#idk man but i feel like i should do something special i just don’t know WHAT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

almostempty · 3 months ago

Text

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #fuckboy joel #dave york #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou smut #pedro pascal smut

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jarofstyles · 1 year ago

Note

Can we have another breeding blurb miss jars? Please please pleaseeee

Hm. Yes you may because you asked nicely 😚

Patreon

Fair warning this is pure filth! straight up.. idk what just possessed me

——-

“Just lay there.” He grunted, watching in awe as his cock stretched the puffy lips of her slick cunt open, the thickness of him making her shiver slightly. “And let me fuck my cum into you.”

He had already given her his load, but that wasn’t enough. No, he had to make sure it stayed there. “Let Daddy help it stick. Let me get it deep.” He was so deep Y/N could feel it in her stomach, but she wasn’t about to complain.” Such a cute, messy little pussy…” he cooed, thumb brushing the swollen clit that buzzed with sensitivity. At her whine, her hips bucked up and pushed his cock further in making the pair inhale sharply. “Oh, she’s sensitive, hm? Only came one time f’me.” He clicked his tongue. “Still achy from last night?”

Harry was a man on a mission when it came to getting Y/N pregnant. Every day, he was following the tips from books and online forums, obsessed with getting her as slick and filthy and full of his spunk as often as he could. As soon as she had uttered the sentence about ‘being ready to try for a little one’, he had been on her. Mounting her like he was in heat, insistent on trying every possible thing.

Including this. The filthy, erotic, nasty act of fucking his cum into her. Pumping his hips and burying his prick all the way inside, the slick squelch of their wet skin filling the air. Something about it made him a man possessed. His body was thrumming, balls emptied inside of her but still rearing to go.

And his love, she was so good. His best girl, laying there and whining as her watery eyes looked up at him. Almost dumb, as she always seemed to be in awe every time he filled her up, brain reduced to ash as soon as she could feel the creamy cum being worked back inside of her. All she could focus on was being good for him, helping him get her pregnant.

“D’you think it’s catching?” She slurred, messy halo of hair tangled around her head as he held her legs up against his shoulders. He sat on his knees, watching his creamy length slip back inside of her methodically. “I want a baby. I really want a baby, Daddy.” She pleaded, tightening up around him as he filled her back to the brim.

“M’working on it, sweetheart.” He crooned, eyes dark and hot as he glanced at her face before going back to his objective. “Just shut up and let me work. Tryin’ to make you a mama, and I can’t do that if y’keep running that pretty mouth.” He scolded. The tight heat of her cunt was milking every single drop of cum into her, the daily occurrence never getting old for him. He was obsessed with it, watching the mess he made and the slight froth from how wet she got and the mix of their cum. She was a bit of a cumslut and would want to keep it in her for a bit. “Should get you a proper plug to keep you full. Hm? Think M’gonna do it.” He mumbled. “My pussy anyways, isn’t it? I can do whatever I want to it and you’ll just cry for my cum. My sweet little baby.” Harry loved her so much, but there was a special type of love that came when they got dirty like this. Intimate.

She was a good girl, deciding to stay quiet but nodding insistently. Of course she would do it. His Love did anything he asked if it led to this- just like he did for her. He could feel the messy mix start to drip down his balls, the sac wet and slightly sticky as it lazily thumped against her ass. The pulsing slowed, but he was using her hole to empty every drop. “Don’t worry, baby. As soon as you’re pregnant, I’ll let you swallow it again. Know how much you love it, but I can’t waste a single drop when m’trying to get you full of our baby.” He smoothed her hair back, looking at her sweaty face with tenderness. “My perfect girl.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry blurb #harry blurbs #harry styles oneshots #harry styles breeding #harry styles breeding kink #harry styles flufff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfictions

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scp230kinnie · 3 months ago

Note

:3 IT'S ME AGAIN HEYYYU

SOOOO HYUNSU, BOTH MONSTER AND HUMAN SIDE'S REACTION TO A READER WHO'S NORMALLY SHY BUT WITH A MONSTER SIDE THAT'S ALL OVER HIM.

Like the monster side literally adores him and likes to annoy his monsters.

And also the monster side being a bad bitch in general cause we slay.

Again, feel free to ignore.

IM GONNA MARRY YOU FOR LEAVING ALL THESE LMFAO WHOEVER YOU ARE

Back from my five hour long hiatus (nap) and now back to my day job

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2/3 OF SWEET HOME

Cha Hyun-Su x half monster clingy reader

Idk vro that’s the best title ur getting

Probably ooc but I don’t care

Starting with general if/when you turned hcs, and will gradually get into the main plot

Once he saw the signs of you turning into a monster he was extremely worried

He didn’t know if you’d be able to control it, like him, or if you’d turn fully into a monster like most of the people he’s seen before

And because he’s seen so many people turn and die painfully, he wants to make sure you don’t

Once he saw that you were able to control it, even at least a little bit, he was so relieved, and wanted to do everything he could to help you

He knows that since you’re a monster, (I’m not calling them special infectees fuck right off😭) you can’t really get hurt/die for the most part

But he still likes to keep you at a safe distance just to make sure his monster side doesn’t accidentally hurt you

(Not too far tho :3)

He always knew you were shy, so he knew that trying to teach you to control it would be a little bit difficult

That was, until you were in your monster form.

In your monster form, you were a lot more clingy towards him, which came as a stark contrast to your usual shy, closed off demeanour.

Not that he minds, he just finds it to be kind of a surprise

In his human form, he’s not scared of you accidentally hurting him or something as a monster

In his human form, he loves to let you cling to him

It reminds him that you’re still you despite the infection

This man can protect himself for sure. But let’s say you and him are doing whatever, maybe walking around, you’re both in human form and a (hostile) monster shows up.

His immediate thought is to protect you, because even though you can turn into a monster yourself, he forgets.

He goes to protect you, his monster side takes over (cause let’s say one of his desires is protecting you okay hear me out)

And then you, wanting to protect him, or show that you can defend yourself, or who know why , turn into your monster form and fend off the monster in some badass way

God damn. Maybe his human side is surprised but the monster side, if bro was out and saw that. You earned respect

The monster side of him has seen you before the transformation. All shy or whatever. He is also quite surprised when you turn and all of a sudden you’re all up on him

At first his monster side would probably push you away a little bit like “wtf is bro doing who are you”

Sometimes his monster side is a lil emo and has to be a lone wolf or something, but when you show up as a monster and follow him around and doing to him eventually he realizes you probably won’t stop until you turn back

His monster side pulls the whole “how pathetic and weak” thing when you cling to him, and you just go right ahead and let your monster self argue that

No matter how much you adore him as a monster, you can and will win a fight/argument against him

Maybe sometimes he lets you win. So what, a win is a win?

When your human side is out and you’re back to your shy self, both sides of him kind of miss your monster side

He likes feeling loved

—————————————————————

Um so sorry if this sucks

Hyun-su is the definition of this tweet

Tips on how to stop HEALING piercings from falling out r greatly appreciated thanks

Everyone should leave sweet home requests yes yes I do most if not all characters

#headcanons #fluff #scp230kinnie #tumblr #fanfic #sweet home #kdrama #hyun soo #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyun soo x reader #cha hyun soo #cha hyunsu #hyun soo headcanons #hyun su headcanons #hyun su x reader #hyun soo x reader

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orpheusluvr · 1 month ago

Text

Aggressive (Frederick Kreiburg x Female Reader)

NSFW WARNING

After constantly teasing him, Frederick has tolerated enough and decides to take matters into his own hands…in the brutalist way possible.

Idk how many of y’all simp for this man but I’m not lying when I’d say that I’d absolutely let him DESTROY me (and he would tbh)

Just imagining him and Orpheus makes me go hhhgrdghffggh

Your husband was a charming and well mannered man. Always making you feel special and loved. But there was one thing about him that distinguished the differences between you both.

Intimacy. The one word that Frederick despised.

You and him had sex only once ever since you married each other last year. He didn’t really like the experience at all, and said that it made him feel slightly uncomfortable and he wished to not do it again until he was ready. You respected his wish, however he felt guilty knowing that it wasn’t your fault at all, it was just how he felt about the whole thing.

The only form of “intimacy” that you received from him were hugs and kisses on the cheek. On rare occasions, you’d kiss on the lips and it would turn into make-out sessions but nothing more than that.

It was becoming more and more unbearable for you, but in the mean time you tried to find ways to cope.

Even Orpheus himself offered to give you a hand.

“I’m much better than him. I’ll give you a spectacular experience.” He said, with a slight grin.

You politely refused, turning away from him.

“Orpheus, I’m married to him. That would just be extremely messed up. As much as I crave the feeling, I must not let my self respect come undone.” You said.

Orpheus nodded.

“Very well. Though, I’m always here if you ever change your mind.” He said, before turning away and silently walking off.

For the past few days, you had been doing something risky to get Frederick’s attention in some way. And so far, he had managed to compose himself each time. Until now.

You were currently seated in the dining room, along with Orpheus and Melly Plinius. Frederick was sat next to you. You all ate dinner in silence.

A smile appeared on your face as you slowly moved your hand under the table, placing it over Frederick’s crotch.

“Ngh…!” Frederick groaned.

Your smile increased. It was working.

Orpheus looked at Frederick suspiciously.

“My apologies, the steak is quite warm.” Frederick said, clearing his throat. He then picked up his cutlery again and began cutting up the steak in a desperate manner to try and look normal.

You on the other hand, began stroking his crotch. He closed his eyes, his breath increasing. He tried clearing his thoughts, pretending your hand wasn’t in his sensitive spot at all.

“Mr Kreiburg, perhaps we should open a window?” Orpheus said.

Frederick shook his head.

“I’m…good.” He said, struggling to speak.

“You don’t seem like it.” Orpheus said. He then looked at you, his facial expression making it seem like he knew what was going on. He then returned to eating.

You decided to take an even larger risk.

You slid your hands into Frederick’s pants, but just as you were about to feel his cock, he immediately dropped his cutlery. It gave you a shock and you immediately moved back.

“Mr Kreiburg? Is everything alright?” Melly asked.

Frederick slowly turned towards you, anger and lust filling up his eyes as he stared at you. His cheeks were red.

“Pardon me, Mrs Plinius. There is something I must deal with.” He said, not breaking his eye contact with you.

He immediately grabbed your hand and got up, dragging you along with him.

As you were in the hallway, you tried to ask him what was going on.

“Fre-”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you.” He snapped.

After reaching your bedroom, he threw you onto the bed, removing his coat. You smiled to yourself, knowing that your plan had finally worked.

“What on earth are you smiling about?” He said, immediately pinning you to the bed. His face was extremely close to yours as a few strands of his light grey hair fell onto his face.

He was slightly annoyed that you didn’t respond to him.

“Well then. I guess I’ll just be hearing sounds from you tonight instead.” He said, moving forward and kissing you. His grip around your arms increased while you both moaned and grunted. He pulled away and began removing the belt to his pants, pulling them down. He revealed his cock that you hadn’t seen in so long, making you even more wet from below as you saw how hard he was, how the veins were running through it and how precum was already dripping from the tip.

He removed your pants and panties, and saw how wet you were from him. He gave a small laugh.

“Naughty girl.” He said, lifting both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders.

He immediately inserted into your entrance, thrusting into you without warning while tightly grabbing your legs.

“F-Frederick! Ngh…hah…” your moans filled the entire room.

“Slow…down…”

Frederick looked at you bitterly.

“I’m giving you what you want, and you’re telling me to slow down?” He said.

He increased his speed even more, hitting your sweet spot each time and sending you to the absolute climax.

“Frederick…I’m gonna c-”

“Don’t.” He said, coldly.

He slowly stopped thrusting and lowered his head towards your ear.

“I’m not letting you cum after how you’ve been treating me lately. Let’s see how long you can keep it in.” He whispered, his voice thick and deep with desire.

#identity v fanfic #identity v x you #idv smut #idv x reader #idv x you #identity v x reader #idv fanfic #identity v frederick #idv frederick #frederick kreiburg #identity v composer #idv composer

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strawberry-lemonade-kisses · 8 months ago

Text

Empty Nester's (M)

Tags - manga spoilers, new manga ending because it's mine, Fem Reader, Reader is called mama, mom, etc. Cunnilingus, squirting, idk

"With the children away for the weekend, what do you guys have planned?” Makio was swaddled with your baby, 11 months old and so big already, she could easily be mistaken for much older than she is. She was like her daddy, big, smart, and sweet. Harumi had been visiting the Uzui’s on the weekends for the past month giving you and Gyomei a break but also preparing them for the arrival of their own bundle of joy in the coming months. Of course, you had spent weekends as a family with them but then it was suggested that she stay by herself. You compromised with all three of the kids staying with the Uzui’s that way at least Muichiro and Genya knew their sister and could help.

“I don’t think we are doing anything special, a night in, maybe we will get a full night of sleep” Gyomei laughed from the doorway where he was talking with Tengen, the boys crowding him as he talked of their weekend plans. Makio squinted, rolling her eyes before turning back to you. “How is Hinatsuru? Has the tea been helping ease her stomach? It was heaven sent for me, Shinobu had trained Aoi so well” Makio nodded, bouncing slightly as Harumi stirred from where she rested.

“She is doing much better, eating a lot more which we are grateful for. She had us all worried. But she is well, excited to see Harumi, I think the maternal instincts are already kicked in because she hasn’t stopped talking about Harumi since she left last weekend” You nodded, understanding the feeling, throughout your pregnancy just seeing babies made you want to cry from happiness, some mothers would even come chat when they noticed your heavy stomach, letting you gush over their baby.

“Yeah, but Harumi is also the sweetest girl, so patient and she loves her brothers so she’s happy when they are around” Harumi’s head lifted at the mention of her brothers. “You should head home before she falls asleep, she sleeps like her father at night and Hinatsuru may not get to play with her” You urged the Uzui wife back towards the door, Tengen noticing the movement moved to let Makio pass.

“That’s our cue then, we will see you all in 3 days, have a good night, and try not to have too much fun!” Tengen winked before turning to follow his wife, your sons leaving with a wave and a few air kisses before following as well, a row of little ducklings.

As the door slid shut your husband turned to you.

“Come on, I have something for you” He was rocky, still settling into the prosthetic leg, it made him sway a lot when he walked but he no longer had to hold onto your shoulder, he could walk just by holding your hand which was an improvement. He was still hesitant about holding Harumi while standing but that would happen with time, just had to be patient.

“You’ve been so patient with us, every single one of us, from the boys to Harumi, and to me. Since the fall of the demons almost 2 years ago you’ve been so attentive and working nonstop, making sure everyone is comfortable and happy, you’ve kept everyone fed and bathed. You even changed our bandages and helped us bathe, which is no small feat. You did so much and I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, and how grateful the boys are to have you, to call you my wife, to call you a mother. I am so happy to be here with you, to have been given the chance to stay on this planet with you and live happily.” He paused his speech as you got to the backyard, lit with lanterns and decorated with flowers. There was a large blanket in the middle of the yard, filled with pillows to create what looked like the coziest bed ever. Sitting next to the bed was a tray lined with snacks and wine alongside 2 glasses.

“What is all this? When did you do all this?” You turned towards your husband of 5 years someone who you had watched grow into the beast of a man before you today, so gentle and loving and at the same time he held power you couldn’t even imagine carrying after knowing him for 8 years he still gave you butterflies.

“Had some help, you are quite oblivious when you are with Harumi so it was easy, she loves her mama just as much as I do. You are an amazing woman and I’m so honored and blessed to call you my wife.” Your eyes watered at the thought behind this surprise and his sweet words, you hadn’t put thought into the things you did, there was a house to run and a family to take care of after they literally saved the world, the least you could do is take care and help them, it was almost natural, you had been taking care of Gyomei’s injuries since you had first met in the wisteria house your family-owned, although it was closed now, once again it was just a home but more than welcome to those who were former corps members.

“I don’t know what to say” his hands moved to your back, gently guiding you towards the bed, the warmth from the overwhelming amount of candles provided such comfort that it didn’t take long for your muscles to relax as you sunk into the cushions and pillows.

“you don’t need to say anything, just relax, enjoy your night” There was a soft smile on Gyomeis face as he sat down, stretching his legs. “c’mere let me hold you” his words were quiet, like a whisper to draw you into his space, you didn’t hesitate before moving between his legs, letting your back rest against his chest while he wrapped you in his arms, letting his hands rest on your thighs. You both sat in silence, enjoying the clear night with the stars shining so bright you could probably see without the candles, but they provided extra comfort to your night. It was nice having a night with just the two of you, it was something that you hadn’t experienced in years. Between them fighting Muzan and having to relearn how to live normally, to giving birth to your daughter there was always a full house. Now they were able to leave, more than ready to get out of the house and spend time with their friends and family. It was something you weren’t quite ready for. Large hands were wiping away tears before you could realize you were crying.

“What ails you? What can I do?” Gyomei was soft as he addressed you, still holding your cheek as you relaxed back into him.

“They are all leaving, they can leave us now” you sniffled, turning around to face your husband, sitting on your knees. “Gyomei, the boys are gonna get married and leave” Deep down you knew it was ridiculous to think that they would suddenly leave, they were only 17 but you were dating Gyomei at 19 and he was 22, they could leave at any age. Gyomei smiled, his clouded eyes flickering about.

“Let’s slow down, no one is going anywhere. They are spending the weekend with the Uzui’s, and no one is getting married anytime soon unless we marry them off. Lay back, listen to that quiet, no kids, no screaming or fighting, no crying. Tranquility. S nice isn’t it?” You sat back, taking Gyomei’s advice and listening to the world around you. “What do you hear?” you listened close, relaxing into the embrace of your beloved and closing your eyes to truly listen.

“I hear the trees as they shake.”

“Mhm”

“I hear The birds sing their young to sleep. It sounds like they are getting tired” You were focusing, you swear you were, but his hands were distracting, wandering from your hips. His touch started slow, just rubbing your sides like he did when you wanted to relax, but then they started to move inwards, resting on your stomach and moving up.

“What else do you hear” His voice was low like he was telling you something you were allowed to hear, trying to hide it from the world.

“um…” You couldn’t focus on the sounds, not when he cupped one of your breasts, applying pressure as he leaned into your neck, wet kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone.

“focus, what’s going on?” The tone of his voice was a warning, a baritone hum as he continued his ministrations, biting into the skin of your neck as you leaned to the side, giving him more access.

“Frogs” is all you got out, moaning as one hand undid the ties to your clothing and the other continued to fondle you.

“good girl, what else” He paused, leaning back to watch each inch of your kimono fall off your shoulders and reveal your skin.

“I-“ a moan interrupted you as both his hands went to work, pinching the nipple of one breast while massaging the other. His lips still danced along your skin, slowly compared to his rough hands. “The river” He hummed into your skin, encouragement to continue as he worked like he was tuning a violin, plucking the strings of your pleasure until he had it just right. “You” Your answer was met with his hands removing themselves from your body, his mouth detaching itself from your skin. You sat up, turning to look at your husband.

“Yeah? What do I sound like?” His disheveled hair and lack of prayer beads had him looking almost feral, his hooded gaze staring down at you as he crawled over you, moving you until your back hit the ground, looking up at him. Your answer never came as he engulfed you in a kiss, claiming your lips as his own. You couldn’t stop the moan that erupted as one of his hands found purchase on your hip, pulling the band of your panties until they snapped back at your skin. Your tongue grazed his lip, asking for more, and was met with a hasty reply. Your mouths danced so familiarly with one another, like every movement of the other's tongue was rehearsed, practiced an infinite number of times over, each clash of teeth and head tilt a piece of intricate choreography. Gyomei pulled back gasping, head tilting towards your ear.

“You know what I want?” He hummed pressing a kiss to your collar, lips wet with your shared saliva. You made a noise of acknowledgment, too high-strung by his constant touches everywhere but where you wanted. You're sure if you looked down you would see your panties soaked through, uncomfortably damp but you couldn’t care less. “I want to be the one to listen to the pretty noises you make when you cum on my tongue” Your breath hitched as he placed another kiss on the slope of your breast, moving his way down your body, with teasing touches and wet kisses. “Okay?” He continued his path down your body, nipping at your hip bone, tracing the soft skin of your stomach as he nosed at your panties.

“Yes sir”

“Good girl” His praise was accompanied by his tongue, licking at the wet patch that had stained your panties. He was never a patient man when it came to pleasure, you had grown used to it, he knew what he wanted and he wasn’t afraid to take it if you let him, and who were you to deny your husband of such pleasures? He pulled aside your panties, not bothering to slide them off your hips, just revealing the glistening beauty of your pussy. The groan he let out was pure sin like a predator warning its prey before it eats them. Which is what he planned on doing. Gyomei didn’t waste time, diving into the heat of your pussy. His tongue flicked at your throbbing clit, teasing and divine. He went from flicking to sucking, not wasting a breath between both, switching the rhythm to keep you on edge. You reached down, hoping to hold onto him as grounding, afraid you would float away in the thralls of pleasure.

“Mei, please don’t stop” You moaned a symphony for him, following the beat of his tongue. 2 fingers pushed their way into your heat, thick and practiced it was almost too natural for him to do it, like he was using the hand to tighten the ropes of your pleasure, cranking at them in hopes they would break. He hummed into you, enjoying his meal thoroughly, eyes closed like he was lost in his own heaven and that ad you clenching, teetering on the edge of orgasm thinking he was enjoying this as much as you. By the way you could make out the subtle shift of his hips against the ground, you had no doubts he was. His fingers curled upwards, thrusting in at a speed faster than his tongue. You fell, the pleasure quickly overwhelming your body jolted, trying to breathe through the pleasure. You saw stars, eyes rolling back for a few seconds as his ministrations continued, not wanting to slow and end his own pleasure. Another groan resonated through your core that had you yelping, an unfamiliar swirl in your stomach itching forward.

“C’mon baby” He moaned again, begging for your body, and his hand continued it work, mouth quickly attaching back to your overly sensitive bud. A second orgasm came crashing down on you, a litany of explants leaving your mouth as you released all pent-up energy, coating your husband's face in a stream of pleasure. He lapped eagerly at your sex, not wasting a drop of you, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean as well while you tried to come back to earth, breathing heavily and holding weakly to the and that still held your panties to the side. Gyomei sat on his heels, rubbing at your tighs while you tried to get ahold of yourself.

“You did so good mama’s, so good for me, huh?” His tone was encouraging. He was careful as he moved your legs together, giving him room to lay next to you, a space heater for your bare body, still recovering. You looked at him through lidded eyes, a sleepy smile gracing your lips.

“Gyomei,” You whispered, still breathless. He smiled, pulling you into his chest so you could snuggle in, using your kimono as a blanket to cover you and keep you warm.

“I’m here” He pressed a kiss to your head, damp, but you didn’t care.

“Thank you” He hummed, knowing that this was just the beginning of a long night.

#gyomei himejima #kny gyomei #gyomei x reader #gyom #demon slayer gyomei #kimetsu gyomei #kny #kny hashira #kny scenarios #kny x y/n #kny x reader #kny x you #kny smut #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #kny himejima #gyomei x y/n #gyomei smut #gyomei headcanons

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 10 months ago

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sorry before I go to bed I’m thinking bout the different ways Evangelion portrays csa.

asuka's (metaphorical) rape is done by a stranger. someone she doesn’t know. a literal monster. as someone who’s always prided herself on being able to fight, being able to always win, this shatters asuka, who feels such a thing makes her weak. she responds to her trauma by regressing, playing video games at her friends house and speaking to her like a young child, before shutting down entirely to the point of attempted suicide. she’s later sexually abused by shinji, taking his own trauma out on her, and while we don’t see as much of how that effects her, we see the tragedy of the cycles of abuse play out.

shinji's sexual abuse is done by a friend. he doesn’t realise it’s wrong, and misato thinks she’s helping, because he’s a boy and boys like that right? but misato not realising the harm of her actions do not make her any less harmful. there’s a lot of complicated feelings and emotions there, and it very much deals heavily with the complexities of abuse- not all abusers realise what they’re doing. not all abusers even have sexual intent (misato absolutely doesn’t see shinji in a romantic light at all, she's not attracted to him). not all victims hate their abusers, and not all victims fully realise how inappropriate their abusers actions are. yet, the abuse still has impacts- as seen with shinji's complete lack of sexual boundaries, to the point of assaulting asuka for a desperate sense of control. he recognises that it’s awful- it’s something familiar to him to a degree- but as a severely traumatised child, he lashes out and inflicts his own pain on others. which is not acceptable, obviously, but it’s tragic, and shows how abuse makes people worse.

and as for rei, she's abused by her own father. the signs are there, but they don't entirely click at first, and neither do they click to the adults who should be looking out for her. the sexual abuse she faces is overlooked even when it’s right under everyone’s noses. and when someone does put the dots together, they blame her for it. rei's abuse, like a lot of familial abuse, is either ignored or something she’s considered at fault for, despite being sheltered and groomed all her life, and, y’know, fourteen. rei's arc also focuses heavily on her conflicted feelings about her abuser, but in a different way to shinji. she, at first, idolises gendo. she's been groomed her whole life, and is incredibly isolated. what happens is normal to her, she doesn’t see it as wrong because she’s never been told it’s wrong. the idea of not having faith in gendo is alien to her. but as time goes on, she realises what happens isn’t special, it isn’t okay. by the time she dies and another version of her takes her place (the rei's share a soul, so they’re the same person even if rei iii can’t remember everything) she’s quietly furious at the idea of being a doll, and realises she can be more. when her abuser touches her, she literally tears off his hand. and she attains agency! that’s the final part of her storyline. she has agency, for the first time in her life. and she might have chose to listen to shinji on what to do, but she chose for the first time, it’s a massive step and honestly it really struck me as a beautiful ending to her character arc.

idk man. i just like how this mecha anime interrogates a sensitive subject from multiple angles and has genuinely suprisingly good depictions of even abuse that’s not recognised as abuse by most still. it’s nice! it’s refreshing. honestly, they committed to exploring abuse and never trying to apologise for it, and it’s fucking great. i'm personally not a csa victim, but i did go through sexual trauma at around the same ages of these characters, and i found myself relating a lot to their arcs around this due to that even if our experiences are pretty different. i felt aspects of how i dealt with things, especially in rei and shinji but to a degree asuka as well, and it made me feel more confident in myself. if shinji ikari can choose to live, so can I :)

#neon genesis evangelion #evangelion analysis #asuka Langley soryu #shinji ikari #rei ayanami #csa tw #rape tw #grooming tw #abuse tw #suicide tw #cocsa tw

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ovaova · 2 years ago

Text

🧡🅑🅐🅚🅤🅖🅞🧡

🧡🅕🅐🅜🅘🅛🅨🧡

💕🅗🅔🅐🅓🅒🅐🅝🅝🅞🅝🅢

Teehee a list of head cannons for family man Bakugo, I’m sorry but I’m such a simp for dilf Bakugo <3

No minors! If you get in some trouble, that ain’t on me 🤷🏽‍♀️

And if you know me…no you don’t 🙃

May have many typos but oops🤭

Oki babes enjoy <3

✧ ╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝ ✧

• Honestly…at first, he couldn’t see himself as a father- absolutely no way

• But oops, he got you pregnant 3 times so here we are 🤷🏽‍♀️

• First child was a boy and two after are girls

• During the first diaper change with his son, he got peed on 💀 one of his fav shirts too

• You can bet you laughed your ass off, and yeah he was mad but he’ll be okay 🤭

• He loves his kids with his whole heart but during them toddler years, he would hate when they ass got sick, wanna know why?

• SNOT BUBBLES AND CRUST-

• You know when kids (specifically toddlers) would get sick and they never wipe their nose so the mucus just stays there and clumps up and gets crusty 💀 yeah he hates that shit- but who wouldn’t?

• And he LOWKEY feels bad, cause his kids would just be jumping around him happy and shi to see their balding ass daddy but he can’t help but grimace at they nose

• “Hey c’mere for a second 💀-“ he would state all calmly and shi before basically wiping off their skin with a tissue

• yeah he don’t play bout that

• DO NOT LET THIS MAN PLAN NO VACATIONS- cause he’ll over do it 💀

• For example, one year yall took the kids to Disney World- BRUH, even when packing, this man was acting like if this trip didn’t go according to schedule- it was gonna kill him 💀

• But in reality he’s just super excited to take his family on vacation. While packing in yalls bedroom he would be like this-

• “So we’re going to animal kingdom on the first day, and then (C/N) wants to go see the princesses, and we’ll need matching shirts or something, oh and can’t forget new bathing suits bc (C/N) needs a new one and then they’ll all want one so everyone is gettin one- and you wanna go to Epcot and-“

• You would say he sounds like Izuku with all this muttering

• This man literally makes y’all be at the airport like 3 hours before the actual flight 💀

• “I wanna make sure we can get situated, I don’t feel like dealing with all those extra people-“

“Okay fair, BUT THREE HOURS? 💀”

• Most def has the dad airport pose, just standing there like “🧍🏼‍♂️ “ …especially at baggage claim

• Anyways, will always spoils y’all-

• On the plane? First class. Hotel? In Disney world where the park is walking distance. Parks? Basically all of em-

• He can’t help himself, you and him are always so busy with being heroes and parents so he can’t help but spoil the hell out of y’all even though he knows he shouldn’t as much as he does

• Most def one of those dads to y’all instead of stopping your kids when they fight

• Like when you’re at work or something, he’ll be baby sitting talking to Kirishima on the phone or whatever from the couch- and then he’ll hear scuffling loud noises coming from somewhere in yalls house

• “Yeah man and it was crazy, I think we should all get together and go one day-“

“Yeah hold up shitty hair, give me a minute- HEY, YALL BETTER NOT BE MESSING UP THIS DAMN HOUSE……………yeah definitely, we should get together,”

While Kirishima is still lon the line like 🧍🏼‍♂️

• Or like whenever they fight when your both cuddling at home and you’ll be looking at him, expecting him to stop them but he’ll just be like 🤨???

• “It builds character…that’s how I was raised and look I’m fine…“

😟 FINE WHERE?? (Everywhere)

• okay so idk but this was a memory I had with my dad, but I was a very hard headed kid and never knew when to stop asking for shit I didn’t know nothing about- specifically alcohol 💀

• Like I would always think It was juice and my dad would always say “no it’s not and it’s nasty, you’re not gonna like it-“ but I convinced my self that him and all adults were lying just so kids wouldn’t drink their “special juice”

• But ofc I was persistent and constantly kept asking and he finally let me take a swig and yeah I learned my lesson 💀

• But yeah I can see him possibly doin that 💀 it would be like-

“I want Juice-!”

“It’s not juice, it’s nasty, you won’t like it..”

“Yes it is, I want some of that Juice!!”

“It’s not juice-!”

“JUICE-“

“FINE- here DAMN, go ahead-“

*sips*

“EUGH-“

“YEAH- told you you wouldn’t like it. Now do you want more juice?”

“NO-“

“Yeah that’s what I thought…okay now go get some actual juice- I don’t want your mama on my case..“

• One of his fav things is to cook for his family, like if it was up to him, he would most def take on cooking every night but you won’t let him cause you don’t want him burnt out <3

• His middle daughter specifically loves to help him cook tho when she can, she’s most def his lil sous chef

• Loves to bake with him and everything, oml it’s so cute

• He tries his best to spend quality time with each of his kids, like with his son, going out into nature, his middle daughter, cooking, and his youngest daughter, designing things and dressing him up

• But whenever he spends time, that goes for you too

• Like any personal time he can get with you, he’ll take it

• like as soon as the kids go over to his parents for the weekend, oh yeah he’s all over you

• Grinding on you, eating you out like a starved man, letting you ride him whenever he gets a chance (yeah he’s trying to get all he can out of this weekend)

• And like you can be as loud as you want 🤭

• He most def walks around shirtless when no kids around, he has a bit of a dad bod but it’s still hawt and you can still see the scratch marks on his back from your last session tee hee

• He loves these intimate moments with you. They’re more of a need, but sometimes he puts too much into it 🤭

• And oops, there goes baby #4 🧍🏽‍♀️

• Welp that’s my take on Family Man Bakugo 🤷🏽‍♀️

⬇️Song of the day ⬇️

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strwberri-milk · 2 years ago

Note

idk if you’d write for alhaitham but in honor of me only loosing six 50/50s in my quest for c6 r5,, can you perhaps write a dom!reader (gn is preferred) that just takes their time pleasuring him? like a lot of praise and overstim and making him stupid :D if you don’t write for him diluc/kaeya is fine

mayhaps you should pay for my alhaitham funds omg congrats though!!! heres my attempt at alhaitham - a little cocky, overconfident, and not willing to submit even to the bitter end :D

Alhaitham is nothing if he isn't self sufficient. He can take care of himself when needed and has done a lot of work to ensure that he can be independent. That's why he's not going to just give you something that you want that easily. No, you're going to have to work for it.

It's not that he doesn't want to submit, it's that he believes nothing good in life is worth it if you don't work for it. He's not going to make it easy for you either.

He's a busy man and expects nothing less than perfection of himself, which makes it nearly impossible sometimes to align your schedules for long enough for any of the things you want to do for him. That doesn't mean it's impossible though.

You've finally got him where you want him, laying back on the bed and looking up at you with equal parts apprehension and excitement. A bit of a smirk sits on his lips, watching as you kneel between his legs and look back up at him.

"What are you trying to do?" he asks with a slight scoff in his voice, figuring out that this is yet another attempt of yours to try and take him off guard.

"Nothing special," you mutter, glad that his pants were already removed. You press kisses against his thigh, smiling to yourself as you feel his muscles stiffen.

"If you're trying to get me to-"

His words cut off when he feels your breath ghosting over him, biting back his words as his cock twitches. He sits up on his arms, about to try again and you give him a strong lick, taking the moan he gives you as the beginnings of your prize.

Sometimes, it seems like he thinks of himself as better than others. Not in the way he speaks, but in the way he carries himself. You don't know if it's just a result of his confidence, or if it's because he really does think he is better (which you doubt considering that he insists on staying in a more humble position with the Akademiya despite how smart he is). It's fun being able to finally reduce someone like that to a mere man succumbing to pleasure, each whimper and moan that slips past his lips more pleasant than the last.

You decided he wasn't going to be the one pleasuring you today, more focused on trailing your heated fingertips down his body and scratching lightly against his skin with your nails. It seemed that the further you managed to take him from his comfort zone the more receptive he was to your touch, bedsheets perpetually clenched in his hand.

His other hand is buried in your scalp, holding tightly as though for dear life as you mouth over his length. Your tongue laves over him, something about this time feeling so much better than it usually does. His mind is hazy, finally beginning to let go for your ministrations to take over any sort of conscious thought he has.

"Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?" you purr seductively, relishing the lack of thought behind his eyes.

"Fuck," he manages under his breath, letting go of his inhibitions to moan more freely than he's let himself before.

"i know," you coo, going back down to take him entirely into your mouth again.

He definitely didn't expect to keep cumming over and over for you, struggling to remain coherent. It didn't get any better when you introduced your fingers, not expecting to like the feeling of the intrusion so much.

His thighs close up around your head, squeezing you tight and keeping him between them as he cums again in your mouth. His cum was basically nothing at this point, body so overdone that he didn't even know he had another orgasm in him.

He's almost begging for you to stop, the overstimulation burning in the best way to his body as his back arches into your touch. You don't stop, eyes dark with pleasure and he's sure you've somehow managed to cum untouched thanks to your efforts on his body.

Maybe he'll take his revenge on you some other time, you know, when he has higher thought again.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #al haitam x reader #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader

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ryuichirou · 5 months ago

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Replies

Slowly but surely replying to older asks. I say it every time but I mean it: thank you for being patient.

One ask about Shroudcest and one ask about Rookvil today!

Anonymous asked:

Imagine imagine imagine.

Cause this is funny to me.

Someone's flirting with Idia, yeah? (or just talking to him, not even flirting) (well, I guess it'd be a one sided conversation....)

And Ortho was off doing whatever and he comes back and he notices-

And he gets all angry and whatnot-

And Ortho's got instant connections to the internet-

And he figures out who the person is and basically destroys their social life.

Like, in the middle of this conversation, this person checks their phone and finds out all their friends have ditched them and their entire online life is up in flames.

Simply because Ortho got a little jealous.

Anon, this is so unbelievably easy to imagine lol Despite Ortho really wanting his precious Idia to have more friends and connections, he is much more jealous than he thought! And much more of a little shit than people think… We really love this kind of scenario for them, to be honest.

Ortho is way too powerful for how emotionally unstable he is! Rogue little yandere robot :( His niisan is his and his only! That poor guy probably just wanted to talk about homework or something trivial like that…

Anonymous asked:

the rook hate be crazy, sorry for the nonsense you’ve been dealing with for doing nothing wrong. anyway rookvil appreciation hours. rook is so observant and reverent that he’s always looking out for his queen and vil is just a bit tsun lol but i love how vulnerable vil is with rook. like the lines implying vil has cried in front of rook before, that they sleep in the same bed, rook knows vil’s family situation, vil commenting on rook’s thighs in beanfest implicitly meaning he spends a lot of time looking at them lol, rook has access to vil’s room and waits for vil… as much as i love savanaclaw rook and mourn his loss everyday, he willingly changed himself to be worthy of being by vil’s side via his own free will; vil did not MAKE him do anything they just talked a lot. my mans is more whipped than heavy cream. idk about you but rook mentions he struggled to feel or express emotions before he knew about theater (specifically neige but let’s ignore that for vil’s sanity lol) so it feels significant that rook obviously feels and emotes so strongly over vil (also something something ortho struggles to feel or express himself before movies and acting so what i’m getting at here is they should spitroast vil at least once lmao.) if it was revealed they’re canonically dating the only part i’d be surprised about is that it got through disney’s censors.

It’s okay, Anon. The whole thing kind of made us appreciate Rook and RookVil more, to be honest lol I sketched them for a couple of days nonstop after that whole thing happened.

It also made you write this ask! It took me some time to reply, but every time I was rereading it I smiled because god this is such a good ship. Everything that you’ve listed is just so… wonderful. All those interactions, all this connection, all those moments that imply their closeness that is on a much deeper level than we get to see. Sometimes when these two talk, it feels like we’re eavesdropping lol they just have this vibe to them, as if every dialogue has some additional context that we don’t quite get.

Vil’s comment about Rook’s thighs and him bulking up though lol poor Epel didn’t know what to make of it and probably didn’t want to think about it…

You’ve made such a good point about Vil being more vulnerable with Rook, and I think this vulnerability is very important. Vil feels like someone who probably doesn’t usually allow people to get very close to him, but once he lowers his guard for someone, that person becomes very special to him. Or I guess it’s the other way around… anyways, he trusts Rook enough to always have him by his side, and he probably vents his frustrations with the industry and anything else that troubles him to Rook the most.

And this trust isn’t one-sided: I feel like Rook trusts Vil a lot too. We know that he has a lot of secrets, and even Vil probably doesn’t know a whole lot about his upbringing and stuff, but he certainly knows more than other people + listens carefully enough to understand implications without prying into it too much. They give each other enough space in general, I guess? I know it sounds funny considering Rook’s whole stalking thing but lol their connection is special. They learn from each other and from what they have together.

It makes sense that one person that Vil trusts so much and loves so much is a weird theater nerd who doesn’t quite understand tact, but is very honest, supportive and genuinely passionate and loving. It makes sense that one person that Rook trusts so much and loves so much is an obsessive perfectionist that takes care of him, enables him and inspires him every day. Both of them are kind of insufferable, but they are the perfect type of “insufferable” to each other lol And yeah, let’s not forget about the power of knowing all the obscure theater/film references the other one makes!

I also absolutely agree that it wouldn’t be surprising at all if it was confirmed that they are dating lol The only surprising thing really would be the fact that Disney allowed it.

#replies #shroudcest #rookvil #about characters

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 1 year ago

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Common Grounds / Chapter 11

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Derrick the Asshole Ex (needs his own warning), case stuff (any inaccuracies about how the FBI works is my own lack of research), two GODDAMN ADORABLE IDIOTS in love, unprotected PIV sex, feelings feelings FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELIGNSGS

Summary: Derrick does his damndest to ruin your night, but it turns out that one asshole can't stand in the way of....... love.

A/N: IDK it's 10:30 and I'm sleepy thanks everyone for encouraging me to finish this goofball of a fic but especially @littlebirdsbookshelf who is the loveliest of humans and beta read *most* of this chapter before I yeeted it out LOL. There will be an epilogue to follow!!! Thank you everyone for reading!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Previous | Next

“This is quite the change for you,” your ex says condescendingly, looking around the gallery with an expression of disdain. “How the hell did you go from shilling your crap online to booking the nicest event space in the area?”

“Derrick, stop—”

“Oh, wait—I think I’ve figured it out,” the man sneers. “I like to do my research on who my ex-fiancée thinks she should fuck. Special Agent Pike, was it? Art Crimes, right? What a coincidence!”

Your heart seems to stop beating. Marcus’s head snaps toward the two of you, his eyes dark and full of warning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Derrick icily.

“She’s using you, you know,” Derrick continues, looking at your boyfriend with a glint in his eye. “It’s what she does. She can’t make it on her own, so she picks men who will bankroll her little hobby and then leaves them in the dust after she bleeds you dry.”

“That’s not true,” you say through clenched teeth. “You don’t know anything about me. Or him. Or us.”

“Don’t I?” he retorts. “What if I were to, say, make a scene right now? Start yelling that this entire place is swarming with cops? Would that be a problem?”

You panic, eyes shooting to Marcus in horror. It looks as though he’s about to say something, but he pauses, blinking rapidly a few times—listening intently. Shit.

Derrick laughs. “Oh, isn’t that rich? You’re perfect for each other. You’re using him to get a leg up, and he’s using you for his little sting operation.”

Your ex’s volume is getting louder and louder. Heads are starting to turn. You scan the gallery frantically—a large number of waitstaff is starting to converge on the same area off to your right. Marcus looks conflicted. Desperately, his eyes flick between you and Derrick, even as he takes a few halting steps away from you. Maybe Derrick was right—but maybe it’s you who needs to cause a scene. Time seems to slow down; suddenly, everything seems crystal clear. You give Marcus a small, reassuring smile before turning your back on him and starting down your ex.

“You can’t just come here and try to ruin the life I’ve built!” you exclaim, speaking loud enough for the surrounding patrons to hear. As predicted, most people’s attention is now turned to the unfolding drama rather than the quick footsteps of Marcus, surrounded by several waiters, heading toward the back of the gallery.

“It’s over, Derrick! You can try to goad me all you want, but the truth is, I’ve found all I need without you. And you’re wrong—I’m not using him at all. I love him!”

The last words are damn-near shouted. They seem to echo in the crowded gallery.

Marcus stops in his tracks, whirling around on the spot to stare at you, open-mouthed.

“I love him!” you call out, looking right at Marcus as you say it again. “I love him.”

Even from across the room, you can see his lower lip tremble. But then—he turns away, looking as though doing so causes him unimaginable pain.

Attention starts to turn to Marcus, rather than the apparent row between two ex-lovers. Shit. You need to escalate this, and fast.

“Anyway, you couldn’t please a woman if you tried!” you hurl the out-of-the-blue accusation at Derrick, who looks murderous. “Like, even if your dick wasn’t that small, the real problem is that you don’t seem to have any idea how to use it!”

The crowd titters, and you keep going, feeling emboldened.

“Yeah, turns out orgasms are the one thing you can’t buy,” you quip. “Or at least, you can’t. I can buy them just fine—got myself a vibrator the day I walked out and left that awful engagement ring on the counter.”

A large, meaty hand lands on your shoulder, and you startle slightly. Agent Bear, as you’ve begun calling him in your head, who looks rather comical in his waiter’s tuxedo, leans down the foot and a half it takes for him to murmur in your ear.

“That’s enough. C’mon.”

“I—I was trying to—”

“I know exactly what you were trying to do. You did good, kid. Boss wants you out of the building for this next part.”

You let the behemoth of a man escort you through the kitchen and out through the dock entrance, leaving Derrick, sputtering and red-faced, behind you.

“I can’t believe I just yelled about my ex’s dick size at my first art exhibition,” you murmur to yourself as you follow the man toward the surveillance van around the corner.

“As distractions go, it was certainly creative,” the agent offers placatingly.

“What’s going on?” you ask when you reach the SUV. “Is Marcus okay? Is the guy in custody?”

“Everything is going as expected,” the agent tells you, which isn’t the most detailed explanation, and you sigh in frustration.

“So why am I being escorted out of the building?”

“This was always the plan,” he explains. “Marcus didn’t want you anywhere near the op until the building was cleared again, safe or not.”

“Why?”

The large man gives you a funny look. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

He purses his lips thoughtfully, as though trying to find a way to choose his next words carefully. “I haven’t known the boss for that long, mind you, but I know this—he’s stubborn, loyal, and goddamn fucking protective about the people he cares about. And he spared no expense once you agreed to come on board—bought a bunch’a new equipment because he couldn’t run the risk of any blip in communication. Hell, he’s been putting the whole fucking team through dry runs at the venue for the past month and keeping us late at the shooting range to make sure we were all sharp. This whole damn thing has been planned out to the letter, and he made it pretty fucking clear what would happen if a single hair on your head even came close to being harmed. I dunno what your feelings are for the man, but I thought you had to know already—he’s head over heels crazy for you.”

“…Oh.”

“You yelling you loved him across the damn room—that wasn’t part of your little scene-stealing strategy?”

You shake your head solemnly. “Of course not.”

“Good.” The agent nods, his jaw set. “Good. That’s good.”

“What happens to the show?” you ask quietly. “Is it just… over now? Everyone goes home?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you can go back in once the team clears out. Pike didn’t want this to cause too much disruption. Said this was your first exhibition, that right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“He didn’t want to sell you short. Made sure that the event would be able to continue after all the Feds leave,” the agent says with a wry grin.

“Is it safe?” you ask warily.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “But I’m your assigned security detail for the rest of the night anyway.”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “Sorry you have to play babysitter to the boss’s girlfriend.”

“Nah, my pleasure. It’s because of you we were able to put this whole thing on in the first place.” He pauses, looking off to the side and nodding imperceptibly. When he speaks again, it’s clear he’s not addressing you anymore. “Copy. I’ll take her back in.” Standing, he holds out one giant palm to help you up. “Your time to shine, kid.”

“Is Marcus okay?” you ask again.

The agent snorts. “‘Course he’s fine. Suspect is under arrest and the team is headed back to HQ to finish up and get the perp booked. Said he’d come back as soon as he could.”

You nod, walking back through the now-empty kitchen. Guess you had to get here early if you wanted snacks, you think with a wry smile. There are fewer patrons milling around now, but that only means you can have longer, more meaningful conversations about your pieces with people who are genuinely interested. Checking your phone for any messages from Marcus, you realize you have hundreds of new notifications on your Instagram page, and a handful of online sales. It really was a success. Staged or not, maybe this exhibition is going to be the break you need.

The gallery finally starts to empty as the hour draws late. Pretty soon, the lights are being turned off and the doors locked—and Marcus still isn’t here.

“I can drive you home,” your security detail suggests. “Pike can meet you there, instead.”

“He said he’d be here,” you say in a small voice.

The man holds up his hands. “Up to you.”

You wait.

And wait.

Finally, you hear quick footsteps echoing in the large hall, and you look up from the not-so-rousing game of Solitaire on your phone—which you insisted on playing, even with your battery at 20%.

Marcus.

You jump to your feet, heart in your throat. Agent Bear mumbles a goodbye and exits out one of the side doors, but you hardly notice. You can only stare at the man at the other side of the room.

He stares back.

Both of you seem to move at the same time. Marcus crosses the gallery in several long strides and you rush forward to meet him. You collide in the middle, lips bruising and hands gripping hard. He crushes your body against his, one hand around your back to press you closer and the other holding your jaw firm as he kisses you—deep and passionate and so full of emotion you feel as though you might burst.

When the heat subsides and the movement of your lips naturally begins to change–slowing, gentling–Marcus’s breath is shaky on your face as he carefully brings both hands up to cradle your cheeks. His eyes bright and shining full of moisture, his thumbs gently trace the curve of your cheekbones.

“I love you, too,” he whispers ardently. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeat back. A tear slips down your cheek; Marcus catches it with his thumb.

“I love you,” he says again. “Baby, that might have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do—turn my back on you like that.” “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t hold it in anymore, not when Derrick was saying all those awful things. I just needed you to know that none of it was true.”

“Couldn’t hold it in anymore?” Marcus repeats, searching your face with a growing smile.

“ I—I’ve never felt this was about anyone. I can’t help but think it whenever I look at you.”

Marcus brings his mouth to yours in another passionate, electrifying kiss. Your cheeks are damp, and you can’t tell whether the cause is you or him. You’re hardly able to take notice anyway, the way his kiss consumes you. It’s everything; he’s everything, and you love each other, and everything is finally going to be okay.

“I love you,” he whispers again. “You were amazing tonight; I was so proud of you.”

“It went really well,” you say, smiling. “I got more sales than I expected, plus a ton of hits online. And I got to say some really cathartic shit to Derrick as a bonus.”

Marcus chuckles. “Wish I could have seen that.”

“I told basically the entire gallery that he couldn’t please a woman.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiles, fondly, and presses one last kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I’m so late coming back. Are you ready to go?”

You thread your hands together and nod. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter, just want to be in private as soon as possible.”

Marcus’s eyes darken; his smile turns mischievous. “In that case, my place is closer.”

“That settles it.”

Despite the proximity of Marcus’s apartment, he might have broken at least five traffic laws on the way in his haste to get you alone. You nearly run down the hall to get to his door, and when it bangs open, you’re both reaching for each other with similar fervor.

Your back hits the wall with a soft thunk as Marcus pushes you backward, not so much kissing you as devouring you. Your hands thread into his hair in an attempt to ground yourself, nails scraping against his scalp until he groans brokenly.

“Fuck, I love you,” he rasps. His hands are hasty in their actions–getting access to as much of your skin as possible in as little time–and you both moan together as he roughly pulls your blouse from being tucked neatly into your slacks and his warm palms slide up the bare skin of your sides.

You frantically join him, fingers fumbling at the buckle of his belt and trying to pull his pants down without actually undoing them.

Marcus laughs giddily without breaking the kiss, trying to unbutton them at the same time you’re already shoving them down his hips. He finally manages to kick them off, along with his underwear, with his lips still stubbornly fused to yours. Your pants receive the same treatment, both of you too lost in the moment to be methodical in your actions as fabric is shoved haphazardly out of the way.

When your legs are likewise bare, one leg automatically hooks around Marcus’s hip in an attempt to get him closer, closer, closer, and he obliges enthusiastically–pressing into your core with a soft grunt.

It’s not enough, not nearly enough, you need him in you, and he must feel the same, because with a little growl of frustration, he reaches around to pull your other leg around him as he lifts you off of the floor and presses you up against the wall to finally be able to sheathe himself within you in one fluid motion.

Your head thunks against the wall as you draw a ragged gasp of breath into your lungs. Marcus’s lips automatically attach to your bared neck, his teeth scraping gently against your skin as he starts to frantically pound you into the wall. The sound is obscene–the slap of your bodies, the frantic, blissed-out noises of pleasure you’re both making, and the loud, rhythmic thunk of your bodies as they hit the wall over and over and over…

…You hope, for Marcus’s neighbors’ sake, that this is an outside wall.

He drills into you–deep, impossibly deep and your back arches to meet his thrusts, but each movement causes your spine to rub painfully into the wall, your core is already burning as you try to stay in place, and despite how fucking good he’s fucking you right now, your orgasm remains elusive.

Marcus suddenly lets out a rather undignified noise, his face contorting into discomfort rather than pleasure, and before you know it, the mood has changed and the two of you are laughing yourselves breathless at the awkwardness of the position.

“F-Fuck, my back,” he manages to gasp out in between giggles. You tip your head back as your chest heaves with peals of laughter, and you feel yourself sliding slowly down the wall as Marcus’s strength gives out and the two of you collapse into a still-laughing, undignified heap on his entryway floor.

“Always looks so hot in videos,” you say, voice still wavering with mirth.

“Bit harder in real life,” Marcus chuckles, finding your lips again and giving you several soft, smiling kisses.

“Got a better idea,” you murmur against his lips.

“Bed?”

“Too far,” you argue. “Sit up. I’m gonna–”

Marcus scrambles into a seated position against the wall, and you follow him immediately–climbing onto his lap and sinking down onto his cock with a soft whimper at the stretch of him.

“Baby,” he whispers, soothing the little wrinkle of discomfort on your forehead with his thumb as his eyes flick over your face, cataloging your reactions.

“‘S’okay,” you reassure him breathlessly. “I’m okay.”

When you start to rock your hips, grinding yourself on Marcus’s cock, your mouth falls open with overwhelming pleasure.

“Fucking love you,” you murmur, and he responds by trying to pull you closer even though there hardly seems to be any space between you already.

“Never gonna get tired of hearing you say that,” Marcus says, voice rough with pleasure or emotion–you aren’t sure which.

“I love you,” you tell him again, and his eyes slip closed with what could either be agony or euphoria. And perhaps it’s both, really. You’d understand. The emotion burns so strongly within you that the reality of it almost hurts. Your heart aches with it.

Your movements increase in intensity as you chase the feeling building deep inside you. It’s not simply arousal, and really, it never has been with Marcus. It’s a deep sense of joy, satisfaction, and safety. Maybe you’ve always known it–Marcus is it for you. The realization almost makes you lose track of the moment–you’re not with your body, you’re elsewhere, looking down on the two of you, desperately entwined on the floor not two feet from the front door.

“Wanna feel you come for me,” Marcus murmurs, one hand leaving your hip to rub little circles on your clit. “Baby, please.”

The action causes arousal to surge within you; you feel yourself getting even wetter, and Marcus can feel it too, because he makes a low noise in his throat as he watches you ride him.

“Never gonna get tired of this either,” he rasps. “The way you look when you’re about to come undone–fucking divine. That look you get, like you can’t believe you can feel this good… fuck, the fact that it’s me that makes you look like that–” He cuts off with a broken sound, his grip on your hip bruising as he loses himself in the moment.

“It’s you,” you say shakily, nodding frantically as you chase your release. “Only you. You’re the only one who could ever make me feel like this.”

You don’t just mean the waves of pleasure building within you, and Marcus seems to understand, because his eyebrows turn upward in awe, his lips parting as he gazes up at you with nothing short of reverence.

“Show me,” he says quietly, his lips barely moving. “Let go. Come for me.”

A few more halting, violent rocks of your hips is all it takes before you slump onto Marcus’s chest, unable to hold yourself upright as the feeling sweeps throughout your entire body. He holds you close, taking over the motions and fucking up into you as you convulse with aftershocks. You’re hardly aware of how loud you’re being, crying out and whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder as he fucks you through it, but as you come down, you can hear his soft, lilting voice in your ear.

“So good for me, honey–fuck, you feel so good. Look so beautiful when you come, my pretty girl. So fucking beautiful all the time, I can hardly believe you’re mine.”

You whimper softly and tighten your hold around him as you nod into his shoulder. “I need–” you start, not entirely sure where the sentence was going, but Marcus nods anyway.

“I know, baby, I know.”

He surges forward, gently depositing you on your back on the floor before covering your body with his and fucking into you with abandon.

“F-fuck, mine,” he rasps. “Mine.”

“Yes,” you gasp–each thrust punching the air out of your lungs as Marcus chases his release. “Yes, yes, yes, yes–”

It doesn’t take long before he stills, burying himself deep inside you with a low groan of your name. For a few moments, the only sound is your labored breathing as you both come back to yourselves. Marcus gently touches his forehead to yours, his soft exhales shaky and wavering against your cheeks.

The air is thick with something–emotion, tension, or maybe the opposite: relief. The moment itself feels like an exhale, like your shoulder muscles can start to ease downward. Like if you needed support–or anything–you know there's someone you can depend on.

And he, you.

“...Are you?” Marcus asks–quietly and hesitantly, as though he’s ashamed to say the words out loud. “Are you mine?”

You bring your palm to his cheek and watch his eyelashes flutter at the soft touch.

"Depends… are you mine as well?"

He pulls back, pure sincerity in his gaze as he looks in your eyes.

"I think I was waiting for you this whole time," he intones quietly. "I'm yours. Of course I’m yours. Completely, and unequivocally."

You smile and bring his face back down towards yours for a kiss.

“How’s the back?”

“Hurts.”

“Wanna get off the floor?”

Marcus looks sheepish. “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yeah, oh my God, I need to lie down.”

You giggle–breath hitching in the middle as his softening cock slips from you. With twin smiles, the two of you gingerly get up, grabbing your discarded layers of clothing and heading toward Marcus’s bedroom. He collapses on the bed with a loud sigh and scrubs his hands over his face.

“I think I aged five years during this op,” he grumbles as you plop down beside him.

“I thought everything went according to plan,” you offer, frowning in confusion.

“Oh, it did. I haven’t had any single mission in my career go better, but… Fuck, there’s a reason for that. I’ve been running the whole damn team ragged for a month, doing drills and–”

“–keeping them late at the shooting range?”

Marcus frowns. “How did you know that?”

“My security detail told me about the pains you took to keep me safe. Or rather, how you ‘made it pretty fucking clear what would happen if a single hair on my head even came close to being harmed.’”

“I–I can explain–”

“He said you were ‘head over heels crazy’ for me,” you say, raising one eyebrow coyly.

“Well,” Marcus drops his gaze and grins widely, showing his teeth. “That’s certainly accurate.”

“Why did you ask for my help, if you spent the last month stressed out of your mind?”

He bites his lip as he seemingly gathers his thoughts. “To be completely honest, I said what I said that first time in the moment, without really thinking about it,” he explains. “But once Pandora’s box was opened, so to speak, it was hard to just… put it all away. The more I thought about it, the more it was perfect. Not only does the team get an ideal setup to catch a long-time art thief, but you get an opportunity that precious few artists are ever awarded. I couldn’t… it couldn’t not be you.”

You frown slightly as disparate, confused thoughts swirl around your brain. “I never asked to be a charity case–”

“No,” Marcus interrupts. “Oh, God, no–it was just—Well, we had to ask someone to put on a fake art show, and all things being equal, I wanted it to be you.”

“Why?”

Marcus’s gaze softens. “Because I love you, silly. Head over heels, remember? You’ve given me so much, and I just wanted to give you this.”

Your breath hitches at the devotion in his words. His eyes are so full of love, you don’t even know what to say. In the past, you’ve been so used to “gifts” being double-sided and deceitful. You don’t know what to do with Marcus, who simply… gives you things. Because he wants to.

“Thank you,” you finally whisper.

He smiles slowly, eyes brimming with emotion. “I was so proud of you. You know that, right? Every time I would turn and look at you, I just–” he cuts off, shaking his head and looking down. “Baby, I was in awe of you. I just need you to know that.”

“I know that.”

You risk a glance at the clock, and wince.

“Oh, my God. It’s two am.”

Marcus grimaces. “Guess we get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“I’ve got an opening shift.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Of course you do,” he groans.

“I’ll be quiet,” you promise.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll get up and make you coffee.”

“You… you don’t have to do that,” you tell him hesitantly.

“I want to,” Marcus corrects. “I’m here with you. We’re doing this–everything–together, right?”

You reach over to turn off the bedside lamp, and then settle back against his warm side.

“Right.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal

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devil-doll13 · 2 years ago

Text

Wild Imagination

(Brahms x Nanny!Reader)

Tw: G/N reader, I just use ‘nanny’ as a catchall term, Angst, Typical Jealousy/Possessiveness, Stalking, a.k.a Brahms being Brahms, Alcohol Mention, also sort of a character study? Idk

So I remember I said something about writing for Brahms and this is sort of a warmup/experiment for him! This is fairly short too, so I may or may not make a followup but for now have this.

Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

Brahms is fascinated by you.

This is understandable; you are a kind, attractive person, and he has rarely seen those not only as fantasy manifested in the pages of a novel.

But it is also simply because you are you, and uniquely so. All of your preferences, habits, interests; every minute detail he commits to heart.

Brahms likes routine. Brahms likes structure. He watches closely and memorises you as if you are his favourite story; playing those special little moments over and over again in his head.

Only, in his make-believe world, he is right there with you. In spirit, he always is; the doll is by your side, therefore he is as well. He cherishes your presence within his home, he loves your cooking if only because it is made with genuine care, he enjoys your piano playing, whether masterful or amateurish. He falls asleep - however awkward his position behind the walls might be - to your soothing voice reciting poetry to the doll, as if those porcelain eyelids might be closed.

But that isn’t the same as being with you truly, really, physically. That doll; his child persona, is a barrier separating you from him, perhaps even more than his place between his walls. All his little games he likes to play, you assume to be nothing more than a figment of your wild imagination. He has become so attached to you, but you don’t even know he exists.

Sometimes Brahms wonders what it would be like to be with you as the man. To welcome you into his home, as he should have when you were hired. To play the violin or cello or piano for you and impress you with his musical virtuosity. To hold you in his arms - a real human being, not only a sub-par effigy of your likeness - and softly read along with you. To conceal a laugh at your momentary fright as his cold hands run goosebumps down your spine. To be your Darcy or Rochester or Heathcliff.

But… No. He must be good. He must stay hidden.

He reminds himself of this every passing day, but by every passing day his desire to have you see him, as Brahms, in the flesh and blood and sweat, grows stronger and stronger.

His need for this surges, rather violently, when he sees you smiling and laughing with that damn Malcolm - only at the door, because you are a good nanny and follow the rules as you should - for he is reminded so unpleasantly that you will never smile or laugh for him. Not for him, not for Brahms the man, flesh and blood and sweat.

Brahms’ resentment for this fact soon bubbles over, soon he feels a sort of hateful jealousy directed at that doll and how beloved it is; for he is not scarred or ‘odd’ or wrong, not a failure of a son or a disappointment. He is ‘Brahms,’ without flaws, without blemishes, without room to embarrass or bring shame. Silent and perfect forever.

Now he cocoons you in his wool knit cardigan, safe from the outside world. Although you might struggle, he knows you need him as much as he needs you; you must, for all the nights you have imbibed wine and spilled your deepest secrets to him. To the doll, to a figment of your imagination. But it was him the whole time, and now he has revealed himself to you for you to love as deeply as you did that broken bundle of porcelain.

He loves you. You do too, right?

I didn’t tag any of my usuals bc I didn’t know who would want it but lmk if you want to be on my slasher x list!

#I was just working on my HoW fic and this manifested itself on the page #I love him 🥺#my skrunkly sweaty wall man #if I do a followup #it might be from readers pov idk #Brahms Heelshire #The Boy #The Boy (2016)#Brahms x reader #Brahms x y/n #Brahms x you #fanfic #my writing

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philaet0s · 4 months ago

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a random, non exhaustive list of headcanons I have, that I don’t necessarily use in all my fics but that are very dear to me:

— TRANS NIALL I WILL NOT LET THAT HEADCANON GO ❤️❤️❤️❤️

—speaking of Niall, I just know he and Baz had a fling at some point. dated for a few weeks, maybe a few months, when they were 15

— Baz speaking Arabic ❤️

in canon compliant fics, I like to think that she taught him bc 1) it was important to Natasha 2) as a fuck you to Malcolm because he doesn’t understand it well so she and Baz can have full conversations in front of him without him knowing what they’re saying. in normal AUs, he knows it because his grandparent taught him. which leads me to another headcanon…

— …in normal AUs, Baz was raised by Natasha’s parents for a time, when Malcolm couldn’t do it. Also I hc Baz’s grandparents as people who both are from Egypt and moved to England as young adults. And they’re muslim too

—Baz having an eating disorder. works for both canon compliant and normal aus tbf but i include it more in normal aus as a “replacement” for his vampirism

—in Normal AUs, Baz being a vegetarian (vibes + something to mirror his “I don’t eat people” type of vampirism)

—Baz being disabled. should not be a headcanon but since he was magically healed in canon it is. also Baz using a cane. very very important to me

—i wish i’d include these in fics more: simon as a trans man (ftm) and baz as a nonbinary person. i’ve explored that in a few of my fics and it’s a lot of fun. it can add SO MUCH to simon’s character, and as for baz… idk, just vibes. but i’m a bit conflicted abt baz because i feel like he wouldn’t fuck with something that’s too far away from the “norm”. like he’s gay and that’s already not fun for him but gay is a generally accepted identity (in the sense that a majority of people are aware gay people exist, not that all they accept them) while nonbinary might be a bit Too queer for canon baz. i think that’s something he’d discover a bit later in life after some deconstructing (or if he evolved in a more queer environment)

—I also really like giving Baz addictions. idk he just seems prone to addiction. i am forever haunted by the scene of him drunk in the catacombs in 5th year. to me he definitely had issues with alcoholism then… so he could see signs of it in simon in ws. and they both stopped drinking altogether after that. woohoo

(alcohol’s not the only addiction i imagine baz has, i do also like giving him drug addictions. bc again. he seems prone to that. + he’s a depressed kid with more money than he knows how to use. he’d try drugs to make himself “feel good” and then become addicted)

—Baz studying English Literature in university (Oxford, unless he goes to UCL to stay in london with Simon) and working as a teacher and/or a writer. that’s the two jobs i can see baz doing the most

—Simon being a baker!!!! I do love writing Simon as a construction worker but baker Simon has a special place in my heart

(I also have entire backstories for Daphne and Niall but I’m not going to be annoying and detail them here bc I already did in the notes of one of my fics (I will TOTALLY detail them here if ANYONE asks lol))

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #co/ws/awtwb

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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 year ago

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tell me how it got this way | ch. 6

pairing: jungkook x f.reader, hoseok x f.reader genre: fwb to lovers/friends to lovers, love triangle | non-idol!au, angst, smut, est. relationships rating: 18+, minors dni warnings: mentions of past issues (so brief), lots of kissing, explicit smut (seriously minors DNI), fingering (f. receiving), orgasm denial (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex (they've talked about it previously but don't do this), slight marking, begging, mentions of multiple orgasms, cream pie kinda, mention of oral sex (f. receiving), mention of shower sex, mention of bathroom sex, mingyu makes an appearance as the shithead roommate, i think that's it? word count: ~9.7k (idk what to say, it got away from me)

a/n: SHE IS FINALLY DONE! this is the fic that completely got away from me, ended up being much harder to finish than i imagined, and went some place completely different from the original idea. this was definitely not the ending i imagined, but sometimes you just have to go with what feels natural rather than forcing something that doesn't. i hope you enjoy it and sorry for the length.

prev. | masterlist

With a new day also comes the realization that you don’t get another pass. Today you don’t get to just tell people you don’t want to talk about the conversation with Hoseok and actually have them respect that. It’s time for you to start figuring out what it is that you feel and process your emotions. To use Jimin’s words, you need to start acting like an adult that’s published multiple books and earned a streaming deal. Which is kind of terrifying. All you want to do is pull the covers over your head and pretend the world doesn’t exist.

You’re seriously considering that when you roll over to your side and Jungkook isn’t there anymore. And your feelings about him being gone are complicated. The rational part of you knows that he has his own life, his own things to do, he doesn’t owe you his free time. But, it was really nice just to fall asleep cuddled up with him, no sex or talking, just comfort. It’s also a little gut-wrenching to think he might have left without a word. That’s no who you are, is it?

Then Jungkook walks back into the room, still in just his briefs, with a mug in each hand. You sit up with a smile and accept the cup when he hands it over to you. It smells amazing, which isn’t a surprise. This man is good at everything, including something as simple as making the perfect cup of coffee. Surprisingly, though, he never takes the credit. Just reminds you that it’s easy to make good coffee when you’ve got a full coffee bar in your apartment. And because Jungkook is a saint, he tells you that he’s ordered breakfast from your favorite place.

For all the time you and him spend together, it feels like it’s been ages since you had a day like this: both free from work or other plans, a full day just to be lazy together. You don’t even have to talk about it, you know you’re both on the same page when he asks if you have anything to do and says he doesn’t either. Seems really happy to be able to spend the day with you too.

Okay, so maybe you did sneak an extra day of not having to talk about your feelings after all. It’s not like you were going to answer text messages when you were with Jungkook and it wasn’t like he asked about it either. Which suited you just fine.

Today, though, you agree to go see Yoongi and Jimin. Without the special guest this time, because you really do want to figure out how you were feeling. And to do that, you really needed to take him out of the equation. As amazing as he is as a friend on top of everything else, this just isn’t fair. It’s not fair to ask for advice now. Besides, Jungkook has been at your place since two nights ago and Mingyu, his roommate, is getting whiny. Not that it’s unusual, but it does mean Jungkook should go home.

You suggest going to Yoongi and Jimin’s apartment since they’re both there, which annoys Jimin since he was excited to get out of the house. Even if it was only to come to your apartment. Your offer to bring coffee and pastries, anything he wants, which quiets him back down again. There’s also a strategy in it. Part of you isn’t entirely sure what your friends are going to say and going to their apartment gives you the chance to run, if you need to.

You don’t, thankfully.

Both listen intently as you relay your memories from the conversation the previous day. Jimin, as usual, interjects more than Yoongi does. He wants to know things about Hoseok’s body language, facial expressions, if he leaned in or fidgeted in his seat. And just as usual, Yoongi lets his boyfriend pepper you with questions throughout the story, only listening intently. It makes you a little nervous, though, because you know that he’s going to have something to say and you’re really not sure what it’s going to be.

“I think this is a good thing,” Yoongi finally says, even earns an eyebrow raise from Jimin.

“You do?” both you and Jimin ask together.

“I do,” Yoongi responds. “Even if you haven’t been talking about it, this fight with him and losing that friendship has been hanging over your head for the past 5 years.”

“He has a point,” Jimin agrees.

“I remember when we met, it couldn’t have been much after the fight, I’d say a year max,” Yoongi starts and you nod. “I didn’t know what happened except that there was this pain completely covering you.”

“Wow, thanks Yoon,” you say, sarcasm kicking in as a defense.

“Will you just…listen?” he asks. There’s something in his tone that makes you roll your lips together and nod. “You wore the pain like armor, still do sometimes, but wouldn’t it be nice to not have to anymore? Wouldn’t it be nice to be free?”

“Yeah, I mean of course it would,” you say, letting out a sigh in the process.

“You’ve got that chance,” Yoongi says. “Jimin and I can’t tell you what you feel…”

“Though I’m happy to offer opinions,” Jimin interjects, only to be silenced by a look from Yoongi.

“But you have a chance to get closure, real closure, and move forward from one of the worst things you went through,” Yoongi says. “So figure out what you feel and talk to them both.”

“Both?” The surprise is clear in your voice and on your face.

“Oh honey,” Jimin says almost like he’s pitying you. “Jungkook?”

“I’m not sure…” you start and Jimin is even quicker to cut you off.

“I don’t wanna hear about how it’s just casual or you’re not actually in a relationship because it’s bullshit,” Jimin says. Which catches you off guard, a bit, because he doesn’t usually swear like that in your direction.

“I know things have gotten deeper,” you concede.

“He was worried about you the other night, when we went out,” Jimin admits and you realize you never actually asked Jungkook about the text. “He texted me…”

“When did you get his number?” Yoongi asks and Jimin smiles.

“Aww is my Yoonie jealous?” Jimin taunts, earning nothing more than a huff in response.

“You know she’s my best friend, right?” Yoongi grumbles under his breath.

“Yes, my grumpy little cat, I know she’s your best friend. We exchanged numbers a while ago because I put him in touch with someone I knew about a job,” Jimin says and continues before either you or Yoongi can ask any questions about the vague answer. “Anyway, he texted me after he’d texted you a few times. Just wanted to make sure you were okay and nothing had gone wrong. I told him we were out and things were fine, but that I was sure you wouldn’t mind if he went over anyway.”

Not what you were expecting. Although you’re not sure what you really expected. The whole thing has been different than you were expecting.

“Since he has a key and we do not,” Jimin adds and you laugh.

“Yoongi does have a key,” you say and laugh harder when Jimin playfully smacks the older man.

“It’s for emergencies, Jiminie,” Yoongi reasons, unbothered.

“I’m gonna need my own key, then,” Jimin says.

“Anyway,” Yoongi adds, trying to reign in the chaos. “Yes, both. You deserve the chance to get closure with Hoseok and move forward. But Jungkook also deserves to know where exactly you and him stand.”

It’s a completely fair point, entirely understandable to lay it out like that. Only one problem. You really don’t have any idea about the answer. Despite admitting this, Yoongi stands firm that Jimin can’t help because you need to work it out on your own. Can’t even offer his thoughts or a little suggestion. Yoongi puts his foot firmly down. And he’s right, isn’t he? This isn’t something for them to figure out. This is your life and they’re your relationships. You can’t have someone else tell you how to feel.

You take the time that you haven’t given yourself to process. Time to sit alone with yourself and your thoughts, no distractions or outside opinions. It’s not as scary as you thought it would be. There’s a strange kind of comfort in it. Maybe that’s a sign you’ve grown. Not a lot, there’s no need to go crazy, but at least enough to examine where you are.

In the past, it might’ve taken you weeks, or even months, to process your feelings. Largely because you never actually stopped to process them. Now that you’re actually giving yourself the time and space, it’s only a couple of days. Well, it’s not that you think you’ve figured it all out. You just know Yoongi was right. You need to talk to Jungkook and you need some form of closure with Hoseok. Since you haven’t seen Jungkook in a few days, you figure inviting him over will at least get you moving.

The best thing about Jungkook, and there is a lot to pick from, is that he always goes with the flow that you set. He’s supportive and kind and caring without being overbearing. The problem with that, though, is you never really noticed when the roles changed. Never noticed how much more observant he became. Never noticed that you know him as well as yourself. Never noticed that you depend on him more than anyone.

He listens to everything you have to say, keeps his face carefully neutral while you relay the conversation you had days ago with Yoongi and Jimin. If he feels any kind of way about you processing without including him, he doesn’t show it. His face is thoughtful, at times, but you’re not entirely sure what he thinks. There’s something for a second when you say that you had to figure out what your feelings for Hoseok are. And it’s gone just as quickly.

“You know he’s the reason nothing has ever worked, right?” Jungkook asks and you look for some sign he’s upset or hurt.

“I’ve always said that. That him throwing our friendship aside has made it hard to trust people,” you respond automatically.

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice is soft and low.

You want to look down and avoid his eyes, but something keeps your eyes on his. Maybe it’s that you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen now that he’s said it aloud. Maybe it’s wondering if this is the last time you’re going to see that warm smile directed at you, the one that always makes you want to smile in return. You don’t know if everything is going to change.

You do know exactly what he means, though. You’ve known since Hoseok appeared back in your life. And maybe it’s not exactly what you expected. Hoseok’s sudden reappearance meant dealing with a lot of emotions and pain that were unclear 5 years ago. Emotions that are both clearer now and still not crystal clear. But struggling internally is very different than having this person you care so much for pointing it out. It scares you. Just how much has Jungkook realized?

“I don’t know what to say, Kookie,” you admit, finally looking down. You pull your lower lip between your teeth.

In a second, he’s closing the gap between you and tilting your head gently up to meet his eyes. He smiles softly, the same as always. “There’s nothing to say, I get it.”

“How long have you known?” You have no idea why this is the question you ask in your hushed tone, but it somehow seems important.

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, like he’s thinking about what to say because he’s not usually one to say much unless he has time to think it through. This is different though. He seems to want to answer. “I guess, well I think I knew there was something when we first started hanging out. I was sure at that gala you brought me to.”

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat and he’s shaking his head.

“We’ve always known what this was, you and me, and it’s always been great,” Jungkook says and you start to open your mouth. You’re not actually sure that he realizes what you want to say. “Don’t worry. You never hurt me. Just don’t fuck it up now, okay?”

“What?”

Jungkook smiles again and shakes his head. “Tell him. Tell him for real this time, before it’s too late for you to say something, before he disappears to give us a chance.”

“To give...us? I don’t…” You’re sputtering the words out, so confused with not only what Jungkook is saying, but with your emotions as well. Your head is a mess again and you’re not really sure what you’re supposed to say. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“I could see it on his face, the last time I saw him, he thinks I’m good for you,” Jungkook says.

“You are,” you say. “You know me so much better than I ever realized, so much better than I think either of us planned.”

“I know I am and I know I’m also the only one you’ve let stay around for this long. It’s just time for you to take a chance at getting what you want, even if you’re scared,” Jungkook says. Part of you really wants to disagree and doesn’t. Chicken.

“Can I ask you something I have no right to ask?” you ask. Jungkook arches his eyebrow at your question, clearly intrigued, but possibly deciding if it’s a good idea.

“Sure,” he says, curiosity winning over.

“Were you seeing anyone else? Like while we were doing...whatever this was?” you ask. The answer somehow feels important to you. So much so that you hold your breath.

“Casually dating, I think is the word,” Jungkook offers.

“You’re cute, but I think we both know we sucked at casual,” you say and Jungkook chuckles.

“Did we?” Jungkook asks.

“I mean, yeah? Jungkook, you literally show up at my apartment with coffee or breakfast when I’m hungover. You have a key, for fuck’s sake. I’ve asked you to come to events with me. You bring me to events with you. We hang out and do things without it being sexual at all,” you say and he looks like he’s about to say something. “Which I love, to be clear. I wouldn’t change anything about how we’ve been.”

“I wouldn’t change it either,” Jungkook says and is thoughtful again for a moment. “No, though, I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t?” Somehow this surprises you, even with how bad you were at casual.

“Nah, it was just you,” he says and you nod. “How about you?”

“Please, I always was clear I wasn’t seeing anyone else,” you say.

The conversation is just so casual, so easy. You know you should be able to think of another word to describe things with him, but you can’t. He’s such a steady presence in your life that you’re not really sure how to go forward with his advice, even though you know he’s right. It’s weird to think you might have a Jungkook-sized hole in your life soon. He’s made himself at home and you’re not really sure you’re ready to lose that safety net.

But it’s not fair to anyone. It’s not fair to Jungkook, even if he says that he’s really not looking to be in something serious with labels and expectations. In the back of your mind, you do know that the two of you have basically been in a relationship for months without calling it that. This conversation with Hoseok is just one that you need to have. You know that there were more than just friendly feelings simmering beneath everything that happened. Not everyone gets closure, but you can and you’re going to try.

You’re nervous. Like really nervous. Like the kind of nervous where your leg is jiggling almost uncontrollably and you react every time the door opens. Okay, maybe that’s because you had entirely too much caffeine in your system. This had been the compromise though. Overly caffeinated was fine, apparently having a drink (or four, who’s counting) was a bad idea. You were internally cursing at taking Jimin’s advice on doing this sober. What did he know anyway?

(Jimin is in a happy relationship, you remind yourself, with someone you never thought would settle into something as easily as he had with Jimin. Okay, so maybe Jimin knows something, but you’d rather die before admitting that because he’s smug enough already, thank you very much.)

So yeah, the caffeine isn’t helping the nerves. Knowing Hoseok is on his way and you’re going to tell him how you used to feel is worse, though. You know there’s a part of you that has feelings for him now. You know that’s why you fell into bed with him. This seems like something he should know, or should have known. Or maybe he does know and he just hasn’t said anything. Feels bad about Jungkook. Which you do too, honestly.

No, you need to stay focused and you’re cursing yourself that the only time you can ever be early seems to be when you’re meeting Hoseok. It’s giving you too much time to think and re-think. Maybe you should just get up, text Hoseok that you’re sorry but something came up with the series and you’d have to catch him another time. (Which, you then remind yourself, is a terrible idea because one of Hoseok’s dance students is in the series so he could definitely tell Hoseok nothing came up. Ugh.)

And then he walks in, just walks through the door like there isn’t anything to worry about and nothing is going to change. Which maybe nothing will change for either of you, that thought has been on your mind constantly. Jungkook seems sure that Hoseok has feelings for you and seems sure that you have some kind of feelings for him. Maybe he’s right.

Hoseok’s smile upon seeing you sitting there is instant and genuine, that warm smile that’s always felt like it was only for his favorite people. Once upon a time, you knew you’d meant the world to him. Now? You aren’t sure.

As soon as he had a coffee of his own, he joined you, sitting down looking suddenly apprehensive and something else you can’t place. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks for coming to see me,” you say, not sure exactly how to act.

“I wasn’t sure, after that whole thing about the TV series,” Hoseok says and you sigh.

You apologize for that, because you know it wasn’t ever a serious thought that Hoseok would do something like that. He isn’t underhanded or calculating. Sure, he hurt you all those years earlier, but getting close to you again just to help someone get a role in a TV show? No. That wasn’t Hoseok. You’re falling over yourself to make sure he understands just how sorry you are for it. In typical Hoseok fashion, he accepts it easily.

“It was really bad timing,” Hoseok admits, “running into you out like that, us being drunk, ending up back at my place.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I signed up for,” you say.

“No, I know, and then with Jungkook, I know you said it wasn’t serious. But, I see how you and him are together. He’s good for you,” Hoseok says, kind of rambling in an uncharacteristic way.

“Yeah, he has been really good for me,” you say. “I guess…this has all been confusing and I’m not really sure what the future is for him and me.”

He’s surprised, clearly. He was sincere in saying how you and Jungkook were good together. You think you see something else too and you’re not sure what it is. When did you get so bad at reading his emotions? There was a time you knew his face better than your own.

“What happened?” Hoseok asks. “I don’t ever remember seeing you like that with anyone, even if I have missed years of your life.”

That gets a sigh out of you. “Jungkook is different. He’s kind and patient, listens even when my mouth can’t keep up with my brain, which seems to be a lot. He supports my mood swings while I’m writing. He’s really good at calming me down when I want to throw my computer out the window and quit writing.”

“Which also probably happens a lot,” Hoseok jokes and you can’t completely fight a laugh.

“I’d like to say it’s better now, but it’s not,” you concede.

“So why aren’t you sure?” Hoseok asks.

“Why did you pop back up?” you ask. “Why now?”

Hoseok lets you answer his question with a question.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok says and thinks about it. “I knew I made a mistake, that I fucked up for what I said then. I think, eventually, she knew it too. I couldn’t get why she was so threatened by our friendship, she couldn’t get why I didn’t get it. I had all this regret and I didn’t know how to apologize.”

“I’m sorry for being a dickhead is usually a good place to start,” you offer, and Hoseok levels you with a look. “Sorry.”

“We finally broke up and I wanted to call you the minute she left. I just felt like that would feel off? Like ‘hey, we just broke up, you were right and I’m sorry’ just felt lame,” Hoseok says.

“I want to say it wouldn’t have been, but I also don’t think I would’ve been in the right headspace to hear it,” you acknowledge.

“I figured,” Hoseok sighs. “So I waited, and then you had a book drop and some time went by. I was getting ready to reach out, when I looked at your Instagram. The last two posts were a super heartfelt post about a friend of yours that you referred to as your best friend and then a picture with some really attractive guy looking at you like you were his whole world.”

You thought you remembered the timeframe and who you’d been dating. Seokmin had been wonderful and beautiful and cared deeply for you, a feeling you weren’t able to return completely.

“The post with Yoongi, who I had to fight to even get pictures with for the record, must’ve been hard for you to see,” you acknowledge and Hoseok looks puzzled. “The one gushing about him being my best friend?”

“Oh, sure, that was the harder of the two,” Hoseok says and for one of the first times in your life, you feel like he’s lying.

“Still, though, if it’s when I’m thinking, I dated that guy like over a year and a half ago,” you say. “And, to be fair, it wasn’t as serious as it probably looked.”

“I just, I don’t know, I missed you. I was at my sister’s with her and her husband and I just, I missed you,” Hoseok said.

“I saw pictures from her wedding, she looked stunning,” you say and then, almost without a thought, “and so did you. I mean, you looked really handsome.”

The tips of Hoseok’s ears flushed a bit, another something out of character for him.

“She was so upset. She thought I’d have patched it up with you by then and you’d have been there. She nearly told me not to come unless you were there too,” Hoseok says.

“I missed you too,” you say and sigh because you know you have to just say it.

“I’m surprised you thought about me at all,” Hoseok says quietly.

“Well I tried not to, it worked a lot. Not nearly as much as I’d have liked. But artists are supposed to suffer, right?” You laugh a little without any humor. “Look, I have to put my cards on the table,” Hoseok says. “All those years ago, the things I was saying. I realized later I had it backwards. I’d been in love with you since we slept together that summer. I just, I didn’t really know what to do with my emotions and you were so sure about pretending it hadn’t happened. I’m so sorry for everything that I said and for everything that it put you through. I know it doesn’t make up for it now and I can accept that. I fucked up. Plain and simple. And I’d be willing to spend however long I needed to showing you that I’m so sorry. That’s why the relationship finally ended, though, she realized I was still in love with you. It wasn’t just that I felt bad for what I said, which I still do, it was that I couldn’t help from bringing you up, especially when anyone talked about you as a writer. I was still in love with you and she felt like she couldn’t compete.”

“What?” you ask, unable to form other words.

“I’m so sorry to dump this on you now,” Hoseok says and you sigh.

“You weren’t alone and she wasn’t entirely wrong,” you say and his eyes lock on yours. “I did have feelings for you back then, super complicated feelings that I didn’t really know how to process. Or even what they were.”

“You’re talking in the past tense,” Hoseok comments and you bite your lower lip.

“I am, aren’t I?” you ask idly.

“I’m too late,” Hoseok realizes and you look away.

“Hobi, I do have feelings for you, that drunken night wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t,” you say and chuckle. “We’re way too old to act like drunkenly falling into bed is meaningless.”

“No, I agree there,” Hoseok says. “But?”

“I think I just walked away from someone I shouldn’t have so we could have this conversation,” you say.

“I think you did too,” Hoseok admits after a moment and you can see how hard it is on him.

“You don’t get it though,” you say and shake your head. “It was never serious with Jungkook. Never something we labeled. He let me walk away to come talk to you. He encouraged it. He doesn’t want more with me.”

“Of course he did,” Hoseok chuckles. “What was he supposed to do?”

“Ask me to stay?” you ask and Hoseok looks amused.

“You don’t see the way he looks at you, at least the way he did at that Gala. It took me a long time to approach you because of it. I was already there when you and him walked in,” Hoseok says, which really catches you off guard. You’d assumed he was a late arrival or at least that he hadn’t seen you yet. “You were sighing and I could just imagine you talking about how much you didn’t want to be there, but his eyes just stayed on you. So fond. And then there’s the way he apparently looks at you when he shows up to the set.”

“How do you…?” you ask and then realize. “Chan, of course.”

“He didn’t know what he was doing, just mentioned a guy with tattoos that seemed crazy about you showing up pretty often,” Hoseok says. “Chan’s so obsessed with your work and so happy about the project. He was all starstruck talking about the guy that looked at you like you hung the moon while you were just drinking your coffee.”

“Yeah, well, I need my caffeine,” you say. What else are you supposed to say? Your brain wants to process it all and wants to believe it. It’s just, it goes against everything you thought you knew.

“We were too late and that’s something I have to live with. And maybe it’s for the best, we’re not 22 anymore,” he says. “But you don’t have to be too late for this.”

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” you say and rush out of the coffee shop.

Even though you spend a lot of time at your apartment, you still spend some time at Jungkook’s apartment too. The downside is just that he lives with a roommate. Not a downside really, because his roommate is great, it’s just that sometimes he complains about how single he feels around you and Jungkook. Which you didn’t really understand until now. It’s like now you can see exactly how you’ve been the entire time. You’re not sure how you missed it.

And it’s Mingyu that answers the door. You forgot that he’s like 7 feet tall as you’re looking up at him in the doorway. He looks confused for a second before he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Long time, no see,” he says casually.

“I know, is Jungkook here?” you ask and he shakes his head.

“I thought you’d be with your new boyfriend,” Mingyu says and you frown at him. Frown because he didn’t answer your question. It doesn’t even occur to you that he wouldn’t know about Hoseok unless Jungkook was talking about it.

“Please, Mingyu, is he here?” you ask again.

Mingyu sighs and steps aside so that you can come in. “He’s not, but you can wait.”

“Do you know when he’s gonna be back?” you ask.

Mingyu opens his mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, and then stops himself. Which is weird. Weirder still, his face softens.

“I really wanna fuck with you, but I’m hoping that it’s a good thing that you’re here,” he says. “He legit just went around the corner to get coffee so he should be back really soon.”

“Thank you,” you say. And you mean it.

“Can I say something?” he asks, seems to be fighting with himself.

“You’ve never hesitated before,” you answer. Which is true, you don’t know Mingyu that well, but Jungkook’s roommate has never been shy around you.

“You mean a lot to him,” Mingyu says. “I know he’ll never come out and say it like that and he’d probably kill me for telling you, but you do. I don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you. I’ve known him for years and he’s never been like this about anyone.”

“Yeah, I think I’m realizing that,” you say, earning a smile from Mingyu.

“Just give him a shot,” Mingyu says.

He’s about to say something else when you both hear a key in the lock, both turn to look at the door when the handle turns, both watch to see the reaction of the man walking in.

“Gyu, I got you a coffee too even though you’re a complete…oh!” Jungkook says, catching sight of you in his living room. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, it’s just…well, I,” you start, tumbling over your words and miss Mingyu shaking his head.

“No, sorry, that came out wrong. I’m happy you’re here, I just figured you’d be with Hoseok,” Jungkook says and his face crinkles. “Don’t tell me that idiot turned you down.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Mingyu interrupts. “I’m gonna head out, actually.”

“I thought we were…” Jungkook starts, adorably confused.

Mingyu only claps him on the shoulder. “Another time, trust me.”

“Can we sit?” you ask and Jungkook looks unsure but he nods.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get coffee for you too, I didn’t realize,” Jungkook starts.

“No, it’s fine, I definitely don’t need more caffeine,” you say.

He laughs, “well that’s a first.”

You take a deep breath and try not to watch the range of emotions on Jungkook’s face because you’re scared you’ll lose your nerve.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly to your hands.

“For what? Did he turn you down?” Jungkook asks. You can hear the protective side of him coming out.

You ignore the second question. “For everything that’s happened since that Gala I dragged you to. All the times you’ve had to pick up the pieces, all the times you’ve had to comfort me, all the advice you’ve had to give about another guy.”

“Oh,” Jungkook says softly. “Well, that’s okay.”

That makes you look up. “No, it’s not. You don’t deserve that. You don’t ever deserve to think that you’re anything less than amazing. I know I’ve made you feel like a second choice, like a back-up plan, you’re not.”

“Hey, life is complicated, right? I’m a big boy, I knew what I was getting into,” Jungkook assures you.

“Still though,” you say.

“What happened with…him?” Jungkook asks. It’s the first time his careful mask has slipped and it gives you hope. Hope you’re not sure you have a right to feel.

“He told me he did have feelings for me, both back then and now,” you say.

Jungkook, usually so composed with you, lets some of his frustration come through his next words. “So what are you doing here?”

It’s harsher than he usually speaks to you and you know you completely deserve it. You need to actually get the words out and let him make a decision for himself for once, without putting you first.

“I realized that it wasn’t him that I wanted,” you offer, so quietly that you’re scared he won’t hear. But he does, of course he does.

“I don’t…” Jungkook begins.

“I think my feelings towards him have always been complicated, tied up in how he was the first real friend I’d ever had. There’s a part of me that did feel some kind of love for him and definitely some kind of physical connection to him,” you say and pause. You need to take a breath to keep going. To steady your nerves. “It wasn’t until I was sitting across from him that I realized, I’m not 22 anymore. Maybe it would’ve been right then, maybe it wouldn’t. But it isn’t right now and I don’t wanna be chasing something from years ago. Love doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“I…no, it doesn’t have to be complicated,” he agrees.

“So he realized he was too late and I realized it wasn’t him I should be talking to,” you say and look up into Jungkook’s soft brown eyes. You’re not even sure he’s breathing with how intently he’s watching you. And hopeful, so hopeful. “It’s you that I want, Jungkook, if I haven’t fucked this up so bad that you can’t…”

You don’t get to finish your words before his lips crash against yours. And the feeling is warm and comfortable and electric all at once. It’s right in a way nothing else has been before. He just fits together with you like it was always supposed to be this way.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say between kisses. “I am so insanely sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

“It’s okay,” he assures you, not wanting to break apart.

You have to pull away though, his face between your hands. “It’s not and I want you to know that you’re my first choice. This, right here with you, is all I need.”

“I know,” he says. “And fuck, I’m so happy you’re here. I know we have a lot to figure out but can we just…can we do it tomorrow? I just want today with you.”

How can you deny him that? After everything that’s happened between the two of you, you really do feel like this is the least you can do. He’s also far more perceptive than you’ve given him credit for, so maybe it’s okay to just follow his lead this time.

Kissing Jungkook now feels…different. Not bad, just new somehow. Which is kind of crazy because you’ve kissed him thousands of times over the months you’ve been together. There’s just something about your brain and your heart finally seeming to be on the same page that makes everything feel more. More feelings, more happiness, more excitement. You didn’t think that kissing someone could get any better. It has, though, and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to catch your breath if you keep going.

Another amazing thing about someone who knows you as well as Jungkook is that you don’t always need words. When he stands and grabs your hand, you follow him into his bedroom without even questioning it. You watch, eyes probably full of some nauseating level of affection, as he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out for you. There’s an equal amount of affection as you let him pull you in and settle on his lap, one knee on either side of him pressing into the mattress.

There’s never really been a rush with Jungkook, at least not since the first few times. Yeah, there have been plenty of rushed times, but just as many slow. This is somehow different, just like the kiss. And that makes sense, doesn’t it? Because you have all the time in the world. All the time to be together and figure each other out even more. Jungkook may have the edge there.

His hands are firm on your hips, keeping you anchored in place, stopping you from rolling your hips against his for the friction you crave. The control is a stark contrast from the softness of his lips moving in time with yours and it’s making you a little dizzy. You really thought you knew this man inside and out, yet here he is surprising you again.

Even more dizzying is the realization that you’re in so much deeper than you ever thought. It’s more than just caring about him, even though you do, probably more than you’ve ever really cared about a partner. It’s this inescapable feeling of being safe and on the edge at the same time. Knowing that if you fall, he’s going to catch you. It’s so glaringly obvious that you see why your friends were so insistent that you include him in the equation.

Just when you think you might explode, Jungkook pulls apart from you and studies your face. His fingers graze along the skin at your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt. You nod and lift your hands up as he grips the hem to pull it over your head. His fingers are so light across your skin when he unclasps your bra and slides the straps away.

Gentle. He’s so gentle. Like he’s telling you that it’s okay, that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Like he’s not sure this is real. It is, though. As his lips move down your neck, you can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips. The trails his kisses down to your breast, slow and deliberate. The way his warm breath meets your skin makes you suck in a breath.

He’s always been generous, always wanted to be exactly what you wanted, but this feels like even more than that. It feels like a side of him you should’ve known and yet didn’t quite. It feels like a last little bit of him that had been tucked away, just waiting. And that’s kind of exciting, to think that someone you thought you already knew completely can still surprise you like this. It makes all those hangups you thought you had about relationships seem insignificant.

And he’s getting a side of you that is a little different, too. There’s something about him that makes you needy, but it’s never been like this. All you want is more of him, more of everything he’s doing. You try to take advantage when he’s not anchoring you quite so steadily, roll your hips against his. While you’re rewarded with a low groan, he also puts a hand firmly back on your hip to keep you from doing it again.

“Please Jungkookie,” you whine, finally relenting. You will absolutely beg if it gets you what you want.

His eyes study you, so full of affection that you might combust. You don’t even realize he’s slid his hands under your ass until he’s standing up and you gasp. It’s just for a moment, though, so he can lay you back onto his bed. Almost immediately, you go to remove your pants and his hands are on yours, stopping you before you even get to the button. The next second, he’s pinning you down, one hand holding both of yours above your head, the other swiftly undoing your pants. If this is the way you go, a squirming mess beneath this beautiful man, it all might be worth it, honestly.

Jungkook pulls himself back off of you so he can pull your pants down, taking your underwear along with them. Even though you’ve seen him get undressed more times than you can count, you still find yourself watching as he removes his own clothes. Eyes taking in the recently added color of his tattoos, the lines of his body, the way his muscles contract as he moves.

He’s back almost on top of you, slightly offset so he doesn’t put too much weight on you, but it’s still a surprise to you when he starts kissing you again. You need something more, some sort of relief before you go insane. And you’re just about to beg for it when one of his fingers slides along your folds. So this is the game he’s playing, teasing you with just his fingers and making your back arch in response. You want to protest, want to tell him there’s plenty of time to go slow, but you just need now. With his lips so insistent on yours, though, that’s hard.

Thankfully, Jungkook isn’t cruel. After running his finger along your entrance, collecting some of the wetness there, he slides a single finger inside you. It’s so slow, painfully slow, but it’s something. It’s a start to the relief that you need. Okay, maybe he is a little cruel. His finger slides in as slowly as his kisses, which are all languid motions. Any part of you that wants to fight back sinks into the mattress as he licks into your mouth.

It’s honestly the most relaxed you’ve ever felt with someone like this. There’s a part of your brain that fights against that feeling for a second before you realize that it’s been there all along. This feeling of complete comfort and safety. You were just too caught up in the idea that it wasn’t that serious to realize Jungkook had made a home in your heart. Too caught up in your past bullshit to realize this person had carefully broken through every defense without you realizing it.

But, unfortunately, Jungkook is still kind of a shit. Through your moaning, he picks up the pace, something you immediately encourage. A chorus of nonsense mixed together with your appreciation. He had two fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit. All you feel is that you’re close, so close.

Until he stops. Just completely stills himself when you’re on the precipice. Ready to come on his fingers and body still wound tight.

“Not yet babe,” he says, eyes alight.

“I was so close,” you whine.

“I know,” he says, just confirming what a demon he is. He captures your next protest with a kiss and you tangle your hand in his hair without thinking. Anchor him to you. Take back some small, tiny bit of control.

It’s all too fast when he pulls away again and you recognize he’s looking for a condom. So you just tell him not to bother. You mostly haven’t been using one lately because you’re protected and you know both of you are clean. It’s something you’ve both talked about more than once.

And thank fucking god he seems like he’s on the same page as you again because he doesn’t question it. Just abandons his search and presses his lips to yours again. You arch your back into him, chase his lips with your own. It should be embarrassing, the way you just need, except that it’s Jungkook and it’s not. It’s just…natural. The most natural thing in the world.

He does successfully pull away from your lips again, sparing a low, quiet chuckle for the way you immediately pout your lips at him. But then he’s lining himself up at your entrance, using just a little bit of lube along his shaft, and pressing the tip into you. Just like everything else, it’s slow. So slow as he pushes into you, buries his length inside of you and lets you adjust to him. Wants you to feel comfortable. But you’re always comfortable with him.

The second that you try to move against him, Jungkook presses a hand to your hip, pins you down to the bed. There’s none of the usual wide-eyed wonder in his eyes when they lock onto yours, silently telling you that you need to stay in place. Be good. Somehow it makes you want to squirm even more. Instead you focus on the way the muscles in Jungkook’s arm that’s holding you down contract, focus on the furrow of his brow, focus on the lines of his chest.

You tentatively wrap your legs around him, wanting to change his angle and he moves his hand from your hip to balance himself over you. Somehow, even though this is not your preferred position, it feels…different, intimate in a way that usually scares you. You’re not scared, though. You’re only happy. Jungkook finally starts moving, too slow like everything else but at least it’s something.

Without warning, he pulls almost all the way out and snaps back into you hard, a perfect contrast to the previous thrusts. He must anticipate your reaction, too, since he leans down to kiss you, capturing all your pleasure. So you do the only thing you can think of and drag your nails down Jungkook’s arms. Part of you hopes you’re leaving a mark so that everyone will know he’s yours. Wholly and completely.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses.

“Do you like that?” you ask with all the innocence that you can muster.

“Don’t play games with me,” is the only answer you get.

“Then please, Jungkook,” you beg and he slows, still moving but focusing on your words instead.

“Please what?” he questions.

“Please just fuck me,” you supply immediately. “We’ve got the rest of forever for slow, just fuck me. Show me that I’m yours.”

It’s what he’s been waiting for. That last little thing he needs to hear. There’s a split second where he looks at you full of that same love and affection you’re sure was on your face earlier before he switches back to pure want and lust. And fuck this is what you need. What you want. The only thing in the world for you.

Jungkook picks up his pace, thrusting hard into you as you grip yourself as tightly to him as you can. Arch into him to change the angle, tighten your thighs around his hips. Before you can move a hand to your clit, he’s there. His finger along with the speed of his thrusts has you back on the edge. Your entire body is hyper aware from the earlier orgasm denial. He knows it, too.

“Come on baby, I want you to come for me,” Jungkook urges.

“I’m so close, oh my god,” you say through a moan. “Yes, oh my god, Jungkook, yes!”

“I wanna see you come undone,” he says, breaths getting ragged. “Fuck I’m close too.”

“Come for me then,” you whine.

“You first,” Jungkook says and thrusts even faster.

A few more thrusts and you’re cumming harder than you can remember in a while. Nothing coherent leaving your lips. Jungkook is just a few seconds behind you and you meet his thrusts through his own high. When he stills, he carefully drops himself down, half laying on you without putting his full weight on you either. Almost absentmindedly, you run your fingers up and down his arm, tracing the lines of your favorite tattoos, watching the way his body moves with each breath.

Jungkook looks up at you and he’s the same man that you fell in love with without realizing it. Except now you can accept it for what it is. You see the love and care in his eyes when he looks at you, the same look everyone else has seen the whole time. It almost makes you shy. He leans up to plant the softest kiss of them all on your lips before he pulls out, the mix of both of your cum spilling out in the process.

“We need to get cleaned up,” Jungkook chuckles. You can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Yeah, probably need a shower,” you agree.

“Let me check if the coast is clear,” Jungkook says and gets out of bed to pull on some boxers. He disappears out the door and you hear him out in the living room before he’s appearing back in the doorway. He’s got a smirk when you look over at him.

“Busted?” you ask.

“Better, he says he won’t be back until after dinner at least,” Jungkook says.

“Okay, sometimes he’s not the worst,” you admit.

“So shower?” Jungkook asks hopefully.

“Jungkook, I am not fucking you in the shower, do you remember that one time we tried?” you ask and he’s all smiles.

“Can you blame me for trying?” he asks. You’re so hopelessly endeared that it’s actually a little sickening. You’re also about to answer when he hops back into bed nearly on top of you.

“Jungkook, we have to clean up,” you say through a laugh.

“I don’t care, I’m just happy,” he says.

And that’s just it, isn’t it? That one word perfectly sums up how you’re feeling, too. This, with him, is what happy feels like. The lightness in your chest is only further confirmation.

You shoot down shower sex again, suggesting that maybe you should just shower separately to avoid anything awkward. But that doesn’t stop the two of you rolling to the other side of the bed to continue kissing each other. Doesn’t stop the kisses getting deeper. Doesn’t stop Jungkook kissing down your body until he gets between your thighs. Doesn’t stop him from going down on you and making you come hard on his tongue.

It’s probably good, you think as you’re heading off to actually shower, that Jungkook sends his roommate a text that he may not want to rush back. It should be embarrassing how quickly Mingyu says he’ll just be home in the morning. Or that he knows exactly what’s happening. All you can think about, though, is the overwhelming feelings for this man.

(Well, you try to shower and remind Jungkook that shower sex was a disaster. But with his roommate gone, that doesn’t stop him from bending you over the counter and fucking you. It also shouldn’t be hot but you love the way you can watch him in the mirror. In almost know time he’s pulling yet another orgasm out of you and you’re not even sure if you can stand in the shower.)

There’s a loud knock on the bedroom door seconds before a louder voice carries through it. “This is your 30-second warning, I hope you’re dressed.”

He doesn’t even give you that amount of time before he’s opening the door. And it’s fine, because you have one of Jungkook’s t-shirts on and he’s got boxers on. So you’re at least partially dressed.

“Oh, you are dressed, that’s so boring,” Mingyu whines, throws in a pout for good measure.

“Don’t be weird,” Jungkook says.

“Pot, meet kettle,” Mingyu starts but has to dodge the pillow Jungkook throws.

“Out,” Jungkook says.

“Is that any way to talk to someone who’s making breakfast?” Mingyu chides.

“Oooh you cooked?” you ask.

“You never get that excited when I offer to cook,” Jungkook whines.

“Out of the honeymoon phase already?” Mingyu asks and pretends to grimace.

“Babe, you don’t know how to cook and you won’t let him teach you,” you respond.

“Yes, I am cooking, we’re celebrating,” Mingyu says.

“Celebrating what?” Jungkook asks.

“Someone finally getting her head out of her ass and realizing how amazing my roommate is,” Mingyu says and is out the door before you can hit him with a pillow.

“Breakfast does sound good,” Jungkook says, a little shy.

“Okay, but then can we talk afterward?” you ask.

He nods.

Breakfast is good, but it comes with a side of The Talk from Mingyu before you even get to eat. Jungkook wanted to shower quickly before eating, and that’s fine. You’ve been alone with Mingyu before when you’ve been over at their apartment. He tries to make it a serious talk, telling you that he’ll come after you if you ever hurt Jungkook. It’s just, well it’s a little hard to take him completely seriously with his threats when he’s like the personification of a golden retriever. You do mean it, though, when you say you’re in this for real, that you care deeply about Jungkook. That you know it’s been hell for the last while and you’re so sorry it took you this long to see what was there all along.

After breakfast, some of the best waffles you’ve ever had, Mingyu leaves to go see a friend of his. And you all know it’s at least in part to give you and Jungkook time to talk. Still, you appreciate that he’s giving you the space you need to sort this all out.

“I don’t wanna pop this little bubble, but I think we have to talk about us,” you say when you and Jungkook are settled on the couch.

“I’m not sure how much there is to talk about?” Jungkook admits.

“Well, for starters, I need to know if you can actually forgive me,” you say. Jungkook opens his mouth, but you’re quick to continue, “and please really think about that, Jungkook.”

“I mean it when I say that it was mostly fine. I knew what I was getting into almost from the beginning. It was obvious you had some shit to sort through,” Jungkook says after a moment. “And I felt like you were always honest with me about everything.”

“And the times it wasn’t fine?” you prompt.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Yeah, those times kinda sucked. Like when you came home drunk that night after you talked to him and you called him Hobi.”

“I was so happy to see you, I don’t even remember calling him that,” you say.

“I knew it didn’t mean anything, I assumed it was just a slip, but it hurt my heart for a minute thinking you were just going to fall back into step with him,” Jungkook says.

“I can see that,” you acknowledge. “What about when I told you that I was going to go talk to him about whatever the feelings were?”

“I was, well I don’t know, I wasn’t really sure. I really wanted to be there for you because you’re such an amazing person and I do want the best for you,” he says and you find yourself studying his face. Finding more expressions there than you’re used to seeing.

“You just wanted to be the best for me,” you finish and he nods.

“I know I should’ve just told you how I felt and asked you to stay. But, I don’t know, there was this part of me that thought if you didn’t at least talk to him…” Jungkook trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence. “There was a part of me that thought if I asked you to stay, and you did, we’d both be wondering with him like hanging over our heads.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I had the right to ask that of you, or to even expect it,” you say. “I never really let you know where I was at.”

“You did,” Jungkook says and that surprises you. “I could always tell. I knew what I meant to you and I was…I was a little scared, even knowing how much you liked me, to just ask for it to be more.”

“I thought you didn’t want more either,” you nearly whisper.

“I didn’t, not when we met at least. I thought being with you would just be easy and casual and what we both needed,” Jungkook says with a chuckle.

“I don’t know that I’m easy,” you grimace.

“You are, what wasn’t easy was slowly falling for you. I’m not used to being the one falling first,” Jungkook says.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, “I would take it all back if I could.”

“I wouldn’t,” Jungkook disagrees. “I think we both needed to go through that to get here.”

“And this is somewhere you want to be? Here with me?” you ask, more honest than you’ve been in awhile.

“Yeah, I do,” he says immediately. “You said I deserved to know I was someone’s first choice and you do too.”

“I want you to know that I do realize I was unfair to you and that’s not something I want to ever do again,” you say carefully.

Jungkook takes one of your hands in his, always so thoughtful. “We all make choices we’d change if we could, but you chose to be here. You’re acknowledging it, so I think we can take that and move forward.”

“I wanna be clear about where we are though,” you say.

“I’m sure you want to take it slow, this is all kind of new territory for us,” Jungkook says.

“No, that’s not it,” you say and watch his face. “I mean, we can take it at whatever pace you want, I just mean I want to be clear. This is a relationship and I’m serious about it just being you and me. I don’t want there to be any confusion in defining it.”

“I don’t think there’s any confusion,” Jungkook laughs. “But yeah, I’m on board for that. We can figure out the rest of what a serious relationship looks like as we go.”

“Together?” you ask and he smiles your favorite smile. The one where his nose crinkles and you can see his slightly-too-big front teeth and his eyes seem to sparkle.

“Always,” he says.

thank you for reading and for sticking with me through this, i hope you enjoyed it <3

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