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femininefables · 2 days ago

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Left astray

Sevika x fem!reader

cw: homelessness, implied off page parental abuse, alcohol, sort of suicidal thoughts? Reader is underweight and trying to gain more, so if weight is a sensitive subject steer clear!

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND AVOID IF ANYTHING IS TRIGGERING❤️

This was it. You were dying. You probably should feel sad, vengeful, or desperate to cling to life, but you just didn’t. At least dying would remove you from the miserable existence that is life.

Homeless, starving, and dirty, you’ve just been rotting away on the streets of Zaun. Even in your final moments, you can’t even look up at the sky for some comfort. You only see smog, neon, and more desolate buildings.

You can’t help but grin. This is pathetic. You’re pathetic. As you finally close your eyes, something or someone interrupts your pitiful death. “Hey. You alright?” You open your eyes. Someone is looming over your cadaverous form, and they squat down next to you.

“I have water if you want.” It’s a woman. She looks stern, but there’s a hint of concern in her face. “I want to die.” Is all you mutter out. She sighs, digs in her pocket, and takes out a cigarette. After lighting it, she sits down next to you. “I get it. I used to think I did too. Watching my home, and the people who live here get trapped in situations like yours..”

“I’m not looking for sympathy.” You say dryly. “That’s fine… But It’s not..I can’t just walk away knowing you’ll be dead by tomorrow.” You cautiously peek at her. “Why? I don’t know you. And I’m sure you don’t go around saving every homeless nobody.” She takes a drag. “You’re right. I don’t… but maybe I should. Its them I’m fighting for anyways..”

Fighting for? What is this lady talking about?…You brush it off and speak again. “what are you gonna do with me?” “Hold still…” Before you can even comprehend it, She lifts you up and starts walking. You’re too weak to even protest, and let the rhythm of her footsteps lull you to sleep.

🎀🐇╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗🐇🎀

You wake up on a tattered looking couch covered by a soft blanket. Something’s strange. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your skin is clean, and your hair is damp. Have you been bathed? You’re still nearly skin and bones, but you feel a lot better. The apartment you’re in smells of smoke and stale air. Like whoever lives in it doesn’t live in it too often.

There’s a small paper on a coffee table in front of you. It has writing on it, and looks like it was left for you to read. Bold of the author to assume you had enough of an education to read. You did, but only because of your mother. She hated you now. Being reminded of her only caused more pain, so you avoided anything related to her. That included reading.

Nevertheless, you pick up the note and read

Hey, whatever your name is. I don’t mind you crashing at my place since you seem pretty harmless. I’m Sevika, and yes I did give you a bath, no, I didn’t do anything to you. I couldn’t have you smelling like shit and laying all over my stuff. Eat whatever you want, stay out of my closet, and I’ll be back by evening. I’ll know if you fucked around with anything.

Sevika’s handwriting is surprisingly pretty for her reputation around here. In your delirious state, you hadn’t realized that it was her you were talking to. Silco’s guard dog, the Scary Lady, or Murder Machine. You heard all of those less than favorable names referring to her.

But here you were, in her shirt, sleeping on her couch, and being invited to stay till you picked yourself up. What had caused such a random change in her character? Unless she’s just a nice woman and everyone else has her all wrong, this is pretty uncharacteristic. Maybe you looked so pathetic she pitied you.

That evening came fast. The door opening and slamming shut made you freeze mid fridge-raid. “You’re up…” Is all Sevika says as she strides over to you. With a half eaten apple in your hand, you can’t find any words for her. “Not talking anymore? That’s fine. Can I at least know your name?” Your name feels strange and unfamiliar coming from your lips. You haven’t said it in ages. When your priority is just to survive, names aren’t really important.

“Alright. If you want, I can order you something when I pick up my takeout.” She’s giving you dinner now too? You nod eagerly before you even notice. Your stomach growls obnoxiously. “Sorry…” you mutter. She doesn’t reply, and just goes to sit on the couch.

Dinner is awkward. You’re sitting across from her, while trying not to wolf down the greasy, delicious, fat filled burger in front of you. Sevika is wearing reading glasses while combing through an array of documents. Every so often, her eyes look over you just to see what you’re doing.

Once you’ve fed yourself enough to slow down, you try and break the silence. “So uhm…why are you doing this? You’re not exactly known around for being charitable…” Sevika lifts her gaze and takes off her reading glasses. She’s not looking in your direction when she responds. “I guess I just…you…reminded me of someone. Someone from a long time ago.”

What kind of response is that? “And the whole reason I do what I do is to help people like you.” She has a voice that grounds you. There’s no feeling uncertain around such a confident woman. “But don’t go getting any ideas. This doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want.” You’re still confused. Why you? Why today?

That night, you’re sleeping on the couch. Sevika is confidently sleeping in her bed, snoring like a freight train. She knows you wouldn’t dare try anything, given her reputation for breaking limbs. When sleep finally comes, your dreams turn to nightmares. Violent nightmares calling you back to your past. Normally, shivering in a cardboard box would keep them at bay.

You see your mother on that day. screaming at you with enraged purple eyes, trembling, with purple scars crawling all over her body. It took everything from you. Your life, your mother, your home…You wake up in a cold sweat, crying out and wiping tears from your face. Everything’s spinning and you let out a weak whimper. Suddenly, there’s a hand on your back, rubbing in firm circles.

“You’re alright…not out there in the rain anyways..” It’s Sevika. she’s trying her best to comfort you, but you can tell it’s not something she’s used to doing. You don’t even care. You bury your face in her chest and hug her close, crying and gasping from the awful memory.

Sevika is frozen. she seems unsure of what to do with you. One hand rests on your head, and her bionic arm finds your back. “Not so blunt now…Sorry. Too soon.” She remarks. You center yourself, and pull back from her feeling a little embarrassed. “Sorry I woke you…” “ S’alright.”

She sits there with you on the couch until you fall back asleep…

🎀🐇 ╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗🐇🎀

It’s been one week since you first arrived at Sevika’s apartment. You’ve gained a little weight back, but the nightmares still terrorize you. Sevika’s picked up on the way you flinch when startled, or how uncomfortable you get when she smokes weed or drinks heavily.

It’s clear to her that you have a negative history with substances, so she starts to limit her alcohol when you’re around, and she’ll only smoke on the balcony. You’re worried that you’re being a burden to her. One night, you see her smoking on the balcony, and step outside with her.

She doesn’t say anything, but raises an eyebrow as her way of asking: “What’s up?” You lean your elbows on the railing. “You know… you don’t have to change your lifestyle for me. Letting me just be here even though I’m a stranger is enough.” Sevika takes a drag. “Here in the undercity, it’s important that we stick together. You needed help, so I decided to help you. I’m not going to pry into your damage, but if cutting back on my bad habits makes you more comfortable, I’m fine with that.” She smiles, and faces you. “Besides, having a pretty girl for a roommate ain’t so bad, bunny rabbit.”

You can’t even focus on the fact that she just called you pretty. “Bunny rabbit?” She chuckles. “You’re skittish as hell. M’scared you’ll just faint from shock one of these days.” She’s not wrong about that. You’re used to always needing to be on high alert. Every sound could mean danger.

You only feel more guilty. “Sorry…” your voice cracks embarrassingly. Sevika’s smile drops and she looks over at you. “Oh- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings... No use feeling bad about it. Let’s just work on getting better, m’kay?” She presses her cigarette to the railing to out it, and puts one hand on your shoulder, leading you back inside. “Let’s go to bed, it’s late.”

As time goes by, you start to bond with Sevika. She’ll come home, tell you all about her day, eat dinner with you, and talk until you fall asleep. The nightmares ease too. If you do have one, she’s right there to tell you that everything’s okay.

One afternoon, Sevika gets back early with a shopping bag. You get up off of the couch to greet her. “Sevika? What’s that?” She smirks, and pulls out a pretty dress with spaghetti straps. “Since you came along, I haven’t been to the Last Drop in a while. So, I thought you might wanna come with.” You take the dress from her and admire it. “Sevika… it’s so pretty! But I don’t know… I haven’t been to a bar.” She puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’ll be fine with me. Trust me. As long as everybody knows you’re with me, you’re safe.”

So, you decide to go with her. When you were getting dressed, Sevika spotted you looking at yourself nervously in the mirror. “Hey… is it too much? I didn’t really know what you’d like…” you turn to her. “No it’s pretty! I’m just… not used to this.” Sevika goes into her closet and comes back, draping a leather jacket over your shoulders. “You can have this for tonight if it makes you more comfortable.”

You feel your face heat up. “…thank you.” She smiles, and pats your shoulder. “No problem bunny rabbit.” The whole walk to the Last Drop, Sevika keeps you close. She glares at anyone who even looks in your direction, and yells threats back at cat-callers. When you finally reach the place, she opens the door for you. “Ladies first.” You smile. “You’re a lady too y’know.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the bar. Sitting next to Sevika while she throws snide comments at the other card players definitely wasn’t it. She’s winning big time though. Laughing and squeezing your shoulder every time she sweeps another pile of chips her way.

Around an hour later, Sevika is definitely tipsy, but her instincts are sharp as ever. For some reason, more people keep coming to play against her even though she can’t stop winning. This next game looks especially tough. For a moment, you think it’s finally over before she reveals her winning deck. Her opponents jaw drops. Sevika lets out a booming laugh and just pulls you onto her lap like you’re the prize.

“Thought I was in trouble there, didn’t chya, cutie?” She laughs again while you register being seated on her muscular thigh. The other players mutter curses and storm off. “Wasn’t that fun? You didn’t drink any though.” Her large hand caresses your waist.

“I don’t like alcohol.” You respond curtly. Sevika lets you get off of her before she grabs the large sack of her winnings. “Let’s head home. Yeah? sweet thing?” You’re surprised at how casual she’s being with you. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but the Sevika you’ve heard about isn’t nice and flirty in the slightest.

When you finally arrive at the apartment, Sevika crashes on the couch instantly. She seems like the type to be able to hold her alcohol, but she was being a little excessive today. After all that, you’re tired too. You take off the dress she gave you and slip on one of her shirts. Climbing back onto the couch, you snuggle against her human arm, and let sleep take you.

You wake up slowly. the sunshine is filtering in the room through the window. Sevika’s arm is draped over you like a blanket. It’s heavy. Given your current state, you’re not strong enough to move it. Not that you’d want to anyways. Sevika is usually up earlier than you. Perhaps she’s got a hangover.

With a big yawn, Sevika finally wakes up. She doesn’t say anything to you, despite the rather intimate sleeping arrangement. She stands up, ruffles your hair, and goes to turn on her coffee machine. “You could’ve taken the bed.” She finally says from across the apartment.

“I…didn’t want to.” Is all you can think to say. Sevika walks towards the couch again and plops down next to you. “Why not?” Her gray eyes stare unyielding into your own. “…just didn’t wanna.” You dont want to admit that you wanted to be on the couch with her. You haven’t known each other for very long. Not long enough to cuddling like you’d known her for years. “Okay, bunny rabbit..”

🎀🐇 ╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗🐇🎀

Sevika was already kind to you before, but now she’s treating you like a pet. When she goes to the store, you know she’s coming back with something for you. Whether it’s a candy, new clothes, or just something she thinks you’d like.

She starts to touch you more too. She says it’s to “help you get used to it.” But every time she brushes her hand against your cheek or holds you by your waist, your heart flutters.

You’ve been living with Sevika for over a month now. Standing on her scale, you wait nervously to see your weight. Healthy. Still some way to go, but you’re not skin and bone anymore. Your cheeks look a little fuller, your skin a little more smooth, and there’s a glimmer again in your eyes.

The door slams shut, making you nearly jump out of your skin. It’s Sevika, but she doesn’t call for you like normal. Curiously, you exit the bathroom to see what’s happened. She’s standing with her hands pressed against he counter, hackles raised, and her muscles are tensed. “Sev?” You approach her and place a hand on her shoulder blade.

“Hey bunny…” She finally acknowledges you. She speaks to you in a soft, low voice that makes your breath catch in your throat. “Sorry if I scared ya…Know how you are. Today was just…Fuck, bunny. I don’t feel like chatting about it.” She pulls you in a hug. It’s sudden, but not unwelcome.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to…” you say to her. She sighs, goes over to the couch, and takes off her arm. “Come’ere.” You join her on the couch and she pulls you closer with her right arm. “You know…things have been better round’ere since you showed up.” “Really?” She smiles at you, running her human hand through your hair. “Yeah… if I didn’t have you, I’d probably be de-stressing in some other awful way.” You raise an eyebrow at the vague response. “Like what?”

A teasing grin forms on her face. “I dunno.. maybe by beating up some thugs or even a couple sessions at Babette’s.” Your face contorts into one of shocked surprise. Sevika notices and chuckles. “Yeah I get around, bunny.”

There was no doubt in your mind that it wasn’t true. After all, she’s an incredibly handsome woman. Broad muscular shoulders, and a face that could make your heart melt and your blood run cold depending on its expression. You sometimes fantasized that there could be something more with her, but demeaning thoughts told you that you were only a charity case for her.

She couldn’t truly care about you, because nobody ever did. Sevika notices the sudden shift in your expression. “Hey bunny… you alright?” “Yeah…I’m fine.” She senses you don’t want to be questioned further, and leaves back into her seat. “If you need something, I’m here. Kay?”

You nod, pushing away the thoughts of your yearning, and self hatred, opting to enjoy some peace for the first time in a while.

#arcane sevika #sevika #lgbtq #sevika fluff #sevika my love #sevika x female reader #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x reader #lesbian #sevika headcanon #sevika angst

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sepublic · 3 days ago

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The thing I dig about TSSM Doctor Octopus is that he’s another fun example of that type of villain who on the surface does seem pretty tragic and misunderstood, ultimately a victim of circumstance… Except if you pay attention, you realize that this IS his choice. This is what he always wanted, deep down. His little fantasy of smashing Norman against a wall is a dead give-away.

Otto always wanted to snap and stop caring about other people, and lash out at the world; He had a bit of compassion, but not enough to really care, and where did that even get him anyway? Even if one undid the damage to his spine and nervous system and removed the tentacles, I’m positive Otto would be the exact same; All the accident did was remove the inhibitions to reveal the festering resentment that was there all along.

At most, Otto without the brain damage might still have self-doubts that flash into his mind from time to time; But ultimately, he’s seen what he can do when he doesn’t worry, so he likely wouldn’t struggle anymore. He wouldn’t need a grisly medical condition, he’d realize it’s just Dumbo’s feather, a placebo. His inferiority complex would thrive in the revelation that it was in him all along, and he would never go back, Otto couldn’t bear that timid existence any longer.

Even if you were to show Otto kindness and compassion, his only takeaway, probably, would be that he appreciates it from you, from those who are nice to him, but he’s still going to be selfish towards everyone else who hasn’t proven why he should give them the time of day. Imagine that distinction coming up, if TSSM actually adapted his marriage to Aunt May, with Adrian as his best man…!

#Otto Octavius #Doctor Octopus #Doc Ock #TSSM #The Spectacular Spider Man #Spider Man

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not-glorfindel-stop-asking · 3 days ago

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Hi Lindir! May I just say you are a lovely elf? Seriously. I love your hairstyle. 😁

I have a few quick questions for you. You’re Elrond’s aide, right? So you probably know him pretty well.

How does he deal with…ah, ✨trauma✨ associated with the War(s)? Is he a “pretend everything is fine until I collapse” kind of person, or is he more the “vent to plants” kind of guy, or is he something else?

Also, does he have any funny quirks or traits from his upbringing with Maglor and Maedhros? If so, ho do you as his aide deal with that?

Sorry, this turned into a full-blown interview without my consent, I hope I’m not intruding.

(Also, I love your music. It’s beautiful! 😊)

Ah! A Person of Excellent Taste! 🎻✨

First and foremost, let me say—you are clearly a being of remarkable discernment and wisdom. To recognize both my loveliness and my impeccable musical talents? A rare gift indeed! I shall allow you to stay in my good graces. 😌

Now, to your questions!

Elrond and His… Coping Methods (Extended Edition).

Oh, my dear friend. You ask how Lord Elrond deals with trauma? The answer is simple: he doesn’t. Or rather, he does, but only in the deeply concerning way that is common to all elves of his particular… let’s call it heritage. You see, he is not merely a “pretend everything is fine until I collapse” type. Nor is he quite a “vent to plants” sort of elf (though I have caught him speaking to his garden before—he denies this, but I have witnesses). No, no. Lord Elrond is of the “I shall work myself into an early grave and if anyone asks how I am, I shall simply say, ‘Do not concern yourself’ in a tone that makes everyone more concerned” persuasion.

Truly, it is an art form. I have seen him go three full days without rest because he was “perfectly fine” only to suddenly remember that sleep exists, disappear into his chambers, and not reemerge until someone (me) starts leaving food outside his door like some kind of domestic animal we are attempting to befriend. 😒 And you would think this would be enough—this tragic pattern of overworking, collapsing, and being forcibly fed—but no! He does not stop there!

Elrond’s secondary method of not coping is getting stuck in endless conversations as a highly advanced method of avoidance. Let me explain. Imagine you are in Imladris, and you see Lord Elrond standing in the Hall of Fire, listening to someone speak about, let us say, the intricate textile patterns of the Second Age. You might think, Ah, how kind of him to entertain such a topic! But NO. NO, MY FRIEND. THIS IS A TRAP OF HIS OWN MAKING. Because you see, Elrond knows that if he stands still long enough, being his usual grave and wise self, people will just… keep talking at him. And this, this endless cycle of listening to other people's woes and research and philosophical debates about river currents, is his preferred way of avoiding his own emotions.

And sometimes, sometimes, I have had to take matters into my own hands. There was one particular incident—one which shall haunt me forever—where I found him locked in an excruciatingly detailed conversation about the migratory habits of birds in Beleriand (which do not exist anymore, might I add, because Beleriand sank). The scholar had been speaking for what I later learned was four hours. FOUR HOURS. And Elrond, instead of making his usual graceful escape, was simply nodding and humming thoughtfully as though he was not actively perishing inside.

So I did what any sane elf would do. I called for reinforcements.

And not just any reinforcements. I, Lindir, long-suffering aide of Imladris, made the decision to summon Haldir.

Now, you must understand something. Haldir of Lórien is not merely competent—he is a walking, talking example of what happens when an elf is both absurdly skilled and absurdly pretty. Painfully pretty. Distractingly pretty. His hair has been described in full poetic stanzas. He walks through a room, and people forget why they were speaking. He has, and I say this with all the professionalism of my station, Presence™. Glorfindel WISHES he had Haldir's presence.

Anyway.

So naturally, I turned to him in my moment of desperation and said, “Haldir, please, if you could possibly bring the Lady of Light herself, it might be our only hope.”

And do you know what he did? Do you know what he did?

He smirked. He smirked in a way that made me deeply uneasy, nodded, and within the hour, I kid you not, Galadriel herself was stepping into the hall.

And only then did Elrond snap out of it.

Only then, as the actual Lady of Light entered with all the quiet authority of someone who can read your soul, did he remember that he was meant to be resting and eating and not standing in the same spot for hours contemplating extinct birds.

So you see, dear friend, this is the plight of those who serve Elrond. It is not simply a matter of logistics and diplomacy—it is a full-time job of interventions. And I? I am simply doing my duty. 😤

His Feanorian Upbringing (Oh No).

Ah, yes. You see, Imladris is a refined and well-ordered place. It is a haven of wisdom, learning, and restraint. And yet—yet—every once in a while, like a curse written into the very marrow of his being, the Fëanorian in Lord Elrond emerges. He does not mean for it to happen. He does not plan for it to happen. And yet, like a badly placed dramatic monologue in the middle of a tense diplomatic gathering, it happens.

For example:

The Cooking Incident. 🍳🔥

Elrond does not cook. He thinks he can, but I assure you, he cannot. Every once in a while, the spirit of Maedhros, the “I can make my own meals, thank you very much” energy, takes hold of him, and he ventures into the kitchens to create what I can only describe as culinary disasters.

The staff still speaks in hushed voices about The Bread That Was Also A Weapon.

It started as a seemingly innocent evening—Elrond, in one of his rare attempts to relax, declared that he would make something himself. This was mistake number one. Mistake number two was letting him attempt it unsupervised. I do not know how or why, but by the end of the night, the kitchen was filled with a smoke so thick that I feared Imladris itself was under siege. The resulting loaf of bread? Hard enough to be classified as a blunt weapon. It was tested. (By Glorfindel, who insisted on using it in a sparring match. I still hear the echo of the clang when it struck his shield.)

To this day, the head cook has forbidden Elrond from stepping foot in the kitchens unless it is to drink tea or observe from a safe distance.

Hoarding Sentimentality. 🏺📜

Maglor was many things—musician, war criminal, dramatic nuisance—but above all, he was an elven mother hen. I suspect Lord Elrond picked up some of his habits.

I once tried to reorganize a cabinet of historically significant objects and was met with a sudden, dramatic “LINDIR, THAT IS FROM WHEN I WAS A CHILD” over what I can only describe as a very unimpressive rock.

A rock.

Not a jewel. Not a relic. Not a piece of fine dwarven craftsmanship. A rock. Apparently, it was gifted to him by someone Fëanorian (he would not say who, which narrows it down to approximately eight deeply traumatized options), and therefore it was deeply meaningful. He then held it for several long moments, staring at it like it contained the wisdom of ages, before very carefully putting it back in its exact place. I have not touched it since.

And this is not an isolated incident. Elrond has scrolls from when he was learning to write, which he keeps as if they were sacred texts. He once spent half an hour gently dusting a cracked cup because it was from a meal Maglor made centuries ago. The man hoards emotions.

That One Time He Sang a Fëanorian Battle Song in the Middle of a Diplomatic Gathering. 🎶⚔️

Oh yes. It happened. I watched.

It was a very polite gathering—dignitaries from Lórien and Mirkwood, ambassadors from the Dúnedain, discussions of alliances, trade, the usual. And somewhere, in the midst of it, Elrond, deep in thought, hummed.

Then he muttered a line.

And before I could intervene, before I could stop the tragedy unfolding, he was singing.

A full-blooded, deeply emotional, Fëanorian battle song.

In the middle of a diplomatic gathering.

Now, for those of you unfamiliar with Fëanorian battle songs, let me explain: they are not gentle. They are not pleasant background music. They are aggressive, deeply dramatic, and usually involve some combination of oaths, fire, vengeance, and doom.

The look on Glorfindel’s face was priceless. Somewhere between deep, painful secondhand embarrassment and abject horror. Lord Celeborn simply sighed as if this was a burden he had carried for centuries. The room fell silent as everyone realized what they were hearing.

And then—then—Elrond realized.

He froze. He blinked as if waking from a trance. And then, in true diplomatic fashion, he cleared his throat and said, “My apologies. I seem to have… recalled an old tune.”

As if he had not just invoked the spirits of his very, very cursed ancestors in the middle of a political meeting.

Other Incidents That Have Occurred Because Elrond Was Raised By Fëanorians:

Once instinctively caught a falling knife by the blade and did not react until he saw the horror on my face. “Oh, I suppose that was dangerous,” he said. Sir.

Drinks tea like he is brooding over a dark and terrible fate. Even when it is just chamomile.

Can play the harp beautifully. Can also tune it with unsettling speed and accuracy, which implies past experience in repairing harps under extreme stress.

Once absentmindedly braided his hair in a very distinct Fëanorian pattern. I commented on it. He immediately undid it and did not respond.

Listens to music like he expects it to betray him.

Absolutely terrifying when angry. He does not yell. He simply goes quiet in a way that makes even Glorfindel rethink his life choices.

“We do not speak of the Silmarils in this house” has been said out loud.

And there you have it. Lord Elrond Peredhel, the refined and noble Lord of Rivendell, is one inconvenient memory away from dramatically throwing his cloak over his shoulder and riding off to avenge something. And it is my job—my sacred duty—to keep that from happening. 😤

Ah, my dear and inquisitive friend, you ask how I, Lindir, the long-suffering and ever-dutiful aide to Lord Elrond, cope with the Fëanorian madness that occasionally seeps into his otherwise dignified existence?

The answer is simple: I manage him.

Oh, do not mistake me—I do not control him. One does not control Lord Elrond, any more than one controls the rise of the sun or the passage of time (though I do suspect he sometimes believes he can bend time itself in order to finish just one more document before sleeping). No, no. I guide him. I act as the silent, invisible force preventing him from accidentally invoking the spirit of his forefathers at diplomatic banquets. It is an art, a science, and—let’s be honest—a thankless job.

The Art of Managing Lord Elrond (A Tragedy in Several Acts)

🎭 Act I: The Kitchen Disaster Prevention Initiative – My first and most sacred duty is ensuring that Lord Elrond does not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen with intent to cook. If he so much as glances at an apron, I materialize out of nowhere like a vengeful spirit and ask, ever so politely, if he wouldn’t rather rest. Or read. Or lead a council of great import. Or literally anything else that does not result in another Bread Incident. (The kitchen staff still eyes him with fear. One nearly fled when he attempted to chop vegetables last year. I do not blame them.)

📜 Act II: Nodding Sagely At Questionable Sentimentalism – I have perfected the art of the Neutral Yet Understanding Nod. It is my greatest weapon against Elrond’s utterly ridiculous tendency to hoard objects of Deep And Mysterious Significance. I have nodded gravely at twigs, feathers, rocks, and a spoon of unknown origin because they were somehow, inexplicably, tied to an important memory from his childhood. Do I question it? No. I simply nod, exhale through my nose, and move on. Because the moment I say “My lord… it is just a rock.” is the moment I will be subjected to a dramatic and impassioned monologue about its historical and emotional significance. I do not have time for that.

😑 Act III: The Preemptive Sigh – If you have ever seen a caregiver of small, energetic children sense disaster before it happens, then you understand the depth of my suffering. The moment I see That Look™ in Elrond’s eye—that faraway, brooding stare that suggests he is about to do something concerning, I sigh. I sigh preemptively. This does not stop the inevitable nonsense from occurring, but it does allow me to prepare myself emotionally. If I am lucky, my sigh is loud enough that he hears it, realizes I have already anticipated his foolishness, and begrudgingly rethinks his life choices.

✨ Act IV: The Haldir Gambit – There have been occasions (more than I care to admit) when the situation was beyond my abilities and required higher intervention. Such as The Time Elrond Refused To Rest For Four Days And Started Reciting Ancient Texts That Didn’t Exist. My solution? Summon Haldir.

Now, Haldir is a very capable, respectable, and mildly terrifying individual, and I have found that he is one of the few people whom Elrond cannot easily brush off. When I see that my efforts are failing, I find Haldir, compliment him profusely (he thrives on it, honestly), and then very casually mention that Lord Elrond is, perhaps, in need of… persuasion. If I am truly desperate, I escalate matters.

Yes, that’s right.

I summon the Lady of Light herself.

Do you think Elrond Peredhel, the Lord of Rivendell, the great loremaster and master of diplomacy, can withstand the utterly disappointed gaze of Lady Galadriel?

He cannot.

And that, my dear, is how you win.

Your Reward for Surviving This Tirade: One (1) Additional Compliment

Now! You have endured my words most bravely. For this, I grant you one (1) additional compliment. You have excellent curiosity. Truly, it is a marvel. Lord Elrond himself would approve—nay, he would admire such a trait. (Or, at the very least, he would pretend not to notice how much he enjoyed answering these exact questions over tea later.)

Well done. I shall compose a song in your honor. (It may or may not be about the dangers of elven kitchen disasters. We shall see.)

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saturdaynightghostclub · 9 months ago

Note

hey toady i love ur brainnn can i maybe ask for a lil donnie angst perhaps something to do w him being on the road 🫣 you’re an incredible writer btw :)

Drivin’ on 9

Come back, just fucking come back.

You couldn’t just get a job as a Sears photographer, could you?

They need you, fuck, I need you, just pleasefuckingcomehome.

You’re trying hard to curb the bitterness of your inner monologue. It’s not Donnie’s fault he’s all over the country, and usually it’s alright. You miss him, sure, but you know he loves you, know each night that he’s wishing just as hard as you are that he was back in Chicago with you. Usually. But usually his mother and oldest sister aren’t perched anxiously on your couch, backs pin-straight, trying to pretend it’s okay that you were the only one home when they arrived.

“I’m sorry,” you say, addressing Mrs. MacClain, “really, he should be home any minute. Usually he calls me from the airport to let me know he’s on his way, I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.” You’ve already offered tea, wine, whatever the hell’s in your pantry, but the MacClain women are here on business. That one-track mind must be a genetic thing.

Mrs. MacClain (you really can’t get the hang of calling her Lisa) reaches across the coffee table and squeezes your hand. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she says, smiling through the strain in her voice, “I’m sorry I’m not better company, I’m a bit preoccupied.” She doesn’t want to say whatever it is she’s come to say until her son arrives. You understand. If it’s anything like what you’re suspecting, it would be tough news to break twice. Carrie swallows hard beside her mother. She hasn’t said a word all night. For all that Donnie’s family loves you, there are certain things they need to deal with among themselves; you imagine that’s why Jack and the girls aren’t present. As for Eliza and Mr. MacClain, you’ve got no idea. Your throat itches with unasked questions and your fingers twitch uselessly in your lap, wanting to do something, anything, to help.

The minutes tick by achingly, and you remind yourself that you can’t actually be upset with your boyfriend. It’s something you used to have to tell yourself repeatedly in the early days of your relationship: it’s his job, it’s not about you, you’re not angry, you just miss him. It took a lot of reassuring back then, a frankly embarrassing amount, to have you fully convinced that this long-distance thing wasn’t going to break you. Eventually you started to recognize his attention for what it was: love. It took you a while to get there–to accept it, I mean. A man can tell you he loves you until he’s blue in the face, and you can believe him, but how do you know for sure? How do you know, until you really, really know?

For you, the “I know” came at possibly the most inopportune moment it could have. It was the height of that first baseball season after you moved in together, and things were good. You had your work, and he had his; he’d fuck off to Cleveland, or Detroit, or Milwaukee, or whatever city on Earth the Cubs were losing to that week, and when he came home he’d hold you just tightly enough to make it all okay again, rinse and repeat week after week. You knew it was hard; you always assumed it was harder for you than it was for him. This was his life, and sometimes you didn’t fit, but it was alright. He loved you enough to make space for you. You never considered that he would be struggling just as much as you were (something you feel guilty for to this day). So it came as something of a shock when you arrived home from a rare trip to the office to find Donnie slumped over the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a half-drained beer growing warm and flat before him.

“What the fuck are we doing?” He’d asked without raising his head. He’d sounded so miserable. It caught you off-guard, having known him as a man of two temperaments: optimistic and optimistic-but-kind-of-tired. You’d tried to play dumb, asking what he meant, but he had you. “Baby,” he groaned, lifting his head with Herculean effort, “don’t pretend, okay? We both know this sucks, and we’re both acting like it doesn’t,” and then, heartbreakingly soft, “do you need me like I need you?”

Do you need me like I need you?

You did. Obviously. You do.

That was the first time you’d ever seen Donnie cry. Exhausted and heat-weary and worn to the end of his rope, he’d collapsed on the table, planning ostensibly to stay there. That was when you really, really knew. You knew that you were in this for the long-haul, for the good and the bad, and that you would do anything in your power, as long as you lived, to keep him off that goddamn table and in your life. And when you had coaxed him into a sitting position, when you were sure he was going to be okay, you said the thing you needed to say, even though you knew it would break him cleanly in two: “Fuck. You love me.”

“I–yeah,” he stammered, his face flickering indescribably between confusion and hurt, “I love you, I–you know that, don’t you? Oh god, don’t you know that?” He was terrified, you could see it plainly on his face. Had he not done enough, not tried as hard as he should have? Should he have done things differently, should he have been different?

And what on Earth were you supposed to say to that? I knew you wanted me, but I never realized you needed me. I knew you loved me, just not as much as you loved your job. Not as much as I love you. I knew, but I had no idea. So what you said instead was “I guess I didn’t realize…that we were on the same page about this.”

At that, Donnie had pulled you roughly onto his lap, each breath shaking like it might be his last, and held you fast, swallowing sobs to promise you over and over that things were going to change, that he was sorry, that he loved you desperately and frighteningly and truly.

To his credit, things did change. That was both the worst night of your entire relationship and the one that you absolutely couldn’t imagine your life without; what the hell would have happened to the two of you if it hadn’t been for that night? Your resolution was to stop pretending everything was fine and that it didn’t absolutely blow to be apart more often than not. An absolute, no-holds-barred, total bitchfest whenever the situation called for it, plus tagging along on the occasional trip whenever work could spare you. You kick yourself, wishing you could have seen this one coming.

The sound of Donnie’s key in the lock makes you jump. You clamber to your feet to meet him at the door, noting gravely that Lisa and Carrie make no move to join you.

“Hello, my love,” Donnie grins, moving to kiss you before he sees the look on your face. His hands go to your shoulders, slide down your arms, circle your wrists–you wonder if he’s even aware that he seems to be checking you for injuries. He looks you over, eyes landing hard on your own. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t know what else to say but “Your mom and Carrie are here.”

Donnie pulls you into a brief hug, squeezing you once before he passes you to sit in the chair you yourself occupied only seconds before. He looks at you from his seat, a silent plea to stay, but you shake your head. This is family business. You busy yourself for a moment with leftover breakfast plates, letting them crash against each other in the sink to drown out Mrs. MacClain’s hushed voice. Eventually, you drift off to the bedroom and sit on your bed fully clothed, wondering what proper etiquette would suggest you do.

It takes about an hour. The front door opens, then shuts, then Donnie enters your room. His eyes are red-rimmed and hopelessly lost.

“I, um…” he starts, shrugging around a deep, shuddering breath, “I was in Philly.”

“I know,” you say gently, moving to stand before him. He tugs you closer by the waist, eyes sailing over the top of your head before coming to rest on your face.

“No, I mean. I mean I was in Philly when he,” deep breath, “my dad had a heart attack.”

Alright, you need to play this one right. You nod slowly, gently. “And?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Donnie murmurs vacantly, like that’s not even the important part, “but I was in Philly when it happened.”

You think you see what’s going on. “You being in Philadelphia has nothing to do with your dad’s heart attack,” you say, “these things are completely random, I mean–no, they’re not, but they almost are.” You’re rambling now. You’ve never been very good at comforting people when they’re upset. “What I mean is that there’s nothing you could have done differently that would have changed anything.”

“Okay, but that’s not true, is it?” Donnie asks. His words are the start of an argument, but his tone is one of complete despair. He runs a hand up and down your back in apology. “I’m sorry. If I were home, I could have been here when he–when he went in. I could have been there when he woke up. And what if he never woke up? He could have–,” he chokes, leaving the rest of his words unsaid. He could have died, and I would have been in Philadelphia.

There’s nothing you can say right now that will calm him down, so instead you wrap your arms around his neck and press your body against his, letting him hold you as tightly as he needs to. “I’ll drive,” you say, pulling carefully away, “it’ll be good for him to see you.”

You don’t need to elaborate, Donnie knows what you mean. Knows what you’re doing for him. He nods. Then he kisses you. When he pulls back, your skin is cold where his tears have touched it.

Maybe you’ll have to talk him out of quitting his job tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have to make a casserole and bring it to his mother. Maybe all you’ll be able to do is love him. In any case, there’s one thing you know: there will be no compromise. He’ll keep the job, he’ll keep his girl, and he’ll keep his family–there’s no other way for him to be.

#toady talkin #have any of y’all read Gmelch’s Baseball Magic?#i read it like eons ago and I feel like some of y’all might appreciate it bc I know it changed my life a little #anyway idk if this is what you meant by on-the-road angst sweet anon but here ya go!#and rest assured I’ve got more where this came from. just say the word #and shoutout to Sears in Chicago i used to have to get my portrait taken there when i was little #it probably doesn’t exist anymore but there you go

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simpjaes · 10 months ago

Text

HYPER-SEXUAL (s,jy)

If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need. or the one where jake is inexperienced, incredibly perverted, and borderline addicted to sex but cannot, for the life of him, land a girl.

leave feedback and reblog to give jake another boner.

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 13.8k

PAIRING― jake sim x afab reader

CONTENT― smut, inexperienced but pervy and dominant jake, he kind of has an addiction to jerking off, im not joking like he has a boner every twenty minutes it’s probably a medical issue but, reader is really sex positive and lets jake go absolutely insane on her

NOTE― not proof read in the way it needed to be. disclaimer: this is straight up just porn. it had a plot at one point but i deleted all of it and wrote this instead. also this is posted on my other blog [@ncteez] for mark lee. yes, i wrote it for both of them bc they both fit the shoe ok? ok.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― jake isn’t submissive– just a loser, loads of masturbation, also loads of loads lmfao, jake’s dick is 8 inches in this one, public humiliation, dirty talk, teasing, pussy eating / face sitting, mentions of free use, unprotected sex, wayyyy way too much cum, raw grinding, attempts at deep throat, accidental face fucking, finger fucking, suffocation, riding, squirting, implications to the fact that orgasms are not the end of the fic bc they just keep going, some say they’re still fucking to this day.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Feels so good! Harder! Fuck m-”

Jake slams his laptop shut in an exasperated sigh. Frustrated, annoyed, fucking horny.

Always horny. To the point that nothing excites him anymore. Not his hard-on being palmed at by his own hand, not the make-shift pocket pussy he’s made out of household objects, not the porn on page one or on page seventy-three.

Honestly, even as hard as he is now, it’s arguable that he could just start punching his cock and he’d still remain in this state until something changes. And you know what sucks more than not being able to get off? Being hard so constantly that it’s just a state of living at this point.

It’s sad. He could be washing caked ketchup off of a plate and his cock would still lend a little jump. A reminder that his hand is no longer enough. A fucking threat that if he doesn’t sink into a pretty hole soon, he might as well just kill himself.

The idea doesn’t seem too bad anymore, as he lays flat on his back with his cock in hand on his messy sheets. He stares up at the ceiling with another long-winded groan, wondering why he has to have such an insatiable libido and probably twice as much stamina. If he could just get off he’d have at least a little bit of time in his day to feel normal before it takes hold of his brain again.

It’s the fact that he’s grown entirely numb to his own hand and feels like he’s going crazy because he hasn’t been able to hook-up with anyone in nearly a year. Porn is boring, he swears he’s seen just about all of the good, bad, and bizarre. Post nut clarity barely exists because there is no clarity by the time he finally gets that hard-to-reach nut. Bad luck, maybe. Awful fucking miserable luck? That’s more fitting.

For the sake of the girls in this city, perhaps it’s good that he can’t manage to land a hook-up. Surely they’d be unable to walk by the time he gets his fill, that is if he manages to get a fill at all. And it’s gotten to the point that Jake has almost entirely given up on finding a girl at all. One that’s willing to put up with his near-constant need to get his dick wet, anyway.

Almost given up.

A thought crosses his mind as he lazily palms himself with a bored sigh, knowing he’ll end up locked up in an asylum somewhere if this doesn’t stop. The voice of Jay in his head doing little to make his cock soften, which is…not something Jake is proud to admit.

“Dude, you gotta put a stop to this shit. This is your third laptop this year!” Jay had said to him. “It’s only June!”

Maybe Jay was right, and maybe Jake should have downloaded the new app that was mentioned shortly after the scolding rather than immediately going to another, even more, shady porn site. “Heard this one was really good.” Jay had advertised. “Even got Jungwon laid.”

Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to try another app despite the immense amount of failure Jake has already faced regarding previous attempts with other platforms. After all, if it got Jungwon laid, surely it could get him laid too.

Maybe this one really is better.

And at the end of the day, Jake does download the app. After all, creating a profile is easy, finding a girl though?

We’ll see.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah. Okay. Nice.

Jake stays glued to his phone all night. He really had no hope that this app would offer him anything more than what the others did. But, oh.

The app allows specific features, most of which are not aimed towards users looking for a relationship. Dick and body sizes are out in the open, there’s sections you can fill out regarding what you’re looking for in a sexual partner, how often you’re willing to see said partner, and if you’re looking for a regular fuck or a one time fuck.

Safe to say, Jake’s profile went a little something like this:��

you can call me jake, im 24. just looking for a girl either for regular visits or a one night stand that’s willing to deal with a guy who literally suffers from chronic-boner syndrome.

LOOKING FOR: Female PREFERENCE: One Time Only, Occasional Meetups, On-call, Regular meetups, Permanent Friends-With-Benefits, Secret Meet, Virtual Meet, Audio Meet, Rebound C…[Click to see more] PARTNER REQUIREMENTS: N/A SIZE REFERENCE: 8 ½” hard, 4” soft, 5.6” circumference SEXUAL INTERESTS: Vanilla, Free Use, BDSM, Begging, Breeding, Dom/Sub, Dominatrix, CBT, Role Play, Public Humiliation, Edging, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Virtual Sex, Group Sex, Humiliation, Cock Play, Cum Dump, Religion, Raw, Multiple Orgasms, Androgyny, Genital Piercings, Older Women, Body Art, Wax, Anal, Financial Domina...[Click to see more]

NOT INTERESTED IN: Cuckolding, Voyeurism OTHER: im not very experienced in most of these, i just watch a lot of porn

Embarrassing? Yeah, probably.

Looks like a lot of women are into that though if his inbox is anything to go by, anyway. With him checking the app every few minutes to find ten new messages? Yeah, they’re feeling him.

He can only imagine what the fuck Jungwon had on his profile to actually land a hook-up. Couldn’t have been any worse than his own, after all, Jake is desperate and so was Jungwon at one point.

Apparently girls like desperate guys.

Message after message, degrading comments and praise, all from either women clad in leather or sweet looking church girls who must have the app hidden deep within their phones. There’s barely anyone in between those two categories, actually.

“Hi baby boy, you looking for a sugar mama?”

“ur dick really that big? lol, what do you even mean by ‘chronic boner syndrome’?”

“you’re so desperate to get laid, might as well just doxx yourself at this point…please.”

Arguably, these women are very forward and he has a great time sifting through the ones he’s interested in. Scrolling through all of these messages….does not help his case regarding his insatiable need to fuck something either so, naturally, he’s also 100% jerking off the entire time he’s doing this.

Still, never quite able to reach the orgasm he needs by this point.

Up until there’s a message that catches his attention. No degrading, no insults, no borderline-too-kinky insinuations. Which, given, Jake probably shouldn’t have selected the majority of the kinks just to pull more girls, but he did.

And upon reading the message, he almost doesn’t know if this girl is real.

“High libido, no girls around to help you out, I take it? Rough.”

One look at her profile spikes even more interest. Her sexual interests include a list of things he wishes he didn’t fit. But he does, though he’d never admit it. Inexperienced men, losers, virgins, micro-penis, big penis, praise (receiving), body worship–

Oh.

Fuck yeah.

He responds quickly, already feeling the orgasm within him bubble up as he tries to pretend he doesn’t go on a war path of responding to everyone after you, but still. Your message box with him remains in his mind as he awaits the response to his message of “you looking to help me out?”

Every ping on his phone afterwards makes his cock twitch more, makes it dribble out little beads of pre-cum with each pass of his palm, only for him to sigh out of frustration that it’s just another person that wants to devour him whole. Which, he’ll take what he can get if his first choice never responds but still. He wants to get off to you.

He finds himself on your profile more often than anyone else’s too, looking at the same three photos you’ve posted, noting how you don’t seem super active on the app, but active enough to find him by some beautiful grace of God.

You’re kind of perfect, honestly. Fairly mundane compared to most of the women in his inbox, but cool nonetheless. He can tell you have an eye for fashion but it seems to be more geared towards your real life self rather than the secret fetish/kink app you’ve got downloaded.

And that’s the thing. Most of these women, beautiful or not, are dressed in their best sexual attire just to message a possible fuck, while during their daily lives they probably wear conservative dresses and pant suits. Which….arguably that’s kind of hot. Then again, what isn’t hot to him these days?

You though. You have normal pictures posted just like he does. Your tits aren’t out, your legs aren’t open, you don’t have a pile of sex toys behind or beside you and yet still your pictures turn him on more than those who do. Insane how his cock twitches at just these three photos, fucking insane how he grows a near instant obsessed thinking about how you…uh, deal with the losers you seem to be looking for.

Then again, maybe it’s the mystery of what’s under your clothes, or what’s in your stash of sex toys. Oh, whatever you’re hiding has got be so fucking hot. Naturally, he groans at the amount of sexuality you barely give. Thinking far, far too hard about it all, given the circumstances.

Don’t get him wrong, he can get down with the hoes. In fact, he very much wants to get down with a hoe. But man, the way you stand out because you’re somehow….boring compared to everyone else?

Please.

Fucking pretty please, let him in between those thighs.

And just as he scrolls again through your photos, that long-awaited orgasm hits him like a brick.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A mere two days later you find yourself in the inbox with the self-proclaimed boner-god. He’s since proven his size with photos involving different objects beside said penis, and even a video or two of his frantic hands jerking off to you.

Ah, he’s kind of perfect if you think about it. At first you thought that it was just roleplay for him or something. Where he plays a guy who can’t get enough, though he clearly probably does. It wasn’t until you were woken up at four in the morning with him spamming your inbox that you suddenly realized this dude is actually as desperate as he seems.

Normally, being spammed awake by your phone pinging consistently would bother you. But goddamn was he needing it. Just three hours before now it was mostly casual conversation with him, albeit about hooking-up, but still. The two of you agreed to determine on the following day if you were compatible enough for a meet up. He said goodnight to you, and you said it back.

Then you woke up to three dick pics, one voice note with a borderline pathetic apology (only because you could still hear him going at it), and then like fourteen messages of him trying to wake you up intentionally.

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You awake?

Dick pic #1.

JAKE_02 sent you a message: You’re so pretty, sorry lol

Dick pic #2

JAKE_02 sent you a message: Wake uppppppppppp!

JAKE_02 sent you a message: Please? :(

Dick pic #3, precum smeared across his fingers as he grips it.

JAKE_02 sent you a message: Do you already have me silenced?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: I’d let you silence me hahaha….

JAKE_02 sent you a voice memo: “Sorry about all this, I really meant it when I said I have a problem. You should probably just block me because I’m going to end up begging to see you otherwise”

Oh, he has an accent.

JAKE_02 sent you a message: your profile says you like inexperience…..well i’ve only slept with like 3 girls, is that inexperienced enough?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like to tease guys like that? like edge them and stuff?

JAKE_02 sent you a message: oh damn, that’d be so hot

JAKE_02 sent you a message: do you like it when guys beg btw?

Etcetera.

And, well, apparently he just has a lot to say. It’s cute how embarrassed he must feel basically getting himself off with a one-sided sext session with you as you were sleeping. At least, you hope he’s embarrassed.

You let his messages simmer for a while, waiting to see if he sends anything else. And when he doesn’t, you respond.

YOURUSERNAME: that was cute.

It’s the way he’s instantly trying to respond that really gets you going. You chuckle first, knowing already that you’d probably help him out based on this situation alone.

YOURUSERNAME: trying to wake me up because you can’t stop touching yourself? :( poor baby.

JAKE_02: oh god please don’t say that

JAKE_02: im gonna end up awake all night trying to get it to go down again

YOURUSERNAME: that’s good to hear. so you can go for a long time then?

Yes, you’re teasing him.

JAKE_02: if you’d let me

YOURUSERNAME: you already got off tonight tho, didn’t you?

JAKE_02: i don’t think you understand just how bad it is. i’m already getting my dick out again

You lend yourself a sly chuckle after a deep yawn, knowing for a fact that you’re about to make him prove to you that he’s either still hard or really did get off only to get hard again by a mere few messages from you.

YOURUSERNAME: show me?

And he does. Similar to the other three photos, only this time he sends a short video with his shorts pushed down his thighs and his cock raging hard and pathetic against his stomach. Again, he’s big, that much is true, but the fact that such a dick is always ready to fuck? To the point he’s desperate? To the point he’s embarrassing about it?

YOURUSERNAME: how bad do you wanna bury that in me?

Oh, shit. Jake could fucking die right now. You seem so willing, which is truly what he needs at this point in his sexual sickness.

JAKE_02: i’ll come over right now.

JAKE_02: let me come over and show you

YOURUSERNAME: let’s wait a bit for that, gotta meet officially before I let you fuck me

And you do intend to make him wait, knowing for a fact that you’re not meeting this guy tonight. There’s too much danger in that. Given how desperate he actually is, you can argue that if you changed your mind upon meeting, he very well may not care. Which, that’s something you need to worry about with any person you meet on such an app, but still.

Public meeting first.

Always.

JAKE_02: right, right, that makes sense.

JAKE_02: so can i see your pussy then

You stifle a laugh as if the man can hear you, he’d probably like that though. But yeah, no. As much as you know he’d enjoy that, it’s best to let him experience it for the first time in real life if all of this goes well. So, you settle with tits.

Meaning, he has to settle with them too.

And the photo is all but enough for Jake. The ping of his phone was far too exciting with the flash of the image sinking into his eyes. Sure, he wanted to see your hole open for him, he wanted to see your pretty hands spreading your lips for the picture, he wanted to see what he might get to fuck into someday– but…

This is good enough for him, honestly. Seeing your tits alone is hot enough, but it’s the fact that you only barely let him see. The plush skin of your lower breasts are peeking from under the shirt you're wearing, one nipple barely out, the other completely hidden.

He moans out at it, holding his cock tight and painfully as he glares into the screen of his phone. God, he can almost taste it.

JAKE_02: thats so hot…but….

JAKE_02: pussy….

JAKE_02: please show me your pussy

Another chuckle at how desperate he really is. You lower your phone just a bit, not at all intending to show him all of it but you do lend a panty shot with your legs spread. He’ll live with it, he doesn’t have a choice.

And he does live with it because he cums almost instantly upon seeing just your thighs open. He wouldn’t have been able to hit climax so quickly had you already had this photo posted for all to see. It’s the fact that you sent it to him in the dms. It’s the fact that you presumably just took it for him. It’s the fact that he can almost see the outline of your folds, and the lines of your pussy that deserves to fucked open.

When he doesn’t respond immediately, you know it was enough for him. Already you’re preparing to roll back over and get some more sleep, but your phone dings again.

JAKE_02: tht was hot lol….um

JAKE_02: can u come to the mall tomorrow? i work at [redacted store name], u can come see that im actually very normal if u want

You stop for a second through another yawn, thinking long and hard about it. You shrug to yourself because tomorrow is a saturday and there’s plenty of public spaces to meet him in. And despite how fun it could be to tease him for weeks on end before officially meeting him, you, yourself, have been in a dry-spell lately.

And he fits your interests perfectly. In other words, yeah, you could fuck.

YOURUSERNAME: you sure you’re not gonna take me in the back and fuck me on the spot?

JAKE_02: ….would u want me to?

YOURUSERNAME: no, i wanna bring you home if i think you could make me feel good

JAKE_02: hahah damn

JAKE_02: so you’ll come see me?

YOURUSERNAME: yeah, i’ll come see you

JAKE_02: ok cool :)

And then it’s silent for a long while. In fact, you’re nearly asleep again when your phone pings one last time. All you need to see is the notification to know that meeting Jake is gonna be fun.

JAKE_02 sent you a message: for the record…i definitely will fuck you good

Sounds promising.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You knew he was cute but holy shit, he’s like, cute cute.

Fucking handsome and charmingly cute.

Perhaps even, hot.

You stand from around a shelf to check him out. That same accent you’ve heard previously rings loud and clear in your head, and his hair is definitely a stylistic mess, the type of hair you can imagine grabbing and tugging to guide a tongue between your legs. His eyes are pretty and piercing yet equally as filled with some sort of wonder. His hands, his body.

Oh wow.

On any other day, you’d think he’s just some poser emo-guy working a shitty retail job so he can buy his first guitar and play it totally out of tune. But on this day, you’re aware that this is a man with a need that you very much wouldn’t mind satisfying.

Seeing him go about his work tasks behind the counter is another thing. Checking customers out both through the register and with his eyes when they walk away. You know he isn’t aware that you’ve actually shown up, and it feels nice to watch him in his element before he attempts to play himself up as a totally normal, cool dude. Especially now that you can see him secretly be a pervert on the clock.

Customer after customer, he smiles at them when he hands them their items, he offers small talk and little chuckles that ring in your ears, and every single time one of the pretty ones walks away, his head turns to watch them leave for a few seconds too long.

Anyone can tell he needs it if they watch him for long enough.

You’re not sure why this guy is getting to you the way he is, but there’s just something about the way that he carries himself in public that turns you on. You already know for a fact that he’s a horny motherfucker. You know that behind those charming smiles and laughs, he’s got a neglected cock needing to be used.

No one else in this store is aware of it. You’re the only person here who knows he was spamming a stranger last night with dick pics and begging to see her pussy.

It’s hot.

And when you approach, Jake nearly doesn’t even know it’s you at first.

“Hi, did you find everything you–” Jake stops mid sentence. “Oh, fuck. You’re here.” He adds, trying to primp his hair into a spot that may look a little better than it did already.

You watch as he studies you for the first time, nervously darting his tongue out and against his bottom lip just for a split second before shifting his eyes behind you, and then turning to look around to see if anyone is within ear shot.

No one is paying attention to either of you, and no one is going to hear what you’re about to say to him. Good.

“Do you wanna see my pussy?”

It’s a joke, mostly. Kinda.

You chuckle at his stunned reaction. His hands move to the counter as he clutches it and continuously looks around to make sure no one just heard those lewd ass words from a girl so goddamn hot. Like, oh god, it’s you. You really showed up to see him and already he’s not acting normal.

No, no. You’re the one acting out of pocket, not him.

“I’m–” He tries to start, but his voice cracks in a very, very, embarrassing way. You hear him clear his throat before continuing. “I’m supposed to be showing you that I’m normal.”

You tilt your head at him playfully, leaning against the counter and pushing your tits together with your arms. You wore this shirt here for a reason, and boy are you glad you did. You watch his eyes go straight to your chest and stay there.

“Public Humiliation.” You echo one of his sexual interests to him from his app profile. “Dirty talk.”

Jake swallows around his words in stunned silence, feeling his cock wake up immediately. Fuck, this is the only place he finds peace of mind from…that. Yet here you are, with that soft and pretty voice reminding him of everything he wants but hasn’t been able to have. Standing there like you know he can’t bend you over right now and make you stop talking.

“Eight and a half inches hard.” You continue, leaning in even closer and moving your hand to the collar of your shirt. Tugging down just a little bit. “Five point six inch circumference.”

Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he leans back with a sigh, pressing his hips against the counter for some sort of relief. To think the “boring” girl on the app wouldn’t be like this? God, he knew there had to be a catch considering you were on that app to find him in the first place.

“Please–” He groans as his ears redden, lazily opening his eyes to look at your tits again. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“I can imagine you’d fit it in me just right, wouldn’t you Jake?” You continue briefly, noting the bulge he blatantly presses against the counter. “Can you say ‘please’ again? It’s kinda hot.”

“Please–” Jake blatantly groans now, his voice sounding hoarse and low. As much as he wants you to keep going, he’s at fucking work. He can’t be doing this.

“Okay!” You gleefully agree as you switch up like you didn’t just fuck him up, lending him a bright and innocent smile as you lean back and away from him. “So you don’t want to see my pussy then?”

His relieved face falls right back into that of pained frustration as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Right now?” He asks curiously, nodding his head without realizing it. Sure, he’s at work but like….your pussy is also at his work place right now.

“Yeah! Can you show me to the fitting room, actually?” You ask, louder this time in case anyone has moved around within ear-shot by now. Can’t make him lose his job, or whatever.

Jake swallows thickly with a nod, his eyes still narrowed at you but his mind racing a mile a minute at the fact that you’re really here right now, and this is what you’re doing to him? Enjoying his pain? Enjoying his suffering? Making it worse?

Five minutes ago he was perfectly fine. You’re using his need against him and god, he loves it. Yeah, maybe he will take you to the back and try to fuck you at this point. Even if you said that you wouldn’t let him…what the fuck is this then?

Really, he expected you to show up with an awkward hello and irritating small talk. He wanted to show you that he’s not always thinking about sex. Except he is, and it seems you want him to. You want him to think about fucking you.

You really just walked into this establishment and asked him if he wants to see your pussy.

Of course he wants to see it. You already fucking know that. He wants to fuck it too, like, right now.

And as he walks you to the fitting room, he has to try his damndest to adjust his growing cock. He nods to each customer as he walks by them, hands repeatedly going back to his lap to hide what he’s packing.

“Here it is.” Jake says in an unfocused voice, nearly staring a hole through you. “Now show me.”

You dip your head in a smile, heading for the room and opening the curtain. Cheap ass store, really, most places have actual doors, but whatever.

It’s easy to step inside and leave the curtain skewed a bit, knowing that Jake is hovering around the room, knowing that it’s probably protocol that an employee assist this space when it’s in use to prevent stealing and to prevent others from walking in on naked customers.

You like the way you see him take peeks, trying to be discreet. You like the way he keeps his hands in front of his lap, hiding that you’ve definitely made him a mess of him already. You love the way he whispers a curse to himself when you sit against the bench in this small room and spread your legs wide open.

You bet he loves the skirt you’re wearing for him today too. Though this wasn’t exactly planned or anything, you didn’t expect to be this turned on upon seeing him act as desperate as he sounds. You wore this shirt so he can look, and the skirt too…but looking this much wasn’t in your mind originally.

He’s hot though. The way he needs it is hot.

“Hurry up.” He groans, trying to make it seem like he’s frustrated but you know it’s just because he’s anxiously horny.

And, well, you’re not actually gonna show him your pussy, but at this point you feel bad because he seems really stiff right now, almost robotic in the way he likely feels uncomfortably aroused in his least favorite place.

“Jake,” You whisper-chuckle. “If you wanna see it, you’re gonna have to come in here and take my panties off of me.”

You hear him sigh, and see his eyes flick back to you through the small open space in the curtain.

“You’re insane. I can’t come in there, I’ll lose my job.” He argues with a hushed tone, eyes fixated on the very panties he wishes he could remove.

Even against his protests though, he reaches an arm in as he looks away. As if on extreme watch of other customers and employees roaming around. Probably pretending to grab a garment that doesn’t work for you, probably just doing normal, good-employee things.

And, well, it’s pathetic really, the way he hopes for more. The way you offer more knowing he can’t get exactly what he wants. You actually feel a bit bad for doing this, especially because it wasn’t entirely in the plan.

You really were just coming to meet him. It’s not your fault that watching him work turned you on solely because you know what he needs. So, you stand and walk towards the curtain, grabbing his arm and holding it in place.

“Well–” You start, pressing yourself against the backside of his fingers, feeling him move his hand slightly against your clit. “Touch it then.”

He goes entirely silent but you feel the way he fumbles his hand, immediately grabbing your panties and moving them to the side just to really feel. And you let him, finding it somehow cuter in the way he doesn’t even ask. He does it like he needs to, like it’s instinctual to touch it. He feels for a second or two, probably closer to about five seconds before you step back. Really, it’s enough for him to know you’re wet, enough for him to suffer, enough for him to want more.

Jake’s brain is on fire at it. Touching it before getting to see it? Goddamn, you’re so fucking mean.

And it’s silent for a few more moments after that as Jake keeps his hand in place, seemingly searching for a pussy just out of reach when you slide the fabric down your legs and place them directly into his hand.

“When do you get off work?” You ask slyly now, ripping the curtain open and moving his hand for him, forcing him to shove your panties in his pocket.

“Uh–” He stutters, swallowing again around his words before clearing his throat of the moan he really needs to let out right now. “Seven– I get off at seven.”

You nod with a smile, leaning in real close before patting his pocket.

“I’ll text you my address.”

And you leave without sparing him another glance, knowing that by the time his shift is over, he’ll probably pounce the second you open your door for him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake suffers through the rest of his shift aggressively trying not to suck on his fingers. Fuck, he wants to taste you so bad, but to go as low as sucking the remnants for several hours just to hold him over? Truly, he’s at his wits end.

Mostly because he absolutely does suck his fingers any chance he gets. Tapping his lips with them as he sees a customer off, licking against them discreetly, trying to make it look normal for him to have his fingers in his mouth so consistently.

It’s not doing anything to hold him over though.

He keeps glancing at the clock, and then at the message that reads your address. Just one more hour and he can leave. Just one more hour and he can bury his cock so deep into you that you’d never think twice about letting him do it again, and again, and again.

Oh god, really, he feels like he’s going insane as he checks out customer after customer. Every word they say somehow reminds him that he’s about to finally get laid again.

“Can you wrap this up for me?” One customer said to him, nodding to a set of candles.

Jake wishes you’d wrap him up in that pussy.

“Do you have this in a bigger size?” Another customer had said to him as they held up a plush sweater.

Jake doesn’t think you’d ever need a dick bigger than his. He’ll fill you up just right.

“69.99?!” One customer argues. “The sign said it was 30% off!”

Jake would sixty nine you all night long if you asked. He bets you taste sweet, you probably get really wet too.

And by the end of the night, rain pounding on the roof, his last customer unfortunately has to hear a low groan leave his throat at their comments. He’s very quick to cover it with a cough.

“Sorry for coming in right before you close, the rain is bad tonight and I forgot my umbrella, thank god you guys sell them! I didn’t mean to drip all over the floor like this, I hope you don’t have to stay late cleaning up my mess!”

“I didn’t mean to drip all over your floor like this” Replays in his head, over and over again. God, he’d make you drip. He hopes you drip all over the floor for him. He’d get on his knees and lick it right up, god.

He needs to leave. Right now.

“S’all good,” Jake shakes his head after the initial moan and cough cover, trying to remain casual. “It’s my job to clean it up, after all.” He smiles, his brain stuck on the feeling of how wet you were when he touched you. Shiiiit. “Have a good night, stay dry!”

And finally, Jake can close out his register and lock the doors. That, he does. Performing his end-of-night tasks at lightning speed with a cock throbbing so bad that he worries he might have to get off in his car before making it to your apartment. He genuinely needs to get off, especially knowing these pretty panties are in his pocket ready to be soaked in his cum.

He doesn’t though, no. He holds off, thrusting his hips up and against the inseam of his pants with every passing second as he drives. He’s practically writhing by the time he gets to your place. Honestly, he moans with each movement because he’s sensitive. It’s so, so fucking sensitive. Everything feels good, he could genuinely cum the second you open your door if he’s not careful.

Careful isn’t something Jake can be at this moment though, not when he lands a single knock at your door and you’re immediately opening it, looking at him with that same fucking evil smile you gave to him while he was at work.

He looks at you and instantly lets out a frustrated moan before stepping in without another word. You feel his hands grab you much harsher than you originally thought he would, but you let him as you laugh out in a nervous chuckle.

“Hello to you too.” You pat him on the back as his arms wrap around your middle. You hear him kick back against your door, slamming it shut before his lips hit your neck.

He isn’t talking but goddamn you can hear what he needs to say through the way he presses his lips against you. He’s rough with it, kissing all across your exposed skin before slipping his hand right between your legs from the back as if he doesn’t have to chase anymore.

You were going to jerk your hips back to make him chase, but his grip is too tight and he’s nearly lifting you off the floor entirely to get a feel. You were going to force him to look at you and the outfit you changed into for him, but again, he’s not having it, it seems. He moans when he moves his lips up and against yours, hot breath desperate and needy as he finally speaks.

“Did it turn you on to torture me like that?” He nearly growls against your lips. “Got me so fucking hard.”

You’re genuinely surprised with how he’s acting and talking. Then again, he’s desperate, that much is obvious if that monster bulge rubbing against your leg is anything to go by. Perhaps he may be desperate, but you guess that doesn’t always mean someone will end up submissive as a side effect.

“It did.” You smile against his lips, pushing yourself forward to try and plant your feet back on the ground, chasing the ability to gain control over him. “Did you like that?”

Jake nods before shaking his head, allowing you to push forward, loving the way your hands reach for him and run through his hair before tugging. He did like what you did, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was fucking torture to stand there at work like he wasn’t losing his mind.

“I’d like it more if we skip all the bullshit,” He starts, hand still attempting to reach the spot between your legs and lips landing at the corner of your mouth. “Could go all night.”

You nod to him, gripping his shirt and pulling him back to your living room couch and spinning him around, only to shove him back.

“Is that a promise?” You ask, looking at the lazy way he spreads his own legs and rests his head against your couch cushions, eyes staring straight at you and cock twitching in his pants. “You gonna fuck me all night?”

“Yeah–” He breathes as if he’s in disbelief, hand reaching between his legs just to grab himself and squeeze as his eyes trail your body. “You have no idea how bad I need this.”

“Show me then,” You nod your head to his length that’s hidden under his pants. “Let me watch you first.”

Jake groans, rolling his eyes back both out of frustration and arousal, but he does as you say. His palm feels better with you watching, at least. He doesn’t feel so numb to the pleasure with you promising your body to him, at least. He doesn’t mind proving his size to you by shoving his pants down to his thighs and presenting said neglected cock to you either.

It’s heavy, dark in color due to the blood that’s likely rushing throughout every inch of it. He feels sensitive to even the air in your living room as he twitches and aches to hear you talk again, to see you in front of him watching how he pleasures himself, wishing his hand is yours.

“You wanna watch?” He says in a low-rumbled voice, tracing his fingers along the head of his cock and seething out a breath through his now, bitten bottom lip. “Wanna know how tight I want you to feel?” He asks now, bold and in the heat of the moment. You watch him when he squeezes the base of his cock tightly, you can almost feel yourself choke at that alone.

“How wet you need to be to take it?” He continues, dragging his hand back and licking his palm before spitting into it.

The wetness against his hand is horrifyingly pornographic. So wet when he reaches back down to his length, allowing you to hear it squelch and slip with ease. His breath is hitched while he does it too, which nearly has you seeing him in tunnel vision.

“Yeah…” You tune into him entirely, swallowing around the lump in your throat and feeling yourself drip already. “I can’t imagine how good–” You cut yourself short to moan at the way his other hand holds his pants down while he jerks his hand up faster and faster. “Oh god, you’re–”

“Wanna see how fast I can cum just looking at you?” He continues, hand only moving faster and faster as his grip tightens more, shamelessly grunting proudly over how he could probably cum now if he wanted to. “I told you, I can go all night.”

You pause, because goddamn. You thought he would be embarrassing, pathetic, needy. You thought he would beg, plead, and cry. But…you feel like you’re the one who needs to do that. God, you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck yet be so powerful about it. As if he’s in your face whispering, “You’re gonna let me fuck you, right? You’re gonna love it too, right? You’re gonna let me use you to take care of this little problem of mine, right? It’s what you want, right?”

If he were to say those things to you right now, you’d nod without a doubt. But…he doesn’t. He simply looks at you now, heaving out broken moans that sound too sexy to be considered pathetic. His hips chase each movement of his hand and goddamn does he fuck his fist hard.

Your mind is spinning watching him, knowing that he’s probably going to fuck you twice as hard as he fucks himself. And it’s not surprising to you at least that you can feel your own clit swell and throb for touch too. You easily move your hand between your legs, standing right there in front of him, toying with yourself as if you don’t have the power to ask him to do it for you.

“Ah, fuck–” Jake groans, thrusting his hips up into his hand one last time before strings of his cum make a mess on his shirt. And it seems to go on forever too, spurt after spurt of it pumping out of him alongside his pretty moans and open-mouthed expression. You can feel your body react to him more than it ever has for anyone else, especially in the way….

“God–” You moan yourself now, watching him spread his legs and slouch more against your couch with a relieved sigh from his messy orgasm. But…his cock doesn’t soften. No, it stays stiff and heavy against his stomach, twitching and dribbling more and more of his cum out in little beads.

The proof of his issue is right here, he really can and probably will go all night. And you say nothing else to him after that. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to answer you if you did say something simply because you find yourself stepping up onto your own couch, resting your knees against the back of it, and gripping his hair.

Jake lets out a half-moan-half-hum, as expected, when he feels your hand drag his face under your skirt. You didn’t have to do that, but goddamn does he fucking love it. He loves how he can feel your knees buckle and force you to balance on the couch, loves how your cunt is just as needy as he feels, fucking adores the way you drip all over his tongue when he pushes your panties to the side and starts licking you up.

It’s the fact that he didn’t even have to ask you to put it in his face. The slight taste against his fingers all night at work is nothing compared to the way you drown him now. He needs to do this for you. Hell, he needs to do this for himself.

“Jesus,” You breathe, rolling your hips on his mouth. He’s truly eating you like his life depends on it. You can hear his muffled hums at the taste, you can feel his shoulder shake as he starts jerking off again, you can feel the way his tongue goes deeper and deeper, licking each clench of your walls, only to pull back and suck the wet from your panties in a deep breath.

He coos at it too, as if he’s in love with the moment, as if he truly can’t believe he’s finally got a pussy to lick. And he swallows each mouth full of your slick before muttering curses and promises against your swollen little bud.

“Please,” He moans, nipping and licking against you. “Been so long since I’ve eaten pussy, rub it on me- fuck-” he continues to babble, heat-of-the-moment-talk coming out as far more arousing than cringe if you listen hard through your ringing ears. “Come on,” He continues, now neglecting his own cock and gripping your ass with both hands, shoving you back and forth on his face in painfully slow and harsh grinds. “Come on, harder.”

As if you can function at all right now with how rough he is about trying to pleasure you? Fucking hell, the words ignite something in you as you pull back and away from him. For a split second, you see his blown out pupils and fucked up hair as he licks his lips and presents that shining lower-half of his face to you.

You don’t look for long though, no. Because you’re too busy pushing him to the side and forcing him to lay back on the couch instead. You resume your position afterwards, straddling the couch on either side of his head with your knees and planting your pulsing cunt right on his eager tongue.

“You’re too hot,” You moan, feeling his hands go straight back to your ass to force more of those harsh grinds against him. “If you could see yourself right now–” Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you feel his moaned out chuckle hit you right in the clit. It’s like he knows he makes you feel good, but does he really?

Does he truly understand how fucking good at this he is?

“God, if you could feel how good your tongue is–” You continue, now losing yourself in the heat of the moment, feeling his fingers nearly bruise your ass with the death-grip he has on you.

He nods his head in what little space he has as he spirals into heaven behind his eyes. The smell of you suffocates him, the taste of you drowns him, the weight of you is nothing short of sexy as hell. This is all he could ever want. A pretty girl using and abusing his face, much like he wants to do to you. But oh, there’s so, so much he wants to do after so long of having no one but himself.

Eat you out, finger fuck you, slide his cock down that pretty little moaning throat of yours, grip that hair and kiss those tits. God, he wants to do everything right now but he can’t bear to push this perfect clit off of his lips. He cannot fathom losing the taste of you and the way you clench around the tip of his tongue.

Oh fuck.

“Ahh- '' Jake moans open-mouthed against your clit as his brain hits a wall, his cock standing stiff from behind you as he spills out against himself again. Untouched completely, he cums without any effort where as previously it took him hours just to get off because he’d grown so fucking bored of everything.

You’ve ignited him. His drive is higher than it’s ever been after being neglected for so long. God, he wants to fuck you so full that you can’t bear to leave him.

“Fuck–” He continues, trying to lend licks between his jerking body to keep your arousal peaked. “See how bad I need it?”

He finally manages to pull back, feeling you lift from his face just for a moment after noting the way his entire body is shaking. He’s not having it though, as he cranes his neck in chase of your dripping hole once more.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He adds now, enveloping his lips around your clit again and using both hands to force you right back down on his face.

There, you feel the way he almost passionately makes out with your pussy. As if he’s thanking you for a second orgasm within the past ten minutes. As if he truly can’t stop wanting to fuck something, someone, anything at all.

Goddamn, what a fucking deal. All hail the hook-up app that brought this insatiable sex beast to your apartment.

“Jake–” You start, grinding down for him and feeling his hands now move to rub up and down your back. “Keep your tongue in me.” You choke out, gripping his hair to hold his face in place as you sit his tongue inside of you, short and jerky thrusts forward to bump your clit against his nose.

He’s gotten off twice now, it’s your turn.

And you watch as he drops his arms from you and grips your outer legs through it, letting you use his face until he can’t breathe. Both of you are seeing stars through it, your orgasm bubbling up so quickly that you can barely warn him when your hips halt in a stiffened clench and he’s finishing the job for you.

Your legs squeeze around his head, your fingers pull his hair, and still he manages to find the space to tilt his chin up just to tongue-fuck you deeper, just to rub his nose harshly against your clit, up until he feels your quivering pussy spill all over his chin, down his throat, stealing any breath or moan he could possibly give right now.

You’re out of breath by the time you finally slide off of his face, your hands immediately shooting to both of his cheeks as your sensitive clit drags down his stomach for the easy position change. You wince when you lick against his lips at the sensitivity, being sure to seat yourself right against his cock.

“Hah–” Jake lends a breathy laugh against the way you lick his lips, his hands going right back to your ass and landing a sharp slap to it. “Couldn’t even get our clothes off first.”

You take a second to pull back and look at him, noting the redness against his cheeks and nose, likely from your panties consistently getting in his way and then you chuckle back at him. You’re thankful for the short break the two of you seem to be taking at the moment. Still, you lift up from him just to remove your shirt, exposing your tits in an instant solely because you didn’t wear a bra for this exact purpose.

He’s still hard, despite two orgasms. You feel him rubbing it against you every few seconds, right up against your saliva and cum-soaked panties which, mind you, are insanely uncomfortable right now. It feels as if they’re slicing through your thigh with the force of how Jake managed to keep them shoved out of his way.

“Just lay back,” You smile at him, allowing him a longer rest for now as you take it upon yourself to remove the barriers. “Let me take care of you now.”

Jake has hearts in his eyes as he watches you. Normally, a girl would already be falling asleep after all that, leaving him with not enough orgasms and no actual fucking. It’s not his fault he could do foreplay for upwards of three to four hours before going for the finale. Which, arguably, can and will last several hours longer.

Still, you appear to not be finished either, with your breathless smile and gentle hands. He bites his bottom lip through a smirk as he watches you, tits on full display to keep him satiated for now as you move around on the couch to get his pants off of him. He helps a bit with a little kick, his cock still so sensitive and pathetically weeping for more. He feels lucky to have found you, almost baffled that he may have met his match.

You lend several glances at his cock, not quite realizing the way he’s blinking at you right now. To be fair, it’s only natural to have your attention on that thing right now. You swallow around your nervousness regarding the size but equally want him to fuck you senseless with it. You already feel entirely fucked out, but…that. Oh, that could change your life, probably. You can imagine he won’t be as gentle as you expected before all of this too. Would probably shove it in all in one go and lose his mind at the feeling.

He’s probably going to split you open and make it feel good for you too. Somehow.

Anyway, enough of that. You’ve still got to get his shirt off, your uncomfortable skirt and panties too.

You make quick work of it, as you stand to your feet and expose yourself entirely to him. Jake just watches, humming and moaning at each new expanse of skin you show to him. He keeps his hands to himself though, likely so used to feeling of them that they’d bring no pleasure at this moment if he were to jerk off to you doing this. And you just…look right back at him.

“Come on,” You smile at him again, lending your hand out for him to grab. “Bedroom will be more comfortable.”

Right. Bedrooms exist.

Jake follows, cock heavy and sensitive against his thigh with each step as he tries to get up close behind you. His eyes stay on your ass as you walk in front of him, and it’s not hard for him to keep his hands on it. In fact, he’s touching you as often as he can, trying to remind himself that he’s with someone right now who actually wants him.

You seem to be willing to let him do what he needs tonight, and hopefully it won’t be the only time.

You feel him on you, clinging so closely, hands constantly groping, lips always trying to reach the back of your neck and shoulders, to the point it’s actually difficult to get to your bedroom because you want nothing more than to turn around and shove him against the wall, all to try and take him into your mouth just to see if you can.

He doesn’t really let you think about that for too long though, because the second you get to your bedroom, he’s grabbing you from behind and lifting you in his strong arms. You writhe in his grasp with playful giggles, feeling the strong hold he has on you, keeping you in place against him as he stumbles forward with a deep inhale into your neck.

He’s quick to make his way to your bed, dropping you onto it, flipping you over onto your back, and immediately slotting himself between your legs. He hovers over you for a minute, looking directly into your eyes as his hair falls forward.

Somehow, you’re more focused on his face than you are of his cock that he’s sliding up and down your core right now. You reach up to his hair, brushing it out of his face and feeling the sticky sweat at his scalp.

“Could eat you out again.” Jake mentions, hips thrusting against you but eyes calm and level with yours. “Could lock me up in here and just use me all day if you want.” He continues, partially being serious about it, but treating it as if it’s some kinky joke instead.

Because let’s be honest. If there’s any job Jake could do better than anyone else, it’s be a woman’s fuck toy. Always ready to go, always stiff and horny, always willing to please.

“Could slide in right now and let you feel how hard I am.” His voice gets breathier as he talks, and you can tell he’s just imagining everything he wants to do. He probably worries he’ll have to go home at some point tonight only to resume his search for potential fucks to keep his need satiated.

He probably thinks he’s going to exhaust you.

“Could let you do all of that and more.” You respond, lifting your hips just slightly to press his cock between your bodies, throwing your legs around his waist simultaneously with the way you wrap your arms around his neck. “You want me to lock you up in here?”

Jake nods with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut as if he can imagine it.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

He shakes his head with another sigh, focusing on the way you keep humping up against his length, sliding yourself in whatever way you can against him.

“Maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”

Oh, damn.

The heart eyes are back. The very thought of being in this room all night and all day tomorrow drives his cock to pulse and twitch. Foreplay can come whenever, fucking can come whenever, he can cum whenever. There’s no need for a to-do list. No need for a specific structure of rules on how this needs to happen. Foreplay, sex, sleep. Not with Jake.

Sex. foreplay. sex. foreplay. for hours. He’ll keep you up all night if he can, fucking and sucking every part of you, into the morning hours straight into tomorrow night.

Free use with you from now until you’re tired of him. You can do anything you want to him but for now…

“Yeah?” Jake breathes out in excitement, arching his back slightly to let his cock land against your hole, and then he pushes forward slowly. The bulbous head spreads your lips and stretches out your slick pussy with ease as he continues to speak. “Feel that?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, fingernails already digging into his shoulders at the anticipation as your legs loosen around him. He continues to push forward, inch by inch, painfully slow as if he wants you to feel the burn and stretch even while being as wet as you are.

“Ah–” He confirms for himself as he watches your face, wincing, mouth falling open. “Yeah, you feel it.”

God, yeah. You do. You feel the weight of his size inside of you, stretching you open so good he probably wouldn’t even have to move for it to hurt. But he does move, he does continue to slide in, savoring every second of your walls quivering and suffocating his cock.

“Goddamn,” He groans, lifting up on both arms and bracing himself as he looks down, only to find he’s only slid half of his dick into you, and already you’re about as breathless as he is. “Didn’t realize how tight you’d actually be–”

He chokes when he says it, sliding out little by little before fucking back in, pushing just a bit more into you.

“S’okay.” You try to reassure him, but it’s more for you than it is for him. You really didn’t think a cock could feel so big that it actually hurts, yet, here you are. “I’m adjusting.”

Jake moans at your broken voice, no longer holding himself back to look at your pussy grip him when he pulls out slightly. He looks at your face instead, witnessing how you take all of it in one solid movement from him. All of it, until he can feel his pelvis rest against your clit and your entire body stiffens in a tight hug around his body.

“Mhm,” He leans back down now, humming against your cheek as he tries to control the urge to fuck. “Taking all of it, aren’t you?”

With those words, he slides out slightly before pushing back in again, trying to force your pussy to relax so that he can stop holding his breath. One hand finds its way to your leg to hold onto, the other holding himself up beside your head, and he just…watches.

Little by little, he thrusts. Plunging into you in short-tight snaps of his hips just to watch your tits jiggle with the movements, up until he really, really can’t hold back anymore.

You feel his cock leave you almost entirely, only to slam right back in and cause your vision to go white with a pang of pleasure. Your loud yelp pairs well with his relieved sigh of a grunt, and it appears that this is what breaks him entirely.

That single, full thrust, lets him fall forward and nuzzle his nose against your neck and his body just goes. Instinctually chasing the deepest parts inside of you, hitting your cervix with each thrust only to drag back and make your toes go numb at the way your g-spot feels entirely too sensitive with this alone.

And god, Jake loves the way you cling through it. The way you moan each time he bottoms out, the way your nails cut into his back and the way your legs continuously fail to stay wrapped around him. He…

Oh no.

“I can go all night–” He breathes out through his relentless thrusts, almost as if he’s pleading with you. “I swear, I’m not done–” He continues to cut off his own words with choked moans as he pulls back and leans up, frantically forgetting to apologize over the fact that he’s already about to cum again.

And you feel him try to slide out, that face he made twice before already alerting you that he really must have so much to pump out of himself at this point. You don’t mind if he’s about to hit a third orgasm, in fact, you’re glad.

Your legs hold him in place as he fights to pull out, his eyes snapping to you in realization after the second time he tries.

“No fucking way, you– you want it?” His eyebrows fall into that of a relieved release as he, too, falls right back down against your chest and lets his hips fuck freely.

He’s not controlling it at this point. You feel him stretch you open more through his orgasm, rolling his hips but not pulling out even in the slightest now. Moving back and forth, as if trying to stuff you impossibly full while he releases those thick ropes of cum. It…feels so good even with the way the base of his cock continues to swirl and loosen you up in a painful stretch that almost feels like he’s ripping you open. Still, the pain is gone as he shakes on top of you, in fact, you feel your clit throb at the feeling of how big he is, of how hard he manages to stay.

He didn’t even fuck you that roughly before this, but it feels like you’re already ruined. Ruined enough to want more. Enough to need more.

“Bet that feels good,” You chuckle against his hair, feeling each pulse of him and loving the way he pants against your ear. “Not having to pull out, knowing you can fuck me for as long as you want.”

That only pushes his orgasm to hit harder. He thought he was nearing the end of it, but instead, his body goes into overdrive as more pulses of cum shoot out of him at your words. There’s so…so much of it he can give you. And if this is what you want, he’s the perfect man to do it for you.

“Don’t say that, oh god–” Jake mumbles through the end of his orgasm, keeping himself tucked nice and deep into you as he releases his body weight and makes you feel slightly suffocated under him. “Please.”

Well, he minds his manners well enough, you shrug under him, clenching around his length unintentionally and reminding him that you genuinely can go all night, just like him.

Reminding him that maybe you really will just lock him up in this room all tonight, all tomorrow. He seems into the idea anyway, right? Both of you just free-use sex dolls for the time being…Hell yeah.

And as Jake catches his breath, he finally lifts up, pulling you with him, and sits you directly on his lap now.

“Keep going then, don’t let it get soft.” He nearly whimpers, solely due to the sensitivity his cock is now offering and the fact that after that third orgasm, he truly is gaining the ability to go flaccid between orgasms.

And you follow his direction, though not entirely how he wanted you to. Instead of rolling your hips, you slip him right out of you and sink your face down between his legs, loving the way his cum spills out of you all the while. You don’t even say anything, not that you’d need to. He watches you, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an arm and throws it over his eyes.

“Shit, You’re so my type.” He groans out of the sexual frustration that still bubbles within him. You look so good down there with his cock just inches from your mouth. God, no woman has been able to go down on him for too long despite really fucking wishing they would.

His hips always lose control, they don’t like face fucking, he’s too big to fit, they’re gagging too much, their jaw is hurting. What the fuck ever. Look at you, blinking up at him like you want nothing more in the world than to take it all down your throat. Ah, fuck, if you did that…

His hips buck up on instinct, forcing you to hold him down with your arms as you lick your lips.

“You really live up to your promise, you know that?” You smile with warmed cheeks as you speak, blowing air gently against the head of his cock. It’s softened up a little, but it’s no longer going flaccid. You’re sure that the second you work it into your mouth, he’s going to be blocking your airways.

Good.

“You say that like I’m not overwhelming you with all of this,” He chuckles as he moves his arm from his face and down to yours. “Most girls would have already sent me home.”

You circle your lips around the bulbous head, tasting the remnants of both you and him as you gently suckle before popping off and licking your lips.

“Well, Jake–” You look back down and lend his cock a little kiss. “I’m not most girls. Besides, most guys get their nut and leave me hanging. You’ve gotten, what? Three orgasms by now? And you’re still in my bed? Wanting me to lock you up tomorrow too? What a fucking win.”

Jake rolls his eyes because you don’t even know the fucking half of it. If he were a normal guy, he probably would have done the same thing. Maybe not to you, but to others? Yeah. The thing is, he’s not like most guys. And you’re right in saying you’re not like most girls either, considering…your sex drive appears to be just as insatiable as his.

“Fuck, let me eat you out again–” Jake groans now, needing to pleasure you again, aroused by the fact that he’s basically met a female version of himself. Even if he’s just exaggerating and making himself believe such a woman could exist close enough to him. “Let me– Ahh…”

You cut off his words, dragging a loud and sensual moan from him as you sink down. Mostly to shut him up, mostly so you can return the favor for him from earlier before letting him have another lick of you. After all, you truly do appreciate him for all of this.

“Mmf–” You mumble unintentionally, feeling each inch of his length that you swallow up pressing your tongue further and further down in your mouth. Up until you’re entirely open mouthed on him, gagging yourself when he hits your throat only to angle yourself up on your knees to point it straight down your throat instead.

It hurts, but you close your eyes in concentration, breathing through each gag, ignoring the dribble of saliva that runs from the corners of your mouth and– you swallow.

Mostly because you can’t suck. Again and again, you swallow around him just to stimulate his length, the girth stretching your lips out to the point you feel your jaw could break, but it doesn’t and it won’t.

Within an instant of taking his whole length down your throat, you feel his hands in your hair. Your ears are ringing, otherwise you would also be listening to him choke on his words at how you’re doing this to him. All of it. You’re taking him in full, not leaving an inch out, seemingly proving that your mouth can be fucked just as good as your cunt.

He’s in heaven, head spinning as you stimulate him through each gag and sputtered out chokes of a moan. He can’t help it when he grabs your hair, he really doesn’t mean it when he pushes your head down while pressing his hips up. Essentially choking you and suffocating you in full with a paused hold.

You brace yourself on his hips when he does this, squeezing your eyes shut and continuously gagging from the way he abuses your mouth with just that small movement, and then– he pulls back.

“Ahh,” He groans, snapping his hips back and holding you by the hair to keep you from chasing. “You like that?” He continues, letting you breathe but not answer at all before he’s pushing your head right back down, holding you there again and fucking his hips up repeatedly into your throat this time.

The sounds are pornographic at best, concerning at worst. You, searching for air somewhere between his thrusts, the sounds of wet sputters, drooling, whimpered groans from him, and desperate gasps and gags from you. Truly, Jake is in heaven right now. With you, specifically, you’ve brought him to heaven.

For you, it feels like he does this forever. You’re losing the ability to comprehend what breathing ever was in the first place, thankfully though, Jake can see the tears pouring from your eyes and feel the way you fall slightly limp, letting him do as he pleases before he realizes– he may actually be overwhelming you now.

He snaps his hips back quickly, pulling you up and off of the last remaining inches of his weeping cock before taking a good, long look at your gasped breath and abused lips. Tongue licking out and eyes stained.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I–”

Instantly you press yourself down on him once again, resuming your original position of sliding him in until you can’t stand the feeling in your throat, gagging and swallowing around him time and time again. You feel proud of it, proud of the pain, proud of the suffocation.

Fucking proud to not be finished with him compared to every other person, apparently.

“Jesus–” He groans now, his entire body slouching against your bed as he slams his head back and starts petting your cheeks. “It’s like you were born for this. For me.”

You hum around the gags, growing accustomed to swallowing him up and feeling your jaw strain. And just a few moments later, you pull up with a deep breath, a smile, and you start rubbing your jaw.

“Maybe I was,” You try to talk dirty, wanting to drive him insane. “You taste so good.” You add, dipping down again to lick a long stripe up the underside of his balls up to his tip. “Any girl should be proud to say you’d fuck her mouth like that.”

A twitch, he rolls his eyes back and clenches his jaw.

“How are you so…” He breathes out, reaching his hands blindly for you, only to feel you shift on the bed and essentially sit your tits into both of his hands. “perfect?”

You shrug when he opens his eyes, you’re now hovering over him, both hands covering his on your tits as you force him to squeeze and grope.

“Maybe it’s best to not ask questions.” You tilt your head playfully. “Besides, if I’m lucky maybe you’ll stop trying to find other girls to fuck. They can’t take care of you like I will, anyway.”

Oh, you damn fucking right they won’t.

“You can have it any time you want.” Jake smiles, relishing in your tits warming under his palms, watching the way you hover over him tall and proud on your knees. “Could play with you every day and never get bored.”

You feel him move his hand from under yours, going straight between your legs and sliding not two, but three fingers into you with ease.

“Still so wet too,” He hums, eyes narrowing at you with that same pretty grin. “You always this horny?”

You shake your head.

“Not usually, you just turn me on.”

Jake feels proud of that. He doesn’t feel like the odd ball with a dick that can’t be satiated no matter how many pussies he plows through in a night. Which, again, for the past year has been a total of zero pussy. You getting turned on by that makes him feel…capable. Makes him feel like maybe he can be put to use by a pretty girl.

Makes him feel like his need is wanted and well taken care of.

“So, I can keep calling you?” He asks now, fucking his fingers up, loving the warmth and slide, anticipating for when he gets to bury his cock in you again.

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure of how deep even his fingers reach. Kind of ready for him to stop talking and just focus on what he’s doing to you.

“Even if it’s every single day?” He continues to ask, now using his thumb against your clit. “Even if I need you in the middle of the night?”

Anything he wants if he can keep hitting your g-spot like this.

“Yes, Jake,” You sigh out of aroused frustration, now wiggling your hips to chase that stimulation inside of you. “I’ll give you the fucking key to my apartment if you want. Just let you walk right in and start fucking me.”

His fingers move faster at the image, the implication of not just free-use, but true free use. Real free-use.

“Yeah? Wake you up with my cock sliding into you?” He urges you to keep talking, now removing his other hand from your chest and circling it around his cock. “Just walk right in and get my mouth on you while all your friends are here?”

You lend a surprised chuckle, but pay no mind to his words past the arousal it brings to you. You’d tell him about how you have a total of like two friends, and half of the time they’re too busy to show up anyway. Still, the image is hot at the moment. All of it is hot.

“You’d let me?” He continues pressing every button both physically and mentally, unaware of how easy it is for him to talk as if it’s a normal conversation solely because it’s kind of his general state of living at this point. You, on the other hand, are not used to having a full conversation while your g-spot gets abused. “Even if you’re not home? Let you come home and find me fucking myself for you?”

Oh.

“Fuck–” You groan out at the image, feeling his fingers reach so perfectly, thinking of how it would feel to walk into your apartment just to see this pretty man chasing that tight ring of fingers his fist creates. Probably so turned on and frustrated that you’re not home…so frustrated that all he could do is drop to the floor and start fucking. “God, yeah.”

So that’s what you’re into. You love that he’s that pathetic to fuck. And lucky for you, he’s more than willing to continue to be that fucking pathetic.

“Does that feel good?” He hums now, watching how you fuck yourself against his fingers, lifting slightly to lick against your nipple. “Can I use my cock again?” He babbles almost, brain on constant loop of you actually giving him free reign of your apartment someday so he can come and–”Please, do this on my cock.”

This is the second time he’s asked you to ride it, and you think that may be one time too many. You almost feel guilty for taking him down your throat first, but then again, you don’t. Your body vibrates knowing you’re about to split yourself open on him again, only this time having full control.

“You want me to sit on it, Jake?” You smile, thrusting your hips down and sinking his fingers into you so deep that you physically can see his brain malfunction.

The frantic nod he gives is somehow less powerful than how he lifts his hips, forcing you higher on your knees as his fingers slip out of you and immediately land in his mouth.

Man, this guy must love the taste of pussy. The image of him doing that alone is insanely arousing to you as you lend him a short nod and slide back, your pussy sucking in the head of his cock instantly as if the two of you move together so well, that it was only natural to not need a guiding hand for it.

He sinks his head deep into the mattress with the way you try to sink down on him. He holds his breath with those same fingers in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut at how tight you still are, how wet you still are.

And he’s shocked, almost, at the way you just keep sliding down. Not letting yourself re-adjust to his size, holding your own breath and bracing yourself on his abdomen just to keep balance and you wince through the stretch.

“That’s it.” Jake soothes your hips as you sit, clenching around each one of his twitches inside of you. “Doing so good.” He breathes out this time, trying to hold back his moan just for a moment as he awaits your moan first.

And it comes quickly when you lean back rather than against him, arms by his knees as you practically present his cock to him buried entirely into you with this position. He lifts his head and stares at it before reaching his thumb to your clit, immediately pressing hard circles against it.

“Ride it,” He pleads now. “God, please ride it.” He loses his mind at the image, really, as you do start moving.

Pained whimpers falling from your lips as you circle your hips, fucking just an inch of him in and out of yourself, forcing the deepest part of your pussy to take the abuse more than anything else. And you know he loves it with the way his thumb stops rubbing your clit, with the way he can’t decide on if he should look or throw his head back and fall into the sensation.

It’s really cute to witness, and you’d lean forward to kiss him if you had the strength to do it, but you don’t. In fact, all the strength you have is currently bubbling up inside of you with a sharp, almost burning sensation.

You know exactly what this is. You’ve practiced it time and time again alone in this bed.

“Oh, oh shit, Jake–” You groan as you frantically start moving your hips through the full and splitting feeling of him inside of you. Your voice sounds so panicked, it almost scares him. And honestly? Had he not have finger fucked you against your g-spot previously perhaps you could last longer on him, but no.

“What– What’s wrong?!” Jake’s voice is broken when he quickly leans up, hugging around you as you continue to ride against him, faster now, chasing, chasing, chasing.

Pushing, pushing, pushing.

“No, no!” You moan out, shoving him back against the bed and now lifting entirely from his length before slapping your own clit, fast, rough circled motions before each slap. “Oh, shit!” You nearly yell, witnessing it squirt from your body straight against his abdomen and chest.

Jake just watches, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“Oh–” He stares. “Oh yeah?”

And you’re not even done when he seemingly takes full control. Allowing all that squirt to fall out of you, ignoring your shaking legs, tipping you straight back and plunging his cock right back into that release of pressure inside of you.

“You just weren’t gonna tell me you could do that?” He grunts against your ear, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your orgasm just keeps coming. It feels too good to speak, too good to breathe.

Even as it subsides and you’re trying to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you. He just keeps going, grunting incoherently against your ear, snapping his hips harder than you think he’s probably ever done before.

Honestly, with each yelp you let out, your sensitivity goes from being unbearably painful to–

“Do it again–” He urges you. “Give me another one.” Babbling, cooing, fucking moaning all over your neck until his lips hit yours.

Somehow, that gives him exactly what he wants as he feels your legs tense up and fall open around him. Your pelvis slamming into his so hard that it’s, quite literally, splashing out of you in loud and painful sounds.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He nods and whispers against your tongue, sucking it into his mouth before licking into yours, nearly rabid with the way he’s both kissing and fucking you, he can’t help it. He forgot words the second he felt the gush rush past his length, trying to force it out of you only for him to go harder. Like hell he’s not going to feel you literally squirt on his cock. “So fucking messy.”

At one point, you think you might have actually died. You’re not sure but you swear you saw him fucking you in third person for two solid seconds before being slammed right back into your body. The pleasure genuinely is so overwhelming that…well, suddenly you understand why girls probably think he’s too much.

But goddamn he’s…so good. Like, you remember him mentioning his body count through his one-sided sext session with you and you can argue his inexperience probably made this that much better. He’s a fucking natural.

And as he continues fucking into you, all you can do is lend him a distant smile. You’re definitely not experiencing real life at this moment, and you know he sees it with the way he lifts and keeps his eyes on your zoned out expression.

“Look at you.” He echoes against your walls. “So, so pretty.”

And he just keeps doing that, whispering praises, working you through his presumed last orgasm of the night because he genuinely can’t not fill you up with his cum one last time before letting you rest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The rest didn’t last long, but to be fair you didn’t need it to. All night, and all day. That promise was kept and Jake remained insatiable throughout all the time he spent with you.

To the point you very nearly felt strange about him leaving. Like you’d grown so accustomed to having someone literally attached to you at the dick that you knew the loneliness and silence would hit you a little too hard once he leaves.

And, well, he does leave in a sense, but not completely.

Though you never truly meant that offer in the midst of sex-talk, Jake seemed to have clinged to the idea of it. Lock him up, but still give him the key.

Never in your life would have imagined giving a person the key to your apartment, and yet…there he goes. Backing out of a guest parking spot in front of your building with your spare fucking apartment key in his pocket right next to those fucking panties.

#enhypen smut #jake smut #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x you #jaeyun x reader #jake x reader #enhypen hard hours #enha hard hours

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remxedmoon · 3 months ago

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so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

#marshdoodles #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #also for full transparency. the sadness death redraw is effectively just a trace job. i’m not super happy with it because of thag #but i think i would be Killed if i tried to redo it. i dunno. maybe ill try to change it when i do sadnesses. maybe not.#besides that GOD im really happy with how these turned out #bigfrin was a last minute addition but i think he turned out fantastic #bonnie’s special attack isn’t my Favorite but i think it turned out pretty well considering the Struggle #gggod. trying to make a heavily foreshortened pose that still feels dynamic is really hard. how did id5 do this.#also don’t. worry about the Extra custom sprites that’re in there. i’m not planning anything.#happy isatversary everyone.#i blow away in the wind #isat redraw project

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back2bluesidex · 6 months ago

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Slide - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2k+

Summary:

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"

Alternatively,

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: implied smut, explicit smut, emotional sex, very sad (don't underestimate the angst huhu), depressed yoongi, reader is pining so hard lord!, creampie, unplanned pregnancy, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon

A/N: Lemme know if you want a part 2? (even though I already know the answer hehe).

Arrangement.

You would rather call it an arrangement - the thing that is going on between you and Yoongi. Anything you have been feeling for him, outside your usual practice, is your, solely your decision or more likely… fault.

Hence, it’s a given. A given that you shouldn’t feel your heart dropping to your stomach, crashing on whatever is available inside your body and shattering into a thousand pieces, when you find Gyuri walking inside the room.

Beside you, Yoongi tenses. His body goes rigid as the air inside the room thickens beyond repair. And all of a sudden you can’t breathe.

Now you understand why Namjoon has been avoiding to reveal the name of the artist all along.

Lee Gyuri - One of the most successful solo artist as well as Min Yoongi’s one true love, who had left him broken so bad that you once found him on the street, unconscious, vomit all over his clothes - is now back in his life… in your life, which has been revolving around him.

Where she left - You started.

You picked Yoongi up, put him into pieces, not that you were able to heal the cracks but you at least conjoined it all together.

And just like that - one night after a long heart to heart talk and a few beers, you found him seethed deep inside you. Yoongi chanted your name again and again as if it’s a mantra that will heal the cracks of his heart all while he rutted in you like a mad man.

It started from there - the arrangement.

At the end of long days and even longer nights, whenever both of you were too exhausted to go home, you spent the nights crammed together on Yoongi’s studio couch.

Quiet whispers, curse words, wandering hands, secret body parts slick with arousal - everything had made your existence dwindle dangerously through his fingers.

Yoongi always fell asleep right after but you stayed awake, tracing the slope of his nose, bow of his lips, map of his pale skin glinting in the dark.

You had made a mistake.

You fell in love.

Now as Gyuri slides inside the room with natural elegance, you hear Yoongi’s breathing getting quicker in pace.

He is anxious.

You place a hand on his knees, under the table. It’s a practiced habit that you adopted over time. Your fingertips help to calm him down.

Everything is the same.

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t relax under your touch.

“Yoongi, can we talk for a moment?” Gyuri requests with a timid voice at the end of the meeting. Her eyes quickly lock with yours for a fraction of a second.

You half expect for Yoongi to say no. You pray to the universe for his answer to come as negative even when you know –

“Yes. Sure.”

That Yoongi never stopped loving her for a moment. Yoongi loved, loves and will love only one woman - and that’s not you.

Even though you don’t feel your legs anymore, you stand up. You choose to take the stairs to exhaust your body so that your sadness can be masked.

But even as you climb down floors after floors - your heart stays confined in that room locked with two lovers.

“She said she wants to work it out this time. She has been missing me terribly... she said.” Yoongi doesn’t look away from the blaring computer screen.

He probably doesn’t have the heart of looking into your eyes.

Somewhere he, too, knows of the deepest secrets you have been hiding from him.

“And? What did you say?” You chew on the inside of your mouth, again praying for him to answer something of your liking.

“That I will think about it.” you knew he would say that.

“What is there to think about, Yoongi? You still love her.” you force the words out of your mouth even when your throat closes up.

Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes but you blink those away.

Yoongi finally looks at you, his own eyes glinting with moisture.

“But what about you?” The question is rhetorical - metaphorical.

“Me? I will go back to where I started from.” you lie, heart threatening to leap out of your chest.

You would go back, but not where you started from, you would go back to the night when you picked Yoongi up from the street.

In simpler terms, you would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timelines.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, pretending not to hear anything at all.

Even though you have to summon all of your willpower to do so - you stay still in your bed.

Your tears though - keep falling, rolling down the apple of your cheeks and making a small puddle inside the curve of your ear.

He keeps rambling on the door.

Sometimes the knocks are steady, sometimes infused with anger but his voice stays low. You wouldn’t hear him calling your name if you weren’t attentive enough.

“Y/N! Please open the door.” Yoongi requests again. Through the wood of your door it sounds like a whisper, “Please. I- I want to see you once.”

Every pore of your body woozes out the desire of letting him in, taking him inside your arms and never ever letting him go.

But you are afraid.

He has never once visited you by his own will.

He only tagged along when you asked him to.

So you are afraid.

Afraid of what he might say. Afraid that he might say what you don’t want to hear. You already know everything - know enough - if he points it out now that he is going to leave you behind as the love of his life is back then you might as well break down, which you definitely don’t want to do.

You have always appeared to be nonchalant before Yoongi about this arrangement, about his kisses, his marks, his simple ignorance - and you want it to stay that way.

However, your resolve breaks when you hear a sob, muffled by the door.

Is he crying? Why? Why is he crying at your door?

So you get up, pad towards the door and swing it open.

Yoongi’s head shoots up and you look at his face.

He is a mess - a mess that you love.

With dark hair all disheveled, face smeared with tears, lips chapped, Yoongi says, “I am here to end things.”

This. You were afraid of this.

Your insides churn and mold into a ball of nothingness. There are words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you choose to stay silent as always.

“Okay.” you reply, holding the door knob again ready to shut it on his beautiful face for once and for all.

Yoongi forces his hand at the edge of the door, preventing you from closing it.

He steps inside your apartment and within a few moments, you are being pushed to the door, closing it with the force of your back.

Yoongi kisses you with everything he has left inside. You kiss him back.

You don’t know what is happening but if this is for one last time, then you will accept it.

Your hands wrap around his neck on their own accord. His chapped lips mold perfectly with your moisturized pair.

They move in perfect sync, perfect rhythm - the rhythm of destruction.

“Y/N” Yoongi whispers in between the kiss, “I am sorry.”

You don’t pay his words any mind, rather you let your fingers get lost in his long dark hair.

The kiss grows hungrier by every second you spend in each other’s hold.

Yoongi starts directing you towards your bedroom and your small apartment space takes no time to be crossed.

You soon feel the edge of your bed behind your knees.

When you fall back - Yoongi falls with you.

He looks into your eyes, his own eyes telling a thousand different stories all together. But tonight, you don’t try to read those.

What’s the point when your own chapter is ending? When memories of you will be left to collect dust on the surface?

What’s the point when he knows he is going back to the one he has always loved?

His rough calloused hand comes in contact with your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers again as he reaches down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your right eye.

“I’m sorry.” he kisses your left eye.

“I’m sorry.” this time it’s the tip of your nose.

“I’m sorry” and lastly it’s your lips.

You have never seen Min Yoongi this emotional.

After Gyuri left him, he became numb. You were never able to thaw the frozen parts of him.

But tonight you see a completely different Yoongi. Is this Gyuri’s magic? Has her return made him a human again?

Yoongi - who never touched you or kissed you more than it’s needed, is now apologizing while kissing every small part of your face?

You take a sharp breath and reply, “it’s okay.” even though you don’t know what he is apologizing for. For not being able to reciprocate your feelings? For using you when you let him? For leaving you behind after tonight?

He has already started placing kisses around your jaw, throat, collarbones. His hands fist the hem of your pajama top and he pulls it up revealing your naked chest.

He doesn’t waste time diving down and taking one of your perked nipples inside his mouth.

He sucks on it softly, sweetly - like a lover. Your tears start spilling from your eyes finally. But you completely lose it when you feel his own tears on the mound of your breast. You let him sob, as you sob quietly.

It doesn’t take much time for your clothes and his clothes to join as a hip on the floor of your bedroom.

Yoongi pumps himself, preparing for one last time to enter you. When he lines his cock on your entrance, he takes a quick glance at your face, as if asking for permission.

Your tear stained face lights up in a small smile - it’s not fake.

He enters you, takes up every corner of your walls, fills you with himself - both of your body and heart.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything anymore. He pushes himself inside you, pounds into you with an unusual pace.

His face comes to rest on the crook of your neck. You embrace him to stay there, stay with you as long as it lasts.

For the first time ever, Yoongi doesn’t fucks you - he makes love to you.

The realization makes you shudder.

Why now? Why now out of all the time? Why now when everything is ending?

His breath starts getting labored, you feel yourself hanging close to the edge as well.

And after a few more thrusts, you let go. He fills you up following your invitation.

Both of you stay like that even after the deed is done - for a moment, an hour? You don’t know.

You feel his disposal running down your inner thigh, when he finally slips out of you.

You sneak a glance in his dark orbs for one last time. With a sore throat and an equally sore heart you whisper, “Be happy, Yoongi.”

You see one last drop of tear slipping down his eyes when he dips down to cage your lips in his for one last time.

It’s been a month since that night.

It’s been a month since you last talked to Yoongi beside work.

It’s been a month since you last saw Yoongi outside work.

It’s been a month since you withdrew from Gyuri’s project.

It’s been more than a month since you had your last period.

As you stand in your bathroom, with the tiny testing kit, those two red lines mock you.

You thought that night was the last time? But this after effect - where will you go with this? Who will you confide in?

It can’t be Min Yoongi - can it?

You have let him slide through your fingers after all.

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lilislegacy · 5 months ago

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Okay, I’m so gonna get hate for this. And it will probably get about 4 notes. This is, by far, the most opinionated thing I have ever posted on here. If you can’t tolerate criticism towards Rick Riordan, the books, or the TV show, please keep scrolling. My goal is NOT to change your mind or start arguments.

I also want to preface this by saying that I love and respect Rick Riordan (even if I disagree with him on things and don’t like some of his choices) and fully acknowledge that he has the right to do whatever the hell he pleases with his own series. I also want to say that I love Annabeth Chase (both the book and tv show version) with my entire being and you will never find me being an Annabeth hater. She’s my girl.

We good? Okay cool. So here’s the thing: I’ve seen a lot of people on here saying things like “If you didn’t like the books, you just don’t know how to have fun,” and “The new book haters are just mad that they aren’t the target audience anymore,” and (my personal favorite) “Nothing in the books has changed, only the readers have.”

And while I see your points, and I respect you, allow me to show you something. Because of the 10 picture limit, I am only going to focus on one specific change: Annabeth’s view of Percy.

WOTTG: Annabeth is surprised to be comforted by Percy

Past Books: Percy is constantly comforting Annabeth

WOTTG: Annabeth is shocked when Percy is smart

Past Books: Annabeth often points out that Percy is intelligent

WOTTG: Annabeth thinks Percy can’t do anything on his own, and Rick communicates that Annabeth is always saving his ass

Past Books: Percy is ALWAYS watching her back, and saving her ass just as much (and Annabeth admits that)

I could put a hundred quotes in here. I could go on and on and on. But I can’t, and I won’t.

My problem with this new book is NOT that it is more goofy than serious. My problem is NOT that little things have changed. My problem is NOT that it’s just for fun. My problem is NOT that it’s much more childish. (And by the way, I’ve read PJO and HOO as an adult, so it’s not like I was a child when I read everything else and am now an adult reading the new ones.) I really did like and enjoy many parts of this book.

My problem is that the characters (especially Annabeth) have flat out changed—in bad ways—and we have no choice but to accept it as canon. My problem is that Rick, while trying to merge his books with his new TV show project, is changing the entire personalities and past behaviors/ tendencies of the characters.

I loved Chalice of the Gods. You know why? It was fun, goofy, and showed the characters that we know and love being happy and adorable. I strongly dislike Wrath of the Triple Godess because the characters—no matter how adorable and happy they might be—are no longer the ones we know and love.

My problem is that Rick Riordan fully admitted that he no longer considers the old book characters when he writes the new books. He is now purposefully incorporating his own personal mixture of the book characters and tv characters and writing those versions instead. Because of his desire to change and transform the series, I doubt he’s even read the original PJO or HOO books in years, which is why everything is so inconsistent. The old book characters—the ones who made the series what it was—are gone. And that is not my opinion. Rick fully admits that he doesn’t imagine them when he writes anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the tv show actors. I adore Walker and Leah and Aryan with my whole heart, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But the fact is: they will never be exactly like the book characters. It’s impossible for actors to become the words on a page. They’re their own unique version! And likewise, you cannot turn actors into print. It doesn’t work! And why would you try? The books versions were perfect as they were. And the disney kids need to make the characters their own. The two versions can exist side by side, equally as wonderful, and still be gloriously different. We should celebrate the uniqueness of both. But instead, Rick is attempting to merge them into one. And in my opinion, it’s just hurting them both. And I’m gonna get real brave by saying this, but do you want my honest prediction? If he keeps doing what he’s doing now, the TV show is going to get cancelled and the books are going to turn into a joke. I so, so badly hope that this doesn’t happen! I have loved Rick and PJO for many, many years. I badly want both to thrive. But what is going on right now… it is not working, no matter how much we all want it to. And speaking as someone who knows people in the TV/Film industry, I am sadly not the only one who thinks the show is gonna flop. Which is devastating, because Rick Riordan deserves a redemption on the big screen, and the incredible actors deserve to bring this series to life in a new way.

I am not trying to force my opinions onto anybody. You are welcome to disagree with me and move on. I am not saying that I’m right and you’re wrong. If you disagree, that’s okay. If you agree but you don’t have a problem with it, that’s okay. In fact if other people have literally no issues, that makes me somewhat happy. And if you loved the book, I’m honestly so stoked for you. Feel free to just keep on scrolling, my friend.

But me? I’m sad. I’m really, really freaking sad. And I’m a little angry too, even if I don’t have a right to be. I can’t help it because I’m only human. But this is how I—and a lot of other people—feel. And you know what? That’s okay too. Because the fact of the matter is:

Annabeth isn’t the same Annabeth anymore. And Percy isn’t the same Percy anymore. And it’s not because they went through trauma, or because time has passed. It’s because Rick Riordan doesn’t have any interest in writing those versions of them anymore. And I think the comparisons between the old and the new show that fact pretty clearly.

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munsonsmixtapes · 11 days ago

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The First One's Always Free

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

You go over to Eddie's to buy some weed after not seeing each other since high school. Old feelings arise and after smoking a joint together, you find yourselves tangled up in his sheets.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader and Eddie smoke a joint

You stand on the porch of Eddie’s trailer. You’re a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth on the little piece of wood you’re standing on, looking at your bike every time it comes into view. Why are you even there? It’s not like you’re going to buy. You have the money in your pocket but that doesn’t mean that you’re not scared. You’ve bought weed before, but never from someone you’ve been crushing on.

You hesitantly bring your hand up to knock and feel your hands shaking as you do so. You’re not so sure why you’re so nervous. Eddie is sweet. And really, the only reason you're here is because you have a little (massive) crush on him. He’s so different from what everyone says he is. He’s always been so kind to you, even going as far as inviting you to sit with him and his friends at lunch when you were in school.

But you haven’t seen him since high school so you’re not sure if he even sells anymore. You don’t even know why you’re still thinking about him since he probably forgot you even existed. That would make sense since you weren’t popular and only sat at his table a few times.

The door opens and the man on the other side of the door gasps at the sight of you. You take the time to take in how each of you have changed. Eddie’s wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He’s now sporting a full beard and a nose ring. He’s aged like a fine wine and you can’t stop looking at him.

“Well, as I live and breathe,” he smiles, opening the door wider to invite you in. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation.” He closes the door to the trailer, still in disbelief that you’re standing in his living room. His dream girl.

Eddie has been crushing on you since the first day you flashed that bright smile at him. Right then and there, he knew that he was going to fall in love with you. And he did. When you set your copy of the Lord of the Rings on the lunch table he just knew that you were perfect for each other. He wanted to ask you out, but back then, he was Eddie “the freak” Munson and didn’t think he had a shot. He’s hoping that maybe now he does.

“So, what are you doing here?” His tone is more curious than anything. He just wants to know why the prettiest girl in Hawkins is in his trailer. And you somehow got even prettier since the last time he saw you.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re still dealing, but I was wanting to buy.”

“Of course I still deal,” he scoffs. “Please. Come on and I’ll show you.” He nods his head towards his room and you hesitantly follow, still feeling shy as you do so.

You watch him go through his belongings in a quick manner. He eventually finds what he needs, a metal lunchbox that he rifles through, on the hunt for the joints he rolled earlier. He was planning on smoking them himself, but you’re a special customer, so he feels like you deserve them. Once he finds them, he sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

You hesitantly sit on the bed, your thighs now touching because of your close proximity. You go to reach for the cash in your pocket, but he rests his hand on top of yours, shaking his head in response.

“First one’s always free,” he winks as he puts the bag into your hand, his fingertips brushing your palm. The two of you have never been this close before, your seats in the cafeteria preventing you from doing so. But now that you are, you can finally see just how pretty his brown eyes are. They’re even prettier than you remember.

“Oh, you don’t-”

“Just let me do something nice for you, alright?” He nudges your shoulder. “Think of it as a reunion gift.” Even if you had bought from him before, he’d still give it to you for free because he would feel bad for charging you.

“But I didn’t get anything.” You’re still as cute as he can remember and he just knows that you feel bad for not actually getting him anything. You’re so sweet that he swears that you’re going to give him a toothache.

“Then smoke this with me and we’ll call it even.” Oh, there’s no way you’re going to deny him. Especially not when he’s looking at you with those damn Bambi eyes. At this point, you’re sure that you’ll do anything he asks.

“Deal,” you nod and watch Eddie pull one of the joints from the bag. He hands it over to you and you part your lips, silently asking him to put it into your mouth for you. He catches on quickly and brings the joint to your lips, pushing the tip into your mouth and as your lips wrap around it, he wonders what they would look like wrapped around his-

“You got a light?” You ask, interrupting his train of thought.

“Y-yeah,” he responds and rushes over to his desk and grabs one of the many he’s got in his drawer before hurrying back. He lights up the joint and when you inhale then pull it from your lips to blow out the smoke, he swears that he’s in love. You look so hot and he doesn’t know why he can’t just make a move.

“Open,” you instruct and he does as you say as you put the joint between his lips, passing it off to him, your fingers brushing as he does so. You immediately wonder what his rough fingers would feel like inside you. You don’t know if it’s because of how attracted to him you still are or if it’s because you haven’t slept with anyone in a while and you’re just desperate.

The tension changes between the two of you, getting even more intense and sexual as the joint gets smaller. You’re now lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as you talk about everything and nothing. But really, all you want right now is for him to have you in any way he wants. You want him to take you right here and just go to town.

But he won’t. You know he won’t because he’s nothing but a gentleman. At this point, though, you’ll take what you can get even if it is just a kiss. You just need something from him so badly but you’re too afraid to ask. You haven’t seen him in two years. How crazy is it going to seem if you ask him for a kiss?

You have no idea that Eddie wants the same. He wants you so badly that he’s trying so hard to hide his cock from you. He’s embarrassed by how hard he is because all he can think about is all the positions he wants to have you in.

He doesn’t know what he's doing, but as soon as the joint is finished as he disposes of it, he takes the chances and hovers over you, his pupils blown wide, a mixture of both how high he is and also how much he wants you.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs looking down at you with that adorable smirk. His hand reaches up and his thumb slowly glides across your lips, his eyes watching them part as he does so. He dips it inside and your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, a gasp falling from his own lips as he watches.

“Fuck,” he whines and you’re so wet now that you can feel it soaking your panties. You need him and you need him now. But you’re going to let this play out as long as you can, your eyes on his as you continue to suck on his thumb.

He’s losing his mind over it as he replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers, watching you lick them, purposely making just the right noises to make him hard beyond belief.

Once he can’t take it anymore, he removes them as his mouth covers yours as he places himself on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, giving it a tug that juxtaposes how gently and chaste the kiss is, your lips moving together slowly.

It’s awkward as you try to figure it out but you do quickly as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open up, letting him inside. His hands slide underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your waist slowly as your tongues move together.

He pushes your shirt up and it’s off and tosses to the side. Eddie leans up so he can get a good look at you. You suddenly feel self conscious since you didn’t wear one of your more sexy bras. But you didn’t know that this would happen.

Eddie’s eyes rake over your body and with him, you feel nothing but safe. You haven’t seen him in years but it’s like your bond is still there, that you’re still as close as you used to be. If only you had stayed in the state for college and hadn’t lost his information. You’re sure that that is your only regret.

He doesn’t seem to have any hard feelings, though as he looks like he wants to absolutely devour you. You’re taking off his shirt as he’s unzipping your skirt, pulling it down your waist as his shirt is discarded. He’s kissing down your waist as your skirt is thrown to the floor, whispering the sweetest word against your skin.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs against the spot right above the waistband of your panties. He loops his thumbs through it then pulls them down, letting them fall to the floor before he spreads your legs wide to see what he’s working with. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re really soaked for me, aren’t you?”

“I need you so bad,” you reply with a whine and his pants are off in a second, his underwear following closely behind, his cock coming into view. You’ve always dreamed about this exact moment, but now that it’s here, you’re almost convinced that you’re dreaming. Maybe that’s because you’re high.

“Relax, babe,” he laughs. “I’m right here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips before lining himself up with you, slowly inserting just the tip. It already hurts because of your inactivity but you don’t dare ask him to stop. You think he’s gonna go further when he pauses.

“Fuck, I didn’t even ask if you’re on birth control or anything.” He’s panicking now and you want to do anything you can to get him to calm down. You appreciate that he’s being so sweet and caring and hate that he’s working himself up like this.

“It’s alright,” You place your hands on top of his that are resting on your waist. You force him to look you in the eyes, giving him a smile that eventually helps him relax. “I am on birth control. And if you don’t want to use a condom, that’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you let out a laugh. “Now please fuck me before I just do it myself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nods and adjusts his grip on your waist as he slowly thrusts in and out of you, trying to find a good rhythm. You’re responding just the way he wants you to, moaning when it feels good, bucking your hips against his.

His nails are digging into your skin as he goes harder, your moans and whines getting even louder as your toes curl in pleasure. Your nails are scratching down his back as he picks up the pace even more, pounding into you over and over again as your pretty sounds fill his ears. This is the best sex he’s ever had and he knows that’s not just because he’s high.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he says as his lips find yours again. It’s rough and messy as he’s still thrusting, but he’s just so desperate to have your mouth in his again. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away to let out a moan of his own. “You just feel so good, baby. We just should do this again when the high wears off.”

“I second that,” you breathe. “And again and again.”

“Until the morning and then I'll go to work and when I come back, we’ll do it again.”

“Sounds good to-” your words are cut off by an orgasm, your back arches as you scream out his name, Eddie talking you through the entire thing.

He keeps going and you’re bucking your hips against his, trying your best to get him there. He’s close, you can see it as he throws his head back. He pulls out quickly, cum leaking out onto your stomach as he’s reaching his own climax.

Once he’s come down from it, he stands from the bed and grabs hold of your hands, leading you to his bathroom where you two take a much needed shower that’s filled with kisses, washing each other’s bodies, which doesn’t last long before you’re at it again, totally unable to keep your hands off of each other. You then spend the rest of the night and early in the morning getting all tangled up in Eddie’s sheets, deciding that two years really was too long to be apart.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader

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honeyncherry · 17 days ago

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secret of us V - joe burrow

summary you’ve always been joe’s little secret, but secrets have a way of slipping through cracks — especially when love refuses to stay hidden anymore

content 18+, suggestive, angst, fluff

part four

It took three seconds to realize what was happening.

One. The blinding flash sears itself into your vision leaving a ghostly imprint behind. You blink, but the world doesn’t clear— it stays blurred, spinning out of focus. The air crackles, charged with something you feel coursing through every nerve.

Two. The shouted voices slice through the chaos as the pieces begin snapping into place: the cameras, the sudden crowd, the world collapsing in on itself. It feels like a nightmare where no matter how loud you scream, you can’t wake up.

Three. His hand grabs for yours, a grip of steel, and you hold on for dear life. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. The pull of his touch says it all: Run.

It took fourteen seconds to get to the car.

One. Your feet falter on the pavement, his sudden tug jolting you forward. His pace is quick, his shoulders a solid wall against the growing noise.

Five. Your breath comes in short, uneven bursts. Your lungs burn, catching in your throat as you struggle to match his strides.

Nine. The car comes into view, his free hand fumbling for the keys in his pocket, every movement laced with urgency.

Fourteen. The door slams shut behind you, the echo rippling in the quiet. Inside, everything feels smaller, but no less suffocating.

It took eight seconds to leave the parking lot.

One. The click of the engine turning over, the low rumble vibrating through the silence.

Four. You don’t look at him. You can’t.

Six. The first motion forward, tires crunching against gravel as the car pulls away, leaving the chaos behind.

Eight. The world outside blurs, neon streaks against the darkness as the car slips into the flow of traffic.

And now?

It’s been four hundred and twelve seconds since that moment. Four hundred and twelve seconds since the flash of a camera shattered everything you thought you knew.

Is it possible for a single moment to stretch and shrink at the same time? To feel infinite and fleeting, slipping through your fingers even as it carves itself into your memory?

The question loops in your mind, circling endlessly, as the glow of the streetlights flashes across the car windows. The world outside feels unreal, hazy and distant. But here, everything feels vividly clear — painfully so. The rattle of the engine, the silence of the radio, the shallow sound of breathing in a space that feels impossibly heavy.

You replay it again and again: the savage flashes, freezing you in a way that feels too permanent, too exposed. His hand wrapped around yours, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let go.

The way his eyes locked onto you, saying everything his voice didn’t. And you followed without question. Because how could you not, when he looked at you like that? Like the earth itself might crack open if you didn’t.

But now, in the suffocating quiet of the car, another thought lingers in an unshakeable manner: What does it mean when someone holds onto you like that? Like letting go isn’t even an option.

It feels bigger than the moment, spilling over into the corners of your mind where other thoughts linger. You’ve spent so long trying to untangle this, trying to understand the pull he has on you. This quiet gravity that makes it impossible to stay away, even when you know you probably should.

It’s not just the way he looks at you, though that’s part of it. It’s the way he exists in your life, like he’s always been there, even when he hasn’t. Like he’s a constant you didn’t realize you needed until it was too late to imagine life without him.

Four hundred and twelve seconds, and you’re still replaying it. The light. His hand. The urgency of the moment.

Four hundred and twelve seconds since the moment everything changed.

Four hundred and twelve seconds, and you still don’t know what to say.

The Solution

You’ve always been good at overthinking. Analyzing every word, every look, every moment until it loses its shape entirely. Luckily, over the years, you’ve learned how to temper the thoughts, pushing them aside just enough so they don’t consume you. Born out of necessity, it became a skill that made sense of things that felt too big, too messy to hold.

But tonight, in the stillness of Joe’s car, that careful control feels fragile. Like the threads holding your thoughts together could snap at any moment. The events of the night are too big, too messy, and too loud to fit into those neat corners you’ve carved space for.

When he parks right outside your apartment, Joe doesn’t move at first, his body stiff, like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will. One hand grips the gear stick so tightly his knuckles whiten, while the other rests on his knee, fingers twitching like they want to reach for something but don’t know what.

“I messed up,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence between you.

You glance at him, startled. “What?”

“I messed up,” he repeats, quieter now, almost like he’s talking to himself. His eyes stay fixed on the empty parking lot ahead, the glow of the overhead lights casting shadows across his face. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve been smarter about all of this.”

You blink, the weight of his words hitting you all at once. “Joe, you couldn’t have—”

“Yes, I could’ve!” he snaps, voice loud enough to make you flinch. He exhales sharply, raising his hand and dragging it down his face. His palm scrapes over tired eyes before falling heavily to his lap. “This is my world. I know the risks, and I brought you into it anyway. Now look at what’s gonna happen.”

Your stomach twists at the guilt in his tone. “You didn’t do this,” you murmur, tone gentle. “Those people out there? That’s not on you. You didn’t ask for it, and neither did I, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “It feels like my fault. Every single part of this feels like my fault.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes your chest ache. You want to reach for him, but something about the way he’s holding himself — so tightly wound, like he might snap, stops you. “Joe,” you say carefully. “You didn’t force me into this. I chose to be here. I chose you.”

His head snaps toward you, his eyes assessing you. For a moment, he looks like he doesn’t believe you, like he’s trying to find some hidden meaning in your words. “You don’t get it,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what they’re going to say. What they’re going to do. They don’t care about you, about how this could hurt you. All they see is me, and anyone connected to me becomes fair game.”

“I don’t care about them,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can spiral further. “I care about you. That’s all that matters to me.”

His jaw tightens, gaze dropping to where his hands rest in his lap. For a long moment, the only sound is the rattle of the car engine. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw, stripped of all the bravado he usually hides behind. “I’m scared.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this,” he repeats for the tenth time, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Of ruining us. Of losing you because I can’t keep my shit together.”

You don’t know what to say, so you do the only thing you can think of.

Your hand finds his where it rests on his leg, fingers curling gently around his own. His skin is cold to the touch, and you wonder if he’ll pull away. But instead, his hand shifts under yours, fingers threading through yours like it’s instinct.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you say softly, holding his stare. “I’m here, Joe. I’m not going anywhere.”

His grip tightens, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but doesn’t quite know how. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for,” he murmurs, almost like he’s trying to warn you away.

“Maybe I don’t,” you reply. “But I’m still here. That has to count for something.”

He watches you for a long moment, the tension in his body finally starting to ebb. “It counts for everything,” he says quietly, the words feeling so honest, so simple, you almost forget to breathe.

The silence that follows feels different. It’s still quiet, but the weight of it seems to shift, no longer pressing on you but instead settling between you like something you both understand now. There’s a calmness to it, a fragile kind of peace that you’re not sure either of you knows how to hold onto yet.

Joe turns back to the windshield, his hand still wrapped around yours. His thumb brushes absently across your knuckles, a soft, repetitive motion that somehow feels like it’s grounding you just as much as it seems to be grounding him.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, the words spoken so quietly you almost think you imagined them.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you say, a soft smile ghosting across your lips.

And then you feel it. Not the fear of being exposed, or the chaos of his world pulling at yours. Not the shadows of doubt or the suffocating weight of all the things that could go wrong.

No. It’s a gnawing sensation, the tender pull deep in your chest that feels like both comfort and pain, wrapping itself around you like something you can’t shake. The kind of feeling that tells you what you’ve been denying for too long: you love him.

You’re in love with Joe.

You don’t know when it started, or how. Could it have been the stolen glances, when his eyes found yours across crowded rooms and locked onto you just long enough to make your heart stutter? Those glances weren’t casual. They felt as if they carried unspoken confessions, like he was saying something meant only for you.

Maybe it was in the warmth of his hand on those occasions when he reached for you. The way his fingers laced through yours with an ease that left you breathless, as if his touch had always been destined to find yours.

Or maybe it was in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, as though you were something he couldn’t figure out how to keep but couldn’t bear to lose. When he leaned in, just a little closer than necessary, it didn’t feel like coincidence — it felt like gravity, always pulling him toward you, like the universe itself had decided to play matchmaker. Like it knew he craved it, craved you.

Was it in the quiet nights, when the conversation faded but neither of you moved, and the world seemed to hold its breath around you? Those silences weren’t empty — no, they were full of all the things you were both too afraid to say.

Or maybe it was in the small, ordinary things: the way his laugh softened when you were the one making him smile, or the way his gaze held something deeper, like you weren’t just someone he cared for, you were someone he needed.

It’s possible that it wasn’t any one thing, but instead the way that being around him had shifted into something more, something inevitable. Like you had never truly been just friends.

Over the past couple of months, it had become harder to convince yourself otherwise. Harder to ignore the way your heartbeat kicked up when he was near. Every conversation seemed to carry more meaning than it used to, as if you were both inching toward something neither of you had planned but couldn’t stop.

So, maybe it wasn’t any one moment at all, but a slow unraveling, like the fragile thread holding you together had been pulled loose without you even noticing. Little by little, it unraveled until it finally snapped, and by the time you realized it, you were already falling.

And the fall wasn’t chaotic or sudden. It was quiet, so quiet you hadn’t even heard it coming until you hit the ground, breathless and entirely his.

With that realization comes the weight of everything you’ve tried to ignore.

You’d told yourself this wasn’t love. That it couldn’t be. That it was something temporary, something you could let go of when the time came. You tried to believe it and hold on to the idea that walking away would be easy.

But now, with his hand in yours and his faint declaration echoing in your mind: I love you — you know you were wrong. His words didn’t just sit there; they seeped in, filling the cracks you’d tried to patch over with excuses. Because it wasn’t just his touch that felt familiar; it was the way he laid his heart bare, leaving you no place to hide. They pulled you under.

You love him.

Terrifyingly.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

And the truth is, you don’t want to let him go.

Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s reckless. Maybe it’s the kind of thing that could ruin everything if you let it. But none of that matters anymore. Because in this moment — with his presence grounding you and the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips — it feels like enough.

For now, this is enough.

The Party

“It’s just something small,” Joe had said leaning against his kitchen counter. “Nothing big. Just a couple guys from the team, some of their girls, barely anyone.”

You’d hesitated then, rolling the strap of your top between your fingers. The thought of showing up somewhere in public with Joe still made your anxious thoughts skyrocket after what happened just a couple of days ago.

Safe to say, the media is ruthless.

Joe noticed your hesitation. His brows pulled together like he wanted to say something comforting, but wasn’t sure what. He didn’t push. He never did.

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding hopefully. Your voice was calmer than you felt. You pursed your lips, the realization settling in — this would be the first time you’d be in his world like this. You, him, and everyone else. Not hidden in the shadows but right there, where people could see you.

Would they wonder why Joe brought you? Would they piece together what the public had already started whispering about?

“It’s really no pressure,” Joe added, sagging his shoulders and leaning forward. “I just thought... it’d be nice to have you there.”

And just like that, the warmth in his voice melted through some of the fear knotted in your chest.

You managed a small smile. “I know.”

Now you’re here, standing just outside the front door of the house, the muffled thump of music vibrating through the walls. Joe is by your side, his hand resting lightly on your back as he opens the door.

“You good?” he asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, even though your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest. “Mhm. Just a little nervous.”

His hand stays for a moment longer, warm and steady. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he murmurs. With that, he guides you inside.

The space is sprawling, filled with the soft glow of dim lighting, conversation, and music that pulses just enough to set the mood without being overwhelming. The smell of food drifts faintly from the kitchen, and you spot a few familiar faces mingling in small clusters around the room.

A few heads turn when you walk in, mostly curious glances. Nothing too intense, but enough to make you hyper-aware of Joe’s hand still resting lightly on your back. You hope you look more put together than you feel.

“Relax,” Joe murmurs, his lips brushing close to your ear. “I‘m right here.”

Before you can respond, Ja’Marr’s voice booms from across the room.

“Joe! There’s our golden boy.” He weaves through the crowd with his usual grin and a drink in hand. “And hey — look who he brought with him! Superstar, it’s been a minute.”

You smile, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. “You’ve been busy, Ja’Marr. Don’t blame me.”

He chuckles, pulling you into a quick, friendly hug. “True, but you could’ve texted. You’ve got my number, right?”

Joe raises a brow, smirking. “Pretty sure she has mine. That’s enough.”

Ja’Marr snorts. “Possessive much? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal her.”

Before either of you can respond, someone calls Ja’Marr’s name, waving him over. He gives you both a knowing smile, like he’s in on a secret you haven’t figured out yet. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

Joe chuckles under his breath, leaning down so only you can hear. “Ignore him,” he mutters.

He guides you through the room, his chest brushing lightly against your back as you weave through groups of people. The hum of conversation and music blurs around you like static. Your first few conversations are polite but brief — quick introductions and names you probably won’t remember tomorrow.

As Joe leads you to the bar setup, you glance up at him. He seems relaxed, like he’s done this a million times, but you know better. You know how much he hates public interactions like this: the noise, the small talk — but somehow, he’s making it look effortless. He catches you watching him.

“You good?” he asks, voice soft.

You’re about to answer when someone stumbles into you, a guy neither of you recognize, tipsy and barely aware of how he’s thrown you off balance. Joe’s arm is around you in an instant, pulling you firmly against him.

“Watch it, buddy,” Joe says, cocking his head slightly as the guy mumbles an apology and stumbles off.

“I’m fine,” you say, stifling a laugh as you steady yourself. “Thanks, Captain America.”

Joe’s lips twitch. “Don’t tempt me. You know I’d tackle someone if I had to.”

“Oh, I know.” You nudge him playfully. “But let’s avoid that, yeah?”

He chuckles, urging you forward. His fingers brush against yours briefly as he grabs two drinks and hands you one. The cool glass anchors you, but it’s Joe’s presence hat keeps you steady.

Just as you’re settling in, familiar faces approach. Sam and Jess greet you with warm smiles, Jess pulling you into a quick hug.

“There she is!” Jess says, her eyes lighting up. “I was wondering when we’d see you.”

You smile as Jess nods toward Joe. “I see you’ve got your shadow tonight.”

Joe raises a brow. “Shadow?”

Jess grins. “You heard me. Wherever you go, she goes.”

Sam chuckles, giving Joe a playful nudge. “Or maybe it’s the other way around. What’s the deal, Burrow? Can’t keep her out of your sight?”

Joe laughs, his ears turning the faintest shade of pink as he shakes his head. Sam claps him on the back, and the two slip into conversation about something you don’t quite catch. Jess links her arm through yours, leading you a few steps away for a quick catch-up.

“How have you been?” she asks.

The conversation flows easily, filled with updates on work, life, and everything in between. Before you know it, Sam sneaks up behind Jess, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Mind if I steal my wife back?” he teases, swaying her slightly.

Jess giggles, leaning into him. “You’ve had me all night.”

“Still not enough,” Sam grins, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Jess rolls her eyes fondly as he tugs her back toward the crowd. “See you soon,” she calls with a wink.

You shake your head, laughing softly as you step back beside Joe.

“They’re always like that, huh?” you say.

Joe leans closer, his arm resting casually on the countertop, fingers brushing against yours again. “Yep. But they’re not wrong.”

You blink, a little caught off guard, and turn to face him. “About what?”

“Not wanting to let you out of my sight.”

Your breath catches, and before you can respond, he’s smiling again, the glint in his eyes softening the weight of his words.

“Come on,” he looks around. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.

Joe takes your hand, and you follow him as he weaves the two of you through the house, brushing past groups of people without a second glance. When the door to the back patio opens, the air shifts — cooler, quieter, an overall welcome contrast to the buzz inside. String lights hang above, casting a soft glow over the deck and the surrounding yard, like you’ve stepped into a secret corner of the night.

You settle onto the top step of the deck, knees tucked close together as you relax into the moment. Through the open patio door you spot a TV mounted inside, playing a replay of last night’s Thursday night game. The players’ jerseys blur across the screen as you watch them move, your thoughts drifting.

Joe catches you staring, the soft glow of the lights catching the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say softly, a smile pulling at your lips. “It just reminded me of when you tried to teach me how to throw a perfect spiral.”

Joe groans dramatically, tossing his head back like he’s reliving the trauma. “How could I forget? You nailed me right in the chest with the ball.”

“You told me to ‘just throw it!’” you protest, laughing. “That’s on you.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t mean at me,” he says, grinning. “But I’ll admit, you’ve got a hell of an arm.”

Your laughter lingers, but it fades when his hand brushes against your knee. It’s a whisper of a touch, something casual that feels anything but. He doesn’t move, and neither do you.

“You know,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, playful but edged with something deeper, “I still think you did it on purpose.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “Maybe I did.”

“Yeah?” His fingers shift slightly, sliding up and beginning to trace soft circles against your leg. “What else haven’t you told me?”

His touch sends butterflies through you and the playful banter blurs into something else entirely. His thigh presses lightly against yours, and when you meet his gaze, it’s no longer just playful; it’s careful and maybe even hopeful, like he’s giving you a choice.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to figure it out.”

His smile softens, but the weight of his gaze stays steady. The space between you shrinks without either of you moving an inch. The cool breeze drifts past, but it barely registers, not with him right next to you and warmth buzzing under your skin. His fingers continue their slow, absentminded movements on your knee, like he’s forgotten he’s even doing it.

The conversation flows easily from there. Soft teasing, shared memories, and those idling stares that neither of you bothers to hide. Every laugh, every small tease feels like a thread pulling you closer, wrapping you both in something that feels too easy to sink into. And neither of you seem in any hurry to pull away.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asks after a moment, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” you say, meeting his gaze. “More than I expected to.”

“Good.” His eyes stare into yours for a moment longer before he finally exhales, fingers giving your leg a gentle squeeze before standing. “Come on,” he murmurs while holding a hand out and helping you to your feet. “Let’s head out.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he guides you back through the house, throwing your cups and brushing past a few familiar faces, exchanging quick goodbyes. By the time you step outside, the cool breeze feels harsher now, weaving through your clothes like a needle threading cold straight into your core. You shiver as it grips you.

Without a word, Joe notices and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. His hands hover over you as he gently guides your arms into the sleeves.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, clutching the jacket a little closer to you.

“I wanted to,” he replies simply, the sincerity in his voice winding itself into a part of you that feels untouched by him.

The walk to his car is quiet, but it’s not awkward. Your shoulders brush every few steps, and you can feel the energy of the night still there between you. When he pulls up to your building, he turns off the engine but doesn’t move right away. Instead, he sits there for a moment, looking over at you like he’s trying to commit this moment to memory.

When he walks you to your door, his pace is unhurried, like he’s savoring the final seconds of the night. His hand lays itself on your arm, his thumb brushing gently against the sleeve of his jacket. For a moment, you think he might lean in. You think you might.

But neither of you moves.

Instead, his gaze stays locked on yours. “Goodnight,” he says softly.

“Goodnight,” you whisper back, your voice barely audible.

He hesitates for just a second before stepping away, and you stay there, watching him until he disappears into his car. You know he won’t leave until he’s sure you’re safely inside.

Once you step through the door, you close it softly behind you, locking it before leaning back against the cool surface. Your eyes flutter shut, and you exhale, the weight of the night settling into you in the best way. The warmth of his jacket still clings to you, and his scent wraps around you like a second skin.

You pull the fabric tighter, holding on to him just a little longer.

The Tabloids

The first message hit just after sunrise, the soft buzz of your phone pulling you from the edges of sleep. You blinked against the dim morning light, reaching for it on the nightstand. Mia’s name lit up the screen, along with a message that made your stomach twist:

Mia: Just a heads up before you see it yourself. They’re at it again.

You sat up, that familiar itch beginning to form in the back of your mind. After what had happened a couple of days ago, you already knew what this was about. Your heart pounded as you opened your browser and typed “Joe Burrow” into the search bar.

The headlines popped up immediately, one after another, each one louder than the last:

“Late-Night Deckside Romance? Burrow Seen Getting Cozy With Unnamed Woman at Private Party.”

Your breath hitched as you tapped on the first link. The article loaded too quickly, giving you no time to prepare. The first photo hit like a punch to the gut — Joe sitting beside you on the patio steps, his body pressed beside yours, his hand resting on your leg. The glow of the string lights overhead made the scene look dreamy, romantic.

The whole atmosphere conveyed how special last night had felt to you, how much it had meant. But now, the intimate moment was all on display for strangers to analyze, twist, and pick apart. The quotes from the article stung:

“Looks like Burrow isn’t spending his off nights alone anymore. Sources say the pair spent most of the evening together, sharing quiet time away from the rest.”

“The way they leaned into each other was more than telling. If this wasn’t a date, it was certainly giving off the vibe of something more than casual acquaintances.”

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled down, stopping at the next photo: Joe placing his jacket over your shoulders, helping you into it. The caption beneath the image made you shake your head and scoff a quiet laugh:

“Chivalry isn’t dead! Our quarterback is seen wrapping his mystery date in his jacket, making sure she’s cozy before they leave together.”

You closed the tab for a moment, setting the phone down like it was burning you. But you couldn’t leave it alone. The curiosity gnawed at you, and soon enough, you were back, pulling up the photos from a few days ago — the ones from the night at the bar.

This time, you noticed they’d somehow gotten a picture you hadn’t seen before. There you were at the counter, Joe standing close behind you, his chest brushing against your back. The next image showed him leaning down, his mouth near your ear as you tilted your head to hear him better. Of course, they’d taken the image at face value and run with it:

“Mystery Girl Captures Burrow’s Full Attention During Night Out.”

And then came the comments, scattered beneath the articles like debris after a storm:

“She’s cute but doesn’t really stand out. Wonder how long this will last.”

“It’s always something new with him, isn’t it?”

“Hope she knows what she’s getting into.”

You sighed, your fingers hesitating over the screen before curiosity won again. You scrolled further until an all-too-familiar headline caught your attention, stopping you cold:

“Passion or Trouble? Burrow Spotted in Heated Alleyway Argument Before Leaving with Mystery Woman.”

Your stomach flipped, the weight of recognition sinking in immediately. You didn’t need to click on it to remember the photos. You’d already seen and memorized them — Joe’s hands clenched in fits, and your own posture rigid. The dim lighting casted sharp shadows over his tense expression, and most of all, the way the people had made his confession look like some explosive argument instead of what it truly was.

“An emotional confrontation unfolded last night as Burrow and his companion were spotted in what appeared to be a tense discussion before running off together.”

“Witnesses report raised voices and what seemed to be a heated but private moment between the pair before they left the scene hand in hand.”

The memory of those photos haunted you just as much as the fabricated narrative. What should have been a vulnerable, private moment had been twisted into public consumption, turned into something unrecognizable.

You quickly closed all the tabs, swiping them away, but your thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to text Joe.

"Call me?" you typed, only to delete it a second later.

He had a game tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. But the question wouldn’t leave you: Was he okay? Was he blaming himself for this, the way you knew he would?

You could picture him now, in the locker room, sitting on the wooden bench with his elbows on his knees, head bowed, running through every decision he’d made last night. Joe always carried things like this on his shoulders, even when it wasn’t his fault. He would blame himself for all the photos and the headlines and the comments. The way your privacy was slowly being stripped away.

You could almost hear his voice, laced with quiet self-critique: I shouldn’t have let this happen to you.

But it wasn’t just you. It was the both of you. And you knew that somewhere in the middle of his self-recrimination, he was probably wondering if you regretted last night — if you thought being with him wasn’t worth all of this.

With a sigh, you set the phone aside and leaned back into the pillows, exhaling a shaky breath. Everything with Joe had always felt so personal, something special between just the two of you. Now, right as things were finally falling into place, perfectly, like something out of a dream, it was all on display for everyone else to judge.

Your gaze drifted toward Joe’s jacket lying on the edge of your bed, the fabric still holding the faint scent of him — clean, warm, familiar. You closed your eyes, letting that comfort wrap around you like a protective shield.

Let them speculate. Let them write their stories.

Because at the end of the day, they didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know what it felt like to hear Joe confess everything he’d been holding back, his voice raw, his words slipping into your heart like they’d finally found the place they were always meant to be.

They didn’t know that this wasn’t just a headline for you. It wasn’t a scandal or some fleeting story.

It was real.

Let them talk.

Because when the noise faded, it would still be just you and Joe.

The Repercussions of Love

The sunlight streaming through your window had shifted, casting lazy Sunday afternoon shadows across your living room. You’d been texting Joe for most of the weekend, your usual conversations making it easy to forget — easy to pretend the world wasn’t watching.

Neither of you had brought up the new wave of photos and articles. You weren’t sure if it was an unspoken agreement to leave it alone or simply both of you not wanting to risk unsettling what had been building between you. Either way, it felt like the right choice.

But when your phone buzzed again, it wasn’t another text. It was Joe calling.

You answered on the second ring, his voice already lighting you up inside.

“Hey,” you greeted. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the zone or something right now?”

Joe’s laugh rang through, “talking to you is part of the zone.”

“Oh, so now I’m part of the pre-game ritual?” you teased, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“Obviously.”

You grinned, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Well, should I say something motivational? Or do you just want me to repeat random sports clichés until you feel inspired?”

He chuckled. “Let’s hear your best halftime speech.”

“Okay, ready?” You cleared your throat dramatically. “Gentlemen, you’ve got one chance. One opportunity. Don’t mess it up or—”

“Are you quoting Lose Yourself by Eminem right now?” Joe interrupted, his chuckle spilling like he couldn’t help himself.

"Don’t act like you’re above it. This is probably better than half the stuff on your pre-game playlist."

"Careful, that playlist is sacred."

"Yeah, sacred," you mocked. "To Bon Iver and whatever woodland creatures you’ve got singing backup. What’s next, a whale call remix?"

Joe laughed, “you’re never going to let that go, are you?"

"Absolutely not. The fact that you once tried to convince me that bird sounds help you win football games is too good."

"They do," he defended. "Bon Iver, nature, all of it — it’s part of the process."

"Sure. But if I hear even a hint of Eminem playing before today’s game, I’m calling you out."

"Fine," Joe said. "But only if you admit you’re rooting for me the whole time."

"Always," you replied, warmth settling into your chest.

"Next time I’ll swap Bon Iver for Eminem and see if that’s the secret sauce."

"Thank me when you win," you replied.

“Well, thanks, Coach. I feel unstoppable now.”

"Glad I could help," you said, resting your chin on your knee. "Anything good happen today, or was it just the usual pre-game chaos?"

Joe chuckled, the sound making you smile without even trying. "Depends on your definition of good. Marr tried stealing an extra smoothie and nearly took out an entire table in the process."

You held back a laugh, leaning into the cushions. "Let me guess, he made it look like it wasn’t his fault?"

"Of course. Said the table was unstable.”

"Did he at least get away with it?"

"Not exactly. He got caught but still managed to convince the kitchen staff into giving him another anyway."

"Smooth. You’ve got to admire the dedication."

"Or fear it," Joe joked. "One of these days, he’s going to bring down the whole cafeteria, and we’ll be the ones getting dragged for it."

"Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?" you teased.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on nothing important but feeling like it meant everything. Eventually, the inevitable moment arrived when you both started winding down, neither of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye.

“Well,” you said softly, “you’ve got a game to win, Burrow.”

“And you’ve got the best seat in the house to watch me,” he teased.

“Don’t trip running out of the tunnel,” you teased back.

“I’ll try not to.” He fell silent for a beat. “Thanks for this.”

“Always.”

You both paused for a second before your ears perked up at the sudden rowdiness on the other line.

“Okay. Bye, Joe.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

It should’ve ended there. The warmth in your chest spread faster than you could stop it, sending your thoughts into a flurry — scattering reason like leaves caught in the wind as the sound of his voice echoed, over and over, in your mind.

“Love you.”

The silence that followed was thick, pressing against your ears and drowning everything else out beneath the thunder of your pulse. Your hands trembled as you quickly ended the call, dropping your phone onto the couch like it had betrayed you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, muffling the panicked gasp as you collapsed back against the cushions. Heat flushed over you, spreading from your chest to your neck like you’d been doused in embarrassment.

What have you done?

You let out a silent scream, burying your face in a pillow.

You said it. You actually said it.

You groaned, rolling over and snatching your phone back. The screen lit up, Joe’s name still sitting at the top of your call log like a glowing reminder of your slip-up.

You couldn’t just leave it like that. You had to say something, didn’t you? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as a dozen terrible options flashed through your head.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to—

No. Delete. That made it sound worse.

Ignore that.

Delete. Too dismissive.

You bit your lip, exhaling shakily, and rubbed your forehead. Just say something normal. Casual. Act like you didn’t just spill your soul into the phone.

You tried again:

Just wanted to clarify—

Delete.

But before you could type anything else, a message popped up.

Joe: I know.

Your breath caught in your chest. The typing bubble appeared quickly again, and then his next message came through:

Joe: Love you too.

The Confrontation

The knock at the door startled you, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of the evening. You set your mug of tea down with a soft clink against the coffee table, your heart skipping a beat. You were already ready to head to bed, you weren’t expecting anyone.

If anything, just waiting for a message from Joe. But, he was probably still tangled up in post-game obligations — press, interviews, team meetings.

Then again, after everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if tonight might be a little different.

You stumbled when you opened the door.

Joe stood on your doorstep, his hair still damp from the shower, a hoodie clinging to his broad frame and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His smile was small, soft, the kind that sent your heart into a quiet free fall.

“Hi,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. The warmth of his presence immediately filled the room, chasing away the quiet solitude that had settled there.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he teased lightly, holding out the bouquet. “Didn’t feel like sticking around for the press tonight.”

You blinked, taking the flowers and inhaling their sweet scent before setting them gently on the table next to the door. “You skipped press?”

He shrugged, a low chuckle escaping him. “Told them I had somewhere more important to be.”

The words shouldn’t have hit you as hard as they did, but they did.

“Come on,” you whispered, lacing your fingers together and pulling him toward the couch.

You both collapsed onto the cushions, Joe letting out a quiet sigh as he leaned back and stretched his legs out. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to sit down,” he murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he opened them and found you already watching him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you this soon,” you spoke up.

“I couldn’t stay away."

“Congrats on the win,” you ignored his comment, your fingers absently toying with the edge of the throw pillow between you.

Joe smiled, that infamous, boyish grin making an appearance. “Thanks. Not exactly a nail-biter, though. It’s the Cardinals.”

You laughed. “Still, you played well.”

“Well... I had a great motivational speech before the game."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. The room fell quiet, Joe’s arm moved to rest along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder. You shifted closer, tucking yourself against him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he admitted, resting his chin on the top of your head. “But good.”

You stayed like that for a minute longer, his arm resting over your shoulders, its weight growing heavier as his body softened beside you. His breaths deepened, each exhale brushing against the top of your head.

“Come on,” you stood up, gently taking his hand in yours. His eyelids fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion, but he followed without hesitation.

He made no move to pull his hand away as you led him down the hallway into your dimly lit bedroom, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You walked to the corner of the room, fingers brushing the lamp switch as you dimmed the light. When you turned around, Joe had already pulled his hoodie off with a lazy tug, the fabric lying in a heap on the floor. He stretched out on the bed, one arm resting behind his head, his gaze soft and steady as he watched you.

Without a word, he held his other arm open, inviting you closer. You slipped under the covers, and his arm easily found its place around your waist, pulling you into him. His warmth enveloped you instantly, your head settling on his chest, where his heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath your ear.

His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of your shirt before slipping just beneath it, resting gently in place without shifting. The touch was gentle, unfamiliar in its meaning but not in its comfort. New, yet welcomed all the same.

“I missed you,” he spoke, the words barely audible.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, your fingers hesitating before sliding lightly across his chest, your touch mirroring his.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted the room in muted gold, shadows swaying gently across the walls as a cool breeze slipped through the slightly cracked window.

His fingers began tracing lazy, mismatched shapes across your skin. The stillness between you felt unspoken, broken only by the rhythm of his breath aligning with yours.

“How long do you think we can avoid it?” you asked suddenly.

He didn’t answer right away, his hand stilling briefly before resuming its slow patterns against your side. “Avoid what?”

"Joe," you whispered, a soft plea woven into your voice.

He sighed, his arm flexing as he pulled you even closer, your legs brushing against his under the covers. “I thought we were doing pretty well pretending.”

“You’re terrible at pretending,” you teased as your fingers reached to graze along the line of his jaw.

Joe’s gaze flickered down to you, the teasing dropping away, leaving something heavier in its place. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I know.”

The room felt smaller and the air heavier as his fingers skimmed higher across your body. His other hand moved from behind his head to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin as he studied you with a look that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You didn’t ask me why I came straight here tonight,” Joe said, as if he was pulling the thought from somewhere deep within.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “I figured I didn’t need to.”

His lips parted slightly, “I couldn’t stay away,” he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. “I thought about waiting, about giving you space, but I didn’t want to.”

The honesty in his voice cracked something open in you. “I didn’t want you to wait either,” you admitted, your hand sliding further, nails gently trailing along the side of his neck

His gaze locked on yours, “I don’t think I can anymore.”

The weight of his words hit you like heavily, pulling you toward him before his lips even touched yours. When they did, it wasn’t soft or cautious, nothing like his actions have been over the past how many weeks.

It was fierce, consuming, like he had been holding this back for too long. His hand slipped further under your shirt and along the curve of your torso.

You found it hard to not only focus on the way he was grasping for any part of you that he could hold onto, his touch igniting sparks that spread like wildfire.

Your fingers tightened along the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, deeper, like you needed more and couldn’t stop.

His lips parted against yours and the kiss turned feverish. The taste of him was intoxicating, dizzying. He pulled your body flush against his, as though even the smallest distance was unbearable.

When you finally drew your head back, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together as you struggled to find air. His breath ghosted over your lips like he wasn’t ready to fully part from you just yet.

For a moment, the both of you stayed there — his one hand still cradling your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in lazy, soft strokes. The other gently resting on your hip. It was a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing between you.

Your hand slowly trailed upward, fingers threading gently through his hair before settling back against the side of his face.

His gaze flicked down to your lips and back up, like he was memorizing the way they swelled from the kiss.

“Today felt different,” you whispered, your lips brushing softly against his with the faintest tremor, like you weren’t ready to pull away yet either.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, his lips grazing yours again, teasing and gentle, as though saying that this moment deserved to last a little longer. “It did,” he replied.

His hand slipped to the back of your head, fingers tangling gently at the base of your neck. He tilted your face toward him, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you. “And it didn’t scare me.”

Your lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that held a mix of relief and something deeper. “It didn’t scare me either.”

And that was all it took.

He kissed you again, this time with a slow, unhurried intensity that left no room for doubt. His lips moved against yours, patient but firm, pulling you under like the tide. His hand slid down from your head to join the other at the curve of your waist, fingers splaying wide against your skin as though he was trying to commit the feel of you to memory.

Every touch was electric, his hands mapping over the length of your body with a measured intent. He kissed you deeper, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sent shivers racing down your spine.

His thumbs dropped down lower, grazing against your hip bones and making your stomach flutter. He knew exactly where to linger, exactly how to unravel you without a word.

There was something about the way he kissed you now — like the weight of everything unsaid had finally lifted, leaving only the need to be closer, to feel more.

By the time you pulled back again you were gasping for air, your lips tingling and your heart racing so fast you could feel it in your fingertips. His forehead rested against yours, and his hand traced soothing circles on your back. His breath brushed against your cheek as he smiled.

“Still not scared?” he asked, voice teasing but laced with meaning.

Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tracing the slight stubble there. “Not even a little.”

And the way he kisses you after that is even better than before.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow angst

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zairaalbereo · 1 month ago

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“Please don’t do this.”

So after binging the whole four seasons of Black Sails last month, I’m now on a more leisurely rewatch… or so I thought.

But god everything hits so much worse or better or harder knowing about Flint’s past and motivation now. And then this scene came up, and I’m just… fuuuuuck. Crying, screaming, throwing up. I’m not okay. This is devastating. (Did I mention I cope with art?)

On my first watch, Flint killing Gates truly shocked me. He would really kill his friend just because he wouldn’t go along with his plans? To not have to give up on the Urca? Sure, Gates is going against his command. It’s mutiny, but Gates seems to be trying, and he sounds so bloody reasonable. And more importantly, he’s been a loyal friend up until now. A fatherly friend (I want to throw up). And even now he’s… trying to protect Flint, right? (Fuck. Seriously. Feeling ill.)

But yeah, I was shocked. And as he whispered broken apologies to the friend he just murdered, I wondered… could I forgive him for this?

And now…omg now it’s like watching a completely different train wreck happening, and it all makes perfect, tragic, horrible sense. The way the whole scene mirrors James McGraw’s futile attempt to convince Hennessy of their Hail Mary plan to save Nassau. Every step. The urgency when things have already gone sideways, but James refuses to give up, because it can still work. People just have to listen. Let him explain. Have a little faith. Back then he trusted Hennessy, and now he still trusts Gates. He trusts them to understand, asking them to believe in him. He doesn’t see it coming. (How does he not see it coming this time?)

And then the moment the floor is ripped out from under him. And it’s all there, on Flint’s face, in the moment when Gates says “They know.” It’s not the mutiny. It’s the betrayal. The way Flint’s face falls, and for a moment he looks just like James McGraw in Hennessy’s office. The same devastation and disbelief when he asks “You told them?” And of course for him it is the same betrayal. It is the same fight, to prove Thomas right. To stand against those who took him and everything else away from James.

And Gates, that poor bastard, doesn’t even understand what sin he is committing. He doesn’t even see it as mutiny. He sees it as doing the right thing, containing a madman. (Omggg…) And then there is Flint, reliving the worst moments of his life. And that point it doesn’t feel like it’s about the Urca anymore. It’s an emotional massacre, to which Gates seems completely oblivious. When Flint asks if he will see him get hanged, only to be promised an opportunity to flee for him and ‘Mrs Barlow’, Gates thinks he is doing him a kindness. Like Hennessy probably thought he was doing him a kindness, saving him from the gallows. It’s all right. Flint just has to leave, vanish and never be heard of again. He should be grateful. And the way Flint’s eyes close briefly in disbelief that this is happening. Again. The way he pleads with Gates, just like he pleaded with Hennessy. So unlike Flint. But once more he is told that his actions are unforgivable. Simply too much. He’s not just rejected, but he is abandoned. He is cast out for who he is and his supposed sins. A monster that can’t be allowed to exist amongst the rest of them.

The whole scene is executed so brilliantly, the way he fluctuates between James’ almost innocent appeals to be understood and Flint’s anger at being denied. But he keeps trying until the last moment. And then, when he acts, it’s not a calculated move. It’s pure desperation, the only purpose to do something, to stop what is happening. Because James McGraw didn’t. But where James McGraw hesitated, where he maybe still hoped, still didn’t comprehend, and where he still thought he had something to lose… Flint doesn’t. And yet we can see it break him. We can see how it breaks another part of his soul.

(And of course it will happen again. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up.)

#black sails #black sails fanart #james flint #james mcgraw #black sails season 1 finale #cross hatching #coping through art #black sails meta #my art #petition to just fucking listen to James Flint #because he may sound like a mad man but he isn’t #and if people just fucking did as he said things would work out #probably #crying screaming throwing up

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strayingawayy · 24 days ago

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brain mush...

...the one where school has you stressed to the brim, but luckily your boyfriend is a sweetheart and a genius.

you groan, letting your head drop onto the pile of textbooks sprawled across your desk. "i'm going to drop out. run away. become a hermit in the mountains."

seungmin, lying on your bed, was scrolling through through his phone as he raises an eyebrow. "sure, because you're really built for the wilderness," he says, deadpan.

you lift your head just enough to glare at him. "i could be."

he snorts, barely amused. "you cried when the wifi went out for an hour."

you groan again, dramatically flopping back in your chair. "this is impossible. my brain is mush. i can't do this minnie."

seungmin sets down his phone with a sigh and walks over, spinning your chair to face him. he crouches in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees, his touch steady and grounding. his eyes search yours, and the teasing fades into something softer.

"you can," he says gently, his voice quieter now. "you’re just being dramatic." his eyes hold the softness his words fail to speak and you truly only need to look into his eyes to understand the tenderness behind his stoic demeanor.

you pout, a frown tugging at your lips. "let me have my moment."

"fine." he leans back on his heels, pretending to check his watch. "you have exactly... thirty seconds to wallow. then we get back to it."

you huff but lean forward, resting your forehead against his, your breath slowing just a little. his hands shift, thumbs rubbing small, comforting circles over your knees. the warmth of him seeps into you, and for a moment, it’s easier to breathe. because that's just how it is with kim seungmin. he makes it easier to exist. despite the horrors of this world, especially stupid fucking assignments, his existence grounds you and merely looking at him helps a little more air into your lungs.

"what if i just take a nap instead?" you mumble, eyes fluttering shut.

seungmin lets out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating between you. "then i’ll personally make sure you fail," he deadpans, but there's a smile tugging at his lips, his fingers brushing over your arm in a way that makes your chest ache less.

you sigh, letting him pull you upright, his hands lingering just long enough to steady you. "alright, alright. but only if you stay and suffer with me."

he rolls his eyes but grabs a random textbook and plops onto your bed again, stretching out like he owns the place, probably because he does. shared apartment and all after all. "lucky for you, i’m a genius. let’s do this."

you smile, feeling the weight on your shoulders lighten just a little. "thanks, minmin."

"yeah, yeah," he mutters, tossing a pillow at you with pinpoint accuracy. "now focus, future hermit."

and with him here, laughing and teasing and just being, the mountain of work in front of you doesn’t seem quite as impossible anymore.

requested by: @iovemeorleaveme <333

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teamfortresstwo · 2 years ago

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Getting rid of my canon URLS

#Got bored of them #Doing so much rn feels like I’m dying my hair on a whim #this is my version of that #Not to mention getting rid of my actually important secret sideblog ™️#But you guys don’t need to know about that #Even though it makes me really sad #feels like chopping off a piece of my history #but I probably wasn’t going to use it anyways. better to let friendships go instead of clinging to something that doesn’t exist anymore #but *wistful sigh* it really was beautiful while it lasted #and god does it hurt to have to cut them off in such a tangible way.

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joonberriess · 10 months ago

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w e c a n ’ t b e f r i e n d s

⋆ TAGS — ANGST like rlly bad, toxic relationships, oc and jk dated since they were young, canon au but the boys don’t go to the military, arguing (lots), protected sex, cowgirl styleee, jk’s a little mean, dirty talk, jk’s slightly possessive(?), pussy eating under the sheets, slight face fucking and cum swallowing, bad ending oop, hinted cheating but not between oc and jk, does it count if they weren’t together ur honor, making out, jk’s a really bad bf, oc’s also quick to jump to conclusions sooo toxic combooo

⋆ WORD COUNT — 9.8 k

It’s the same thing (over and over) where you fight and break up, then kiss and make-up. The cycle’s everlasting and it feels like you’re just going in circles.

The littlest things were enough to set either one of you off. It could be that Jungkook looked at you some type of way, or that you used a tone he didn’t like. You fought over the dumbest things but somehow always ended up back together?

Childhood sweethearts, they called it. You started dating all the way back when you were just teens, Jungkook was a bit awkward around the edges but the sweetest boy ever. It was a miracle your relationship survived after he left to train and then you did too.

But as the years went on it seemed sometimes like the love was fading. It just wasn’t the same anymore (evident in your frequent fights). What felt like love once now felt stagnant, like you two just existed in each other’s world and co-existed together.

Yes he was your boyfriend, and you his girlfriend but that was all. Just y/n and Jungkook. It didn’t feel special anymore. When did the love start to die out?

You’ve been thinking about it for a while now in between your breaks from the relationship, and the very thought terrifies you.

“I thought you and Eunwoo were going out?” You softly asked, a bit surprised to see Jungkook still here in the living room.

“Change of plans.” Jungkook shrugs, “Something came up.” He’s curt and brief, doesn’t even look at you when he’s talking which annoys you a tiny bit but for your sake and his you don’t comment.

“Oh, that sucks,” you softly say and slip onto the couch opposite of him, “did he cancel on you or was it just not a good time?” You’re sitting on pins and needles watching him and his reactions closely.

“I dunno,” Jungkook sighs like he’s exasperated by the conversation, “he didn’t tell me.” You know he’s starting to get annoyed when he does that thing with his tongue inside his cheek.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You quietly ask. You’re worried Jungkook didn’t hear you at first but a couple of seconds later he’s nodding and holding out the remote to you.

It doesn’t feel right. It makes you feel like he’s generously giving you the light of day to entertain your “silly ideas”. You don’t like it.

You go about picking a movie, not even bothering with asking him what he wanted to watch. You doubt he’d even reply to you, maybe if you were lucky he’d just say “Pick whichever one.”

“I heard this one’s good.” A hum, “Came out—I think, last month..? Yeah.” Another hum, “Should I bring snacks?” Head shake.

You kinda get the memo and shut up after that, the ache you’re feeling still lingering in your heart. The credits roll in and the movie’s starting, you look out of the corner of your eye to get a look at Jungkook. He’s just sitting there quietly, eyes focused on the TV screen.

It feels normal—looks normal, but you know and feel that it’s really not.

After arguing with yourself in your head, you finally muster the courage to slip off the couch and into Jungkook’s side. You hide your face in his shoulder and lean against him comfortably. Jungkook doesn’t respond for two seconds before he’s casually slipping his hand over your knee.

It feels..good again. You, Jungkook, and his thumb that caresses your knee ever so gently like you’re made of glass. Maybe you really were worried about nothing. It was probably your head messing with you again and making you think things that weren’t true.

Are they though? I don’t know.

“Oh how prettyy,” you softly marvel at the white dress the actress on screen was wearing, “I wanna have one like that when we get married.”

Jungkook doesn’t utter a word and at first you’re like okay, it’s whatever he’s been doing this already anyways. You don’t really begin to think about it until you feel gentle caresses come to a stop. You turn to him to ask what’s wrong but you think you have your answer.

“What, you don’t wanna marry me?” You softly joke but you’re met with silence. He looks troubled, like he wants to say something but can’t get it out, “.. Jungkook? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook shakes his head, “I was thinking.”

Your stomach does that weird thing again where it feels like it’s dropping. You can hear your own heartbeat ringing in your eardrums too, “About?” You whisper.

Jungkook finally meets your eyes with a pinched expression, “I don’t know if I’m sure about marriage yet, I don’t think I’m ready.” He quietly explains, “I don’t feel ready. I feel like there’s so much more I can still do before settling down.” With you…?

Your eyes almost water but you refuse to let them, “So..you don’t want to marry me?”

“What–no, I said I wasn’t ready,” Jungkook blinks rapidly, “I.. I didn’t say that.” He says once he recovers from the initial shock.

“Then what did you mean?” It comes out snappier than intended, “Because to me it feels like something else.”

Jungkook grows visibly irritated, “y/n you’re blowing shit out of proportion again, I didn’t even say anything about you specifically, why the hell are you twisting my words?”

“You make it sound like I’m being weird about this, you were the weird one when all I said was a tiny joke. You’re the one taking it some type of way.” You’re trembling with adrenaline.

“I was just telling you how I feel,” Jungkook stands up and paces back and forth, “why are you being like this? You always wanna say it’s me who starts arguing but look at you!”

Hot tears of anger well in your eyes, “Because it is always you! You give me weird ass attitudes when I’ve done nothing to you, I barely even talk to you!”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, “I’m not doing this again with you. I just fucking can’t, I mean fuck, look at us! All we fucking do is fight, fight, fight and you expect me to wanna marry you? To be stuck with this? No thank you!”

You wipe your tears and stand up, “And there it is, at least I know how you really felt. Saved me my time too.” You glare as you pass by him in the direction of his room.

Jungkook shakes his head, “Where are you going? It’s late.” He calls out loudly, “y/n, answer me.”

“I’m going home Jungkook, it’s fine we’re done. We don’t have to keep doing this anymore.” You look back with dry tears, “I’m done too, I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

He doesn’t respond to that, he knows it’s true. “At least let me walk you out to the car.” He quietly murmurs.

“No.”

“y/n, don’t–”

“Leave me alone.” You whisper and storm out of his apartment, away from your home without your heart.

It takes three weeks for you to realize that he’s not coming back. He hasn’t texted or called and suddenly it feels real. You were in deep denial the entire time thinking maybe he’d come around and you could talk it out like you always do. He never showed.

You don’t like this, it hurts like a deep ache you can’t seem to get rid of. You find yourself choking up every time you think about him, you don’t want this. You never wanted this.

“Fuck, please,” you whisper shakily. A few rings go by and then you finally hear him.

“..y/n?”

“Jungkook, I need you.” You softly whisper into the phone, “Please..?” He goes silent on the other end and with each passing beat you’re more worried and anxious.

“Where are you?” He softly replies.

“Home.” You quietly croak, the relief filling you in an instant.

“Okay, stay right there I’m on my way. Please just—just sit tight okay?”

You nod like he’s right here in the room telling you face to face, you don’t even know why. He stays on the phone with you in comfortable silence, you hear when he leaves his apartment, when he starts his car and when he finally pulls into your parking garage.

“Is the door the same code as before?” Jungkook asks quietly.

“Yeah..”

“Okay, I’m here outside.” He hangs up the call briefly and then you hear the beeping noise of your front door unlocking.

The sight of Jungkook has your heart breaking into millions of pieces when you realize he’s not yours. Not anymore. You blink away the fresh tears welling up, he visibly softens and holds his arms out for you.

“Come here.” He softly murmurs. You don’t waste a second and cross the living room into his arms in an instant.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you tightly and holds you against his chest. He shushes you softly and sways side to side while you softly cry into his chest. He whispers everything’s going to be okay but it’s not—not with him not by your side.

“Sit, I’m gonna go bring you some water.” Jungkook softly says as he leads you over to the couch.

You nod quietly and watch with red rimmed eyes as he walks off into your kitchen. There’s a million things running through your head right now but you were more concerned with Jungkook. You hated how distant he was, it felt alien-like and weird.

“Here,” Jungkook murmurs as he comes back with the glass of water, “I brought some tissues too.”

You quietly accept with a soft thanks as you wipe your nose and take a tentative sip of water. He watches you with pity in his eyes, and you don’t want him to look at you like that. It makes your skin crawl and leaves you frustrated because you didn’t want his pity.

You just wanted him.

“So what happened?” Jungkook quietly asks after a few minutes of letting you gather yourself.

“I miss you and it just hurts so bad the way things ended. I’ve been regretting it and it hurts–” You can’t even finish because you’re already tearing up again and Jungkook hushes you softly.

“I know,” he solemnly says, “I know it does. Trust me you’re not the only one feeling like shit about this, you think it’s easy for me to let someone I’ve loved walk away after years? It’s fucking hard.”

He sighs shakily, “But I know that if I truly did love you and wanted the best for you, I’d do this. I just can’t keep up anymore, all the arguing is just not good for us y/n and you know it.”

“I know, I know.” You say into your hands with a sniffle, “But I don’t feel like letting go.”

“Me neither,” Jungkook gently brings your hands into his and looks into your eyes, “but we can’t keep going like this. We tell ourselves it’ll be fine but it’s not, it never is.”

You stare silently into eachothers eyes until Jungkook finds his voice again, “Which is why I think we should just take a break for I don’t know how long but we need to work on ourselves. If you truly loved me like I do to you, you’ll let me go and work on myself. You’ll want me to get better.”

And it’s true. You’ve only ever looked out for his best interest and wanted nothing but good things for him. But is it so bad to want to be a little selfish?

“I know.”

“So you understand we have to actually put in the effort if we want this to work out in the future? We can’t half ass this and rush into things anymore, that’s not how I want it to be between us.” He whispers softly.

You look at Jungkook miserably, “Yeah, I get it..” You quietly say, “I just..just promise me you’ll still be here in the end.”

Jungkook cups your cheek gently and smiles which doesn’t look genuine, it's a more sad bittersweet smile. “I’ll be here.”

“Okay..”

“Okay.”

You’re not together but it doesn’t feel like you’re not together? You don’t know how to explain it but it’s weird.

Before it was obviously a shitshow with all the arguments and whatnot. Several things actually like Jungkook’s attitude and his weird bipolar moods, and then you with your misinterpretations and spiteful words. It’s different now.

It almost feels like you’re happier with him now than before when you two were actually together. It’s funny that it takes a break up for you two to start being civil and loving—more than before actually. You don’t act like exes, and you both know you don’t.

Exes don’t call each other every night to ask how their day went, neither do they sleep over or cook for each other. It’s one thing to call up your ex from time to time but everyday? Were there no boundaries because you two clearly needed to set some.

Your friends tell you they’re proud but you don’t feel so good knowing you’re still going back to him every night. Sometimes you fuck, sometimes you don’t, most days he’ll just want company or someone to come with him to shop for groceries. You do all these things telling yourself you’re just here for support, nothing wrong in that right?

There’s nothing wrong with being friends with your ex, right? That’s all it is, just friends.

“Hold on, I'll be back, I got a call.” You excuse yourself from the table and head into another room for more privacy. “Hello?”

“Hey, are you doing anything right now?” It’s Jungkook again and it makes your tummy flutter with butterflies at the sound of his voice.

“Uhh, not really? I’m just having some dinner with friends, why?”

“No reason I just wanted to see if you could come over and maybe we can watch a movie or somethin’. I also realized I might have ordered a little too much fried chicken, old habits die hard I guess.” He jokes softly.

You think it’s a little cute and you can’t help but say yes right away, “Let me finish up real quick and I’ll head over in a bit.” You’re smiling like an idiot right now.

“I can come get you..? Only if you want me to though.”

“That sounds good to me, text me when you get here then.” You softly say, “Bye.” It’s a little awkward not saying ‘love you’ but then you remember you’re not technically together and your entire mood is soured a little.

Shit, what are you going to tell the girls? Something came up and you have to go? No, they’ll ask and you’re a horrible liar. Plus you’re stressing out a little over how you’re going to leave undetected, what if Soyeon tries to walk you out to the car or something? You don’t drive but Soyeon has a habit of walking you out whenever you leave her house (god bless).

It’s moments like these that make you wish Soyeon wouldn’t offer, just for today.

“Hey what’s up?” Soyeon says when she sees you re-enter the room, “Everything good?”

“Yeah but I forgot I had a meeting coming up, it’s about a comeback coming up soon and they need me for creative directing or something. Point is I gotta go guys, sorry.” You don’t like lying to them like this but they’re gonna give you shit and right now you don’t want to hear it.

“Oh cool, okay then we’ll hang some other time then yeah?” Soyeon smiles as she begins pushing her seat back. Oh no.

“Stay here it’s fine, the car’s almost here anyways and it’s a bit chilly outsideeee so stayyy.” You whine while pushing her back into her seat, “Also Miyeon’s literally here, keep her company don’t be rude.”

Both girls look confused as Soyeon raises a brow in question, “Miyeon’s fine she sees me almost everyday. Just let me walk you out weirdo.”

“You’re not even wearing shorts Yeon, just sit this one out I’m good. I’ll text you when I get in the car and stuff okay?” Soyeon doesn’t look convinced but she nods anyways and agrees to let you go reluctantly, “Bye!” You wave and hurriedly make your way out after Jungkook texts you he’s here.

“Byeee.” Once you’re out the door you let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding in. Why was that girl so damn stubborn? You love her to death but now was NOT the time.

jk: outside

You hurried down the hall and to the elevator. Jungkook was waiting for you in the parking lot outside of his car, just leaned back against the hood of it with his hands in his pockets. “Are you cold?” He asks as soon as you come in front of him.

“A little bit,” you smile and sink into his warm and welcoming embrace, “you’re super warm though.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly and strokes your hair, “Here I’ll give you my sweater.” He shrugs it off and holds it out to slip you in it, “You look funny.” He laughs.

“Your face is funny.” You stick your tongue out meanly meanwhile he laughs, “Alright hurry up, I’m cold and hungry.” You pull away from him and head to your side of the car, happily sighing as the warm air from inside hits you.

“I thought you ate already.” Jungkook snorts in amusement as he slips into the car.

“Well I’m hungry again.” You grumble.

He doesn’t respond verbally at least, he shifts the car into drive with a tiny smile on his face. You find yourself leaning back into your seat with a soft smile of your own. Times like these you were able to just sit back and forget about everything and anything. The only thing that mattered right now was you and Jungkook.

That’s it.

The movie ended up becoming background noise over the soft sounds of Jungkook’s lips meeting your own over and over again. The food lays discarded on his coffee table, half-eaten with a couple of soju bottles littering around the boxes.

It feels good like this with Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair and his other settled over your hip. You’re sitting halfway in his lap, the angle a bit awkward but doable nonetheless. You hear him release a low grunt in his throat, lips smacking wetly over your own as he tightens his fingers on your hip.

You thread your fingers through his hair, stroking over his head gently pretending to not notice how he leaned into your touch eagerly. You barely even notice when he impatiently drags you onto his lap and sits you firmly over his thighs, your own bracketing his hips and closing him in.

“Jungkook,” you quietly sigh while bearing down on him and grinding over the thick bulge in his joggers.

“Yeah..?” He replies through a quiet sigh as his half-lidded eyes watch down below between you two where your clothed cunt is pressed tight to his hard cock.

You can’t reply because you’re caught off guard by a bubbling moan in your throat. You find yourself gripping the collar of his shirt tightly between nimble fingers when he suddenly bucks his hips up sharply. The print of his dick presses tighter against your slick folds, the head messily bumping into your throbbing clit.

Jungkook lets out a ragged groan as he tilts his head back and parts from the messy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips. He guides your hips with both hands as he rolls you over his cock and holds you down to keep you in place. It makes your breath hitch and a stuttered moan slip from your lips.

“Fuck..” You pant softly as your toes curl, “Need you so bad.” You whisper in between the short rough grinds.

He bites his lip harshly and reaches down to unbutton your jeans, you help him slide them off as he hooks his fingers under your panties and tugs them to the side. You feel his fingertips slide through your messy folds, circling over your swollen bud and pressing down with the pads of his fingers.

The slide’s pretty slippery, you barely feel his touch but the pleasure bubbles over and leaves you tingly and hot down there. Jungkook teases you by dipping his fingers low against your fluttering hole that greedily squeezes around nothing. “Don’t tease,” you mutter softly and lean forward to press kisses against his jawline.

“Fuck, wait.” He reaches over and blindly pats the sofa for something you can’t really be bothered to look at. A low hum leaves him when he finally finds what he was looking for: condom.

You watch him bite the foil open and reach down to shove his sweats off, the way his dick slaps against his stomach has you squirming in anticipation. He hisses low through his teeth as he strokes the tip slowly before rolling the condom on. You watch hungrily as his cock’s engulfed in the thin rubber, standing hard ‘n tall with a beady pearl of precum getting trapped within the condom.

“Good?” He mumbles once he positions his cock under you, the tip’s barely brushing over your hole before you’re whining at him for more.

“I’m good,” you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer, “now fuck me..please?” You say after a couple of seconds of silence.

Jungkook huffs out a breathless laugh and shakes his head, “You’re cute.” His amused tone dissolves into a low moan when you start pushing his cock in, inching yourself down until your perk ass meets his thighs with a low pap noise.

Fuck you forgot how full he makes you feel when you ride him, your poor little cunt’s all stuffed up with his fat cock. It doesn’t help that there’s a little sting from the stretch with the way your pussy hugs his cock tightly. Jungkook though looks blissed out, he bites his lip and watches through hooded eyes, he’s moving his hands to grip your hips tight.

“Feels so good,” you slur out and start bounding idly, not too fast or slow, “feel..full.” Your tone comes out lewd and borderline pornographic. Can he blame you? His dick always fucked you stupid, turned you into a little yapper too.

Jungkook grunts quietly, “Yeah? You’re gonna be a good girl and ride me like you mean it baby?” The words slip out of his filthy mouth like nothing, you almost forgot the nasty shit he used to tell you when he was plowing your brains out on a Tuesday night.

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp softly as your eyes flutter shut when he hits that one spot you like, “so, so good Jungkookie,” you whine quietly while rocking your hips back and forth, your cunt greedily swallows him up through every push and tug.

Jungkook groans low and moves his hands to settle over your ass cheeks, he grips each cheek in his hand and squeezes, kneading the flesh under his palms. “Shit–like that,” he huffs softly as he guides your hips in smooth fluid grinds, “so fuckin’ good.” He groans again and tosses his head back.

You bite on your lower lip to supress your whimpers, your hips bounce lightly in his lap with a low fopping sound as Jungkook’s cock coaxes more slick out of your pussy. You’re dripping through the sides as a low squelch emits from your sopping cunt. Through the soft moans and grunts you there’s a skin on skin slapping sound your ass makes when they meet his thighs.

“Oh, fuck.” You whisper, breathing picking up as your hands slide down to settle over his abdomen for purchase.

Jungkook’s lips part, eyesbrows pinching together in concentration as he watches you fuck yourself languidly on his cock. His body lightly rocks upwards from your eager bouncing, the slapping noises only get louder the more you grow desperate. He can’t help but land a hard smack on your cheek, watching in satisfaction as you mewl from both pain and pleasure.

“You like that baby?” He breathlessly asks, “Like being slapped around like a slut? Hm?”

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp shakily and throw your head back, “love it so much Jungkookie,” you mewl.

Jungkook moves one hand from your ass up to your head, fisting the back of your hair and forcing you to expose your neck for him. “How much?” He grunts low, “Whose cock makes you scream like this?”

You swear the ache in your skull from him yanking on your hair makes you even wetter. The throbbing in your pussy has you wildly grinding against him for more, you can’t even reply because of the uncontrollable moans you’re letting out right now.

“Answer me,” he hisses with another smack to your cheek.

“You do! Only you,” you softly sob as he stops you and holds you in place, “please ‘m so close, wanna cum.” You try to bounce, move, anything—but he’s not letting up as he holds you in place and leaves you squirming all over his cock.

“Cum.” Jungkook darkly murmurs as he begins fucking into you from below, his sharp thrusts send you flying into his chest as you cry out.

He drives his cock right up against your g-spot with each hit, the living room quickly fills with the sounds of his balls hitting your ass and the couch creaking from the weight. He doesn’t hold back on his moans either, he’s cussing and groaning under his breath as he uses your pussy to his liking. You on the other hand..

“Jungkook..!” You feel your pussy clamp down and you reach down to rub at your clit in fast circles, trembling and whining as your orgasm approaches fast.

He grips your cheeks tighter and spreads you open as he fucks his cock in and out of your sloppy cunt. Your mouth falls open as the wind is knocked out of you, you’re coming fast and hard as stars explode behind your eyelids. You feel like a ragdoll in his hands as he fucks away into your oversensitive cunt.

“Shit—nearly there baby,” he whispers as his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, “oh fuck.” He grits his teeth and bucks up hard until his hips are stuttering in their pace and he’s groaning loud.

You wish he wasn’t wearing the condom as you feel every little throb and twitch inside. It makes you drool at the thought of his hot thick cum filling your ruined little pussy, it’d probably drip afterward too..

“Good?” He quietly asks as he tries to catch his breath.

You end up laying your head on his shoulder for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way he rubs your back gently in a comforting manner. “Yeah, ‘m okay.” You softly reply while clinging to him like a koala.

Jungkook hums, you don’t go home after that, or the day after.

“Damn when did it get so hot?” Taehyung complains under his breath, “Swear it feels like the weather was cooler yesterday, don’t tell me summer’s already coming.” He groans.

Jungkook hears Hoseok grunt in agreement, “Can you believe spring’s almost over though? We’re like a month away from summer starting.”

“What? No way.” Jungkook frowns, it can’t be, the last time he spoke with you was—

“You realize we’re in the last month of spring right?” Taehyung looks at him weirdly with a snort, “Have you been living under a rock or something?”

Hoseok joins in on the teasing but Jungkook doesn’t think it’s so funny anymore. Not when he realizes it’s been almost two whole months since you and him decided to take a break. He hasn’t really kept up with your life like that, the last time he spoke was when he asked if you were home and then he did go over and you guys ended up—

Holy shit.

“Jungkook,” Hoseok calls out, “your phone’s ringing.” By the looks on their faces they know who’s calling right now. Hoseok looks mildly disappointed and Taehyung just seems tired of it.

“Are you gonna answer it?” Taehyung asks tentatively.

Jungkook looks at your caller ID and then silences his ringer, “Nah, I’ll see what’s up later. Where do you guys wanna go next?” They look at him like he’s crazy and Jungkook sighs, “What?”

“We didn’t know you guys were still together, thought the breakup was for good.” Hoseok quietly admits.

Oh. Right, Jungkook’s been talking about how you’ve both been separated for a cool minute now. Of course they would naturally think that you’ve both finally realized you’re no good and left each other the fuck alone. He’ll never forget their proud faces when Jungkook admitted he walked away from it.

“Look, she’s a good person and all that but is it really worth it if all you do is fight and tear at each other? I mean it’s not like this is the first time.” Taehyung rambles slowly as Hoseok nods along to every word, “Don’t you think that maybe answering her would fuck up all the progress you’ve made so far?”

Will it? Jungkook likes to think that maybe he’s doing a good job but clearly not if Taehyung and Hoseok are calling him out on it. Of course they want the best for him too, they’ve been his hyungs since forever (but you were his forever too).

“Look I know it’s bad,” Jungkook sighs, “but I just can’t leave her like that either, it’s wrong. She’s been in my life since we were kids Tae, I’m not gonna just ditch her like that.”

“And nobody’s mad at you for it but Jungkook c’mon, you need to set some boundaries for your sake man. You can’t fall back into this nasty habit, not when you’re doing so good for yourself right now.” Jungkook knows Taehyung’s referring to his upcoming Golden album release.

“Listen, we’re not gonna police you because you’re a big boy and you can deal with your own shit but I’m just telling you right now it’s not a good idea whatever you’re doing with her right now. The sooner you begin to pull away, the easier it will be when you two finally decide on the future of your relationship.” Hoseok finishes quietly.

They’re right and Jungkook hates that they are. As unsettling as the truth is, that’s just what it is and Jungkook can’t change that.

You’re broken up but why does he still go over? Why does he cook for you two, watch movies in bed like a couple and then fuck you to sleep before the cycle repeats over and over? Did you ever break up to begin with?

“If you want this to work you need to let go.” Taehyung’s hand comes up to squeeze his shoulder, “Some things were not made to be forever, and unfortunately this is one of them.”

Jungkook looks up at the two men in front of him, they’ve each got reassuring smiles on their faces and for the first time he feels good about his decisions. He makes a mental note in the back of his head to speak with you later on, for now he’ll just enjoy this.

“I didn’t know you and Jungkook were still together.” Soyeon comments upon seeing a sweater she knew was too big to be yours and quite frankly wasn’t something you’d personally go out and buy yourself.

“Oh, that—we’re actually not.” You chuckle under your breath, “He left it here the other day–”

“The other day?” Yuqi frowns, “What do you mean? I thought you guys haven’t seen each other in two months?” You can tell they’re equally confused about the situation.

“We aren’t together-together, we’re just kinda hooking up here and there whenever we feel like it.” You shrug.

“Uh-huh, and he just leaves his clothes too?” Soyeon raises a brow, “y/n—babe, I love you but what the hell? I thought you and him were completely done already?” She says, Yuqi nodding along in agreement.

Now it’s your turn to look at them confused, “What? We’re just hooking up, it isn’t anything bad either I mean we’re doing better now than before.”

Soyeon sighs deeply and sits down, “Have you maybe thought about why things are better now? Because you’re not together y/n, you’re only doing ‘better’ now because you don’t have a label to the relationship because you’re both pretending shit’s okay.”

“This can’t be good either y/n, it’s not healthy it’s just gonna lead you both down the same path as before. You guys think that because you’re happy now, the issues aren’t gonna be there.” Yuqi shakes her head.

Of course you knew they were gonna start with this but your pride was too strong to admit that they were of course right about this. It’s something you’ve been intentionally ignoring, kind of like if you don’t think about it, it’s not true type of thing. Which in itself was a pretty bad mindset.

“But we’re gonna fix things.” You softly reply.

“Are you?” Soyeon looks like she doesn’t believe you, you don’t even believe yourself.

Yes, yes, yes—

“I don’t know.” You find yourself saying without thinking, that’s the truth right? Right..?

Yuqi sighs sympathetically and shakes her head, “It’s time to let go, it’s over y/n—for good. I know it’s hard love but you have to do it.”

“I’ll…talk to him later about it, can’t guarantee this but I’m going to try to break things off permanently.” You’re just tired of this back and forth with yourself wondering if Jungkook and you are truly going to be okay.

You know you both will be okay…just not together and that’s what hurts the most to think about. They don’t push the topic anymore, something you’re thankful for. The entire time you’re with the girls you’re stuck thinking about Jungkook.

you: come over

You spent at least ten minutes with your thumb hovering over the button before you actually pressed it. It shouldn’t be so fucking scary but you’re just extremely nervous right now. Your friend’s words ring in your head over and over again like a mantra and you feel like you’re going mad.

jk: rn?

you: yea, really want to see you

jk: me too.

read.

It’s the shit like this that makes you question everything. You hate how weak you are because Jungkook can sweet talk his way into your head and you wouldn’t be able to stop him. It’s not like he does it intentionally but still the power he holds over you, it’s stupid.

After the girls left you ended up cleaning the living room a bit, stopping in your tracks when you came across the sweater he left behind. You stare at it for a couple of seconds before slipping it on finding it much more comfy wearing his clothes. You hear the front door keypad beeping before it unlocks and Jungkook’s slipping in.

“Hey.” He greets quietly and shuts the door behind him.

You smile up at him and tug on the sweater paws, taking note of the sweaty state he was in, “You coming from the gym orrrr…?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughs, “I just got finished with working out when you texted me. Look at that,” he flexes his bicep to show you, “hot huh?” He grins.

“Ew no as if, go take a damn shower you probably stink.” You pretend to cover your nose and gag, giggling when he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” He walks over to tug you into his arms, “This my hoodie?” He mumbles, “Looks good.”

You let him lay soft kisses over your pouty lips until you’re pushing him away with a low grumble, “Go shower now, I don’t wanna stink of sweat in your hoodie.” You snort.

Jungkook lays one last kiss over your forehead and walks in the direction of your room, “So mean and for what? It’s literally my hoodie who cares if it stinks? I’m gonna be taking it off anyways.” He smirks deviously.

You follow with a unamused look, one that leaves no room for anymore arguments. “I’ll wait for you out here,” you flop on the bed and turn on your TV, “go on, shoo.”

“Meanie.” Jungkook mumbles but makes his way into your bathroom nonetheless.

You catch up on some of your shows you were watching at the moment while waiting for Jungkook to come back out. You’ve long made yourself comfortable in bed, curled up under your soft comforter with the remote in hand. He doesn’t come out for at least fifteen minutes or so, you don’t really mind because it feels oddly domestic.

“You’re watching this too?” Jungkook breaks the silence in the room, “I’m on the last episode.”

You barely look at him as he walks over to the bed in nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist. “Yeah, I started this like a week ago I think.” You murmur distractedly as he flops in bed with you, “Don’t get my pillows wet,” you whine with no real bite to your tone.

“It’ll dry.” Jungkook snorts as he lays his head over your blanket covered lap. The two of you fall into silence afterwards with him loosely wrapping an arm around you.

Nothing happens after that, you lay together quietly while the episode runs in the background. Occasionally Jungkook turns to hide his face in your lap, you can’t help but slip your hand in his wet hair and gently comb over it, lightly scratching at his scalp.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I spoiled it?” He pipes up out of nowhere.

“Do it and I’m throwing you out towel and all.” You glare as he starts giggling in amusement, “I’m serious, do it and you’re out.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He says as he lifts his head up, “But I’m a little bored,” he pouts and draws circles over your thigh, “I already watched these episodesss.”

“I dunno do something. Go order food or find some in my fridge, I don’t know.” You sigh.

Jungkook doesn’t reply and instead nuzzles into you, “I have something else I can do in mind..” He trails off and slips his hand under your comforter to stroke your thigh.

You don’t say anything, instead you part your thighs for him as a silent ‘go on’. He takes the bait easily and slips under the comforter with a devious grin, “Jungkook– ow, don’t bite me you ass. Why did you do that?”

Instead of answering you he just reaches under for the waistband of your shorts, peeling them off alongside your panties in one go. You can feel his hot breath hovering over your pussy, his tongue dips low between your soft folds as he licks a stripe up your cunt.

He circles his tongue around your clit, swiping from side to side and front/back. It’s enough to have your knees buckling weakly as you reach over the comfort to place your hand where his head would be as you sighed in pleasure.

“Like you better when your mouth’s full.” You find yourself mumbling.

Jungkook grunts in affirmation, he wraps his arms around your and tugs your hips closer to his face. He’s literally buried in your soft cunt, nose poking at your clit while he licks over your slick lips, sucking on your soft fold with a pleased hum.

You push up with a low moan and angle your hips down so that he’s licking over your swollen clit. “Shit, jus’ like that,” you tilt your head back and close your eyes enjoying the sensation of his tongue.

He lays one hand flat over your pelvis and holds you down while he sucks on your clit feverishly. It sends your back arching off the bed from the sudden spark of pleasure. “Fuck..!” You hiss out when he engulfs your tiny bud between his lips and sucks.

Jungkook doesn’t disappoint. He slurps and licks like no tomorrow while he prods his fingers against your pussy. You’re literally scrambling to get a grip on him, your pathetic little moans and whines spurring him on as he finally slides his fingers deep.

“More, gimme more please,” you mewl.

You hear him shuffling around down there so you naturally take a peek out of curiosity. The sight has your mouth dropping in awe when you come across him fisting his cock from under the sheets while he eats you out like you’re the best meal ever.

“Coming,” you gasp softly as your fingers tangle themselves in his hair.

Jungkook sucks harder with a hint of teeth, he curls his fingers at the same time and fucks them right up against the roof of your cunt. It has you crying out his name and pushing his head away as your pussy clenches tight and then suddenly you’re gushing all over him.

“Jesus,” he whispers and covers your cunt with his hot mouth, licking up the entire mess you made all over yourself.

“Come here.” You dryly whisper after noticing he didn’t cum.

He obeys without hesitation, he knows what you want so he climbs up and kneels beside you with his weeping cock over your lips. “You sure? I don’t mind.” He murmurs.

“I want to.” You softly reply and part your lips, “Don’t want you to be gentle with me.. I can take it.” You murmur as you engulf the head of his cock slowly.

Jungkook hisses quietly and guides your head until your nose is meeting his groin. You gag around him with the saliva quickly building up in your mouth. He doesn’t mind though because he absolutely loves it when you slobber all over him.

“Don’t you look pretty with a mouth full of cock?” He grins teasingly despite being minutes away from coming, like he wasn’t edging himself before when he was eating your cunt.

You moan unabashedly as tears spring in your eyes. He doesn’t waste anymore time after that and begins fucking into your mouth unapologetically. He doesn’t even start off slow, he’s desperate to cum and you get it. You’re salivating at the thought of his cock filling your throat and leaving you sore.

He grips the headboard above to stable himself as he slides himself in and out of your mouth. Jungkook moans under his breath as he bucks his hips rather harshly, just listening to the sound of your gags and saliva dripping.

“So fuckin’ good,” he mutters, “you take it so good for me.”

You know he’s getting close when he starts getting quieter and instead puts his attention on his pleasure. The only noise around is the sound of your gagging and his labored breathing. You feel his cock start twitching and throbbing until he’s shouting from the pleasure and coming down your throat.

“Shit—stop, stop, stop.” He sighs as he gently pulls you off his cock, “Fuck.” He says after catching his breath.

Cleanup is fairly quiet, he helps you change the sheets and get dressed into comfier clothes before you’re both climbing back into the bed and sitting side by side, body to body. It feels all too real and suddenly realization is hitting you hard.

The silence is comfortable between you two, the scene feels a little familiar (you, him, a movie and your head on his shoulder) but you don’t comment because it makes you feel a little uncomfortable. Like before, Jungkook caresses his hand over your thigh gently with a comforting grip after.

“Why did we ever fall out?” You quietly pipe up, “Like where did it all go downhill?”

He stops in his tracks, he doesn’t look mad or upset that you brought it up out of the blue. He looks..at ease. “I don’t know, but I think it has to do a lot with the fact that we slowly grew out of each other? Kinda like we just lost the love and it wasn’t the same anymore, and instead of trying to fix it we just acted like our problems weren’t there.”

Jungkook calmly continues after taking in your reaction, “I love you don’t get me wrong, you’ve given me the best years but I just think we finally grew apart. Think about it—the fights, the breakups and make ups? We got to a point where we just didn’t care anymore.”

“I know, but it still doesn’t change the fact that I want you forever.” You softly admit.

“No you don’t y/n,” he replies equally softly, “you don’t want us—this, forever.”

It’s like a punch to your gut, why is he saying this? Why is acting like he knows what you want? You know what you want, and you want him. Is he trying to call you a liar? A saner part inside of your head eerily tells you he’s right, you don’t want that. You want happiness.

“I do know what I want actually, why are you thinking otherwise? You’re making a decision for me without even asking me how I feel about this?” You frown and push yourself off his shoulder.

“y/n,” Jungkook pauses briefly before shaking his head, “trust me I know you don’t want this. It’s not hard and it doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to see we’re not made for eachother. I’m sorry I need to tell you like this but whatever the fuck we had is something I sure as hell don’t want.”

It literally crushes your spirit because you knew what was coming, you KNEW he was going to tell you the cold hard truth sooner or later. It’s all everyone's been warning you about and now you have no room to cry about it. You had nobody but yourself to blame for your heartbreak. Not Jungkook, not Soyeon, not Yuqi.

Just you.

“You know what Jungkook, fuck you.” You fiercely whisper and push yourself off of him, “No actually, fuck you. You don’t get to tell me what I want and don’t want–”

“Because I know what the fuck I want and it’s not you! As fucking sad as it is y/n I can’t do this shit anymore,” he stands up too and begins hazardously dressing himself in his clothes again, “I know what I’ve done is shitty and I hope you can forgive me for it but I’m not willing to stick around anymore. Not after this.”

You watch in silence as he picks his things up off the floor and storms out. Not one word is spoken throughout the entire ordeal. Jungkook gets his shit and leaves like nothing ever happened, like you didn’t tell him to fuck himself and he didn’t respond by saying he didn’t want you.

When he finally leaves with a loud slam, your resolve crumbles and soft sniffles begin to fill the too empty apartment. You look around the room with red-rimmed eyes, now what are you gonna do?

You fucked up, again.

Jungkook doesn’t talk to you—doesn’t even text—for a total of two weeks and counting. You tried distracting yourself with work and your upcoming comeback but it was hard to focus. Not when your mind keeps going back to him and what happened that night.

“You don’t look so good, you sure you’re okay?” Your manager says with a look of concern on her face, “I can wrap things up and we can get you home if that’s what you want.”

“Please,” you find yourself nodding, “I’ll um let you know later on how I’m doing and stuff, for now I just wanna be alone.”

They understand you’re not doing well emotionally as of lately so they don’t question it when you request to be left alone. They simply wrap it up and call for your driver to take you home. A few staff send you off with tiny gifts and comforting hugs but none are enough to take away from the misery you’re feeling right now.

You make a quick stop at the store on your way home, you’ve never felt more dead in your entire life than right now. Even buying groceries proves to be a hard task but you somehow push through it and buy what you need.

The entire time you're there you think about Jungkook, should you call him to clear things up? Apologize for the shitty things you’ve ever said and for how you’ve acted towards him over the slightest inconveniences?

‘The phone’s right there,’ a little voice inside your head whispers, ‘just open up and click on his name, he’s right there.’

Do it, do it, do it, they chant.

Before you even realize it you’re dialing his number, the phone pressed tight against your ear as you wait with a bated breath for him to pick up. Three rings go by until finally Jungkook picks up with a quiet ‘hello’. “Hey,” you quietly mumble, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing much, I was cooking about a minute ago. You?” He sounds distant, like he’s catching up with an acquaintance.

“Cool, and nothing either, I just went to the store and bought a few things I needed.” You play with a strand of loose hair, suddenly finding that much more interesting to look at.

“That’s good.” He murmurs and it goes quiet after that.

Neither of you know what to say right now, you don’t even know where to begin. What can you say? Hey I’m sorry I told you to fuck yourself? I’m sorry for my shitty ass attitude? I’m sorry for being a bad girlfriend? There’s so much to say but you can’t find the words for it.

“Jungkook,” you hesitantly say after finding the courage to speak, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything, I know I fucked up over and over again but I want to let you know I’m sorry I treated you the way I did and for the things I said.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything and for a second he scares you thinking that he hung up or something. “I know, and I’m sorry too for the way I acted and shit. I know we haven’t been the best but for what it’s worth none of this was ever your fault. Things just didn’t end up working out.”

You hate that this feels like a permanent goodbye, it must have really been the last straw for him the last time you spoke. You find yourself tearing up and there’s a heavy lump sitting in your throat. You don’t know whether you want to cry, scream, or run off.

“It’s just hard when I miss you this much,” you quietly reply despite the wobble in your voice.

“I know,” you hear him take a deep breath and before he can reply you hear it.

There’s a low shuffling noise in the back, at first you think nothing of it until you realize it’s a feminine voice asking Jungkook if he wants her to help clean up the mess.

Your heart rapidly beats in your chest, the pounding in your ears so loud you swear you feel like you’re going to have a heart attack with how fast it’s going. “Didn’t know you moved on already.”

“It’s not like that–”

“Then what is it like Jungkook? Because to me it sounds exactly what I’m imagining right now—don’t try and treat me like I’m fucking stupid.” You wipe your tears of frustration while pacing back and forth.

“Okay fine, you want the truth: I met someone and I’m getting to know them, I’m thinkin’ maybe she can make me happy too. Is that what you wanted to hear from me?” He snaps back.

“When.” You coldly demand, the anger you feel right now is astronomical.

Jungkook holds his breath for a few seconds, “A month ago.”

Your entire world stops then and there. So while you and Jungkook were doing these lovey dovey things and still seeing each other, he was already talking to someone new. All this and for what? He found someone new while still using you as an escape from reality (for fun really), and to know he was doing this while having someone on the side waiting?

It makes you sick to your stomach.

“D-Don’t you ever come near me. We’re done, so fucking done. How could you fucking do that to me? You knew how I fucking felt about all this and you went and pulled this? I hate you, I hate you.” You can’t even speak, it physically pains you to talk.

Through your sobs you manage to shakily hang up and head for your bedroom. You toss a bunch of clothes on the bed and drag your heavy suitcase out of the closet. You don’t know where you’re going, but at this point you’ll go anywhere if it means you can get away from this place.

All that’s left is the sounds of your sobs and clothes shuffling as you stuff them into your suitcase messily. You feel so alone and empty wondering what everyone else in the world is doing right now. Surely not getting their heart stomped on like you, right?

As you're finishing up with your closet, you hear the front door beep and buzz. No, no, no, he is not doing this right now you think while storming out to the living room. He’s already coming in as you’re stepping out.

“y/n–”

“What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to leave me the fuck alone!” You throw a vase in his direction watching him yell out in shock as he barely manages to dodge it.

“Fucking hell—calm down! You’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“And why do you care? You didn’t before so what’s fucking different now!” You wipe your face and stomp to your bedroom with Jungkook hot on your tail.

He tries to grab your arm but you rip yourself away from him in fury which makes him get the memo instantly, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, I don’t want you to hurt yourself or do anything stupid.” He stops in his tracks when he sees the state your bedroom’s in.

“y/n..what are you doing?” He quietly asks, his doe eyes filled with surprise and a mix of fear.

You take a deep breath and hold it in for a couple of seconds, letting it out slowly when you feel calm enough to reply, “I’m leaving Jungkook, all this—I’m done. I had hopes that maybe we could solve things and make it work again but it looks like only one of us wanted this.” You smile sadly.

“I choose myself Jungkook, I did some petty shit and said dumb things and I’m sorry for it. Looking back on it, it was me who refused to move on. I was so hung up on making things work I just didn’t realize I was dragging you down and forcing you to be with me.”

Jungkook visibly deflates with hurt written all over his face, “I’m sorry too, I never meant to lead you on and if I did I’m so sorry for it y/n. You deserve someone who can make you happy, and I’m sorry that someone can’t be me.”

You stand across from each other in silence. Jungkook looks down at your luggage with his own sad smile, “Maybe..we could be friends?”

“No,” you softly reply and get back to packing, “we can’t be friends, but I’d like to pretend.”

“So this is goodbye then.” Jungkook’s got his own unshed tears ready to fall.

“Yeah, I guess so..”

He looks up at you and tearfully smiles, “Goodbye y/n.”

You match his smile with one of your own, “Bye, Jungkook.” Maybe in your next life you will both be happy. But not in this one.

For now, it’s only me and maybe that’s all I need.

One year later.

“It’s only gonna be for two weeks, you big baby. You’re acting like I won’t get on a plane and go see you.” You laugh softly and shake your head, “Besides, I thought you were taking me to the beach in LA?”

“I am! But I wanted you there with me,” Mingi looks at you with pursed lips, “wanted you to see me on stage.”

You can’t help but coo and squeeze his cheek, “You’re so cute, don’t worry I’ll make sure I don’t miss it.” He smiles happily and you can’t help but lean in for a smooch on the cheek.

“Oh wait, I saw a guy selling ice cream back there. Wait for me right here, I’ll be back.” Mingi heads back to all the food stalls leaving you there in front of this cafe.

You hum under your breath and check on your messages, replying to friends who slid up on your story asking if you were finally back. It felt good to be home after all that went down before, you really needed the break.

“Hold on, I got it, let me carry it for you.” You hear a familiar voice say which instantly has you turning around to look.

It’s Jungkook and he still looks the same as before minus the hair he’s cut short now and has it in an undercut. You feel weird seeing him again after all this time. Weird in a good way? You don’t know, but it isn’t bad either. You kinda don’t feel anything.

You curiously look over at his girlfriend(?), stopping in your tracks when you notice a pretty ring on her finger. It suits her. You look back up and come face to face with Jungkook who stands there in shock too.

There’s a million things you can say or do right now, but you don’t. In fact you’re happy for him.

“Did I take long?” Mingi suddenly pops up behind you holding two ice cream cones, “I got your favorite.” He grins foolishly.

You break away from Jungkook and look at Mingi, “Thanks, how sweet of you.” You grin and lean in to kiss his cheek again, “Ready to go? I’m kinda tired of being outside.” You complain softly.

Mingi lets you take the cones from his hands and instead wraps his arm around your waist leading you through the crowd of people. Your heart races as you two get closer to Jungkook and his fiancé. Just for a second you meet his eyes, and then you smile before turning your attention back to Mingi.

Jungkook smiles back and just like that, you move on with your lives.

My love, I won’t wait for your love.

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