he was willing to admit. Almost as much as he liked coming home to you at the end of the very long and grueling day. Despite his promise to Joel that he wouldn’t try anything on you, he felt that there was nothing wrong with developing a harmless crush on both of his roommates, right?

Well, lucky for the Wolverine, you were beginning to fall down that rabbit hole, too. Especially when Logan would strut around the house shirtless in the mornings while you were getting ready for your day at the barn, ripped abs, resembling glossy freshly baked rolls were on full display paired with that knee-weakening smile that appeared over the rim of his steaming mug of coffee. He’d even accompany you to the barn, spending time with you and the horses till he would saddle up for patrol.

“Joel.” You whispered through the darkness in your shared bedroom.

“This better be goddamn important.” He grumbled tiredly, rolling over so he was facing you and draped his arm across your bare waist, tugging you into his chest so he could pepper your face with affectionate, sleepy kisses. “Thought you said you were too tired for round three, baby.” He drawled against your ear, playfully nipping at the lobe with his teeth.

“Baby, I promise you it’s super important.” You pressed a kiss to the sliver of exposed skin on his neck, throwing your thigh over his hip so if he wanted to, he could slip right into your silky, enticing warmth with ease.

“Mmm. Alright then. Spit it out. What’s on your mind, pretty girl.” He hummed against your skin, rolling his hips languidly into yours, a small grunt slipped past his lips when the head of his cock brushed through your slick folds and dragged upwards across your still sensitive clit.

“Y—you have to promise that you won’t get mad at me, okay?” You gasped softly, biting down on the juncture where his jaw met his neck.

“Baby, if you don’t fuckin’ spit it out right now, I’ll just have to fuck it out of ya.” He said through gritted teeth, reaching between your bodies with his freehand so he could grasp the base of his cock with ease and slowly feed himself into your warm, wet, enveloping walls with zero resistance.

“I want to fuck Logan.” You finally spit it out, waiting for your partner to scold you, but he did the complete opposite and bucked his hips against yours so he was completely bottomed out, stretching you open the same way he did a couple hours ago. “Yeah.” He gruffed out, finally finding your lips in a searing kiss, “know you do.”

Just down the stairs, lounged out on the couch with a glass of whiskey in one hand and tv remote in the other, Logan was trying his best to distract his brain from what he was hearing upstairs (damn his heightened sense of hearing). For the past 20 minutes he had been listening to you and Joel getting it on, and now he was dealing with a small problem—a rather large problem, actually. That problem being that the crotch section of his jeans were becoming unbearably tight, and even after he popped the button and yanked the zipper down, that wasn’t enough relief.

He let out a frustrated growl, throwing his head back against the couch and brought his freehand up to his forehead, rubbing his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. He was fighting an internal battle of whether he was going to act like a nasty dog and jerk himself off, or fight the urge all together. He fumbled with the remote, turning the tv up to full volume thinking that it would drown your sweet little noises out, and Joel’s manly grunts, but it did jack all and he finally gave in and gently palmed himself through his jeans.

That’s when he heard your voice as clear as day.

I want to fuck Logan

That’s all it took for the last shred of his resistance to fall away at the same rate that he had pulled his cock free, squeezing it firmly in his fist before he pulled his hand back, splitting a glob of saliva onto it and wrapped it back around the base of his cock.

You let out a surprised squeak when Joel bucked his hips against yours, burying himself completely in your warm cunt. You scrambled to find something to grab onto, sinking your nails into his strong biceps when he withdrew his hips halfway before thrusting them forward again.

“Known for awhile that you want to fuck him, baby. Neither of you are great at hiding it either. You should see the way he drinks in your appearance the minute you walk into the goddamn room.” He mumbled against your lips, caging you in his arms when he began to pick up a steady rhythm, listening to the soft squelch of your pussy sucking him in further with each powerful thrust. “Thought about tellin’ Logan that he should just make a move, but I wanted to discuss it with you first.”

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned freely, lips falling away from the kiss briefly before finding one another again like two magnets. “So, you’re okay with it then?”

“Fuck yeah, I am. But under one condition.” He stilled his hips, reaching his freehand back down between your connected bodies so he could play with your clit at his leisure.

Your body twitched in his arms from the sudden stimulation and that familiar tingling feeling that was blooming deep in the pit of your stomach as your walls clenched tightly around him, squeezing his cock like a vice. “What’s the condition?”

“I get to watch him fuck you. If y’all wanna get acquainted and fool around beforehand, that’s fine with me, but I get to watch him fuck you.” He rasped and in one swift movement, he maneuvered you onto his lap, cock still buried deep inside of you. The kiss was broken briefly so that he could gaze up at you through hooded eyes. “And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even wanna join in. Jus’ am curious to see how well you take another man’s cock, baby. M’sure Logan is gonna be thrilled.” He grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh with his thick fingers. “The way I see it, It’s a win-win situation for everyone involved.” He let out a sharp breath when you instinctively rolled your hips against his, foreheads pressed tightly together.

“I fucking love you so much, Joel.” You whispered against his lips, carding your fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots gently so his head was tilted back slightly. You could feel his smirk form in the sloppy kiss, and the way he tugged you closer, chests pressed together.

“I love you too, baby. Jus’ wanna see my girl happy s’all. And if fucking the goddamn Wolverine makes you happy, then so be it.”

Logan could hear every squeak from the old mattress, the wooden frame smacking the wall in sync with the heavy weight of Joel’s thrusts, and he could even hear the wet, squelch of your pussy, and skin slapping on skin. The mental images he created in his mind spurred his wrist to move faster, jerking his cock like a horny teenager that had stumbled across the adult magazine section in a grocery store for the first time.

He gnawed on his lower lip till it began to bleed and then healed over immediately after. His lashes fluttered, muscles growing taught and veins bulging the closer he got to cumming in his fist. He bit down on the back of his hand, hard enough to draw blood, and the stinging pain mixed with pleasure sent him right over the edge with stars dotting his vision before he slumped back against the couch, cock spent and growing soft.

“The fucker probably can’t wait to bury his face between your thighs, inhale your scent and eat your sweet pussy like a man starved. Bet it’s been so fuckin’ long for him, that he’ll cream his pants the second he even catches a sliver of your skin.”

“Well, bub, you got one thing right, that’s for damn sure. I can’t wait to bury my face between your girl's thighs and eat her sweet pussy like a man starved.” Logan chuckled to himself, letting out a content sigh as he glanced down at the mess of his release coating his hand, and his happy trail.

He reached over the coffee table for his almost abandoned glass of whiskey and quickly downed the rest before snatching up one of the cigars Joel had so kindly gotten for him and a box of matches. And just as he lit the end of the cigar, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table so he could get more comfortable, his ears were blessed with the high pitched sounds of you orgasming. “Fuck.” He nearly groaned, cock twitching pathetically at the pornographic sound you emitted.

The sun had not even begun to rise in the sky, but there was a chill in the air, a telling sign that fall was on the horizon and the changing of seasons. The early morning light was softer now compared to the summer months, and bathed Joel’s exposed back in a warm, golden glow.

You curled your body around his, hugging him like a koala when he went to untangle his legs from your own. He let out a throaty chuckle, raspy and sticky with prior slumber when you tighten your grip around him.

He blindly reached behind, finding your bare thigh and gave it an affectionate squeeze and gentle pat with his calloused palm. “C’mon, baby.” He rasped, “gotta pee, and then I’m gonna go find Tommy’n get an early start.”

“Stay in bed.”

“S’temptin.’” he mused, rolling over with a soft grunt so he was facing you finally.

“It’s fucking freezing in here, Joel. You’re my personal heater, and I forbid you from leaving.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzled his face against your pulse point, inhaling your familiar scent with a content sigh. “Could always ask Logan to take my place…” He trails off.

“Are you trying to make me soaking wet right now?” You teased.

You could feel him grinning against your skin as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss at the juncture where your jaw met your neck. “Why? Is it working?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You said coyly, finding his hand to slowly drag it between your bare thighs, but he was acting stubborn; the gall he had.

“No can do, my little minx.” He retracted his touch from you all together, finding an opening to slip out of your warm embrace and swung his legs over the side of the bed before pushing himself up. You could hear a faint crack in his lower back the moment he stretched his arms above his head, and he cheekily pivoted his hips to the side just so you could enjoy the little show and dreamily watch the way that his heavy cock swung between his thighs.

Letting out a groan that was nothing short of frustrating, you rolled over onto your stomach, kicking your legs up behind your head languidly with your chin propped in your palms. “Can’t believe you’re gonna choose your brother over me, and my drooling pussy, Joel.” You said with a noticeable pout.

He bent down, grabbing ahold of his discarded shirt from the night before and pulled it over his head and shoulders, obstructing your view of his broad chest and soft, kissable tummy. “You and your droolin’ pussy will live, sweetheart.” He took a few steps towards the bed, leaning down to brush his lips against yours in a sweet peck.

“Actually, I don’t think we will. I think we’re both gonna die a truly excruciating death if you don’t be a man and take care of the mess I’m making in your sheets.” You mumbled against his lips, attempting to deepen the kiss further, but he swiftly pulled back, brows crinkled in amusement as he observed your pout of frustration, and that yearning look glossed over in your eyes before his gaze traveled down the curve of your spine and between your thighs.

He chuckled in amusement when you arch your back and spread your legs further just so he could see how swollen and puffy your pussy looked from this angle, dripping with need, desperate to be played with, to be filled.

“Put your pussy away, you preening slut.” He said teasingly, not meaning it in an overtly degrading way, and simply just a jest; all in good fun.

“Fiiine.” You sighed in defeat, dropping your weight from your elbows and plopped down, face first into his pillow dramatically.

“Poor baby.” He cooed and leaned down, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “I’ll let Logan know that you and your needy little pussy will be waiting for him.”

“Go piss already, old man.” You grumbled into the pillow.

“Goin’ straight for the jugular, huh?” He chuckled and grabbed the end of the sheet, draping it over you gently before he pivoted on his heel and padded over to the attached bathroom.

Logan was still passed out on the couch when Joel crept downstairs, fully dressed now. There was the faint stench of tobacco, musk, and oh—

Joel didn’t mean to look, he truly didn’t—but it was staring him right in the fucking face, and immediately sent a hot, red flush rising up his cheeks and sweat began to pool at the nape of his neck.

Logan stirred in his heavy slumber, one arm propping up behind his head as a makeshift pillow, bicep muscles bulging even in a relaxed state. His freehand slowly drifted southwards, brushing against the protruding vein on his lower abdomen and trailed right down to the soft, dark, enticing hair on his happy trail.

“I’m fuckin’ losin’ it, I swear.” Joel muttered to himself, scraping his own hand down his face before he quickly made a departure for the kitchen.

He was careful to be quiet, as he didn’t want to disturb the other man while he prepared himself a steaming mug of coffee, one of his many guilty pleasures that he never believed he would get to indulge in again.

cue me breaking the 4th wall. I know what you’re all thinking. Gianna, are Joel and Logan going to fuck yet? No, my lovely readers, I’m going to continue to edge you just a little more 🙂‍↕️ (and by a little more I mean you have to wait till chapter three 😔 but don’t worry! The sexual tension is there, and it’s simmering, but first, some angst!

P.S. if you read this in Deadpool’s voice, I fucking love u and we’re gonna make out now.

Okay, that’s all, folks! Back to the gay pining!

The Wolverine began to mumble in his sleep, not just fragmented words, but names—names of those he once knew, those he lost. The nightmares were never-ending, a constant reminder of the past that could never be undone. Even after teaming up with Wade, and saving the world, Logan still would think about the X-Men. That’s the funny thing about trauma, it never actually goes away, you just learn how to mask it as time goes on.

“Howlett?” Joel hesitantly said from the threshold of the kitchen, footsteps padding towards the living room.

Logan shot up from the couch, with an animalistic yell emitting from his throat. His eyes were wide, sweat pooled down his bare chest and his claws unsheathed with that familiar metal swoosh. He blinked a rapidly, registering where he was before he fell back against the couch and retracted his claws as he caught his breath.

“Logan?…Y’alright in there?”

Fuck.

“Jus’ fine, Miller. Sorry for startling you.” Logan muttered, voice raspy with sleep. It dawned upon him then that last night, after he—well, got himself off, he passed out before he had a chance to tuck his cock back into his jeans.

Guy must really fuckin’ think I’m an animal.

“Are ya decent?”

So, he did see? Fuck.

“Jus’ a minute.”

Joel waited till he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled up, and the metallic clink of a belt before he made his presence known, leaning against the opening of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee now.

He observes the other man silently, watching as he slowly sits up, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes, taking a deep lungful of air before exhaling.

“You’re shaking.” Joel states the obvious and hesitantly approaches the couch, sitting down against the side of it.

Thanks, captain obvious.” Logan snorts under his breath, fighting the urge to grin at the other man’s obvious hesitation.

“Those things have a mind of their own, huh?” Joel refers to the metal claws that were once protruding out of Logan’s knuckles.

“Somethin’ like that.” He eyes the second mug of coffee before finally meeting Joel’s gaze. “That for me?”

“What? Oh—the coffee.” Joel feels a flush creeping on as he holds the mug of coffee towards Logan almost as a peace offering. “Yeah.”

Logan reaches for the mug, meeting Joel’s hand halfway before taking it from him. Their fingers brush, and he tries to not notice how fast Joel moves to retract his hand.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Joel’s response is unintentionally gruff sounding. He sighs, taking a sip from his own mug.

“Do you have them often?”

The Wolverine raises a brow, confusion etched over his face. “What?”

“The nightmares.” Joel clarifies, “do you have them often?”

“Every night.” Logan said just above a whisper. His eyes cast downwards towards the mug in his hands, an unreadable expression crosses his face.

“Well, we got somethin’ in common after all.”

Logan looks up in surprise, studying the other man for a moment. He wants to ask questions, but he doesn’t want to invade Joel’s privacy or pry where he’s not wanted, let alone welcomed.

“Sun ain’t even up yet, bub. Where ya off to?”

“Patrol with Tommy, once I find him. Wanna get an early start.”

Logan doesn’t even think twice before he starts to swing his legs over the side of the couch to stand up, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he feels a warm, calloused palm press down against his bare chest. The movement shocks both men, and the Wolverine falls into submission, sinking back down against the couch pillows that were already crushed under his weight.

“You’ve done well out there, Howlett. Take the day off, and keep my girl company instead.”

Don’t move your hand, bub. Keep it right there. Is what Logan really wants to say.

“Y’sure, Miller?” He tests the waters for any possible ulterior motive that Joel may have.

Much to Logan’s disappointment, Joel slowly removes his hand from his chest, bringing it down to his side, fingers flexing and then curling into a fist as if he’s in disbelief over what he just did.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Between you and me, there ain’t no hidin’ your attraction to her. And well—seems like she’s takin’ a liking to you as well.” Joel said with a light chuckle, bringing his mug back up to his lips and took a quick sip. “And seeing as you won’t grow a pair and jus’ make a move, I figured I’d give you my permission.”

“I ain’t worthy of her, Joel. That’s your girl. If I’ve overstepped—”

“Yeah?” Joel leaned in, close enough that from this angle, Logan could make out every little detail on the other man’s face. “Guess you don’t wanna hear how she’s upstairs right now, leakin’ all over my goddamn sheets like a bitch in heat, huh?”

“And you want me…to—take care of it?” He chooses his words carefully.

“I know you ain’t all that innocent, Logan. You don’t gotta hide that shit from me. You want her? She’s all yours. But, a word of advice, if I may. Let her come to you. She enjoys the chase more than she likes to be chased. Play coy with her. That one lives for a good fuckin’ game of cat and mouse.”

“And this isn’t a trap? Yeah, of course I want your girl. I’d be a goddamn fool if I didn’t.”

“It ain’t a trap. I’m appeasing to both sides, Logan. My only condition is that you can’t fuck her—not yet, at least. I want to be there to watch. Everything else, however, is on the table, so do with that as you will.” He finished off his coffee and pushed himself off the side of the couch. Before the Wolverine could even respond, he had one last thing to say before he would take his leave.

“Oh, and Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll know if you fucked her without me.”

My panties just disappeared…how did that happen? AND my rose toy just flew into my hand like Thors hammer! Weird…

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics

follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

446 notes · View notes

opennwindows · 1 year ago

Note

May I request a smoll eyeless jack x f reader nsfw story? Or headcanons?

eyeless jack x fem reader NSFW hcs

cw: 18+ content, medical kink, breeding kink, biting, blood, kinda disrespecting boundaries?? kinda not??, afab fem aligned reader

a/n: hey let’s all ignore my wildly different formatting for each post until i figure out wtf i’m doing lmfao. i decided to do hcs for this since i enjoy rambling and i have a couple fics already lined up and those take significantly longer for me to write!! i hope that’s okay anon, i just want to get more stuff posted :) also i threw a bunch of random ideas together for this so if you’d like anything else more specific please req again!

sooo we all know eyeless jack is a demon, right? to say dude is into some freaky shit would be an understatement.

- jack has a higher sex drive than most due to his demon tendencies. pair that with the rush he gets after a good evening of organ harvesting and you’re in for a Very Long Night. his stamina is also no joke.

- wear a short skirt? it’s getting cut off with his scalpel. accidentally slice your finger while chopping vegetables? well you better turn off the stove because he’s bending you over it. he senses you’re ovulating? he’s fucking you twice as much.

- if you’re into medical play and getting cut up with surgery tools he will be over the moon.

- if not, you’re gonna have to have a sit down talk with jack. he will do his best, but he can end up viewing you as just a lowly human at times. you’re gonna have to put your foot down sternly to fully gain his respect. he cares about your boundaries (somewhat), it just takes a minute to get through to his human side.

- on that note, don’t even dream of dominating him. he’ll laugh in your face and restrain you if the idea even crosses your mind. the thought of a weaker being telling him what to do during sex is comical to jack. he might let you ride him if he’s feeling lazy, but his clawed hands will be gripped around your waist as a silent reminder of who’s in charge.

- he’s into degradation. not the typical “you’re a whore” shit. no, this guy will take every chance to remind you that you’re just a fragile little human that’s only breathing because he lets you. if you feed into his ego, jack will reward you with his face between your thighs for hours.

- ooh let me take a moment to talk about this monster’s tongue. godly is an ironic term to describe anything involving jack but it’s the only fitting word. it’s long, slightly textured, quick and strong. he looooves to edge you until you inevitably break and the only words you can form are broken pleas. you’re gonna have to pry him off of you during your periods. he’s a little nasty

- jack will pretty much refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you or your mouth. during sex, he tends to fully give into his animalistic demon qualities. meaning the only thing running through his mind is ‘breed, breed, breed.’

- big corruption kink. like MASSIVE. i think all the pastas have some form of corruption kink, but obviously the whole demon thing brings it to a new level. if you were a virgin when you met him, he’s gonna have to physically restrain himself from pouncing on you the second its brought up in conversation.

- let’s talk about positions. jack’s not really picky as long as he’s fucking your brains out but he does have a few favorites. mating press is almost always a winner since it feeds into his need to breed (i crack myself up). missionary is a classic that ensures he can have complete control. jack is also a fan of fucking on operating tables???? don’t ask me ask him, he’s odd. his least favorites involve 69, cowgirl, or pretty much anything that involves you on top of him. he doesn’t really get tired so doing all the work doesn’t bother him.

- will 100% spit in your mouth and he doesn’t care if you think it’s gross. get used to it sorry. if you’re into it then you’ve won.

- probably will throw a tantrum if he finds out you masturbated without him. he’s given you so much special attention and you still want more? well. he’s gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be too sore to even think about touching yourself. i’m praying for you girl good luck.

- LOVES TO BITE ON YOUR CHEST AND NECK. i cannot stress this enough. and he WILL draw blood, i mean his mouth is full of sharp teeth so it’s basically a given. bro will be fucking you and straight up take a drink break FROM YOUR THROAT. be prepared to never show your neck or cleavage in public ever again. unless you’re into that. then you go girl, we’re all cheering for you.

- jack thinks it’s hilarious to say terrifying unsexy shit during sex. “i can’t wait to cut you open and eat those delicious kidneys that belong to me….” you just look at him with your mouth open. you’d be better off ignoring his annoying ass he (probably) doesn’t mean it.

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x reader #celia reqs #eyeless jack headcanon #i refuse to abbreviate creepypasta yall are crazy for that

2K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Note

hii idk if ur taking requests but can u write sth with rockstar!remus who’s like full of adrenaline after a shkw and just kisses r ☹️☹️ the others wont let them be LOLLL😭😭😭 hope ur having an amazing day 💘

You have an amazing day too !

rockstar!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 643 words

James all but sprints off the stage, as he always does, working off his post-show adrenaline the best way he knows how. His routine seems unaltered by the fact that this is the biggest show the boys have played yet, but you don’t suppose he can really kick it into a higher gear than it already is. It’s also entertaining for the rest of you, watching him hurdle over sound equipment and careen past frightened-looking crew members before calling a “sorry!” behind him.

You know to expect Remus behind him, leaving the stage at a slower pace while Sirius stays and soaks up the energy for as long as he can before someone physically drags him off, but you’re not expecting the unusual energy about your boyfriend when he comes in.

Remus is crackling, the exact sound of when he plugs his bass into the amp but around him like an aura. Your heart kicks in your chest.

You beam at him, holding up the small bouquet you’d impulse-bought at a stand a few blocks from the venue. You feel a bit silly, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind.

He lets out a breathy little laugh at the sight of you and shakes his head as he takes two long strides, grasping your hips and pressing you into the wall.

The flowers are instantly forgotten. Remus’ mouth is warm and insistent on yours, his knee pushing in between your legs and his nose pressed into your cheek. You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until he breaks the kiss.

He sets both hands on your cheeks. There are crew members buzzing around you, and the crowd is still thrumming outside, and somewhere James is talking loudly, but Remus’ face is the only thing in the world. Scarred and sweaty and smiling at you.

“Great show,” you scrape out.

Another short laugh. If you didn’t know better, you’d say your boyfriend was giddy. “Yeah?” He gives you another kiss, shorter but still shock-happy. His lips stay curved against yours. “I thought so,” he admits, a bit softer, like a secret.

You lower your voice to match. “You were incredible.”

Remus grins even bigger, brilliant and totally unlike himself. He’s practically glowing.

“Remus,” Sirius shouts, prancing toward the both of you with his usual regard for private intimacy, “if you’d pause in fondling your girlfriend, James says we’ve got a group out back who wants autographs.”

Remus drops his forehead to yours, his disbelieving puff of air tickling over your nose. You pet down the hairs at his nape.

“Oh, are these for us?” Sirius sounds delighted. Remus doesn’t take the bait, but you do, turning to find him looking at the flowers hanging limply from your grasp. “Doll, you shouldn’t have!”

“How could I resist,” you play along, letting go of Remus to ease one of the stems out from the rest. Sirius takes it from you happily. “They go so well with your outfits.”

“More Remus’ than ours,” James notes, coming over. He’s even sweatier than the other two, but his excess energy seems mostly spent, “but I’m sure that’s only coincidence.”

“Certainly,” Sirius agrees. “She’d never pick favorites. Say, babe, want me to sign something of yours?”

“She’s good,” Remus answers for you, tugging you closer and touching his lips to your brow. “I’ve got this one.”

“I’ll bet you do.” James is grinning. He prods Remus’ shoulder, encouraging you both to follow him towards where the fans are waiting. “She may not pick favorites, but you will, is that right?”

“Enough,” Remus says, but he’s still too happy to work up any real rancor.

“Oh, I already know you’re gonna get an extra special autograph, doll,” Sirius teases. Your face starts to heat. “Likely when we see you tomorrow, he’ll have left you some even darker than a marker could do—”

“Enough.”

794 notes · View notes

periprose · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! :)

I’m craving some Logan Howlett angsty fluff and I really like your writing style… Do you think you could maybe do a fic where either Logan and reader are in the heat of the moment and his claws come out and he scratches her. Or where Logan has a nightmare and the same thing happens. Either way the reader ends up comforting him.

Thank you! 🩷 :)

Hi!! So sorry for getting to this so late 🥹 loved the idea btw :) ended up doing a bit of a mix of both? If that makes sense.

"Out with it."

Your voice rings out clearly among the X-Men, the throng of battle no longer around you all. It was a more exhausting battle than you would've thought, but nothing irks you more than knowing that Logan has been apparently thinking of you as someone to play babysitter to. He hadn't trusted you to make your final blow to the enemy, and instead scooped you away to safety before lashing out with his own claws.

Logan clearly has something to say to you, and you want to hear it. You're not going to let him escape again- the way he always does, nonchalantly, refusing to acknowledge how he treats you.

Charles stiffens next to you in the helicarrier. Watching the tension, feeling the palpable heart-wrenching sensation between you and Logan. He doesn't know how you got to this point.

"Listen. Just because you didn't have it doesn't mean you're not a good X-Man-" Logan starts dismissively.

"But I did! I did have it!" You shout back at him, and then inhale carefully. "Nobody told you to rescue me, Logan. If I was about to die, then I was. I wanted that to be on my own terms."

"Don't talk like you're a fucking martyr when you've never had the privilege, kid." Logan's unnecessarily harsh tone has you flinching. "Do you know how many people I've seen die, for no good reason? Do you really want a bunch of Pentagon psychos to be your last memory?"

"Shut up." You shift in your seat, feeling small. "We don't get to choose when we die. Not like you."

Logan becomes visibly angered with that, the little taunt you've made towards his immortality. "That doesn't mean you have to go seek it out, dumbass."

"Oh really? Don't tell me you're getting soft, Logan." You glare at him, and Charles and Jean and Scott look at each other uncertainly. "Just because your life is so long doesn't mean the rest of us have forgotten what it means to be alive."

There's an unspoken, sudden charge in the air, now that you've mentioned what everyone else has the good sense to shut up about- Logan having lived so long and not caring about the consequences of his actions. Logan's eyes narrow until you feel sure that you've pushed him too far this time- he looks more animal than human, more Wolverine than ever- and you feel yourself inching forward, letting the anger of not being understood push you to fighting him- and Charles suddenly raises his hand in protest.

"Please, you two. I'm not sure what has transpired today, but I know you are better than choosing to have a physical altercation on a helicarrier flight." His calm, soothing tone makes you feel a little disappointed in yourself, and you settle back in your seat, refusing to meet his or Jean's glances of concern.

All you really wanted was an apology. A "Sorry, I won't do that again." Or even an explanation for why Logan keeps tabs on you all the time, never letting you be a real part of the X-Men, always safely on the sidelines. Were you just too weak?

Should you even be here?

You feel guilty for what you said to him. It's not a bad thing, you know, that Logan doesn't want you to get hurt- it's just that you want to do your job. You're not a kid.

It almost, almost justifies how you treated him, but even you know that was too far. You can't act as if you know Logan's life story- not even Charles or Jean would claim to do that, and they've searched his mind for memories several times.

Like it or not, the man was mysterious. He kept to himself on a lot of things, citing past hurt as his reason why- and you should've respected that.

"Maybe I am weak." You mutter to yourself, wondering why you can't restrain your emotions around Logan.

You're practicing shooting small, psionic blasts towards the target in your room- it's a great way to pass the time when you can't sleep- when you hear a groan, a shudder, an angry, deep growl-

It sounds like Logan. His room is right above yours, and the sounds are definitely coming from there- you hear him yell, and before you can stop yourself, you're bounding up the stairs to the third floor of the X-Mansion, bursting through his room's door with a ready hand, in case you need to fight.

Logan watches as you berate him in his dream.

Actually, it's not quite you- it's some venomous, evil, witch wearing your face. You giggle at him- you call him old- you don't take him seriously.

With every taunt, you fire another bright purple blast at him- and for once, his body doesn't heal instantaneously. He is getting old, getting hurt, watching as blood pools out of him. It's agonizingly painful.

He's going to die this time, without making it right with you- he's afraid that you're right about him, that he's a washed up sad old man who can't ever let people in.

"We don't need you anymore, Logan..." The not-you whispers softly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and Logan can't help but believe it.

His self preservation instincts kick in, and he launches forward, snarling, claws out with a sharp snikt sound. He feels that even though he'll regret your death, he'll miss you immensely, it's just one more tally mark to several others.

"Logan. Logan!"

You're leaning over Logan's sweaty, clammy body in his bed. You watch as his hands fist in the sheets, and he tosses and turns in agony- you breathe in hesitation, in fear that he's not going to be okay- he grunts suddenly, and you're reminded of how Rogue tells you about his nightmares. They're frequent.

How out of touch could you have been today?

You gently-yet-firmly grab Logan's arm, shaking, and his arms move forward in a self-defense mechanism that seems practiced, as if he's been attacked in his sleep before, and before you can move away, there's a sharp snikt sound, a quick wave of claws, and a searing pain in your side.

It all happens before you can even blink. You fall off to the side, on the floor, writhing in pain. Logan's claws just nicked your side, it's essentially a scratch- but the pain is so much worse than you're expecting, and you fall to the floor again as you try to get up.

You breathe in harshly, holding back a sob, as you feel wet blood pooling through the side of your night dress.

"Jesus Christ." Logan pounces off the bed, waking to blood all over his claws, and he's leaning over your body, as you blink up at him hesitantly. He immediately panics, lifting you up and resting you on his squatted thighs. "Kid! Hey, kid, don't close your eyes-"

"..." You're just barely hanging on, but you listen.

And Logan feels that same sense of shame he felt when he attacked Rogue, when Jean "died", every single time he had accidentally unsheathed his claws towards someone who didn't deserve it.

Doubly so, considering it's like his terrible nightmare has come to life. But you absolutely didn't do anything wrong- he can't believe he was so angry with you.

He calls for help, in a slightly broken tone, and no one seems to be coming.

"Just a scratch." You try, but Logan shakes his head.

"No, no, no." Logan spits out. "How could I- I never meant to-"

"I'm sorry, Logan." You cough, and Logan feels awful that you're apologizing while bleeding out due to his actions. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not some unreliable old man who doesn't care..."

You flinch at a sudden, sharp pain, and Logan motions for you to stop talking, but you keep going.

"If anything, you're the opposite. You're there for me. And I'm sorry that I got so... so angry at you for that." You mutter to yourself, not aware of how Logan hangs onto your words. "You're protecting me from making mistakes, and I'm grateful."

"No, kid. You had a point before." Logan interjects, but you shake your head.

"Did I? Or was I being a brat?" You grimace at yourself.

"You did have a point. I was being selfish," Logan shakes his head and then swallows that urge to push you away. "I don't always know how to leave people well enough alone. Sometimes I'm too much."

He hesitates, and then continues on. "Like, I treat you as if you're a nuisance, right? But I always... I always want you next to me. And I know I should just sort my shit out like an adult. But I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of what happens. What always happens." Logan sighs in defeat. "I fall in love, and they die. I find my people, and they leave me because I'm such a jackass. There's too much surrounding me that just... ruins everything."

"No, no. I won't leave." You tighten your hand around Logan's, and he, despite wanting to say that you're wounded because of him, believes you. He's so grateful to hear you say it- he had no idea that's what was weighing on him so badly.

He loves you, he knows he does. Logan has never been the best with feelings, but for once, he's glad he was honest.

The first thing Scott sees when he finally makes his way to Logan's room, from all the way across the X-Mansion, is Logan whispering "I'm sorry," and... he thinks (he's not 100% sure), "I love you," to your very forlorn, softly curved-around-him body.

It's a very tender moment, and Scott feels he should leave.

Then Logan presses a firm, shaky kiss on your forehead, and then your lips, and you, with your limited reserve of energy, kiss him back, and then Scott interjects with:

"Hey!...?"

He seems taken aback as you both look at him. "I heard screaming? What is this, some sort of weird cult sacrificial scenario?"

"Logan... had a... nightmare..." You wince, and Scott sees the red on your night gown. "I need... medical attention."

"On it." Scott glances at Logan for permission, and he's currently trying to push all these mushy feelings back into his chest where they belong, and he wants to be there to help you in the clinic, but he's flustered with everything that's happened and he can only hand you to Scott without looking at him.

Scott smirks to himself as he runs you to the clinic of the X-Mansion.

"You and Logan, huh? I knew there was something in that fight today." Scott remarks as you cling to him.

"It's taken an embarrassingly long time for me to figure it out, but yeah." You blush. "Has everyone else...?"

"Jean's been running a bet for the last year." Scott laughs. "She says you both are two sides of the same coin."

You can't help but agree.

#logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine #old man logan #wolverine angst #james logan howlett x reader #marvel x reader #xmen x reader #x men x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #x-men angst #ask #requests

3K notes · View notes

lessbienlesbian · 9 months ago

Text

mizu x fem!reader nsfw a-z relationship headcanons

i’m sorry this took so long for me to write, but i hope y’all enjoy!

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

after both you and mizu have reached your peak, she is honestly quite clingy, although she would never admit this to anyone else. she would hold you protectively and press gentle kisses to your forehead and hairline, all while whispering about how well you did and asking if she can get you anything.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

mizu loves her hands. she loves what they look like, how they feel, and most importantly what she can do with them. she is proud of the calluses that cover them and she is proud of the skill and nimbleness with which she can use her sword and make you come undone. her favorite part of your body is your eyes, more specifically the fact that she can look into them and see so clearly that your intentions and love for her are genuine.

c = cum (anything to do with cum)

mizu loves to eat you out. she genuinely thinks that you taste so good, and will bury her face in your pussy until your juices are dripping down her chin as she looks up at you with that stupid adorable cocky smirk. sometimes she will even hold a glistening finger up to the light for you to see.

“look at this baby, is this all for me?”

“god, you smell so good. stay still sweetheart, let me taste you.”

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory)

honestly, mizu’s dirty secret is just how horny and absolutely whipped she is for you. she’s got it so bad and she would do absolutely anything for you. i know that’s not really dirty per say, but she’s pretty open about most other things.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

mizu is not very experienced at all. her only partner before you was mikio, and the sex she had with him was pleasing to her but not particularly outstanding. it also didn’t involve much action or movement on her part, so she would have a lot to learn when first being intimate with you. however, mizu is a very quick and eager learner. it is almost frustrating how naturally good she is at knowing how to touch you in just the right way.

f = favorite position

mizu is a fan of any position where she gets to be as close to you as possible. she really values the closeness and physical intimacy that goes along with having sex. bonus points if she can easily hide her face because she gets hella shy.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

mizu can actually be pretty lighthearted in the moment. i wouldn’t go as far as calling her humorous, but the playful and teasing side to her personality is definitely present. she also enjoys a playful “fight” for dominance at times, she just can’t help it with her competitive nature.

h = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

mizu has very dark brown pubic hair that matches the hair on her head. she has a full bush and doesn’t do anything along the lines of hair removal.

i = intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment)

oh dear god mizu is so romantic. she’ll hold your hand while you fuck her, make eye contact for as long as she can, and whisper sweet nothings and intimate confessions into your ear. like by day mizu is slicing people up on the hunt to kill her potential father, and by night she’s blushing and trying to hide her face while you gently kiss her cute little pink nose. like damn, get you a girl that can do both.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

it is my personal opinion that mizu does not masturbate outside of a brief period of self discovery as an adolescent and then maybe after getting together with you if the two of you are separated for a lengthy period for whatever reason.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

i am a firm believer that mizu is very into praise, both when it comes to you and her. she LOVES to be told that she’s doing a good job and that she’s pretty because let’s face it, this girl does not hear that kinda shit very often (or at all). god she’s just so cute, shyly hiding her face in your shoulder so you can’t see how much she is blushing, biting her lip to silence the small whimpers she’s letting out, tentatively reaching over to interlace her fingers with yours. and those shy little “shut ups” mumbled in your ear are just the icing on the cake.

l = location (favorite places to do the deed)

mizu doesn’t really have a preferred location. as long as the two of you are safe and not in the view of other people, she’s good to go.

m = motivation (what turns them on)

she gets very turned on when/if the two of you spar together. the combination of competition, physical closeness, and playfulness just does it for her.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i’ll just list some off. blood, bondage (her receiving), intense degradation, exhibitionism, cnc, threesomes, intense humiliation, and breeding kink (i’ll explain this one at the end of this section). basically, she is pretty opposed to anything that makes her feel unsafe or like she doesn’t have control over what’s happening to her. that is not to say that she would be unwilling to submit if she really trusted you, she just greatly fears being taken advantage of. okay now to explain the breeding kink. i know this may be an unpopular opinion and while i do think our girl has MAD strap game, i do not think she would be into the idea of breeding. at her core, mizu feels resentment towards those who conceived her because of her hatred for and the stigma towards being mixed race. it is because of this that i believe that anything suggesting the idea of creating more people like her (even if it couldn’t actually happen) would be a major mood killer.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

mizu can be a bit sloppy when she eats you out, but she definitely prefers to give. her lack of experience combined with her tendency to just get fully pussy drunk leads to her eagerly lapping up your cum for as long as you’ll let her.

“mizu please” you groan with your hands tangled in her hair. “my clit, i need you on my clit”

p = pace

the pace at which you have sex with mizu really depends on how much time you have on your hands. she prefers to take her time with you, spending as long as possible worshipping every inch of your body. if mizu is feeling frustrated or stressed, her pace becomes more frantic and desperate as she seeks her and your release.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

if necessary, mizu will have a quickie with you, but she much prefers proper sex. realistically though, quickies are often all that there is time/proper security for, so she makes the best of the circumstances.

r = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

honestly, after everything that she has been through, mizu is not a risk taker when it comes to her sex life. she would be pretty vanilla when it comes to physical safety.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

when mizu is on top she can go for a very long time. she takes pride in how good she can make you feel; teasing you, edging you, and making you cum over and over until you’re a quivering mess beneath her. however, she is a different story entirely. despite her incredible physical strength and stamina, mizu is so incredibly sensitive and it does not take very much stimulation or very long for her to cum.

t = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

mizu does not own any toys when you first meet her, as pleasure was not necessarily a priority. however, if you suggest it to her, she would DEFINITELY be open to using a harigata (dildo/strap on) and maybe even a tagaigata (double sided dildo). wearing a strap would boost her confidence an insane amount, and she’d take great pride in how well she can fuck you.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

mizu loves to tease you but is not a fan of being teased. she relishes in the way that you squirm beneath her and beg for more as that cocky little grin spreads over her smug face. but when it comes to her pleasure, as much as she is embarrassed to admit it, mizu is quite desperate and impatient.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

as evidenced by that one scene with mikio, mizu is actually pretty loud. her voice is high, feminine, and desperate. when she is trying her best to be quiet, she will express her pleasure through whimpers, gasps, and soft whispers. when volume is not a concern, the room will be flooded with loud moans and cries.

w = wild card (a random headcanon)

i think that mizu has incredibly sensitive nipples and if she let you touch them for long enough, she could cum from nipple stimulation alone. the first time this happens she is absolutely mortified, but you reassure her that it is perfectly alright.

“w-wait, y/n!” mizu whimpers, her back arching in desperation. her slender body writhes under your unrelenting touch, small gasps leaving her lips as you tug on her aching nipples.

x = x-ray

mizu is slender, toned, and lean. she is incredibly muscular and slim because of the intensity with which she trains and she is about 5’6 or 5’7. she has firm a-cup breasts with average sized pink nipples, but they are typically hidden under the fabric she uses to bind her chest. her pussy is an innie, and unless her legs are fully spread, you can only see her outer lips. when she opens herself up to you, her small clit is hidden beneath its dusky pink hood. her glistening hole is tight and small, and much to her chagrin, clenches and flutters desperately at even the slightest bit of stimulation. the poor girl is just so sensitive and needy.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

as much as she hates to admit it, mizu has a very high sex drive. she gets turned on super easily, especially when it comes to anything involving you. you could literally brush your fingertips against her hip and she would become a flustered mess.

z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

mizu can fall asleep pretty quickly, but she prefers to stay awake until you are asleep. if you catch onto this habit and decide to question her about it, she will deny it. watching over you to make sure that your sleep is restful and you are under her protection for as long as possible doesn’t exactly fit her image in the beginning. then, by the time you’ve gotten to see her softer side, she will deny it more for your sake. she doesn’t want you to know how much she worries about you for fear of teasing, being a smothering presence, and being admonished for sacrificing her own basic needs to make sure that yours are met. as much as mizu fronts as a combative, snarky, and abrasive person, she is also deathly afraid of conflict and abandonment with/from those she truly loves and cares about. that is to say, she wouldn’t want to get into an argument with you about how she needs to take care of herself better. she prefers to close her eyes and just listen to your breathing as it slowly evens out, leaving you unaware of her ploy. unbeknownst to her, you are aware of this “secret” scheme, and you let her get away with it. after all, it’s just another way that she tells you that she loves you, without expecting anything in return.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #bes mizu #mizu #mizu x you #bes mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #mizu smut #mizu x y/n

833 notes · View notes

kinopio-writes · 6 months ago

Text

HH Characters x Physically Affectionate!Reader (Pt.2)

A/N: The last part. Enjoy, lol.

Bonus character: Zestial!

Warnings: Mention of sex on Adam’s and Vox’s part, but nothing explicit

———

Sir Pentious

• he’s not used to it and is uncomfortable with it (he makes a weird face every time you touch him)

• he’ll be fine after you two become close, though

• but don’t try to overdo it

• if he likes you romantically, however, he blushes crazy every time you touch him

• he doesn’t really have a favorite one

• he turns red no matter what

• and his love language (receiving end) is more about words of affirmation, anyway

———

Lucifer Morningstar

• if you’re together with Lucifer, he’s likely smitten with you, so he becomes really giddy whenever you give him affection

• he probably starts stimming (doing little kicks or squealing)

• this guy loves to be held a lot

• oh, but he loves it when you nuzzle into him

• his favorite is forehead touching

• it’s really tender and he melts at that type of affection

———

Adam

• usually, every time you touch him, he’ll think that you want to fuck

• so he’s fucking confused whenever you don’t escalate any further than a kiss

• he does that thing where even when you pull away, he’s still leaning toward you, eyes fluttering

• he’ll probably get used to it

• his favorite is when you just cling to him

• if you’re not short enough to do that, he loves it when you just put your head on top of his while you two are curling up on the couch (he finds it cute)

• he also loves getting massages from you

———

Lute

• she’s not affectionate in general nor is she a fan of it

• so if she’s not that close to you, you better back the fuck up ’cause she’s going to take that as a genuine attack

• it’s worse if you do it out of nowhere (seriously, you will end up with a broken arm)

• but, if you two are sort of close and she’s used to your affections, she’s aloof to it all

• she will even start to initiate them herself unknowingly

• it’s because she mirrors the people she likes, which is not a lot, lol (everyone does this—I think—but Lute’s just more noticeable)

• back rubs are her favorite (not full-on massages, though, just a little rub after she got done training or something)

• she might like head pats, too (she feels praised whenever you do it. This works exceptionally well if you’re taller than her)

———

Vox

• he’s not that physically affectionate

• unless it’s sexual

• he’d be pretty weirded out if you just wanted to hold hands or something

• but after he gets used to it, he becomes nonchalant about it

• he’ll start grabbing your hand on his own accord (it becomes instinctive)

• he’s fine with PDA, but don’t try to be all lovey-dovey when he’s in conversation or dealing with someone else

• his favorite is when you two are just snuggled up on the couch doing your own separate thing

———

Zestial

• I added him in because I wanted it to be even

• anyway, he’s more hand-kissing and linking arms type of gentleman

• and the most he’ll do in public is link arms

• he thinks displays of affection should be private

• even then, he’s not that physically affectionate

• he doesn’t have a favorite, but considering that he’s cold-blooded, he quite likes it when you snuggle onto him and make him warm (this only works well if you’re just as tall as him, lol)

———

A/N: The next three requests I’m going to post at a much later date will probably suck ass. Sorry to the ones who send those in. And for making you wait a long time as well. If they even remember…

My favorite ones to write from the two posts were…mostly everyone! These were so fun to write. I sort of had a writer panic midway, but it was still fun. It’s probably because I used too many parentheses and it bothered me or something.

#hazbin hotel x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #lute x reader #vox x reader #zestial x reader #hazbin hotel sir pentious #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel zestial #kinopiowrites

467 notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 8 months ago

Note

Hi bwaby ~ I’m new to your page and I love your yandere posts ^^ I’m reading the ones you’ve written for Kurapika. I saw your requests were open.

How do you think hxh yanderes would respond to their captive s/o having a panic/anxiety attacks when their captor tries to get intimate? How would they go about that?

🖤 ur work 🖤🖤🖤 thnx

Yandere!HXH respond to you panicking during intimacy

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: dubcon, panic attack, bad aftercare, forced cuddling, slight manipulation/coercion with Chrollo(it backfires), vomit in Chrollo’s, Feitan is emotionally distant, Kurapika is unstable

A/N: just a little note that none of my yanderes will ever rape the reader. I just include dubious consent because being captive blurs the lines of consent. Can you really consent when you’re captive? I don’t know, so I include it just in case, even though in my eyes reader is always consenting during these acts. I’m not comfortable with writing out rape, so this situation is the farthest I go.

characters included: Kurapika, Leorio, Chrollo, Feitan, Illumi

Yandere NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @pannacottababy

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Kurapika

First of all, Kurapika is VERY hesitant to initiate any intimacy after he takes you away. He wants you to get used to your captivity before he starts anything.

Kurapika is also the only yandere on this list that won’t be overly pushy in terms of physical contact most if the time, and honestly he’s okay if you never love him again… even if he really wants you to love him and give him lots of affection. He knows he did something unforgivable by taking you away from your life, and he’s willing to be hated by you if it means you’ll be safe.

Now, when you do eventually initiate some kind of intimacy he is over the moon. He would do anything for you, desperate to please you and make the experience as good as possible. Kurapika wants your love, your physical touch, and he wants it willingly.

So when he initiates, kissing along your neck with his hand gently rubbing your clothed cunt, he stops immediately when you start to panic. “My angel? Are you okay?”

He’s quick to pull away and give you space. His hands shake and he feels guilt and panic rise in his own chest. Did he just ruin all of the progress the two of you had?

But you calm down after a little, and lean against him. “I… I’m sorry, I just… I got really anxious.”

He’s quick to wrap his arms around you, tentatively smoothing out your hair. “Don’t apologize… shh, just relax. We don’t have to do anything.”

Kurapika spends the rest of the night just a bit unstable, terrified that he’ll do something to upset you. He just loves you so much and he doesn’t want to lose your love and affection when he just got it back. The next day he makes sure to pamper you more than usual, and he’s almost a bit clingy… as if he’s scared he’ll lose you.

Leorio

He’s pretty handsy, though most of his touches are just affectionate in nature. When you cuddle, he has his hand in your ass or thigh, kneading at the soft flesh.

Leorio likes to have you in his lap as often as possible, where he can move you as he pleases as cover you in kisses as he holds you as close as possible.

He’s eager to get back to sex after he takes you, though he won’t push… too much. Leorio is just super clingy and you’re already sitting pretty on his lap, the only thing separating you from his is that pretty skirt you’re wearing!

It was a normal day, with you sitting in his lap after he tugged you his way. But this time, instead of the usual soft squish he’d give your thigh or kisses to your cheek or the top of your head, Leorio started moving you back and forth against the bulge firming in his pants.

You instantly froze, feeling his warm breath on your neck. When you began to panic and cry, Leorio paused for a moment. “Princess? Something wrong?”

When you started to struggle, he gently set you down. The air was thick and heavy with tension and awkward energy. He scratched the back of his neck, his boner gone. “You alright?”

You shook your head. “I… I don’t want to, Leorio… I’m scared…”

He felt his heart break a little, but he was quick to reach out and gently ruffle your hair. “Don’t be scared… I won’t… do anything to you that you don’t want…”

But it felt a bit hypocritical, considering he did steal you from your old life against your will. Leorio had standards though, and one of those was not assaulting people.

That night, he was way less clingy than usual, giving you some space and time to process things… but you joined him in bed for snuggles later.

Chrollo

He kept telling you he wanted to make your first time with him special, that he’d buy you flowers and pretty lingerie to wear. He even suggested getting a nicer hotel than usual, which was shocking because the hotels you usually stayed in with him were beyond luxurious.

So when the special night came, he took you out to a fancy dinner, letting you order whatever you wanted. You had become very complacent, accepting the fact you’d never be able to escape him… not even in death.

So you are your food, and you bathed before putting on the set of lingerie he surely paid a high price for, and sat on the bed, waiting for him to get back from a meeting with some phantom troupe members that were in town.

The wait already had you anxious, but the way he kept going on and on about how perfect he made everything and how much effort he put into this night put a lot of pressure on you to do well.

And that was on purpose. He wanted you to know just how much he had done for you… how much he craved and adored you. With him, you would be endlessly pampered and loved… all you had to do was be a good girl and do as he said.

So by the time he got back, you were already anxiously fidgeting with your lacy black lingerie, biting your lip.

Now… he didn’t want to make you anxious, just a little nervous. He thought it would be cute to see you squeak like a timid little mouse as he took you… he didn’t want you to stiffly lie down and tear up when he unbuttoned his shirt.

And he hadn’t expected you to throw up from the stress of it all.

He felt a bit guilty, you were crying and muttering apologies as he called for room service, trying to clean it up yourself. Had he instilled that much fear in you that you shook in terror at the thought of upsetting you? That’s not what Chrollo wanted… despite his sly and manipulative nature, he wanted you to genuinely love him and see him as someone that protected and took care of you.

So once you calmed down a little, he pulled you in and snuggled you, kissing the top of your head. “I..: apologize. We’ll do this at your pace.”

You couldn’t really break away from his grip… and you didn’t want to anger him, so you let him hold you close and gently rock you.

Feitan

Feitan already is absolute garbage with intimacy, so it’s rare he’ll initiate anything. He’s both insecure and emotionally distant, but also longs for your affection and physical touch.

But he also HATES physical touch… so being his darling is a confusing experience where you’re constantly walking on eggshells.

The rare instances when he tries to be intimate with you, you almost leap with joy. He’s the only other human you have physical contact with, and you’ve almost gone crazy without touch and affection.

He’s very insecure and sensitive to rejection, so when he touches you, even if it’s just subpar, you praise him endlessly with soft whimpers and moans. He’s pretty skilled with his fingers considering he was a virgin before he met you.

So when he’s got his hands on your hips and ready to push his cock into your pretty pussy, instead of the usual happy whines you make… you instead whimper and shy away from him.

He’s tortured many people, so he can recognize the signs of a panic attack easily. You don’t know what came over you, but you just started to break down, crying and rocking yourself.

Feitan froze up, not knowing what to do. He’s not used to comforting others, and he already feels the harsh sting of rejection from your reaction. Was he that bad?

But… he’s able to push that away. He puts a blanket over your naked form and gently rubs your back while looking the other way.

“… don’t have to. Just say when don’t want it.”

And that’s all you get. He doesn’t kiss away your tears or clean you up… but it’s a big step forward. For Feitan, comforting another human being is hard, so the fact he’s trying for you proves that you mean something to him.

659 notes · View notes

ramblinscramblin · 20 days ago

Text

→ General kissing headcanons!

Genre: fluff! GN reader

Characters: all mercenaries

Requested by me! First one of these, still getting a feel for writing for a lot these characters so forgive me if it’s ooc, I try my hardest! Enjoy!

Scout

Spends more time talking about kissing then actually doing it, psychs himself out a lot of time, may end up not even being able to do it.

He’s a nervous wreck when it comes to initiating physical contact, you’ll have to initiate most of the kisses most of the time (hehe).

Will pretend it’s you who’s nervous though, even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Look at you, you’re tremblin’ in your seat! Maybe some other night…” he said once, throwing an uncaring arm around the back of the couch.

“Scout, I’m not nervous… are you?” You pause for a moment, scanning his burning face “you are!”

“Nah! I’m not! What’s there to be nervous ’bout? Who even friggin’ cares not me! I’m relaxed!” He shouted as he quickly jumped to his feet “forget this! Im leavin’!”

Despite his reservations, once the two of you actually get into it, he warms up nicely. The anticipation is really what drives him crazy.

Scout definitely grabs at you whenever you two kiss, whatever he can reach really, your hips, jaw, neck, hands, thighs, whatever is closest.

Most of Scouts kisses are good natured, short, and sweet, he interrupts himself often to start a new train of thoughts. Extremely chatty during make out sessions, it’s almost endearing.

Deeper kisses are a pretty dangerous game for him, so he tends to keep that behavior for the bedroom.

Enjoys a good kiss on his forehead, would fucking die before he admitted that though.

Demoman

Really easy lover in pretty much every regard.

Demoman is looking for a good time, all the time, so long as you treat him with respect, kisses are pretty hard not to come by.

He’s almost always the one to make the first move (usually using a little bit of liquid courage to put a pep in his step).

“Yer lookin’ right as ever, wasna mor’ bonny cunt all night,” he said with a massive grin.

Sometimes it was a little hard to understand what he was saying, his facial expression usually tells you whether he means “cunt” in a negative or positive way. Clearly he is more than well intentioned.

“I’m… sorry,” you apologize with a gentle laugh “what was that?”

He placed a soft kiss right on the side of your mouth “I meant you look good, laddie/lassie.”

After that he pretty much kisses you all the time whenever for whatever.

LOVES IT when you take the reins though and kiss him, he always scoops you up and gives a big laugh, making a huge spectacle out of it.

Lots of drunk making out, I don’t make the rules.

Kisses you wherever you let him, no real preference, but loves to kiss your cheek and you his.

Solider

Solider is honestly a pretty hard read for me.

I feel like Solider takes most his cues from you, if you’re shy and nervous, he tends to act the same, if you’re confident and assertive, so is he.

Surprisingly, doesn’t take the lead very often, prefers if you tell him what you want, he hates reading social situations, especially when he tends to fail so often.

“Hey Solider,” you greet warmly one day.

“Hello maggot!” Strangely, despite the antagonistic nature of the nickname he still salutes you as you approach.

The two of you stand silently for a moment, before inevitably asking your most burning question “wanna make out?”

“Affirmative,” he said enthusiastically.

Most things with Solider are pretty simple, he’s a no nonsense fellow, he likes things to be American, and straight forward.

Kisses from him are always really fulfilling and deep, he likes kissing you before and after battle for “good luck”.

Kisses you on the back your neck and shoulders whenever they’re out, he loves that tender shit.

He likes to be taken seriously in his romances, no jokes during those times.

Always grabs the nape of your neck, almost always pulls away smiling. He’s a sweet heart.

Pyro

Pyro loves kisses.

Always secretly angling for them, anyway they can.

Pyro came up to you early one morning, a plate full of… what may at some point been then cinnamon buns saved in the communal fridge, but now were burnt to a crisp.

“Oh… is this for me! Thank you,” you smiled politely, taking the plate in your hands.

“Hudda hudda!” Mumbled Pyro happily, hands clasped in excitement.

You leaned forward and place a soft kiss on the side of their mask.

Pyro was so geeked and giddy, they didn’t even realize that you had discarded the cinnamon buns behind your back.

Big cartoony kisses on their mask, make a big show of it, with a loud “mwah!” As you pull away, they’re already melting.

Most kisses come when Pyro and you are cuddling, which is also a frequently required assignment from Pyro.

Every time they kiss you, you can hear a very muffled and yet extremely enthusiastic smecking sound from inside their mask.

Spy

Spy is headstrong with romance, never the kind of guy to pull his punches. He’s so charming though that you may not even notice.

He’s a gentleman, so there is actually a lot that has to happen before he is willing to kiss you.

Lots of flirting and courting, everything, the entire nine yards. Makes you feel like royalty. First date also needs to happen before he kisses you.

“I can pull out my own seat, Spy,” you scold a little half heartedly.

Spy just stares at you, half offended for a moment before saying “don’t speak nonsense, mon amor! It’s bad luck!”

You hardly lift a finger during the entire date, even goes as far as feeding you, ends the night with an incredibly scenic walk back home and a kiss under the New Mexico moonlight.

Once kissing becomes regular for the two of you… it still almost always treated like a first kiss. Passionate, polite, loving. Spy is honestly so dreamy when he’s courting someone.

Doesn’t take much to bring out his hungrier side though, craves your kisses a little too insatiably at times. He just cannot get enough of you!

Hand kisses, constant hand kisses. Holds your hand often so it is easy to quickly bring to his lips for a quick peck.

Sniper

Sniper may take the longest to convince out of all of them.

I mean you can rush into it and kiss him unexpectedly, but really you’d be shooting yourself in the foot. Plus Sniper deserves to be worked for.

Spending constant quality time takes a lot of effort, but it’s what is required to get him even close to comfortable with the idea of kissing someone.

Tends to stay out of the romance scene, things can get messy in his profession he doesn’t want to drag anyone else into it.

But oh god he thinks about it constantly, especially when you start hanging around more and more, too strict on policy to admit it.

But if it’s technically your idea? Well… it wouldn’t exactly be very polite to decline now would it?

You’re sitting with him around a campfire, shoulder to shoulder on a log he cut a little too short (definitely not on purpose).

“So… quiet night,” you say, peeking up at him with a crooked smile.

“Uh, yup. That’s right,” he said quietly, staring down at you intensely.

Your eyes darted to his lips for just a second, but that was more than enough, you two were locked together for over an hour.

Acts awkward around you almost every single time you kiss him, not matter how long it’s been. He just cannot seem to get used to it. Don’t bring it up though, it will put him off.

Kissing snipes is rewarding every damn time because of how hard you have to work for it.

He likes to whisper sweet nothings between kisses, don’t acknowledge it, in fact don’t acknowledge any of it (Mick does not want to be perceived).

Kisses your temple, frequently. Loves if you pick up the same habit.

Engie

Engie is a fiend for physical affection, it’s a secret you’re not supposed to know about it though.

Finds kissing to be the most important part of a relationship, really values the whole intimacy of it.

Even despite that I imagine that he’s not really flashy about his approach with how to get kisses, talks around it mostly, making jokes and jabs about it.

Engie is probably the most emotionally intelligent out of all the mercs, so he’ll work up the courage eventually just give him a minute or two.

“So… we’ve been gettin’ pretty close, havin’ a good time an’ all,” he said subtly while you were alone with him.

“Yeah, I’d agree,” you respond with a grin.

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant and confident “I think maybe we should take things to the next level, wha’d’ya say?”

Of course you accept, he’s still immensely shocked and red in the face about it though.

He likes really sudden like sickly sweet kisses, give him that corny rom-com stuff right now, he will absolutely melt.

Also likes to kiss while he hugs you, big into slipping his hands into your pockets while he does so.

Kisses your head a lot (if you’re taller than him he gets annoyed frequently that he can’t reach, you’re his prime target every time you sit down).

Just love on this man, he’s simple.

Medic

Despite how insane this guy is I feel like Medic is pretty coy with romance.

Not in a way that is shy, or insecure, or even nervous, he just enjoys being chased, he wants you to have to work for it at least a little bit.

You also have to prove to be someone worthy of his affection (which isn’t as hard as it sounds, show genuine interest in his interests and be sweet to his birds there you won).

Medic has a pretty lax kissing policy, he greets people with kisses all the time, so he wasn’t really shy with you even if things progressed more seriously.

“Oh! Good morning!” Medic exclaimed, placing a kick peck on the side of your lips.

Embarrassment clear on your face as you raise your hands in surprise, his good morning friendly kisses are usually placed squarely on the cheek, not so close to your mouth.

“Little eager this morning aren’t you?” You said in a teasing manner.

He shrugged a little, making a cheeky expression “I have no idea vhat you are talking about!”

Kisses at inopportune or awkward times, never seems to notice. Genuinely enjoys catching you off guard.

Likes make out sessions in his office a lot, secretly making mental notes about your oral situation, totally not creepy.

Expect a lot of kisses right next to your mouth, that’s his absolute favorite spot to kiss you, that or along your spine.

Heavy

Heavy is respectful to a fault honestly, is afraid of seeming creepy or imposing so he may keep his distance at first.

Definitely needs to go ahead from you before he thinks about making any moves, he doesn’t want to scare you away, and he doesn’t want to ruin his chances either. But once he sense a mutual attraction? He may get a little more bold.

“Is looking good tonight,” he said, elbowing you as lightly as possible.

“Who is?” You ask whipping your head around briefly.

Heavy laughed “you is,” he joked.

Kissing is almost always initiated by you, he has to be a special mood to start it himself, usually if he’s upset and needs a quick pick me up.

Is actually very clingy if you allow him to be (which of course you will, don’t be stupid people) holds you firmly in place while kissing.

Likes kissing your ears, finds your flustered reaction so sweet and adorable. Really into that pure shit.

Kisses you on the cheek whenever the two of you go your separate ways for whatever reason, and of course when you two reunite. Yes, you’re that couple.

God I’m such a sap, what’s wrong with me.

An: oh jeez! I hope that was good Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑) again first time writing for a lot of these gents so let’s pray this isn’t offensively out of character. Thanks so much for reading!

181 notes · View notes

endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

Text

What You Need

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈6.3k

Summary: You come home from a horribly stressful day at University to everything in your family home a complete mess only for you to take care of. Joel helps you and gives you exactly what you need.

Warnings: SUUUPER self indulgent (sorry guys - it makes for a good plot tho, so i’m not all that sorry <3). no use of “y/n”, age gap (22/42), LATINO JOEL MILLER (idc what anyone says, he needs a warning), established relationship, no physical descriptions of reader, pet names (darlin’, sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, etc.), reader “takes care of everyone but who takes care of her” plot, more porn than plot lol, [SMUT 18+ MDNI] daddy kink, sir kink, heavy on the D/s dynamic (reader falls into subspace), cockwarming, unprotected piv (don’t be like these 2 idiots), breeding kink, cum eating, creampie, finger fucking, finger sucking (briefly), choking, hair pulling, brief thoughts about anal, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, hickeys/marking kink, squirting!, toy use, fluffy ending… i think that’s it?? (dear lord pls forgive me, for i have sinned) if i missed anything, lmk pls!

Quick lil author’s note (see bottom for extended a/n): In all honesty, I wanna dedicate this (nasty) little one shot to @javierpena-inatacvest because if it wasn’t for our interactions as of late plus reading your “It’s Never Too Late” fic, I never would’ve said fuck it and just start writing with the intention of potentially showing it to the world. Thank you for inspiring me. You’re amazing & I literally love u so so much. You deserve phenomenal head all the love in the world for everything you do <3.

MAIN MASTERLIST || ONESHOT COLLECTION

It was a long day at university today, as per usual, but something about today completely drained you.

You went to bed past midnight last night because you were busy finishing up a paper, only to get up at 7am the next morning to spend the next 13 hours juggling between classes, assignments, and studying in your “free” time. By the time you were ready to head back home, you were on your very last thread, begging to snap. You also completely spaced on nourishing your body today, the only thing running through it being water and coffee — lots of coffee.

That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that the minute you entered your family home, the entire house was an absolute mess, your pets weren’t given their food yet, and no dinner was made. And just like every other day since you grew into an acceptable height to reach the kitchen stove, you took care of it. All of it.

You were so grateful to your family for allowing you to stay at home during your undergraduate years. It makes your in-state tuition even cheaper, and you get the comfort of your own bed. You knew not many people could rely on their parents and family like this, so you don’t want to sound selfish when you think about how you really wish you had your own place right about now.

It’s been an hour and a half since you've been home, and you’re barely finishing up getting the food for your dogs when your phone dings in your back pocket.

Didn’t text me when you got home, baby. Everything okay?

It was from Joel. The neighbor directly across from you, and a quickly growing family friend of yours. Your heart both saddens at the fact that you forgot your unspoken ritual, but it swells at the way he can read you.

It all began at a small family party last year. You were 21 at the time, and for some reason you could not take your eyes off of your neighbor — who was 20 years your senior. It was always just shared glances or you bringing baked goods from your stress-baking endeavors, but at that party, there was a good period of time where your entire family went outside to the bonfire in the backyard to drink until their hearts gave out, leaving you with the dishes and a trashed house to clean. Joel noticed this, how much they relied on you. Whether it was coming over for a beer with your brothers or your father, or to fix an appliance for your older sister, they always walked all over you — when you did absolutely everything for them. So, he took matters into his own hands and went inside to help you clean up.

You insisted he didn’t need to, but you knew he wouldn’t let up. So, there, you two worked, harmoniously, straightening up your home in half the time it would normally take you by yourself. The second you completed the last task, you reached for the remote and plopped yourself on the couch, half expecting Joel to go back outside with your family. Except, he plopped himself on the couch right next to you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, “What are we watchin’, darlin’?”

“You know you could’ve stayed outside with everyone else, Miller,” you say as you turn your body to him with an eyebrow quirked up. He matches your expression, “Well, where’s the fun in that?”

You break into a breathy little giggle, satisfied with his comeback, and you turn on the TV. With your family completely occupied outside, it was easy for either of you to make a move. And although Joel had been planning to for the last few months before this party, you took matters into your own hands and lifted his arm closest to you, tucked yourself into his side and pulled his arm back around your body. He looked down at you, smirking at your boldness while your eyes remained fixed on the movie before you.

The next few hours of the night were filled with secret caresses and stolen kisses, and you have never felt more loved and appreciated in your life. From then on, you’ve been absolutely smitten with him, and he with you.

Instead of replying, you dial him instead. Not even a third ring goes by before he answers, “Baby.”

“Oh my god, hi, baby, I’m so sorry. I completely spaced. The minute I got home, the house was a mess, the dogs weren’t fed yet, dinner wasn’t even cooked, and I-”

“Mi amor,” he says with a deep breath, implicitly telling you to take one, “it’s okay, baby. I don’t wanna hear sorry from you. I’m sorry everythin’ is a mess, baby. Can I help? Need me to come over?”

Your rapid heart rate immediately starts to slow at how calming, ready and willing he is to give you anything you need. Your family would go absolutely insane if Joel just showed up right now with the sole intention of helping you take care of the home and yourself, but you don’t mention that. “No, baby, I promise I’m okay. I just need to relax. I need-” you pause for a moment to take another breath because you feel your body going panicky again. “I need…honestly, I just need you.”

After the shitty day you’ve had today, having to take control of every single thing, honestly all you really want, and need, right now is for your control to be taken away. You don’t want to think, you don’t want to decide, and you don’t even want to figure out your dinner even though you haven’t eaten all day.

He pauses for a moment, hearing the slight whine at your last statement. And just like that, Joel is at your rescue. “You need me, huh, babygirl?”

“Mhm, please.”

“Cross the street, darlin’, right now,” and he hangs up the phone.

You bolt out of your seat, and sprint straight to the front door, quickly locking it. You think to say something on the Ring camera, letting your family know you’ll be back, but you know they won’t even think twice at your absence. You already cleaned the house and took care of the animals they begged for but don’t care for — why else would they look for you?

Just in case they do check the cameras, however, you immediately veer to the left side of your driveway into the blind spots of your front door.

Within seconds, you’re at his door about to knock, but he’s already opening the door, whispering a soft hi followed by your name, and pulling you into a tight embrace. He pulls you away for a second, assessing your face, assessing your needs. He sees your brows pulled together, eyes glossed over, and a pout beginning to form. You don’t need soft and comforting. You need stern, dominating control. You need nothing but pure bliss, and he’s going to give that to you. But first:

“Safe words. Repeat em’.”

“Red for hard stop, yellow if I’m starting to get uncomfortable, and green to keep going.”

“That’s my girl,” he says and finally pulls you in for that rough, all-consuming kiss you’ve been craving. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and obviously he wins. His hands are roughly sliding down to the underside of your asscheeks, tightly pulling you into his hardening bulge. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, but pause for a moment because he never gave you permission to. He senses that, and pulls back for just a moment. “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me. Go ‘head, baby, touch me.”

You immediately bring your arms back up to grab ahold of him but too riled up in how he’s making you feel, you don’t notice the huge grumble your empty tummy makes. He pulls both your wrists back from his neck and puts an insufferable amount of space between you two.

He says your name, filled with both concern and slight anger. “When was the last time you ate?”

Silence.

He lets go of your wrist and grabs your chin between his pointer and thumb, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m not askin’ again, baby.”

“Y-yesterday night,” you stumble out.

“I’m not givin’ you a heavy meal ‘cause that’ll just upset your stomach, but I am fixin’ you somethin’. Go upstairs, change into the clothes on the bed, come back down and position yourself on the ottoman, like I taught ya last week, hm?”

Too enamored by his roughly smooth voice, all you can muster up is a nod. His eyebrow barely shifts, but that’s all a warning you need. “Yes, sir.”

Padding up into his room, already feeling your insides start to float, you reach the edge of his bed to see a pair of black cheeky boxers, and a thin, fitted black tee. You quickly strip off everything you arrived here in and slip on the garments he gave you. Wasting no time, you head back down in a bee line to the ottoman.

Like I taught ya last week, hm?

His words echo in your mind as you begin to recall last week’s endeavors.

You were straddling his lap for a while now, slowly swallowing each other’s moans and making every part of each other’s body ingrained into your memories. Until suddenly he pulls back, eyes dead set with intention. “You trust me, baby?”

“Always, Joel,” you say back with as stern a voice as possible, confused as to why he’d ask such a thing. “Can I teach you somethin’, then, darlin’?”

You pull him into one more kiss before you breathily tell him yes and pull yourself off his lap to stand before him, fully at his disposal.

He stands up, and without any verbal indications, he’s grabbing onto you and molding your body onto the ottoman in a position that begins to drift you off into subspace. You don’t know if it’s the fact that you're sitting on your knees with your legs tucked under you, or if it’s the slow drag of his hands caressing your inner thighs, pulling them farther apart from each other. Or maybe it’s the way he softly places your hands, palms up, atop of your thighs. Whatever the hell it is, you absolutely fucking love it.

He feels you melting into every little touch he makes and he notes every little moment you slip further and further into your space. “Doin’ okay, my sweet girl?” he asks, voice dark and sweet.

All you can pull out of yourself is a pathetic little whine and a head nod.

“This is position number one. Remember it. We’ll learn more later, but this’ll do just fine for a while, baby.”

And with that, he kisses you ever so softly but with such a dominating, addictive energy that you feel yourself try to push up into him, and immediately he pulls away.

“Sweet girl, Imma let it slide this time, but you do not move from this position unless given permission. Ya hear?”

You return to your original position and assure him how good you’ll be, “Won’t happen again, daddy, I promise.”

His jaw clenches at the honorific; that’s your number one tell that signifies you’ve completely submitted and fallen into subspace. He had originally planned on giving you what you asked for two days ago — “Please, Joel, I need you to fuck me, hard.” — but seeing you all docile and ready for him just makes him want to absolutely praise you in the most beautiful ways possible.

So that’s what he did. For hours. An hour of bending you over the ottoman to eat your pussy like a man who had all the time in the world, an hour of fingering orgasm after orgasm out of you while his mouth switched between licking and marking your tits, and a few hours after that just slowly fucking you into his mattress, caressing and loving on every single part of your body he could reach.

Let’s just say, your family didn’t see you for the rest of that day or the next, and you did not care one fucking bit.

You shuffle onto the ottoman, your form now perfected after secretly practicing each night to increase your endurance of staying in such a position for however long Joel needed you to.

You wait for about five more minutes before he comes back with a platter of all of your favorite fruits — strawberries, mangoes, and pineapple — and sits on the cushioned seat right in front of you. He melts at how good you sit for him, immediately disregarding his original plan and wanting you as close to him as possible.

“My good, beautiful girl,” he says softly, in a way that you’re not sure if it was even meant for you to hear, but you still melt nonetheless. “Come,” he says as he pats his lap while setting the plate off to the table beside him.

You shoot up like a lightning bolt, too excited at the thought of being able to feel him again, but before you can climb up, he grabs your hips, stopping you for a second. He slides his fingers into the hem of your underwear and slowly slides them completely off of you, setting them neatly on the ottoman behind you. He slowly reaches for his belt, then slides it off, letting it fall somewhere on the ground. You stand completely still, patiently waiting for whatever he’s going to give you, although your pussy is proving anything but patient.

He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans and signals for you to come up. “Take me out, cariño.”

You climb up on his thighs, not fully straddling him to give yourself some room to tug his jeans and boxers down enough to pull him free. You pull him free with a small moan escaping your lips, wanting to dart your tongue out and lick his angry tip, but he didn’t give his permission for that. So, you begrudgingly let him go, and wait for what comes next.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he states nonchalantly as if his dick isn’t absolutely begging for you to reach out and grab it. “You’re gonna sit on my cock, keep me nice and warm. Without moving. Only until you’ve eaten all the fruit on this plate will I think about what’s gonna happen next. Got it?”

Your voice trembles, “Y-yes, sir.”

He nods his head, while bringing his hand up to your mouth, signaling for you to let your drool fall. You scoot closer and lift your hips up while he pumps himself a few times to completely cover himself in your spit. With how much your cunt is dripping, you knew his lewd act was for his benefit and his only.

The second his tip catches at your entrance, you can’t control the high-pitch whine that falls from your mouth, and he can’t stop himself from gripping your hips with a bruising force in an attempt to keep from mercilessly pounding up into you right here.

“So f-fucking full,” you breath out as you sink lower and lower, to which he nearly growls with a strained, “So fucking tight.”

You finally bottom out, and you both take a moment to breathe and settle any impulsive thoughts of forgetting the purpose of tonight’s scene. You shift a little to adjust to settle your legs more comfortably at his sides, while he leans over to bring your plate of fruit closer. Both your actions together make you hiss in desperation.

“Color, baby?”

“Green, sir, green,” you promise him.

He smiles, genuine and bright, before his face goes dark and smug again. He picks up a piece of pineapple with his fingers. “Open.”

You lean in and take the sweet fruit from his fingers, making sure to lick any residual of the pineapple’s sweet juices. This goes on until you’ve finished every last piece he cut for you. Towards the last few pieces, your pussy was absolutely drenching his cock with your slick, both your thighs and his soaked. He could feel every pulse and every flutter, and no matter how patient he usually was, something in the air tonight was testing every ounce of his strength.

He sets the plate aside and licks a mix of fruit juices and your spit clean off his fingers. You watch him, completely entranced by the way his tongue wraps around his thick fingers, and you can’t help but feel such an aching need to throw yourself at him.

So you do. And to your surprise, he allows it. You pull both his arms to wrap around your middle and you push yourself into him for a searing kiss, whimpering for him to slip you his tongue. He indulges, and you immediately begin grinding your hips down onto his cock. He growls and wraps his arms tighter around you, adding more pressure into your grind, forcing you to break the kiss to regain your breath. “Fuck, baby. Such an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He rasps out.

Your hips move faster at his words, trying to will yourself to say something, anything, but you can’t. He notices your effort. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby, hm?”

And with that — with the notion that he’ll take care of you with anything you need — you completely fall. “Y- yes,” you moan out, “Da- fuck- daddy’s got me.”

Ah, there she is. Daddy’s girl. His back straightens so he’s towering over you more. He grabs your jaw tightly while you continue to pleasure yourself on his dick, forcing you to hold his stare. “Oh, sweet girl, daddy’s always gonna give ya what ya need. Promise, baby. Now be the good little girl I know you are and cum for me.”

You can feel him meet every movement of your hips, coaxing your high out of you faster than you realize. The wet, squelch your pussy makes every time you suck him in is enough to make him release his load, but he won’t. Not until you’ve came more times than ever before, not until you’re left completely fucked dumb.

He snakes his hand down to the front, reaching for your clit, using his thumb to make mind-numbing, calculated circles. Your back arches at the sensation, head thrown back, and he brings his other free hand to the back of your neck to pull you closer into him. He ravishes your neck all over, sucking and biting all your weak spots, your pulse points, only to run his tongue over it in soothing motions, getting even more worked up at the marks that’ll form tomorrow. Then, he rips your shirt right in half, letting it fall to the ground. So much for makin’ you change, he thinks. He brings his mouth lower and lower, sucking one of your nipples in between his teeth, throwing you over the edge.

Your vision goes white, your entire body goes rigid, and your pussy uncontrollably flutters around his dick as he peppers your neck and chest with more kisses while you come back down.

Your body is now soft and pliant, fully ready for whatever more Joel is going to give you. Your head is still high up in the clouds, and it will be for a while, but he always knows how to take care of you. You feel him slowly lift you off his dick and you hear him groan as he looks down.

“God fucking damn, doll, look at you all over me. Such a fuckin’ mess.”

Your face heats up immediately, “I- I’m sorry, daddy, I-”

He grabs your jaw again and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. He pulls away bringing your bottom lip with him until he lets go, letting it fall back into place, now wet with his spit. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize for that. You made daddy so proud, baby. So much so that you’re gonna do it again for me,” he says as he squeezes your ass cheek.

You squeak out a gasp and a breathy please. He stands up and makes his way to his bedroom with you still wrapped around him like a koala.

Immediately he throws you on the bed, and before you’re able to scramble up towards the pillows, he’s already pushing you up by the thighs and kneeling between your spread legs.

He releases one thigh for a quick second and holds his hand out, “Pillow, baby.” It takes your blissed mind one moment to register, but as soon as it does, you don’t waste a second, grabbing the pillow next to your head and eagerly handing it to him. He takes the pillow and taps your thigh twice, signaling for you to lift up. He secures the pillow under your hips then brings both his large hands back to the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up so you’re nearly folded in half, giving him complete access to your dripping heat.

If there’s one thing about Joel Miller, it’s that he loves to make a fucking mess. You thought your first sensation would be one flat lick up your cunt, but instead you feel warmth. Wet and warm and everywhere, and finally you realize, he let his mouth fill with spit only to absolutely drench you with it. Once he’s satisfied with his mess only then does he dive into you like a man starved. Licking and pushing into your slit while the tip of his nose rubs against your clit has you climaxing in an instant, your back arching and your hips lifting as much as they can with the weight of his hands on your thighs keeping you in place.

He lets one hand slowly slide off your thigh and up your belly until he reaches one of your tits, switching between grabbing your entire breast and pinching your nipple. He continues to lick at you and circle your clit with his tongue until you’re a complete whining mess from the overstimulation. “Daddy, please,” you moan.

He lifts his head, eyes as black as ever, “I’ve got you, princess, you can take it.” He reluctantly breaks away from your cunt and kisses his way up your body, taking his time with sloppy, open mouthed kisses near your hip bone and your sternum, knowing those areas drive you crazy the most. He makes sure to bite a little extra hard in some areas on his journey up, knowing you love to admire all the marks and bruises he makes on you.

He sucks another bruise right underneath your jaw, making you push up into him more, while his hands continue to wander and grasp every part of your body that he can. Finally he reaches your mouth and gives you a sweet, long kiss to your mouth, distracting you enough that you don’t see him reach for the vibrator in the nightstand beside the bed. You feel him slide his hand back down your body, but you still don’t realize the vibrator’s presence until you feel the buzz directly on your clit.

Out of pure reaction, your hand flies to the nape of his neck and tugs sharply, all while obscenities fall pathetically from your mouth, “Oh- f-fuck, daddy, yes! J-just like that, please, please don’t stop…” The quick-paced, blinding pleasure builds so fast it cuts off your dirty mouth and reduces you down to moans and gasps and whines of daddy, daddy, daddy.

He slips two fingers into your pussy, sliding in with so much ease with how wet you are from a combination of your cream and his spit, all while he uses his other hand to push the vibrator into your bundle of nerves.

You don’t know whether it has been one minute or one hour of this, but all you know is that you’ve got sweat lining your forehead, beading down your body, and you absolutely can’t take the buzzing pleasure with the constant come-here motion with his fingers anymore, you have to let go. Although this time, it feels different than the rest of the times Joel has made you cum. This time… this time it feels like- you have to pee?

Immediately you start to panic and try to break away from his hold, unable to allow yourself to fucking pee all over him. “Daddy, wait! Please stop.. it- it feels different, like I.. I think I’m gonna pee..” you gasp, trying to articulate your thoughts while he continues his torture on your cunt.

His eyes go wide and it immediately registers for him, “Fuck, baby, don’t worry about that, just let go. Come on, daddy’s got you. You trust me?”

You hesitate for a moment, but still, you know the answer, “Y-yes, daddy.”

“Good, my princess. Cum for me, fuckin’ soak me. I told you I wanted another fuckin’ mess,” he demands and fucks you even harder with his fingers and increases the pressure of the vibrator.

You all but scream, definitely sure the neighbors can hear you, but you don’t give a fuck with the fireworks erupting behind your eyes and all throughout your body. Your body is still convulsing and you’re sure you’ve gone unconscious for a moment, but what brings you back to the Earth is the feeling of a warm, flat tongue licking you all over, cleaning you up. Then another sensation hits you: your bottom half is completely fucking drenched. You muster up all the strength you can to open your eyes and look down to see what’s going on.

You see your big, broad man licking you up so sweetly, but from his mouth down he is also absolutely soaked, down to the collar of his dark green shirt he was wearing.

Holy fuck. You fucking squirted. That was new. And with Joel’s reaction to it, you’re definitely sure that’s not gonna be the last time he pulls that out of you.

He doesn’t realize you’re up again until you’re softly calling his attention back up to you and not your pussy. He makes eye contact with you, and his eyes fucking sparkle. Yeah, there’s no way this was a one time kind of thing. He sits back up on his haunches and strips himself of his shirt. He never pulled his jeans back up from when you used him to get off in the living room, so his dick has been patiently waiting for attention since your last two orgasms.

He strips himself completely at the bottom half, too, leaving you with a perfect view of his toned chest, softer middle, and bulging arms and shoulders. Your cunt, all used and abused, fucking clenches on nothing at the naked sight of him. Of course, he fucking notices.

“Oh, my poor baby. She’s just fuckin’ beggin’ to be filled, huh?” His southern drawl always intensifies whenever he gets spurred on like this. And, fuck, if it doesn’t make you fold more than you already do.

You whine at his words and spread your legs even wider for him to see what’s rightfully his.

“Just beggin’ to get pumped full of my fuckin’ cum, huh, princess? Is that what she wants? That what my babygirl wants?”

“Please, daddy! Yes, that’s what I- what I need, daddy… need you ins- fuck- need you inside, daddy,” you ramble out, already fucked stupid but still begging for more. He situates himself on top of you, stopping your begging with a harsh kiss that leaves your already swollen lips throbbing. “Shhh, I’m gonna give you what you need, darlin’,” and he kisses you one more time as he begins to notch his tip at your entrance.

He hooks his arm underneath your knee, hiking your one leg up higher to open you completely. You feel him start to push in deeper, and neither of you can help the initial gasp of how good it feels to be consumed by one another. He leans down again to kiss you, unable to get enough of your lips on his, and you bring your hand back up to the back of his head, keeping him close to you, feeling the exact same way.

He completely bottoms out into you then, his breathing labored and you, a whimpering mess. No matter how many times you two have fucked, his sheer size always makes you feel like it’s the first time. He stays still to let you get used to the feeling again. You both lay there for a few minutes, kissing and consuming each other’s breaths and moans while he gives you rhythmic little grinds to stimulate your clit. Your pussy is sobbing at this point, enough wetness has accumulated that he’s able to slide right out until just the tip is in you and he pushes right back in, hard.

He fucks you hard, maintaining this rhythm for a while, completely consumed by the way you wrap around him so perfectly. What started off as one leg hiked up around him turned into a complete mating press, giving you the maximum sensation of his length and girth pumping in and out of you. He always gets so foul-mouthed whenever you two end up in this position, not that you’d ever complain because you love hearing that rough, sexy Southern drawl utter absolute filth that only your ears will ever get to hear.

“Fuck, darlin’, it’s like she was fuckin’ made for me. Wrapped around my cock, so fucking tight and warm. I could spend fuckin’ forever here wrapped up in your tight fuckin’ cunt,” he groans.

“All for you, daddy, always,” you respond, purposefully squeezing your pussy tight in time with your words. That drives him absolutely fucking crazy that he pulls his arm upwards in between your legs that are resting on his torso and brings his hand up to wrap around your throat. “Say it again,” he growls, “tell me who the fuck this pussy belongs to, baby.” He squeezes the sides of your neck tighter, creating an even lighter sensation in your head coupled with the submissive daze you’ve been in since you got here.

“F-fuck, d-daddy- shit,” you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels wrapped around your neck while balls deep inside of you.

“Darlin’ girl,” he warns, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

You sob out, willing your body to respond to him, willing your body to obey, “Th- this pussy belongs t- to-“ you take a breath, “to you, daddy, only you. Forever.”

He releases your throat and pulls your legs down from the mating press, wrapping them around his waist instead. He places one hand at the back of your head and the other on the headboard, then kisses you furiously before breaking away, “God damn f-fuckin’ right, princess. All fuckin’ mine to do whatever I fuckin’ want.” And with that, he’s slamming into you, his hand on the headboard in a (wasted) attempt to save the wall from the constant banging.

“Touch that pretty little clit, princess,” he breathes out, chasing his own release now with the sole intention of marking you with his seed. One hand still on his neck, the other snakes down to rub your clit in fast, messy circles, your body begging to cum for a fourth time tonight. “Daddy,” you whine out again, the honorific clearly being your only vocabulary for tonight.

“I know, honey, I know,” he coos, “Cum for me, mama, and I’ll fill you up right fuckin’ now,” he sucks on your bottom lip, “You want that, baby? To be pumped full of me?” He knows your answer, yet he still asks anyway knowing how much his words affect you.

“Please, God, yes, fill me up… I need your cum so fucking badly, I need to feel you, please,” you beg, only spurring him on more.

With both of your mouths spilling such dirty words, his lips anywhere they can reach with the combination of you playing with your clit and him pounding into you, your body enters the astral plane yet again for the fourth time tonight. Though, this time, you force your body to come back down, so you can feel his warmth spill into you.

It only takes but a few more thrusts after you climax for him to follow suit, roaring out as hot, thick ropes of cum spill into you, overflowing and dripping out of your sore cunt. He slowly pulls out, labored breathing, sits back up and just watches. Watches as your pussy clenches to keep him locked inside of you, watches as his load drips down your folds over your tight, little asshole. Another day, he thinks to himself with a smirk.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until his fingers are engrossed in the thick combination of your releases. You moan out at the sensitivity of your pussy, but Joel doesn’t care. He slips his middle and ring finger in, feeling just how much he filled you up. And before you know it, he’s pumping in and out of you yet again, his eyes completely focused on your glistening sex, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you fluttering for another fucking release.

“Ahh,” you hiss, not knowing whether you want him to stop or keep going. He uses his other hand to rub on your clit. Fuck. Yeah, okay, you want him to keep going. “Shit, daddy, I’m gonna cum again,” you say as you scramble to get ahold of the bedsheets.

Joel’s gaze breaks away from your cunt to look at you, he smirks like the devil, “Oh, yeah, honey? Gonna give me another one? Come on, baby, I know you have it in you,” he slips a third finger inside. You whine at the stretch. “One more mess, baby, and then I’ll take care of you, I gotcha,” he says for comfort.

You’re nearing the point where you guys usually begin to transition into aftercare, and he knows. He always knows. But he also knows that today you need a little extra push, so he gives it to you.

The thrusts of his fingers don’t come to a stop, but they exponentially slow. “Give me a color, mi amor,” he softly encourages. Even with your erratic breathing, you’re able to force out, “Oh my god, daddy, green, green, green, please go faster, just like before, please-”

He quickly leans forward and stops your blabbering with a chaste kiss and chuckles when he pulls back, “My god, I love you so much, princess.” Then his fingers pick back up to the speed you were so desperately loving before, his and your cum leaking out all over the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck, daddy, I love you so fucking much, fuck, thank you, thank you,” you cry out. A few more pumps and a few more circles to your clit and you’re cumming for the fifth (and final) time tonight. Joel groans at the way you finish on his fingers, and it’s his mouth that blabbers out this time.

“Shit, baby, yes, soak my fuckin’ fingers, let me feel you, fuck-” He’s so enthralled at the sight before him, he doesn’t hear you pleading for him to stop pushing in and out until the honorific fades, “Baby, baby, baby,” you frantically breathe.

He makes eye contact with you again and realizes how caught up he was in you. “Oh, darlin’, shit, I’m sorry, mi amor. What’s your color, baby? Fuck, I’m sorry-”

It’s you this time who forces your entire wobbly body to push up and meet him in a bruising kiss. “Stop, daddy,” you say with a lilt in your tone, signaling to Joel that you’re back from subspace. You smirk, “My color is green, cowboy, but I really need you to run me a warm bath now because I can’t move a single muscle with how you had me, baby,” and pull him in once more for another kiss.

His smugness returns and he pushes you back down on his bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses, forcing sweet out-of-breath giggles from you. “That, I can do, baby. May I join you?”

Your face completely softens, your stresses and worries from the last 24 hours completely nonexistent. “I’d be mad if you didn’t, Miller.”

The next hour and a half — or until the bath water becomes tepid — is spent with him cherishing your body, washing you with your lavender, oat milk body wash you love so much, ultimately just helping you softly come down from your oxytocin high.

You’ve never felt more loved, appreciated, or taken care of in your life. He always makes sure your come down is smooth and unnoticeable as you fall from a blissed state of mind to one of pure love and adoration. As long as you have him in your life, you truly believe you have all of what you need.

As he’s drying your body up and slipping you into one of his t-shirts, your stomach growls… loudly.

“Darlin’...”

You pull away from his grasp, jokingly rolling your eyes while smirking, “Yeah, yeah, Miller. Come on. Gotta fill me up again, don’tcha, cowboy?”

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out followed by your name, “Tryna put me in an early fuckin’ grave or what?”

Author’s note - extended: Hi guys! I birthed this little one shot on a Friday night while sippin’ on a glass of whiskey and stressing about the stressful entire week I just had. This isn’t my first time writing, in general, but this is my first time writing with the intention of truly producing a story out of it.. this is also my first story I’m posting, so I’m very nervous. Even if just one other person reads this and enjoys it, that’s all that matters to me <3 I also wanna give a quick thank you to my bestie, who’s an AVID smut reader, for proofreading this. She said, and I quote, “gotta change my panties” and “she’s growling” after reading this LMAOO. So, thank you for that, bestie. I love you with my whole heart.

As with any fic, reblog and comments are very much appreciated!! All feedback is appreciated, too!!! Please do let me know how you liked this, and if there's anything specific I could work to improve, I'd love to know! I hope I did okay for my first actual attempt at smut.

Much love to everyone! <3

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

2K notes · View notes