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tteokdoroki · 2 months ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 22ND ★ SOMNOPHILIA - seishiro nagi .ᐟ

[CHAPTER TWENTY TWO SLEEPING BEAUTY ] once upon a time, a brave knight, destined to marry someone she’d never met, says fuck it and plans to reap the rewards of saving the prince from eternal slumber. without realising that he’s already awake… ( 8.8K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters in their 20s, sleeping beauty!au, somnophilia, hold the moan, overstimulation, cockwarming, dacryphilia, outer-course, handjobs, blowjobs, pussyjobs, free use, dub con, cumplay, creampies, not beta read, knight + fem!reader, aurora!seishiro nagi.

✧ fairy godmother's note - this is so late i'm so sorry, i think i might start posting kinktober towards the end of the week and into november, enjoy me loves. miss u loads! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

you hardly remember the day that prince nagi was born — despite most definitely being there for the ceremony that commemorated it. at the time, you were hardly out of your own leading strings, still babbling dumbly and clinging to your mother’s garments whenever someone poked their nose in your face. obviously far too young to remember the curse placed on him by that wicked witch maleficent.

prince seishiro nagi was beloved by all and affection for him was widespread throughout the kingdom. he was born deep into the night, at a time where the sky had been painted with deep blue and midnight hues, with hair as silky and pale as the silver moon and eyes like the glittering starry sky. so they said. at least that’s what your been told. while present at the time, you would hardly know — you were too young to remember how he looked nor the very moment you were promised to him as a baby yourself.

from the moment you were born, your fate was signed away before your very first breath and once you arrived and took two steps you were instantly reared to become prince seishiro’s future wife. to help join two kingdoms in harmonious union. from the moment you could talk, you’d spent your entire life training to become the wife of a man you hardly knew. there were lessons in perfect posture, dainty dancing and simple sewing. not to mention how to serve a king and please a husband — who apparently had unnatural beauty, the softest voice and the kindest of hearts. outside of nagi, you hadn’t a single hobby or interest that didn’t concern him, solely born and bred for his best interest. how were you supposed to know if any of those spoken traits were really true and not just word of mouth when nobody had any idea where the prince actually was.

rumour had it, that the silver haired royal had been whisked away to the woods to be raised by the very fairies that blessed him — with hopes of avoiding maleficent’s malevolent curse in which seishiro was destined to prick his finger on a poisoned spinning wheel by age twenty three. in an attempt to undo the wicked spell, the fairies had combined their magic and made it so that only a true love's kiss would be able to wake up their beloved prince. which soon became your duty, by the time you came of age too.

since then, and for twenty two years after, there was not a peep from the prince — to his people and his kingdom, he’d practically vanished overnight, becoming one with the moon and stars they prayed to each night. holding out hope for his return to the throne.

in turn, you had no idea when your duty would come to fruition. maleficent's thunderous mountain, shrouded in a thick layer of green, jealous smog that was sure to suck the life from any innocent soul still raged on — meaning her curse hadn’t come true. she still hadn’t found the prince. no one had.

no one except for you.

unknowingly, you’d met nagi humming amongst pointed shrubbery and wild flowers deep in the forest — absentmindedly complaining about tne berries he was forced to forage for his uncles back home. for you, it was instant, as though an invisible force had drawn you two him like the the two poles of a magnet. prince seishiro was a sight to behold, even before you knew who he was, the timbre trill of his voice filled you with a wave of unfamiliar butterflies that battled their way into your throat — trapping your voice. his eyes were an enchanting pool of riches, frightened of your presence at first, but filled with stripes of silver you were sure had to be stolen from the moon.

for you, it was love at first sight. a powerful urge to be near him building up in your lungs like fluid in a sick person. you were sure he felt the same — the emotion obvious in the way he tentatively touched you as you talked about nothing and everything at all. the way he swooped down to your height to listen to tales of land and fortune he could only have dreamed of.

in those hours that you spent alone together; pressed into one another’s side’s amongst intertwined tree branches like two lovers' limbs after a night of improper passion — you’d felt the most seen you had in all your life. for the first time in forever, someone saw you as more than just a bargaining chip or a trophy to be paraded around royal courts in honour of union. someone saw you as a whole, read your story from start to finish and still wanted to know more. you weren’t just a knight made to save a prince. to nagi, you were so much more.

and to you, nagi was a breath of fresh air — someone who craved a more exciting life rather than being banished to a life of greenery and foliage. despite his charming air of laziness and naivety, he expressed to you a burning sense of eager deep within. it was innocent, inquisitive but nagi’s thoughts called out to you like the bird song of two mates. the worlds you came from were different, clearly, but you just made sense to one another.

but back then, in those quiet moment with your head on his shoulder and nothing but the sound of oak leaves swaying in the gentle summer breeze — you’d had no idea that the silver haired stranger was just prince seishiro living under a different name. you thought him a commoner and he thought you a random huntress on a horse. no one had any idea that he was the crown prince, that he’d been snuck back into the castle on the day of his twenty third birthday to regain his title and his crown… only to be lulled by the cruel call of a sinister stranger shortly — pricking his finger just like maleficent had planned.

you were meant to marry. you were supposed to go back for seishiro and run away together, live apart from the expectations bestowed upon you as children. unfortunately, you wouldn’t find out until returned to the spot where you’d first met him, and were met with the face of the villain herself. instead of your lover. that’s when you realised the gravity of it all. who seishiro was. who you were meant to be.

deep down, you knew this was a love too sacred to pass by, and with the white haired prince counting on you — you would do everything in your power to save him. save the prince and the kingdom from sleeping soundly for the next one hundred years.

with the help of the fairies who raised nagi, you were able to take down the terrible maleficent — grateful that your parents had at least made you handy with a sword. through the flames of the beast above you, you wielded your weapon with a strength and bravery that would go down into the history books of lands far and wide. killing maleficent in the form of the dragon had been no easy feat but you fought, with screaming muscles and a bloody face — fulfilling the duty you had been born to do. trained to do. for nagi and for your kingdom.

the difference was, this time, you were doing all of this for love. not just for honour.

after winning the flaming battle, you staggered your way through the kingdom despite your burns and free bleeding wounds, making your way up to the tower where your silver-moon haired lover slept. part of you felt envious of the slumbering kingdom, the eternal rest they had slipped under while your body burned and ached with every step that you took… but as soon as you laid eyes on your handsome prince — sleeping like a fallen angel crowned by scattered lights. the glinting particles of dust forming a shining halo over his sleep the steel hair.

the beat of your heart quickens as you approach the bed tucked deep within his quarters — rivalling the speed of the finest royal race horse and the world completely falls away until the all that remains are you and seishiro. your prince. your love. even while he sleeps, he’s unfairly handsome, grey lashes dusted with starlight just barely brushing the apples of his milky-toned cheeks, his hair curls against his forehead and his lips, rose-tinted, part with each gentle exhale his body takes to keep him alive. without even thinking, your finger trails the slopes and contours of nagi’s delicate features, brushing over his Cupid’s bow that seems damp with the condensation of his warm breaths. the sensation stokes a fire within you while your mind wanders to less than pleasant thoughts.

how would his lips feel if you were to kiss him? how would they taste? how would seishiro kiss you back? the questions swirl around in the calcium cage of your skull like a storm untapped, fuelled by the remnants of adrenaline that simmers in your veins from the fight. it would be wrong, to do what you’re thinking of doing — to press your lips to the seam of his and run your tongue every inch in his hot mouth, behind his teeth and over his own pink muscle. maybe even to cup his throat and feel every breath he takes. it would be so wrong… and yet, your moral compass and previous duties seem to be out of working order, thus, losing the war the flickering desirous flame within you. one that rivals the breath of the dragon slaid outside.

no one would really care if you were to have the way with the crown prince. after all, you would need to be rewarded for your self sacrifice and service to the kingdom that could have very well been burned to the ground if it hadn’t been for your bravery. you deserved this, you deserved him and the chance to appease your growing appetite for the sleeping beauty before you. right now, there were no barriers… no servants and squires and maids or men to tell you what was proper of a knight or of a promised woman, and there certainly weren’t any barriers to the body of the silver haired prince. without any blankets, there wasn’t much to stop you from trailing a hand over seishiro’s clothed stomach and over the hills of his princely dress pants.

your fingertips grazed the taut muscles of his thick thighs as you teased yourself. teased the slumbering royalty. daring tug at the belt loops and thick leather her bound his trousers to his unfairly slender waist. with your lip caught between the sharp edge of your teeth, you unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants inch by inch, a tidal wave of goosebumps erupting over the surface of your body like freshly plucked chicken skin as you reveal more and more of his milky, toned flesh. he’s smooth all over, blueish veins apparent as they spiral underneath his skin, but nagi is just as soft as you remember, as warm brushing up against you as he was the day you first met in the woods.

saliva spreads across your tongue like a sheet of rain during a storm or a flash flood when his undergarments come down with the hem of his trousers, revealing a snow white path of pubic hair that curls prettily against his pelvis. there’s a craving for more that sloshes into the dips and deficits of your brain, like a dark haze that shrouds your brain in nothing but lust — so you act on the feeling, pulling more and more fabric away from seishiro’s most intimate parts until his cock, half hard and already leaking, is able to spring free.

the sleeping beauty’s breath hitches and catches on the edges of his throat as his hard-on first hits the cool air shrouding his chambers. whatever preconceived notion you’d had of the prince’s body beforehand is quickly tossed away when you finally set your sights on his girth — he is as long as he is thick, chubby against the softness of his tummy with a pink tip that already oozes a thick stream of cream caused by the ghost of your touch over him. a warmth spreads through your entire body, an urge to taste him washing over you in a poor attempt to cool your need down. if you taste him, would that be part of your reward? would it matter to anyone if you put your mouth on the prince while he innocently slept… especially after you’d saved everyone?

you still cannot find it within yourself to care.

perhaps the wounds maleficent inflicted upon you have left traces of her bad energy, for you continue to disregard your own morals and good intentions by crawling onto nagi’s bed ( careful with your movements while he shifts in his slumber ) and you keep your touch tender when taking him into your hold, the supple pads of your fingers wrapping around the length of the prince’s shaft while you smooth the pad of your thumb into the slit on his cockhead. rubbing the precum into it sweetly. now up close and personal with his most intimate parts, you’re able to catch the scent of nagi… which only worsens your hunger for him. he smells so good, the musky scent of his arousal almost sending your eyes into the back of your skull — acting like fumes of a pretty wildflower in the forest you once met.

it hypnotises you, takes over your every thought and action in the heat of the moment. every sensation you once felt is now heightened by your own arousal, the feeling of your tongue behind your teeth and the silken sheets against your knees and the blistering temperature of seishirou’s girth in your palm. adjusting your grip on him to something more firm, soft little hands dwarfed by the sheer size and thickness of him, and accidentally pull a tiny moan from your sleeping lover. any trepidation mingling with the air in your lungs is quickly eradicated once you finally give in, flicking your tongue over the cream gathering at nagi’s mushroomed cockhead that burns a painful shade of deep red.

opening your mouth, you take seishiro down your throat as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, your tongue flexing against the bluish purple forked veins that spiral down his heavy shaft. all you want to do is make him harder, feel the blood rush from his slumbering brain to his balls so you can take him properly, elsewhere, later on. what doesn’t fit past the seams of your chapped lips, you continue to palm, setting a steady pace to the rhythm of your hands jerking the silver-haired prince off. its slick and easy, aided by the thick globs of precum that spill over your knuckles and sink into the lines in your palms — seishiro may be asleep, but his body reacts, hips bucking into your closed fist while he squeaks and sighs lazily.

his head remains tacked to the pillow tucked behind it, starlight locks splayed out across the cooling silk fabric — perfectly tousled despite being slightly out of place as he writhes under the sinful prison of your hot, wet mouth. even you have to moan as you sink down on him, his heavy and pulsating balls meeting your chin while your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail. if he were awake, you wonder if nagi would be the type to coax you through giving him head — soft whimpers glossed in his lips while those moonshine grey eyes hold your gaze. or would he push your head down on him and fuck your mouth lazily as though it were another hole to fill with his cum.

part of you wants to rouse him right now, with the kiss of true love the fairies said would work on him, but only to hear how much louder he’d cry and moan for you. you want to hear how the Prince would praise you for taking him so well, slurping the early seed from his tip and hollowing your perfect pudgy cheeks as you gargle him down your eager throat. your imagination runs ahead of your actions as you bob your head faster and faster without regard for your lover sleeping soundly above you lewd slurping sounds echo throughout the room as you picture him looking down at you with flushed cheeks and lidded moonlit eyes — coaxing you to take more of him.

the heat between your thighs returns, an unbearable searing ache pulsating through your clit as blood carrying lust and other happy hormones shoot straight to it. in one swift motion, you shove a single hand past the waistband of your own pants and undergarments to toy with the sensitive bud, smearing whatever remained of his precum and pre-release against your awaiting cunt. your eyes flutter shut at the taste and heaviness of nagi on your tongue, his viscous arousal flowing down your throat in saltine waves. the flavour was addictive and you found yourself bobbing your head faster, and faster — matching it to the pace at which you stroked your own sticky slit.

lavishly, you run your tongue back and forth over the opening of seishiro’s bulbous cockhead, humming happily around his thick shaft when he involuntarily bucks into the hellish fire of your mouth — it makes your heart swell to know that his body is reacting to you and you alone, how it could very well be this way for the rest of your lives. while you hump your own fingers, their tips pruning with how wet you are as you circle your clit, the sleepy beauty’s balls batter your chin as his taut hips thrust upwards instinctively to chase your dripping tongue and mouth.

drool pours from the corners of it, just as you leak against the seat of your panties — your juices hot and viscous while you finger fuck yourself and get off to the sensation of blowing the sleepy prince while he rests. everything is so sloppy, so messy and wet and you can’t help but to spit down on nagi as his dick swells against your tongue, the frothy mixture clinging to the prominent blood flushed veins that sprinkle from the tip down to his base.

your release sneaks up on you like a silent figure in the night; hiding from the moonlight and a dirty moan slips from between your lips as you let go of your lover with a lewd pop, your jaw aches deliciously and your tongue is sore from running circles over his tip — as is your wrist from being down your pants to bully shapes into your clit but you don’t mind the pain, it’s all worth it to make yourself feel good. to make nagi feel good so you can use him later on, turning him from a prince into a sex doll. dopamine continues to spark across your brain as you switch from sucking to jerking nagi off, keeping the rhythm of your slick palm wrapped around him in tune with the one that rolls your clit between your fingertips and pinches your swollen folds.

you don’t last much longer, not when you’re able to watch the moonlit prince fall apart above you even when the depths of sleep cling to the fine lines of his soul. the last remaining thread of your sanity snaps before you’re cumming against your own digits, gushing through the gusset of your panties and straight through the layer or your pants — even while you shiver and shake from the force of your own orgasm, you manage to find a the mobility to tap nagi’s cockhead lewdly against your pink tongue, grinning with an open mouth as his own orgasm rips through his unconscious form.

warm and viscous seed paints a pretty picture against your strawberry tastebuds as it spurts copiously from his ravaged, fully erect cock. even hitting the back of your throat.

but it’s not enough, it’s still not enough. a fire of desire still burns bright inside of you and nagi is still as hard as a rock in your hand. so you don’t see a point in stopping, not when you still want him and he clearly still wants you.

in a whirlwind of fabric, you quickly abandon the lower half of your clothes — even though your legs are violently shaking and there’s a fizz in your brain that makes your vision go blurry from your orgasm, you find the strength to clamber into the prince’s lap and straddle him. a pulse of excitement runs through you as your bare ass meet his half dressed thighs and you set your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself above him. you’re barely able to contain the wavering moan that rumbles in the back of your throat as seishiro’s erection jumps against your sluice sex, as if coaxing you to lower yourself down onto him.

without an air of guilt, you do just that; indulging your sleeping lover’s underlying plea as you slip a hand between your temperate bodies to position his creamy cock at your weeping entrance — you run it back and forth over your slit a few times whilst holding back a quivering hiss, letting him dip in and out of your unused hole. you can’t help but squeak adorably when you start to rock your hips down, sucking him in and stretching over the thick circumference of his tip. you even manage to clench down on seishiro, trapping him inside with each inch you manage to take.

your head hangs low and you steady yourself against nagi again; nails forming pink crescent moons against his pearlescent skin because you’re not sure how much of this burn you can take. he’s so big, yet his cock is so helpless against your sticky walls — it’ll take a lot of work just to reach the hilt. “oh, fuck,” you whimper to yourself quietly, not wanting to be caught taking advantage of the kingdom’s slumbering royalty. you try to stablwlisw your breathing, hold onto your sanity by only fucking yourself over his tip because right now… it’s all you can manage. getting used delicious stretch to your pussy and the resistance of your hole as nagi slips into your tightness.

in order to ground yourself, you press yourself against the moonlit prince until you’re both chest to chest — allowing your body to relax against is as you slide further down his cock. and, with this change in position, you easily dot feather light kisses from the pale skin, unmarked skin of seishiro’s neck up to his jawline — licking the light layer of perspiration that added diamonds to his skin. his pulse is slow, languid under your lips, just as the rise and fall of his chest is. nagi still sound asleep as you bathed his cock in all of your syrupy wetness. eventually, you reach his lips and hardly hesitate in kissing them, lapping over the seam of them with your tongue as if you’re asking for entrance when you don’t really need to.

not when his body is so willing to give into you, even while seishiro rests.

you swear you feel his lips twitch apart against your own, parting specifically for you to pour your withering moans into him and breathe life into his unconscious soul — your tongue licks at his, relishing in the flavour and slight sweetness to his mouth, letting it distract you from the twinge between your thighs as you finally seat yourself on his girth fully; breeders balls nestled comfortably against the curve of your ass. a feeling of content washes over you, feeling the chubbiness of his girth press hotly against your ribbed walls that catch on his prominent veins there.

panting lightly, a ripple of desire is the next sensation that you feel, experimentally clenching around the prince below you — bottoming out as your cunt drools down on him. somehow, you find the strength in your thighs to lift your hips and thrust back down, a wet slap bouncing off of all four walls in response. it’s insane how tight, warm and wet you are — how thick, heavy and nagi is, constantly pressed up against your g-spot before you’ve really even moved. you splutter and hiccup as you begin the slow bounce of your hips and allow yourself the grace to accommodate for your sleeping lover’s size, his bright red and possibly overstimulated cockhead nudging feverishly against the pleasure spots that decorate your temperate silken walls.

“…gods,” comes your shaky voice, trapped behind the prison of your teeth in a weak attempt to hold in your moans. “s-seishiro, f-feel so good…” though you speak to no one in particular, using the sound of your own wailing voice to get yourself, you can feel the white-haired royal underneath you buck upwards as though he wants to fuck you back — driven by tired strings of lust and desire as though he’s a puppet on a set of strings for your own pleasure. collapsing forward, you nestle your head underneath his chin so that the only part of your body moving is your hips working up and down on nagi’s pulsating cock at break-neck speeds. in this position, your murky breaths of exertion coast over his pearlescent skin and your eyes grow misty at the perfect angle. your stream of thrusts are constant like a rushing river, allowing his bulbous leaky tip to barrage into your sex and pull squelching, lewd noises from your poor pussy.

you’re already so sensitive, it’d be a miracle if you last much longer riding your lover like this and to your heart’s content. slumped over him, chewing on your chapped lips to hide the debauched noises that slosh over your tongue and are churned up in your mouth with the drool there. it’s pathetic, really, but your mind is too hazy and high on the drug of ecstasy to care. to pacify yourself and the growing fire that burns the butterflies in your tummy, you switch from bouncing on his fat girth to grinding against it, dancing with your partner in a sensual sticky grind where only you are able to lead. every stroke of his cock within your sluice, pulsating walls makes it harder for you to keep quiet or keep still — the bed creaking beneath the weight of your movement becomes a loud wail and harmonises perfectly with the tune or skin slapping on skin and your pathetic bleats of bliss.

sweat from the exertion of pounding your mound down on the curve of his cock begins to bead at your hairline, pearling in opaque orbs that form your own halo. one that belongs to a fallen angel. it drips down the side of your face onto the prince below you, another way that you mark him, just as your juices do — droplets of it trailing down his shaft, balls and even his ass. if someone were to walk in now, they’d set their sights on an obscene display of sin, their perfect prince defiled by his knight to be, but you don’t care, your mind and exhausted limbs buzzing with wanton. you’ll use him until cum, claim your prize and work your selfish pussy over him until you know every constellation by heart because of how many times you’ve used seishiro to make yourself see stars.

every sensation overwhelms you, the creamy and tackiness to his cock between your slicked up thighs and the pressure of his purpling cockhead as it digs disgustingly against your g-spot in the most perfect of ways because you clench down on him every now and again. static rings loud in your ears that burn with both shame and lechery for taking advantage of your sleeping lover, the notes from the tune your fat pussy pap-pap-papping as it connects with stitchers of nagi’s bare flesh has a tingling sensation spreading under your skin too. even when he bucks instinctively into you, your entire body jolts in response because there’s no greater relief than knowing that you are yearned for… even within the clutches of unconsciousness.

when nagi whimpers in his sleep, you have to bite his shoulder — keeping your wailing mouth occupied even if you’ll leave teeth marks against him in place. someone could hear the way you beg him to fuck you, muffling yourself as you whisper dirty fantasies to yourself and split your swollen nether lips open on his drippy dick. you’re not sure if that is a good or bad thing to want, to be heard. “f-fuck me sei… p-please my prince,” everything feels so depraved and so wrong, while you whine sweetly against saltine skin. however, you don’t see yourself stopping — not until you can no longer feel your legs from riding him and your cunt aches from cumming so hard. “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

the back and forth of your sluice sex over nagi’s lap tampers with your system, sending orgasmic shockwaves down your spine and happy hormones into your bloodstream. you alternate, once more peeling your soaked thighs away from his and lift your fluttering entrance higher and higher up his shaft until there’s barely an inch of the white haired royal left inside of you. the emptiness makes you miss him, a choked sob weaving its way like a vine through the gaps in your ribs as it claws its way out of your throat. it’s a shuddering noise that you suppress by locking lips with seishiro again, wet on the seam of them as you lift your head to kiss him.

“i wanna cum, nagi!”

the words are just about to melt in his mouth but…

…but euphoria is quick to slip into your veins like a welcomed chill on a hot day when nagi suddenly rouses from his slumber — following a natural compulsion to snap his hips upwards with a powerful force and filling you in one fluid motion. he’s awake. one of his hands, extremely strong and veiny and firm takes you by surprise as it clamps down on the back of your neck so that he can keep you in place too. it was almost as if he was chasing the snugness of your oozing, squelchy mound. an incredulous gasp drifts warmly from your mouth and condenses in nagi’s, for a second you worry that he might push you off and yell for help… but recognition registers on the slope of his handsome features.

he’s awake…how long has seishiro been awake?

moonlight lashes flutter against your face from your proximity and murky grey eyes, littered with exhaustion between their flecks, light up with a sprinkling of hearts as then open to look at you. slowly but surely their gaze drifts downwards, honing in on the point at which his milky cock repeatedly disappears into your puffy pussy, the glaze of your essence on his rock hard cock and clinging to his pubes put on display.

groaning hoarsely and deeply, nagi’s freehand shoots down to the bouncing flesh of your ass without a lick of hesitation and pulls you the rest of the way down his pulsing girth. then up again. then back down — giving him all of the control to pummel your pussy to the high heavens. hard and fast. “i thought… thought you wanted to cum,” the moonlit prince mumbles, voice still puppeteered by the last strings of sleep. “don’t make it a hassle by holding back now… fuck your self down on my cock ‘n cum…”

he’s awake… how much of this has seishiro been awake for?

nagi builds up a formidable momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls, shocking for someone who had essentially just woken up from a curse of eternal slumber. he doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been using him like a toy for your own sexual desires, but how could he? not when you’re dousing him in your sweet nectar, slapping your soaked sex down on him and squeezing his aching shaft just like that. how can a man, no less a prince, whine about waking up to such a good fuck?

all you can do is reply with a high pitched squeal, your body jerking and jolting on top of nagi as you struggle to keep up with thrusts. “come now, don’t make me do all of the work,” white starts to froth at the base of his cock, bubbling up while it streaks over your ruined pussy lips and clit. “after all, you started this… took advantage of me while i slept. s’only fair, angel,” he adds nonchalantly and makes you gush unbelievable amounts of arousal at the condescending air about his words.

he’s awake and now seishiro wants you to cum for him.

you do try your very best to do as nagi says, selfishly squeezing down on him and locking his precum bleeding tip inside your gummy walls, but your hips fumble their rhythm as soon as he looks up at you — sweaty hair splayed out in the sheets like an angel, lips parted in both curiosity and awe, cock bulging in your lower stomach. you’re choking the life out of seishiro and he likes it, feeling like he’s been rewarded for just being a pretty prince.

all you want is for him to make you scream and squirt — your clit smears against his pelvis while you buck down on him feverishly. he barely lets you lift of his erection at this point. “‘m close… s-seishiro, please! c-can’t…”

it’s the first time you’ve spoken his name directly to him since your love-at-first-sight encounter in the woods and it flips a switch in the peaceful prince of the night. “y-yeah you can, angel. of course you can…” with a breathy, almost whiny moan, seishiro uses his newfound energy to assault your cunt with a barrage of wild thrusts. jackhammering into you, jerking you about on his throbbing length, coated in a milky mix of your shared arousals. “had no problem… fixing yourself on my cock before. ‘m sure you can make yourself cum on it now that i’m here to help,” he adds through gritted teeth, never letting up on his incredible speed. “shouldn’t be a hassle.”

that’s all you really need to hear before you’re thrown into the deep end, the dark abyss of the night. while the ropes in your tummy unravel and unwind, the tune of sinful sex reaches its final crescendo and the world around you fades away as you’re thrown over the edge and temporarily black out — you practically squirt in an aggressive, clear stream and renders you a cum soaked mess in the prince’s lap. he forces your head into the junction between his neck and jaw, utilising his hold on you to help muffle the scream that burns at the sore edges of your voice as you cum for him. practically drowning nagi in everything you have to give.

as if chasing something, your lover speeds up his thrusts, trying to make sure he isn’t left behind while you cum for him. growls and grunts spill over his lips, nagi’s pink tongue darting out the flavour you’d left on him as he slept. he buries himself deep inside of you, lunging into that one special spot nestled deep within your walls so that he can prolong your release — working hard even though he was just roused from what seemed like an eternal night.

the aftershocks of your high and heavenly spasms of your hole around nagi simply aren’t enough to satisfy him however — whatever remains of an orgasm he had coming fade away like embers of a dying flame while you come down. in fact, before you can even collapse on the white haired royal fully, he uses a strength you were unaware that he possessed to immediately flip you onto your back — manhandling you into the position he desires most. your thighs pushed together, knees pushed into your chest and him… towering over you menacingly.

only now do you realise how… large seishiro is. how much more dominant he is over you. how it may have been a mistake to think you could steal pleasure from him while he slept as a personal reward and not expect consequence. or at least a consequence you might enjoy too. “such a waste,” he comments groggily, pulling his cream soaked cock from its home within your pretty pussy with a hiss. using one hand, nagi grabs at his ravaged shaft and taps it against the swell of your thighs pushed together. “how can you use me like that…and still fail to make me cum? i’ll have to do it myself. what a bother, angel.”

your breath catches in your throat, indicating your surprise. “seishiro…w-wait,” you plead, lips parting in a quiet moan at every squeeze of your flesh and tug of hips to get your body into place. you don’t even know what you’re asking for or why you’re asking him to stop, you still don’t care about the consequences. all you want is for the sleeping beauty above you to fall apart, to hear your name on the tip of his tongue, to feel him cum wherever that may be. “‘m sorry…i-i didn’t know you were awake!”

“don’t care darlin’,” seishiro’s breathy words hang between the pearliness of his teeth, shaggy hair tickling the skin on your calves as he positions them over his shoulders instead of in the air. “don’t r’member much… just my finger gettin’ pricked ‘n then you… using me. on top of me…” his cock makes a home between your plush thighs, pushing back and forth against the flesh to relieve his painfully hard erection. the action itself paints the canvas of your body with remainders of your arousal and essence — thick stringy globs of white forming tracks against soft skin. “f-fuck angel, you put in all this work to make yourself cum using me… now it’s my turn.”

eyes that mirror the silver light of the moon flutter shut and nagi’s nose judges against your ankle — lips grazing the pointed bone and in their wake leave a trail of inflamed bites from where he leaves his mark on you, hoping that they’ll be present on the morning to remind you of who you belong to. his pink tongue peeks out to lick, loll over and soorje what he nips at, but the wet sensation doesn’t distract from curious finger tips that dance their way down and pinch your arousal soaked, fat folds together. neediness streams into your tone as you whimper out for more and your hips arch up to chase the feeling.

in response a lazy grin twitches at the corner of your prince’s mouth, playing with the tackiness your cunt leaves against his hand before he spreads it over his bright red tip as lube. “quit squirming angel, s’too much of a bother to keep you pinned down,” seishiro then adjusts his knees on the bed and his hips begin to brutally rut into you, dragging his sloppy length back and forth, back and forth through the makeshift pocket pussy he’s made out of your quivering limbs. his precum loaded tip prods at the softness of your tummy and earns you a symphony of high pitched moans and heaving pants, harmonised with heavy balls slapping wetly against your clit over and over again. to the point where you fear you may be overcome with another orgasm all too soon.

being used like this, it feels humiliating, shame burns like paper held to a flame underneath the surface of your skin and tears begin to sting in your lower lash line as your entire body jolts up the bed — nagi throwing you about like a rag while he plunges his hips against your doughy thighs. his stamina impresses you too, but you find it hard to dwell on how quickly your lover was able to be riled up after rising from the constraints of an all powerful curse. you don’t mind the aching pulse to your untouched pussy when you get to watch nagi hang over you and hungrily hump your shaky legs — his usually kind eyes are swamped with darkness of lust the back of his pupil practically eclipsing the grey colour.

his head darkens at the roots from how much he’s sweating, droplets crowning his head and running down his back like water on a glass windowpane. he’s a sight to behold, he makes your holes drool and mouth water, the both of you completely wrecked by a little thigh fucking and humping. between his merciless pace and the creaks from the bed, nagi jams a veiny hand between the sensual bump and grind of your bodies to grasp at his thick, temperate shaft — pulling it down to run through the entire length of your slippery before tapping it greedily against your puffy clit and snack between your thighs.

the sweet squeak you release has the prince repeating his action over and over, blood rushing through the purpling veins that spiral down his chubby cock. you’re the perfect sticky little fleshlight for him to fuck, to hold and love, and he hisses, jutting his hips forward in order to chase the euphoria coursing for his veins like the next best drug — all while he pounds your thighs to the starry heavens and back.

juicy, wet sounds fill the room to the brim, a concert and performance of moans and whimpers to match and accompany nagi pounding away at your thighs, grinding against your sex. the white haired man leaks copious amounts of precum, milky like his hair and loose from his sore and sensitive rouge tip, that can’t stop weeping, oozing. his arousal makes each of his movements easier and more fluid, slipping and sliding between your legs and just grazing your sobbing mound. this way; you’re reminded of the sheet sheer size of your lover from the woods — be throbs, swollen and fat with an oncoming orgasm, with the seed that weighs down his balls that swing with each rut of his hips.

a hearty sob escapes you each time they press against you, dragging over your clit that begs for attention. the visage of your prince above you — flushed at the cheeks ( if they’ve been kissed by the petals of a rose), white brows knitted together st the centre of his forehead while ruby lined lips appear bitten and bruised — begins to blur from your saltine tears. you can no longer hold back, raw and rough desire washing away your ability to control your body and your voice.

the way you cry wracks your body with the case of the shakes because of the wild whines resounding from deep within seishiro’s hard chest. each sound makes your cunt quiver, your juices darkening the sheets below and clinging to his snow while pubes, all the while, the prince ravishes you pulling you apart molecule by molecule before he pieces you back together with just a lazy shape drawn against your hardening clit.

“w-what a waste of tears, i thought you wanted to use me,” nagi stutters out, breath condescending against your ankles. it makes him pulse between your thighs, knowing that he’s the one able to reduce you to a mess of cum and tears — even if you did half the work for him while he slept soundly. the fact that you threaten to break, still holding onto your inhibitions and desperate moans, only serves to make home rut his creamy cock against you faster. “you should give it up angel, m-much less of a hassle if you give into me.”

and with that, seishiro leans down to kiss you, his swiftness akin to a starved man. he manhandles your thighs to sit either side of his unfairly slender waist, granting him the room to swoop down until you’re chest to chest — his wide, large frame hiding your shaky one away from the world underneath him as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. he licks into your mouth as you open up with a shy mewl, devious tongue wrapping itself around your own as he tastes himself there. “thank you for waking me up, angel,” spit slings between your eager mouths, movements a little out of sync and languid since they’re so driven by a raw passion that simmers underneath the sleepy fog clouding the prince’s brain. “wakin’ me up to do this,”

he settles back on his haunches after coming up for air, laughing tiredly at the pout on your lips from the loss of contact.

but now that you’re spread eagle with your cunt drooling openly on the bed and glistening under the moon’s light — the white haired royal angles his hips just right, shuddering from head to toe as his sex soiled girth slots between your swollen folds perfectly. his bulbous tip peeks out against your clit and he circles it against you, desperate to hear you wail like the wind again. “feels so good against you, s’not fair how good you feel,” he says under his stuttering breath, using a thumb and forefinger to spread your pussy lips apart — groaning at the strings of clear slick that tie them together. ““later on, when i’ve got more energy, i’m going to fuck this pretty hole. make sure i really have my turn.” nagi promises and swallows thickly at the raunchy sight of you, viscous drops of your treacle like nectar running over your slit and down to your puckered asshole.

you’re grateful for his touch, the friction you’re about to receive… but you miss seishiro’s lips and his tongue so deep in your mouth he might as well have been fucking it too. why do you miss those luscious lips? because they keep you quiet, muffle your embarrassingly high moans and withering screams of pleasure, cover up your glass shattering cries that accompany your teary face. he’s so heavy and raw against you, grinding his shaft that shoots tiny spirts of precum onto your cunt while you match his rhythm — it’s a wonder why you’re crying right now. not to mention the rounds of overstimulation he’s put you through.

“you were so quiet before, angel, what happened?” a condescending tone fills out the weight in nagi’s voice, punctuated by the harsh lunges of his hips forwards as he smothers his girth in the juicy offerings from your folds. part of the prince wants to selfishly keep you writhing against his hot and heavy dick for all of eternity, adoring the way you bleat and cry for him through bleary Bambi eyes. hes sure you wouldn’t mind it either, but he’s too far gone to keep edging you both forever. “does it feel that good? so fucking good that you can’t help but whine and whimper for me… s’too much of hassle to hold back, angel. go one, cry pretty f’me, pretty girl…”

you burst into tears, letting your emotions overwhelm you. “feels so, so good, my prince,” you slur back as that familiar twinge of pleasure begins to rapidly mount within your tummy once more — throwing an avid, heated look his way. “s-sei, ‘m close,” one of your shaky hands take purchase in the silvery roots of his hair while the other grasps him shoulder so that you have the leverage to grind into him — rocking your hips in a fluid motion like a boat on rapid waves. sanity slips away from you under nagi, his energy completely unmatched as you struggle to keep up with his pace. the way he chases your sweltering, souse sex with the speed of the kingdom’s finest race horse. he pushes forward when you pull back and it goes both ways — one moment can’t happen without the other.

nagi simpers above you, smirking lazily as he pushes back the sweaty snowy white roots of his hair — drinking in the sight of you. “that so? you’re close? wanna feel it’s, s’too much effort to have you hold it…not when you sound so wet…” both of you move with increased vigour the closer you get to cloud nine, seishiro cooing to you like over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over each other. “…y’should be embarrassed, yanno,” he presses against you, whimpering happily at the feeling of your breasts bouncing against his chest with each thrust, his breath hot against the tips of your ears and weakly grinds against you clit now — his own orgasm on the horizon. “taking advantage of me like that. using me. s’naughty princess. such a hassle.”

he tucks his face against your neck, teeth grazing over the skin while he listens out for your hiccuped sobs and heaving chest — you’re so loud when you’re close and it pleases nagi. he can’t stop tapping your clit and nipping at your flesh — desperate to hear how much louder you can get without holding back. a gargled gasp from you has his cock twitching and threatening to burst with release, while the condescending gripes that vibrate in his chest shoot straight to you’re swollen clit.

listening to you cry and settling his greyed gaze on your puffy eyes is more than enough for nagi to cum, the string of his own sanity snapping as you scream for him. “you look like you’re about to cum, angel,” he purrs lowly, panting between each word. “mmmh, don’t you think i deserve to go first? fuuuuck i’m close…so close. do you want it inside? i won’t ruin the bed that way… wont need to clean it up…” seishiro rambles over the spit pooling pathetically on his tongue, bucking faster and harder against your slippery cunt with each syllable he manages to get out. “…wanna put it inside you as you cum.”

you barely have it in you to respond and you can hardly make sense of it all, brain running a mile a minute. the feeling of your orgasm twists in your lower stomach, stacking painfully in your pelvis at a rapid pace you can’t even comprehend. “yes…! want it inside, gods yes!” you sigh out, voice rising several octaves. “want you inside!”

though it’s entirely selfish of you to make demands in the moment, after how you so sinfully used the sleeping prince as your prize — nagi relents, slipping the delicious curve of his cock past your puckered, fluttering entrance just as he reaches his peak. it makes him shake as though the gods have stepped down from the heavens and set foot on earth and he really can’t help it, how much he cums. there's so much of it, white hot seed that spews into you hotly, so pent up from all the pleasure you’d given him while he slept. his heavy load pulses against your sensitive, ribbed walls and sticks — lubing up your insides while he pushes his milky cock deeper into your bare cunt.

“f-fuck!” the white haired prince curses loud enough to rouse his loyal subjects within a ten mile radius with one final swing of his hips. “f-fuck angel… gods!” strings of opaque seed tie the veins on his shaft to your precious hole and as he twitches with the last spurts of his orgasm — your own high is triggered.

white flashes behind your eyes and the dam breaks for the third and final time — your release trickles out of you in small waves and you let out a borderline pornographic moan. nagi hums happily at the feeling of you squirting around him, Essen e clinging to his pubic hair too.

for a second or two, seishiro relishes in the way you convulse around him, giving you a moment to calm down while he pacifies your high pitched squeals with gentle kisses along the side of your head. you’re still quivering when he collapses on top of you exhausted — neither of you having the capacity to speak properly. “d-don’t move… jus’ lay here with me,” he murmurs, tripping on his words. “‘m tired… don’t wanna move,”

you hardly have the strength to deny seishiro or push him off, snuggling into him as the pair of you roll onto your sides. “you’re tired… you almost slept for an eternity!” a laugh escapes you in reply.

“and guess who woke me up and made me work to cum. s’on you not me. fair is fair.” nagi quips back, burying his face into your neck.

you suppose that he has a point, nuzzling him from below as the two of you drift off without the fear of never waking up, of succumbing to lifelong sleep — content, happy and fucked out by your sleeping beauty.

the end.

#✐ᝰ KINKTOBER ‘24 #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #nagi smut #nagi x you #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi smut #bllk thirst #tteokdoroki #blue lock thirst #blue lock imagines #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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millersfinest · 7 days ago

Text

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams series

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fazcinatingblog · 2 years ago

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Can't sleep, thinking about the Muslim guy at work again

#shoot me #apparently the cute Asian guy who i danced with (near) at my friend's wedding is single lmao Laura go date him he's cute #he actually is cute #apparently he's a 'robot' who 'thinks about work too much' oh great we'd get on well #as long as he let me talk about my work then I'm cool with it #((((complain about work more like)))))#oh wait maybe he enjoys his work a lot #hmmm #i find work interesting to talk about but then again work is where the problems are #of course that's interesting #i could write a book about my work/boss/everything and I'm not the only one who's said that at my work #i really should start that book #my boss would sue me for defamation when it becomes a bestseller and tops Prince Harry in the charts #The stories would be similar to Harry's #obviously #I'll have a chapter on each coworker and how the boss wronged them #The chapter on the secretary will mostly just be quotes said by her like 'fiddle arsing around' and 'I'll leave it in your capable hands'#and of course soup gate will get a mention #Soup Gate is its own chapter #that's the one they'll read out on sunrise when promoting the book and just stare at each other like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS STUFF #Soup Gate could be written as a stand up comedy joke but I'm not talented enough for that

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

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Say Yes To Heaven

chapter 1 of the National Anthem series

President Aemond Targaryen x f!reporter reader

synopsis: a reporter finds herself entangled in an affair with Aemond Targaryen, the President of Westeros.

in this chapter: the President has a proposition for the reader, one which she finds almost impossible to refuse. Will she say yes to entering the enticing world that he so offers? Will she yes to him?

word count: 5.2k

themes/warnings: mild smut (18+), tension that can cut like a damn knife, language, mutual pining, use of power for the purposes of pursuing the reader (obviously, he IS the President)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

best to read the intro chapter before this one!

President Aemond Targaryen is in the second half of his tenure, and his presidency has already left an indelible mark on the political and historical landscape of Westeros.

From the start, Aemond's detractors were convinced he couldn’t do it. At just 28, they saw him as too young and too much a product of the Targaryen political dynasty. His election, they claimed, was less about his abilities and more about his family’s influence. Who’s to say he wasn’t just a puppet, with the real power lying in the hands of his powerful relatives?

Now, two and a half years later, the country has seen what Aemond Targaryen can do. King’s Landing, once a cesspool of crime and poverty, has undergone a staggering transformation under his leadership. The capital’s streets now gleam with prosperity, lined with new businesses, cultural centres, and bustling markets. Even his detractors begrudgingly admit that his efficiency is something to marvel at.

You’re aware of all this, of course. It’s part of the reason you were chosen to report on his presidency, giving the public a closer look at the enigmatic leader steering the nation. But lately, you can’t help but feel that your perspective on him has shifted, especially after that night in his private suite.

Something lingers. You’ve started researching him more intensely, not because you have to, but because you want to. You pore over old interviews, articles, any scrap of information you can find. You’re supposed to be impartial, and you try to be. But you can’t deny that he fascinates you.

Whatever it is, you’re determined to ignore it. You enjoy your work as a journalist, and you know you were extremely lucky to have landed a position at Highgarden News. Sure, you are still assigned to the team that reports on governmental affairs, but who’s to say that you can’t do your job from a distance? There is no need to get in deep into the thick of it all. The next time you see him, it can be as if that night in his suite at the Highgarden Hotel never happened.

You are a professional.

You know you are also a fool for thinking you can ever resist the attraction, but that does not matter.

Aemond, he asked you to call him, but that must only be reserved for his friends. Those close to him. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just a field reporter doing her job while he is the most powerful man in the country. He must remain President Aemond Targaryen to you. Mister President.

Never mind that he calls you angel, and that it might be the most beautiful name anyone has ever given you.

Angel – it had sounded like prayer on his lips.

What must his wife call him behind closed doors? My dear? My love?

Sitting in the fluorescent-lit office of Highgarden News, the weight of your attraction feels overwhelming. Your eyes linger too long on articles about Aemond, replaying clips of his speeches, watching the way his mouth moves when he talks. It’s pathetic. You close all the tabs, scolding yourself for letting it get this far.

“Still obsessing over him, huh?”

Theon’s voice snaps you back to reality. He’s leaning over your cubicle wall, grinning ear to ear.

Heat rises to your cheeks. “I’m not obsessing,” you mutter, though you can tell from the smirk on Theon’s face that he isn’t buying it.

“Sure,” he teases, nodding mockingly. “You’ve had tabs on Mister President open all morning. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

“I’m doing research. It’s my job, you know. Presidential affairs, national policy, all that fun stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Theon crosses his arms, his grin widening. “Because staring at his pictures is totally related to national policy.”

You throw a pen at him, laughing despite yourself. “I’m not staring at him! He’s the President of Westeros, and I’m just doing my job.”

Theon raises a brow and leans in, lowering his voice. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve got this crush on him. I won’t tell anyone. Well… not a lot of anyones, at least.”

“He’s married, Theon,” you groan. "That means I can’t be interested.”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s half the appeal,” Theon says, unfazed. “Forbidden fruit, baby. Besides, have you seen the guy? If he looked at me the way he looks at you, I won’t even think twice.”

You bury your face in your hands. The worst part is that he’s not entirely wrong. “Theon, please. I’m trying to work here.”

“You’re trying not to think about how good he probably looks out of that suit.” He winks at you, not missing a beat.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to remind you that you need to get laid.” He taps your desk, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Seriously, though. Be careful. I’ve seen the way he looks at you in those press conferences. That man is starved.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is pounding in your chest. If only he knew the truth of what happened that night. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” you lie, trying to sound casual.

Theon raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Whatever you say. By the way, Loras is looking for you.”

You freeze, the mention of your supervisor snapping you back into focus. “Loras? What for?”

Theon shrugs. “No idea. But he’s in his office, waiting for you. Sounds urgent.”

Your stomach flips. Anxiety builds up in your chest as you make your way down the hall to Loras’s office.

Please don’t let this be about Aemond.

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Loras is seated behind his desk when you walk in, flipping through a stack of papers. His sharp eyes flick up to meet yours as he gestures for you to sit.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a pretty major opportunity for you.”

You nod, trying to keep your nerves in check. “What’s the assignment?”

“As you know, President Targaryen’s re-election campaign is kicking off soon,” Loras begins, his tone brisk and no-nonsense. “It’s one of the biggest political stories of the year. We need someone embedded with his team – full access to the President, travelling with him, covering every move.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Oh no.

“And I want you to be that reporter,” Loras says, folding his hands as he looks at you expectantly. “You’re one of the few reporters we’ve got that are already pre-approved, and the best one for the task.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Loras leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp. “You’ve been covering his administration ever since he got elected. You know him better than anyone else here.”

You swallow hard, trying to process what he’s saying. “That’s… a lot of responsibility.”

“It is,” Loras agrees. “But it’s also the kind of assignment that can make a career. Think of the exposure, the access. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Your thoughts are spiralling. Travelling with Aemond? Watching him up close, day in and day out? You can barely keep it together after one night in his suite – how are you supposed to maintain professionalism while being that close to him for months?

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for this,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loras raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your hesitation. "Why not? You’ve handled plenty of high-pressure situations before."

“It’s just… surely someone else is better qualified. What about Theon? He did a great job at covering the Lannister scandal last year,” you say, searching for the right words. How do you explain that the mere sight of Aemond makes your pulse race?

“That was gossip fodder. The President’s affairs are a completely different territory than what you’re going to cover here. This is serious news. A definitive political profile if you do it well, and I know you will.” Loras watches you for a moment, then leans forward, his voice lowering. “And I’ll be honest with you. The President specifically asked for you to cover the campaign.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“He requested you by name,” Loras says, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But if the President wants you on this assignment, I suggest you take it. For your sake – and for the sake of the agency.”

He asked for me? The words send a thrill through you, even as you try to tamp it down.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Don’t take too long,” Loras says. “The campaign starts next week. I need your answer as soon as possible.”

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Hours later, you sit alone at your kitchen table, the contract in front of you. The paper feels heavy, like it’s mocking you. The more you think about it, the more your resolve weakens. This is an opportunity like no other. The benefits are staggering – the access, the prestige, the career-defining stories you could write. But then there’s him.

You know you should sign it and get it over with, but something inside you hesitates. A voice, small but insistent, telling you this is a bad idea. That if you do this, you’ll fall deeper into the pull of him, into something you can’t control.

But then your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see a message that sends your heart into overdrive.

Dinner tomorrow. 8 PM. I’ll have someone pick you up. - Aemond

You swallow hard, a mix of surprise and dread washing over you. How does he even have my number? But then again, he’s the President – of course he has access to everything. This isn’t a question; it’s a command, and he knows exactly how to get you. He must sense your wavering resolve.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a reply.

- Why? What for?

His response is immediate. I just want to discuss something with you, angel.

- The assignment. Did you really ask for me?

Yes. I did.

You hesitate, your mind racing through the implications.

- I’m considering it.

Allow me to convince you. Come see me tomorrow.

- Nothing can happen between us.

Understood.

But I can’t pretend that I’m not curious about what could.

- You know what they say about curiosity.

So, what do you say? You take a moment, biting your lip, the playful banter igniting something inside you.

- Fine, I can agree to dinner. But we’ll keep it completely professional.

Deal. Looking forward to it, angel.

Good night.

- Good night to you too, Mister President.

Don’t test me, angel.

A shiver runs down your spine the moment you read those words. His response feels like both a promise and a threat – the kind that ignites something deep inside you. The kind that sends images flashing through your mind, unbidden, making your legs clench together despite your hesitation.

The three little dots disappear as you lock your phone and drop it onto the cushion beside you, as if cutting off the connection to Aemond will somehow help you regain control over your own thoughts.

Tomorrow, you swear to use every ounce of willpower you have to keep things professional. You just hope it’s enough.

A fool, indeed.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The next night, you're standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your blouse for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s appropriate – a crisp white blouse tucked into a knee-length skirt, modest enough for any work setting, but there’s something about the way you’ve put it together tonight. The way the blouse hugs your figure just right, the slight sheen of the fabric catching the light, the way the skirt fits snugly at your waist.

It’s nothing special, you tell yourself. Perfect for the occasion, suited for the upscale location you’ll likely be heading to. But deep down, you know better. You want to look good for him. And that very thought makes your stomach twist.

You adjust your hair one more time, glancing at the clock. It's almost time. You can handle this, you remind yourself. It’s just dinner. Just a business conversation. You’ve done this a hundred times before.

But you’ve never done this with him. And no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the anticipation buzzing through your veins is impossible to shake.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. You smooth your skirt one more time and walk over, taking a deep breath before opening it.

You’re greeted by the sight of two familiar faces: the same two members of Aemond’s security detail who escorted you to his penthouse that night.

They’re as imposing as you remember – tall, sharp in their tailored suits, one blonde and one brunette, with eyes that give nothing away. The only difference tonight is the extravagant bouquet of flowers in the hands of one of them.

The flowers are breathtaking, an arrangement of deep red roses intertwined with white lilies that feel far too intimate for something as innocent as dinner. But then again, they could very well be a reflection of Aemond’s intentions.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the blonde says, his voice low and composed. “These are for you. From the President.”

Your heart skips a beat. Of course they are. You swallow, glancing at the flowers as if they could explain everything.

The fragrance wafts up to you, rich and intoxicating. You can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of the night’s games. Your fingers tremble slightly as you take the bouquet, its weight heavy in your arms, both literally and metaphorically.

“For me?” you murmur, as if the answer isn’t obvious.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man confirms. “The car is ready when you are.”

You leave the flowers on the kitchen counter, stealing one last glance at them before closing the door to your apartment. They feel like a message – a reminder of who you’re dealing with tonight. Aemond Targaryen does not do things subtly.

Soon enough, you’re sitting in the back of a sleek black car, your hands nervously twisting in your lap. The city lights blur past the window, but all you can think about is the man waiting for you inside the restaurant.

After a few moments of silence, curiosity nudges at you. “I suppose you both already know who I am,” you say lightly, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “Probably more than I’d wish for you to know. So, would you care to tell me your names?”

The man in the passenger seat – the blonde – turns slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m Steve, ma’am,” he says, his tone friendly and warm, a stark contrast to the serious atmosphere.

“James,” the other one says from behind the wheel, his voice low and gruff, eyes fixed on the road ahead. There’s a certain sternness about him, like he’s perpetually on duty.

“Steve and James,” you repeat, letting the names settle into your mind, humanising them. You glance at Steve. “So, James doesn't talk much?”

Steve chuckles, casting a quick glance at his partner. “That's just how he is,” he says. “You’ll get used to him. We all have.”

James doesn’t react, his focus still entirely on driving. You smirk softly to yourself, feeling some of the tension in the car ease with Steve’s casual demeanour.

But the thought of their boss – the boss of the entire damn country, one could say – lingers heavy in the back of your mind.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The car pulls up to the restaurant, a lavish affair located on the grounds of an exclusive country club just outside the city. As you step out, you recognize the place instantly – The Old Valyria, a restaurant housed in a grand, ornate building that looks more like a palace than a dining establishment. The stone facade is intricately carved, its old-world charm unmistakable.

You’d covered an event here earlier in the year, reporting on one of the prestigious galas held by the Highgarden elite. But tonight, even as a familiar face in the city, you feel like an outsider in this world. The guests you spot entering and leaving are dressed in the finest attire, their movements confident, as if they were born into this luxury.

But then you see him.

Aemond stands just outside the grand entrance, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, but what catches you off guard is how casual it seems on him, especially with the black shirt underneath, its top buttons undone. It’s a departure from the rigid, formal image you’re used to seeing in the media. His silver hair is tousled, looser tonight, giving him a youthful, almost rebellious edge.

Your breath catches in your throat as he spots you and strides forward with purpose. His presence, as always, commands attention, but tonight you notice something softer in his expression.

He reaches for you the moment you’re close enough, his fingers brushing over yours before lifting your hand to his lips. The kiss on the back of your hand is slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time, and you can’t control the heat that flushes through your body.

“That gesture doesn’t seem very professional,” you manage, your voice a bit shakier than you intended.

Aemond smirks, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. He straightens but doesn’t let go of your hand right away. “Sometimes certain gestures are worth bending the rules for, angel.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. He’s already playing with boundaries, the charming bastard, making it harder for you to maintain your resolve. And you haven’t even made it to the table yet.

“Shall we?” he says smoothly, gesturing toward the entrance.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The restaurant is even more breathtaking from within. Crystal chandeliers hang from a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, and the soft glow of candlelight reflects off the polished marble floors.

You’re guided to a secluded table near the back, tucked away from prying eyes. Aemond holds your seat out for you, and you thank him, smoothing your skirt as you settle in and try to compose yourself.

He sits across from you, his gaze never leaving yours. He appears at ease, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, a sense that he’s in control of every detail – of the night, of the atmosphere. Of you.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“It was kind of hard to refuse the President,” you reply, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly. “Be that as it may, you could have, and yet here you are.”

The waiter appears, setting down wine glasses and pouring a deep, red vintage. You take a sip, hoping it’ll steady your nerves. Aemond watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze glinting with something that you desperately wish to ignore.

“I know you’ve been thinking about that night,” Aemond says, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

You almost choke on your wine. Leave it to him to cut to the chase. “I… I don’t –” you stammer, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he continues, leaning forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “It’s not something I think I can ever forget, angel.”

Your throat feels dry, and you struggle to keep your composure. “It was a mistake.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “A mistake?” He leans back, swirling the wine in his glass. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I came here because you said you have something you want to discuss, sir,” you say, more firmly this time. “My supervisor informed me that – ”

“Sir.” Aemond clicks his tongue, the word dripping with distaste as his expression shifts into something darker. His brow furrows briefly, and you think you’ve hit a nerve, but then his lips twitch into a smirk, his amusement unmistakable.

His posture is relaxed yet deliberate, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have to admit, I was about to protest. To tell you I never want you to call me something so impersonal as that.” His smirk widens, and there’s a spark of playful danger in his gaze. “But then… a scenario came to mind.”

“What scenario?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His smile turns devilish as he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his fingers lacing together. “One where you do call me sir,” he says, his voice dropping lower, more intimate now. “But not in the way you just did. Not with that sharp, cold professionalism. No…” He lets the sentence hang in the air for a moment, drawing it out, savouring it. “In a different setting. One where it’s… earned.”

Your heart stutters, your breath catching as the meaning behind his words sinks in. Heat blooms in your cheeks, and you quickly break eye contact, staring down at the table as you try to collect yourself.

“That’s… not what I meant,” you say, your voice unsteady, trying to bring the conversation back to safer ground. But it’s too late.

Aemond doesn’t seem fazed by your attempt to regain control. If anything, the flicker of a grin on his lips tells you he’s pleased with how easily you’ve been disarmed.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “You’re here for a discussion.”

“I’m here for the assignment,” you manage to say. “To discuss my role. Professionally.”

His smirk fades into something more thoughtful, though the tension between you continues to coil tighter with every second that passes. “Is that how you really want to play this?”

“It’s the only way to play this,” you reply.

“Oh, is it?” Aemond’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “You always have a choice. You could walk out of here right now, tell your supervisor you’ve changed your mind, that you’re not up for the assignment.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “But you won’t.”

You swallow hard, his words hitting you squarely. He’s right, isn’t he?

“You need this job,” Aemond continues, his voice smooth as silk. “But I think it’s more than that. I think you want to be here. In my orbit.”

Of course he’s right, but admitting that would be walking into a trap. One that you might not be able to escape.

“You’re wrong,” you say quietly, though the words sound weak, even to your own ears.

“Angel… I don’t think I am.”

For a moment, everything hangs in the balance, the tension thrumming in the air. It would be so easy to let go. To give in to whatever this is. But you can’t. Not yet.

You sit up straighter, forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “As I mentioned, I came here for the assignment,” you say, more firmly this time, regaining some of your composure. “So, if there’s something you need to discuss, let’s talk about that.”

Aemond watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something. Then, finally, he sits back, exhaling softly as if deciding to play along – for now.

“Very well,” he says, his tone shifting back to something more neutral, though you can tell he’s not finished with you yet. “We’ll have dinner, and then discuss.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The dinner goes better than you expected. Aemond is calm, composed, and – surprisingly – reigning himself in. He makes casual conversation, steering the discussion toward neutral topics. Politics, the upcoming campaign, even light-hearted comments about the restaurant. Every word is measured, delivered with that cool confidence you know so well.

But no matter how carefully he plays it, the tension simmers just beneath the surface, a constant pulse between you. Every glance he steals in your direction, every time his hand brushes yours as he reaches for his glass, it sends a jolt through your body. You feel it, deep in your core, the magnetic energy that makes it impossible to stay unaffected. Like the way his eyes linger on your lips when you smile… it’s all so subtle, but dripping with intention.

By the time dessert arrives, your heart is racing, and you’re almost grateful when the dinner ends. Because while Aemond has kept it together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The ride back is a different story.

You sit on one side of the sleek, leather seat, your body tense, trying to create as much distance between you and Aemond as possible. He’s stoic, seemingly focused on something else entirely, his eyes fixed on the window as the city lights flash by. But the air inside the car is practically electric.

It’s only when you glance forward that you notice the screen divider has been put up. Steve, or maybe James – you’re not sure who did it – must have done it without you noticing. The realisation sinks in, laden with meaning. What did they think would happen? What did they expect?

Your pulse quickens. You cross your legs, a nervous habit, but when you do, your skirt rides up just a little too high, exposing more of your thigh than you intended.

That’s when you notice Aemond’s gaze shift. His eyes, dark and intense, flick down to your leg. The moment hangs in the air, thick and heavy. His face, calm and controlled just a second ago, hardens with something primal. And that look – it’s all it takes to flick a switch inside you.

In a flash, he’s on you.

The restraint he held so carefully through dinner shatters. His hands are on you, gripping your thighs, pulling you toward him, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry, desperate, ravaging. You let out a gasp, but it’s swallowed by the intensity of his kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a raw urgency that leaves you breathless.

You meet him in the middle of the seat, your bodies colliding with a heat you’ve tried so hard to ignore. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your now untucked blouse, searching, gripping, pulling you closer. The feel of him against you, the strength in his hands, the way he kisses you like he’s starving – it sends a rush of warmth straight through your core.

Your head spins, your breath coming in shallow gasps between kisses as you manage to push back, if only for a second. “We can’t,” you whisper, your voice shaky, weak. But you’re not pulling away. Your hands are still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his.

“Fuck, I know, angel,” Aemond growls, his mouth moving to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “But I want you…” His words trail off, full of frustration.

You should stop this. Every logical part of your mind screams at you to pull away, to remember who he is, who you are. This can’t happen. Not with him. Not like this. But the other part of you – the part that’s burning, aching for him – doesn’t care. That part wants him more than anything.

His lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower. His hand pushes your skirt higher, his fingers grazing your bare skin. You kiss him back, your hands sliding down his chest, gripping his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Between kisses, you manage to pull back, your lips barely an inch from his. “We can't do this... sir,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the word sir meant to ground you, to remind yourself that he’s your superior, that this is wrong. But even as you say it, the way your body reacts to him betrays the word’s other meaning.

It shifts something inside him. You see it. His eyes darken, his breathing quickens, and for a moment, it’s like a switch has been flipped.

Aemond growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating between your bodies as his hand grips your thigh even harder, pulling you flush against him. “Say that again,” he murmurs, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your jaw as he speaks. “Call me that again.”

Your breath hitches, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire coursing through you. “Sir,” you whisper, and the way his body responds – the way his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs – it’s overwhelming.

He kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip. He moves his hand higher, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing the heat pooling between your legs, and you let out a gasp, your body trembling against him.

“This is wrong,” you whisper, but your legs clench around his hand, trapping it within, pressed against the material of your panties.

“We can’t… sir,” you repeat, but the word sir falls from your lips like a plea, and it’s the final straw.

“Fuck,” he growls, his mouth hot against your neck, his words slurred with need. “You keep saying that we can’t, but I don’t think you mean it.”

He’s right. You don’t.

But just as his fingers nudge the material of your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit, the car slows, the outside lights shifting. Reality crashes back in – suddenly, you’re aware of the sound of the tires on gravel, of the car pulling up to the curb. You blink, the haze of heat between you shattering as the car stops.

“We’re here,” you whisper, breathless, your body still pressed against his.

For a moment, Aemond’s hand freezes on your thigh, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls away just slightly. He looks at you, his gaze still dark, filled with that same intensity, but there’s a flicker of something else now. Frustration.

You take a deep, shaky breath and pull yourself back, your lips swollen, your body still burning. “This can’t happen again,” you say, your voice unsteady, though you don’t even believe your own words.

Aemond doesn’t respond at first. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a second, you wonder if he’s going to drag you back into him, consequences be damned. But then, slowly, torturously, his hand slides higher again, fingers curling under the waistband of your panties.

Your breath catches in your throat, the world narrowing to the sensation of his touch. Then, with steady precision, he pulls the delicate fabric down, his fingertips grazing over the slick, sensitive lips of your cunt. The touch sends a shockwave through your body, a shiver of need that leaves you breathless.

Aemond slips your panties off in one smooth motion, and with a smirk that’s maddening, tucks them into the pocket of his trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. The gesture is possessive, unhinged, filled with a promise that you know you can’t outrun.

“See you soon,” he murmurs, his voice low. His lips curl into that same wicked smirk, but this time it’s softer, almost reverent as he adds, "Angel."

The word hangs in the air as you step out of the car.

You’re his angel, and there is no turning back now.

Series only taglist (comment to be added) - @aemond-lover98 @pinkpeachbloom @whencokewascasual @salinaiacono6 @mycheersricochet @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @chattylurker

General HotD taglists (refer here)

Vhagar taglist 1 - @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @anukulee (continued...)

Some notes in the margins...

Well... that sure escalated quickly. How could you have ever resisted? Good luck keeping it professional on the campaign trail, angel. 😇

Some new characters are introduced: Loras and Theon. Steve and James (*wink*). Soon we'll meet the Vice President, the campaign manager. etc. etc.... the wife (!!!)

Let me know how you're faring! It's only just begun 🤍

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #national anthem #president!aemond

494 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 10 months ago

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 4 ]

Pairing: Ghost x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: some sexual jokes/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 3: Simon

After doing the dishes, you moved yourself over to the living room and turned on the TV. Some rerun of an older season of Law and Order was playing.

You started watching but you found your eyes drifting back to your phone…

Against your better judgement, you clicked on the Tinder app icon again. Maybe, maybe you should swipe just a little more.

And so you did.

Today you said ‘Fuck you, Beyoncé’ and always went to the Right, to the Right.

Just as you were pondering another profile, the screen darkened with a ‘It’s a Match!’ notification, making you jump a bit, as usual.

You clicked the profile and your brow scrunched.

You didn’t remember liking this one… Though you obviously did, after all, you were liking everyone.

The only picture wasn’t even anything. It was dark and grainy and the man was wearing a black disposable face mask. If that even was him. Could just be a random picture off-Google, picked by someone who wanted to be anonymous. Not quite a catfish but close enough…

“Simon.” You said softly and dragged your finger through the screen to read his bio. For a moment you couldn’t help but smirk a little. He was sarcastic, a bit strange, but charismatic in his own way.

“Bad jokes, Bourbon, Discreet…” You mused while scanning his profile. “Tall enough.” You read aloud and couldn’t help but laugh at it. That made you feel like he was short.

Against your better judgement for the second time, you decided to send him a DM instead of waiting for him to. Something told you he wouldn’t.

you: tall enough - does that mean you’re below 6ft?

Simon: No.

Simon: Means that I have inches to spare.

you: was that a dick joke?

Simon: No.

Simon: Unless you wanted it to be.

You snorted softly under your breath. Of course he was a smart ass too…

you: ambiguous, i like it.

you: so how tall are you then?

Simon: Does it matter?

you: no. just curious.

Simon: 6ft4.

you: that feels like a lie.

Simon: I avoided putting it for a reason.

you: worried people would call you a liar?

Simon: No use. Going to be called it regardless.

you: that’s fair ig.

you: what’s a traveling consultant?

Simon: Similar to a contractor. Get brought in to help businesses all over the world.

you: what kind of businesses?

Simon: That’s need-to-know.

you: you type so formally and professionally jeez.

you: will i ever get to know?

Simon: Force of habit. Don’t text a lot.

Simon: Not if I can help it.

you: somehow i can tell.

you: what are you doing here then?

Simon: Curiosity mostly.

you: trying to see if you attract any fish? 👀

Simon: Something like that. A friend is on here. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.

you: i see.

you: got anything yet?

Simon: No. But only created this 12 minutes ago.

you: am i your first then?

Simon: Not my first in anything, love.

Your eyes widened a bit and for some reason you found yourself getting a bit flustered, your face warming up just a bit.

you: does that mean you’ve hooked up with people through a dating app before?

Simon: Something of the sorts.

you: aw, im really not going to be your first.

Simon: That’s alright. You can come see me either way.

Simon: I’m sure you’ll find some other thing to be the first at.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you started sputtering. That came out of left field! He had gone from professional and mild-mannered to… flirty so quickly! Gulping, you tried to answer him with something coherent and funny.

you: idk what if you murder me?

Simon: I promise I won’t.

you: is that meant to be enough to convince me? 🤨

Simon: I’ll leave all my guns at home.

you: the fact you have more than one is not reassuring the way you think it is.

Simon: If it makes it any better, I wouldn’t need a gun to kill you.

Even though you don’t know this man, you can imagine that he’s laughing to himself behind his phone screen, all smug, thinking he’s funny. And, the worst part, is that he is.

you: reassuring. thanks.

Simon: Glad to be of service.

you: i think what makes it worse is that uve not got a pic of ur face.

Simon: Wouldn’t hook up with a bloke with his face covered?

you: no? are u trying to get me axe murdered? bc thats how u get axe murdered simon

Simon: LOL.

Simon: No.

you: u sure? a masked face with a mysterious job and a suspicious amount of guns… sounds like the upgraded version of ghostface… except online rather than over the phone.

Simon: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Simon: You’re funny.

Simon: I like that.

you: thanks.

Simon: Wondering if you’re that funny in real life or if you’d get all shy on me.

you: probably a mix of both.

Simon: How about we confirm that then?

Simon: Meet up with me for drinks. No pressure on time or place. You can even postpone if it comes down to it. My job is unpredictable enough so I might have to postpone too.

Your eyes widened. The first attempt at flirting from him, of inviting you for a shag, had been clearly sarcastic… But this one is genuine.

you: ill get back to u on that, is that okay?

Simon: No sweat.

Simon: And if you’re just being polite and not actually going to text me again then: This was fun. Enjoyed myself. Take care.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile when you saw his polite goodbye. He was… sweet, weirdly enough.

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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nouvxllev · 1 year ago

Text

skill issues

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x G!p!Reader

Summary: in which you got reeled into a bandwagon of a fps game by mindy, anika, and chad.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: smut. just pure smut.

a/n: i just love the idea of tara carpenter being a clingy partner (also my first time writing just a chapter full of smut.)

masterlist.

The clock ticked midnight. Probably even pass that. Actually, you didn't know anymore. Whatever was on your mind was completely erased and replaced by tiny pixels moving in your screen.

Ever since you've joined Tara's friend group, you've also been reeled into a bunch of activities they do on a daily basis. To binge watching scary movies you've begged them not to drag you in, to playing games they recommended to you.

You regret participating in the latter.

It's not like you were having fun, hell, you were having too much fun with this simple FPS mobile game they pulled you in, but the deep dark circles under your eyes were starting to show and you don't really eat anything except for the meals Tara cooks for you. Which are greatly appreciated by a kiss.

"Y/n, what the fuck!? I told you to cover me!" Mindy yelled over your headphones. Actually, it was Tara's headphones desperately lent over to you after days of quiet shouting that didn't really help.

You crouched in reply, knowing Mindy was spectating your character.

You killed, not one, not two, not even four people, but six at once in a group! 3 headshots and 3 body kills. You were pretty proud of yourself, honestly. You just started the game a few weeks ago and you're only getting better and better, you wanted to brag to Tara but she was fast asleep beside you. She was always beside you whenever you play those games with the group, cuddling you as you hold your phone up in the air, but she always ends up falling asleep when you do.

Chad laughs over his mic, "damn, we should've invited Y/n a long time ago. She's good at this game."

You laugh in response, bringing your voice to a whisper. "Even I didn't know I had this in me."

Ever since you and Tara finally made it official, you packed your things and said good riddance to your home and lived together with Tara. It was unexpected, even she was surprised by the spontaneous decision, but the two of you were happy in paradise. Not until you got dragged into the whole 'gaming with those two dipshits™ (by Tara Carpenter, of course.)'

"Anika—! Anika—Wait, shit Anika!" You scream, regrettably, while shooting the opposing team down. Obviously, the luck you had earlier had worn out and you were now staring down at your dead character, groaning.

"I didn't know they were there!" Anika apologized.

"Skill issue." Mindy chimed, you could tell she was leaning back in her chair, looking smug.

"Definitely." Chad blurted, a huff of air he let out.

You rolled your eyes. "Those who didn't carry the team with their 6-kill streak should actually shut up." You went back to the home screen after gg'ing the other team

"Another round?" You exclaimed, and the others cheerfully agreed in the background.

You forgot, for a split second, you were beside one of the most lightest sleepers in the world; your marvelous girlfriend Tara Carpenter. Someone could breathe in her vicinity and she'd almost immediately wake up. Which is why she's staring you down, burning holes in your neck, unimpressed look on her face.

"Y/n," she groaned, "I thought you'd be done by now."

You turned to look at her, and you could only hope it was the darkness fooling your eyes since Tara looked like she was about to scream if not for her reminding herself that you were her girlfriend.

You muted your mic, "One more round, I promise."

"You always say that." She whispered, her arms wrapping around your waist as you were sitting up and you almost melted in her arms, a sigh you let out.

You let your other hand let go of your phone and let your hand relax on her head, soothing her worries of you being on the verge of being one of those mentally unstable gamers who discarded their whole entire life.

Tara was still awake, you could tell by how she tilted her head slightly to look up at you and back to whatever game it is you were so engrossed in.

It was only a few seconds later before Mindy, Anika, and Chad were screaming into the mic and telling eachother to "defend, defend, defend!" or just curse at eachother.

And you, of course, was just resting in paradise while your girlfriend watches over you with half-lidded eyes. But you could tell she was trying to be awake.

You were getting into that headspace where your luck with getting kills increased, and damn were you so happy you could basically convince yourself you were the next top player at this game.

That was until you fumbled over a sniper shot, your finger slipping and your character dying. Your friends were yelling, laughing, but you couldn't focus. Not when Tara's hand was placed firmly on top of your cock.

You froze in place, your eyes, not focused on the screen anymore, but focused on somewhere in the darkness of your room. Her fingers tracing lazy circles around your clothed bulge, only getting larger the more she teases you.

You muted your mic, your hands clutching your phone as you suck in a moan. "Tara, wait, I'm—"

"—Playing?" She finished, looking up at you with her doe-eyes you knew you could never resist. "I'm sure you can play perfectly fine." She replied, her fingers sliding into the waistband of your shorts. You ultimately regretting, and thanking, that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You were big, you haven't measured it yourself, but Tara worshipped it like it was (and is) so that was enough for confirmation. The tip of your cock was immediately leaking with pre-cum, and it didn't help when Tara kept stroking it, taking her time to graze her thumb along the head.

"Aren't you going to continue playing?" She looked at you, doe eyes and all as if she wasn't giving you the most perfect and maddening handjob you've ever received.

There was something in her voice, something that made you go fucking insane. And something that made you click that respawn button, playing it off as if nothing was happening down below.

You were desperately trying to get a kill, the amount of times you've pressed that damn respawn button was embarrassing. But how could you focus when the most prettiest girl was wrapping her warm lips around the tip of your dick, her hands taking care of the inches that wasn't in her mouth. Yet.

She removed her mouth away from your cock, a soft whine escaping your lips at the loss of contact, but then she adjusted her position. Her body going in between your thighs as she spreads them apart.

You almost, almost, went to heaven when she immediately reattached her soft lips to your dick and slowly started to go deeper.

It was almost pathetic how your hips bucked and your head was thrown back, your eyes rolling in pleasure.

And only a few seconds passed until she was bobbing her head up and down on your cock, her free hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Fuck, that turned you on even more.

You contemplated throwing the game, hell, even your phone, but Tara dug her perfectly manicured nails into your thighs when you were starting to put your phone down.

"Y/n, you're getting out of your game!"

"Noticed."

"I bet 20 bucks she's getting laid by Tara, right now."

The three of them, in order, Chad, Anika, and Mindy all teasing you for getting your dick sucked in the middle of the game. But you didn't care, at all. You didn't have enough trust in yourself to unmute and to deny all sayings, that were 100% true by the way, without having to hold back a moan.

"Fuck, Tara..." You manage to say in a whimper, your hand, which was supposed to be playing the game, was grabbing a handful of Tara's hair. Helping her take in what's left of you, and soon enough, her nose reached your chest, gagging a little bit in the process.

You were going crazy.

It was then you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed her hair, a bit more forcefully, and started to shove yourself back and forth into her mouth. Your hips bucking and gradually getting speed. You could see how her eyes and jaw widened to take more of you. Spit and pre-cum dripping all over her mouth as she looked at you, tears staining her eyes while she closed them whenever she hit the base, gagging all over your cock.

You can feel your legs begin to shake, your head throwing back and your eyes rolling. But that didn't stop you from absolutely railing Tara's mouth against your dick until you've emptied yourself inside of her, forcing her to swallow all of your load.

A minute passed before you slowed down your movements, pulling an exhausted Tara out of your cock. She looked at you dumb, your own cum smeared all over her lips as a grin adorned her abused lips.

"I guess we can say I'm better than that stupid game you're always playing." She rasped, her voice hoarse.

"You did this because you were... jealous of me playing a game?" You chuckled, clearly out of breath. It was cute if you weren't so turned on by the fact Tara was looking at you like that.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, wiping away the excess cum with her thumb and licking it off. "I just wanted to tease you, baby."

You thought that was the end of it, not until Tara threw your phone and headphones away and started to climb on top of you, your still hardened cock right on top of her clit. You didn't even notice she wasn't wearing anything underneath as well until now.

"I'll get you a new one—" she breathed, "I promise. Just, please." She whimpered, god, fuck, you were going insane. "Just fuck me."

And that was everything you needed you hear.

You immediately flipped her around, "Y/n, what the FUCK!—" she screamed as you drilled your cock into her, your hips pulling out your dick and fully slamming it back into her pussy. A broken moan coming out of her lips.

"Shit... Tara, you're driving me crazy." Was all you could mutter before you went faster, your hands going to her hips to hold her steady, and your eyes were focused on your cock easily sliding in and out of her puffy folds, taking all of you at once while Tara could only moan, a new freshly coat of cum taking over your dick.

The way she squeezed around you, milking your cock for all it's worth, made you dizzy and your head start to spin. But that didn't stop you from completely destroying her bit by bit, aiming to break her down.

You pulled her closer to you, your hands going up to her shoulders and aggressively ramming her body against your shaft as if it wasn't so deep enough already. Tara couldn't say, mutter, or even speak a single sentence at this point.

You were fucking her dumb, and shit you loved it.

Your hands slithered up from her shoulders to her neck, lightly choking her before turning her head to you.

"You're so pretty like this, baby. So gorgeous and perfect." You muttered in her ear, every word coming to a hard thrust as Tara's mouth opened, attempting to say something but only coming out as a pathetic moan. "You wanna be fucked like a slut? Be fucked dumb out of your mind?"

Sliding your hands on her back, you pressed down firmly to create the perfect arch as her head was buried into the soft mattress, her hands curling up into a ball as she sobbed with pleasure. You can hear her moaning your name over and over again, screaming and sobbing muffled by the soft pillow under her.

"Answer me, Tara."

"Yes, please!" She pleaded, "God, oh my god." She gulped, her head falling back as she reached her second orgasm, her walls clamping down on your cock and cum dripping down from her abused and assaulted pussy.

Her legs gave up, but you didn't. You continued to ram into her, without a care that she was near peak exhaustion and her sobs were becoming more frequent. Your freehand that wasn't pressing down on her back going over to her clit, overstimulating her.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you groaned, "Tara..."

"Cum'n me." She said, breathless, "please. Please, please, please, please—"

After that last plead, you came in her. Your body still thrusting into Tara as you lean towards her, "I love you. I love you so much, my favorite girl." You muttered, pressing kisses all over her cheeks and lips as she breathed for air. But that sweet moment didn't stop you from resuming to pound into her as if it was your last day on earth.

You kept your cock inside of her, pistoning it in and out as you stretched her pussy till it's limit. Until it recognized the shape of your dick, which, you succeeded. The both of you continued until Tara reached her actual peak of exhaustion and collapsed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Tara woke up, she was sore. Sore as fuck. Everything up and down from her head to toe was just relentless pain everywhere. That is, until she turned her head to see you just gazing at her. Softly. As if you didn't ruin her to pieces just hours before.

"Hey," you greeted her, a smile gracing your lips. Tara didn't realize, but you drew her a bath the second she passed out and took care of her yourself. Even changed her to her favorite outfit whenever she just wanted to lay around.

Tara smiled. Despite her sore legs, her sore everything actually, she still managed to cling onto you like a koala. Her arms crushing you as you hugged her back. "Hey." She whispered in your ear, kissing you gently. "Thanks, by the way. For taking care of me." She hugged you even tighter, which you reciprocated.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, basking in eachothers presence and warmthness. Until you broke the silence. "Tell me the real reason." You pulled back from Tara's tight hug. (You tried to, she was unbudging.)

"I was." She raised an eyebrow, which you also reciprocated.

You chuckled. "I've been your girlfriend and bestfriend for a total of 3 years, Tara. You can't fool me."

She could almost roll her eyes right now if she wouldn't regret it later. "We haven't had sex in a while." She confessed, avoiding your eye contact. "Like, a whole month."

The adorableness there was to Tara Carpenter, the amazing girl you're blessed with, was beyond you. "You could've told me, Tara." You tucked a loose strand between her ear, "you know I like talking with you. Especially about something personal, or maybe something about in our relationship."

"I didn't know how to like," she paused, "really, really, express it." She explained, "also I couldn't since you were on that damn video game for weeks now!"

Yeah, you had to blame yourself for that. Or maybe the crew. "I solemnly swear to not play that game. Well, atleast that often." You held up your pinky, making a pinky promise that you always, always never broken in your life.

Tara chuckled, taking your pinky into hers. "Also your phone has been buzzing like crazy for the last few minutes."

"It's just Mindy bragging about she got rich because she was betting over our sex life."

"What!?" The younger Carpenter screamed.

"Don't worry too much about it." You shrugged it off. "Just a skill issue." You joked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: just needed to get this off my brain. idea popped into my head one random day and i've been thinking about it actually doing something about it, and it's probably something i need to do to take of my writers block!!

#tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega

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twice-inamillion · 6 months ago

Text

The Company

Eaten Bunny

Smut (Defloration, first-time sex, deep penetration, orgasm, creampie, belly bulging, whining, rough sex, ass spanking, sex filming)

Chapter 14

1642 Words

(Nayeon offers her body to the CEO after saving her and her mother. As a grateful CEO, you take her offer and use her body, not realizing it is also Nayeon’s first time.)

You can't help but grin at your work; Nayeon is an utter mess. She randomly twitches from her last orgasm and is out of breath from the stimulation.

“Please, no more. My body hurts.”

“We're just getting started.”

She tries to lift her head and says, “What? It's not done yet?”

“Of course not; this was just an appetizer.”

Nayeon, with no energy, crashes back onto the couch and rethinks her offer.

Suddenly, she yells as you pick her up and carry her towards one of the rooms. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“The main event, obviously.”

“Wait, now?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me rest a bit.”

Nayeon stares at the wall, trying to muster up some energy as she tries to get over her last orgasm.

You're excited to fuck another girl, especially Nayeon. You remember the positive reviews she has gotten from many of the trainers, and getting a chance to fuck her this easily is a blessing.

You take off all your clothes and walk towards Nayeon who is laying on the bed, “Ready?”

She struggles to lift her head but does so with the little energy she has, “Wait, please.” You spread her legs open enough to get a full view of her swollen cunt.

With your cock in your right, you drop it on top of Nayeon's cunt and rub it against her lips. “Dang Nayeon, you have some nice tender lips.” You realize you won't need lube by how wet she is and coat your member with her nectar.

Nayeon watches as you press your cock in between her swollen lips, her heart begins to beat faster and faster as she realizes what's going to occur.

”You said you want to show your appreciation to me, right?” as you grab nayeon by her chin. She nods, “Yeah, I do.”

”Then show it to me.”

You climb on the bed and rest your body against the pillows. Nayeon notices your smug look and understands what you want her to do. She musters up the energy and climbs on top of you. She grabs your semi-limp cock with her large hands and begins to slowly stroke your cock.

Little by little, your cock wakes up from its nap and stands strong and proud, really to put in some work. Nayeon realizes that it might be too big for her to handle, but she knows she can’t go back, not after what you did for her and her mother.

She lifts herself up and hovers just a few millimeters away from your length. She looks directly into your eyes as she lowers her body into your cock.

You watch her reaction change as she splits herself open and tries to adjust herself to the first few inches when her hand splits, causing her to fall onto your cock in one go.

Nayeon screams in pain, her eyes watery as she takes your whole length. She tries to pull herself out, agonizing in pain, and sees your cock covered in a thin coat of blood. “Ahh, it hurts!”

You see Nayeon panic, squirming around, not knowing what to do. You grab her hand and say, “Nayeon, it’s okay. Look at me; it's going to be okay.”

Nayeon, who is still in pain, nods and grips onto your hand tightly. “I didn’t know you were a virgin. Thank you for giving your first time to me, now I’ll take it from here” and flip her over.

Now, in a mating press, you slowly begin to thrust inside of her newly deflowered cunt, trying to mold it into your shape. She holds your hand tightly and looks into each other’s eyes, “Oppa, it… it hurts so much. I can’t do it, I’m going to break.”

” It will only hurt for a bit longer; just bear it, okay?”

“Okay, I trust you.”

With your free remaining hand, you pull her in closer and increase the strength of your thrust. You try to get her adjusted to your length as quickly as possible, even if it means her suffering for a bit longer.

“Oppa, you’re breaking me; my insides feel like they are going to split open; please, I can’t.”

”Just a bit more; your body is just trying to get used to it, just hold on; just?”

Nayeon closes one eye and bites her lip, wanting to stop herself from screaming. She sees her belly bulge every time you thrust your cock inside of her, which scares her, not knowing if you’re going to break her.

On the other hand, you’re met with Nayeon’s tight walls. It’s trying to resist you as much as possible, which makes it painful for Nayeon, but you prefer it that way. The more you see her struggle, the more it turns you on.

“Fuck Nayeon, you’re so tight! It feels so good!”

“I feel good?”

”Yeah, I love the way you wrap yourself around my cock.”

”Ummm, then I don’t mind if you go harder.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yeah, I want you to feel good.”

”But it might hurt a bit more.”

”It’s okay; it doesn’t hurt as much now; I can take it.”

With Nayeon’s approval, you pull out your cock, covered in her reddish juices, and slap it against her cunt before putting it back inside.

“Oh fuck” yelps Nayeon when your cock reaches the end of her womb. She tries to mask her expression and just focuses on the way you smile every time you hit her womb.

You feel hotness building up in your core, and let Nayeon know you're about to cum. Surprised by your comment, she doesn’t know what to do and just says, “Oppa, cum if you want.”

“Then, I’ll cum inside of you.”

“Wait, inside…?”

“I’m going to fill your freshly fucked womb with my cum, so take it all!” You grab Nayeon’s hips and put your weight on her thighs, trying to go as deep as you can.

Nayeon feels a hot sensation of cum shooting inside of her, covering her untainted womb, “So full!”

“What do you think?”

”It’s so warm.”

Nayeon watches as you pull out your cock from her cunt and sees a large amount of cum ooze onto the sheets. Curious, she presses her stomach, making more of your batter come pouring out of her. Tired, she lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling and taking in what she just did.

It is then that she realizes what her mother has always mentioned before reluctantly letting her go training as an idol, “If you’re going to have sex, make sure you use protection.”

”I need to use the restroom,” and she makes her way towards the end of the bed, trying to get herself cleaned up. She then feels you grab her leg and says, “I’m not done yet.”

You grab her by the waist, push her down, and get behind her. “Who said you can go?”

“I just need to use the rest…” and isn’t able to complete her sentence. She then feels the tip of your cock press against her entrance, and you put your whole weight on her. She groans as she takes your length in one go, “Oppa, not so rough.”

”This is rough,” and give her a hard thrust, which makes her choke up from the sudden movement.

“Ah! Ahh… hmmm!”

Nayeon now enjoys the way your cock scrapes against her walls, even when it hits the back of her uterus. “Oppa, rougher… ahh.”

”Like this?” Slapping her ass. Nayeon yelps, “Ahh, that hurts!”

You slap her ass again, but with additional force, making her cheeks ripple. Nayeon bites onto the bedsheet as you continue to spank and fuck her from behind. “I’m going to make you into my toy, Nayeon; what do you say?”

There’s no response from Nayeon, and notice that she’s grabbing onto the bedsheets. If she wants to play it that way, you can do it too. You continue to slap her ass until it’s completely red. Nayeon can’t hold anymore; she’s at her limit and lets go of the bedding, “Okay, I’ll be your toy; just don’t slap my butt anymore; it hurts so much.”

”No, you didn’t answer when I asked you the first time,” and continue to slap her until you reach your peak once more. ”Tell me, where do you want me to cum?”

Nayeon, at first, is hesitant to respond but realizes that this might be the only chance to stop you from spanking her. She says, “Inside me.”

”Be more specific.”

“Please… please cum inside me.”

”Be specific.”

”In my cunt. Please cum inside me, my cunt you just deflowered. Breed me, please!”

”That’s my girl.”

Just like that, you give her one last thrust and fill her womb full with cum. The amount of cum you pump inside of her, causing her belly to bulge as if she was pregnant.

Nayeon, now exhausted, becomes limp, laying on the bed like a used onahole. You get up, head to the drawer, and get your camera to photograph your latest work. “Nayeon, smile.”

Nayeon gives a faint smile as you take multiple pictures with the bed and her lower region covered in cum.

“I’m going to take a shower; you can join if you want.”

”Hmm… okay.”

She eventually gets up, goes to the drawer, and sees your phone light up with a message that says, “Video successfully uploaded to the cloud name, XIDOLS, file: “IM NAYEON_01,” realizing she’s not the only one.

#twice smut #kpop smut #male reader #nayeon smut #twice nayeon #girl idol smut #reader x idol #kpop idol smut #idol smut #smut reader #TM smut #the company series #the company

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cranberrv · 8 months ago

Text

enchanted

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston falls for the new girl

( a/n : i love this request sm!! reader is fem by the way, also not proofread also ooc! still cute tho! )

not many people wanted to move to tulsa, but for some people, it was their only option. that was the first similarity spotted between you and dallas.

of course, you and dallas were on different sides of the track, different chapters in a novel. you moved to tulsa for your fathers work, you were perfectly happy back at your old city, but you didn’t have a choice. dallas moved to tulsa to escape from the new york police.

you thought tulsa was bland. it was only your first week here, your first week emerced with all the other teenagers at school, but everyone here was grey. especially the east-side kids, the greasers. they were all broke and it looked like all the life was sucked out of them.

you, on the other hand, were fresh from los angeles, with a feminine flare to yourself and a genuine kindness that was rare in tulsa. even the rich kids were rude, but you were anything but.

it was the start of your second week of school, and your least favourite class was science. not because of the subject, it was just that the people in your class gave you dirty looks and the teacher had a voice that could put you to sleep. and your lab partner in the seat next to you had been away the entire time, leaving you to do projects alone.

today was supposed to be the exact same as usual. at the start of class, you walk in and sit down alone. the teacher does the attendance, and marks your mystery lab partner absent. today is independent work, finishing up a lab report and then doing a worksheet on protons and electrons. you want to fall asleep, it’s so boring. you’re listening to every silent conversation and looking out the window for a source of entertainment. you got your wish soon enough, as the door creaks open.

“hello,” your teacher greets to the boy that enters the room. “you are?”

“dallas winston,” he answers, throwing his burnt-out cigarette in the trash.

your teacher nods her head. “ah, you’re dallas winston,” the voice is slow as she pieces it together. you wonder why the words are said in such distaste.

you’ve given up on your work, watching dallas winston. he looks like an east-side kid, his hair is a bit messy and he radiates confidence. he certainly puts out an energy unlike anyone in this school.

they talk for a bit longer, the teacher obviously telling him it’s not okay to skip class. dallas tries to argue back for a little bit, but eventually gives up and holds his hands up in mock-surrender. the teacher takes a breath then points to you, giving him a worksheet and telling him to go sit next to you. he follows the teachers finger, and he tilts his head when he looks at you, trying to figure out if he knows you or not. his eyes light up a bit when you make eye contact with him. you like the way he looks at you.

dallas walks over, and sits next to you. there’s a few moments of silence as he gets himself settled. spitting out his gum, taking off his leather jacket, and finally landing his eyes on his sheet. he reads over the questions, and realizes has no idea how to do any of this. “you got a pencil?” he asks you.

“yeah, in my pencil case, help yourself,” you answer, and he grabs your pencil case and sifts through it to find one.

he takes one out and hands it back. you say thank you, and he thinks it was unnecessary to be polite about a simple thing but doesn’t say anything. “mechanical, huh?” he says about the pencil, pushing on the bottom to get the lead out. “expensive. what, you a soc or somethin’?”

you look from your worksheet up at him. he has a nice jawline, you notice. “a what?” you ask. an innocent question in your eyes, but one that has a lot more meaning for dallas.

who the hell doesn’t know what a soc is? he stares at you for a second, eyebrows furrowing. not out of annoyance, but out of genuine confusion about why you don’t know about the class-status that built up the entire reputation of tulsa. you know what a greaser is, but not a soc. and you barely know what a greaser is, anyway. you’ve just been told to stay away.

“you know, a rich-kid. a west-side kid.” you still look confused, and he comes to the conclusion that you’re not from here. so when he notices the confused look in your eye, he changes the subject. “where ya from, sugar?”

“i just moved from los angeles,” you tell him. his eyes drift down to your cute lace pink top. he thinks it’s totally something that someone from LA would wear. there’s a speck of silence as he analyzes you, and you feel the need to break it.

“i shoulda guessed,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. you don’t know if he’s being mean or not. you hope he’s not mean.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean you look like you’re from hollywood or somethin’, with all the lace and the flashy bows and shit..” he’s poking at the lace lining your top. you can see him thinking about something while he’s looking at your lace. “christ, your lingerie collection must be insane, huh?”

there’s a blink of silence and a look of slight disbelief on your face. “what?”

“i’m messin’ with ya, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

“oh,” you say softly, cheeks going a bit hot.

“so,” he starts, switching the topic to a different note. “why’d ya move to fuckin’ tulsa?”

“my dad got a job here,” you explain, fiddling with your pencil in your hands. “why?”

“just curious,” he shrugs. “you know, most people don’t move to this hellhole.”

“you did,” you say, and he tilts his head. you think he’s looking at you because you’re just assuming things, and you’re probably wrong, so he’s judging you. “did you not?”

he cracks a smile. he wasn’t judging you, simply curious as to how you guessed he wasn’t from here. “yeah, i did, sugar,” he nods, leaning back in his seat. “how’d ya know?”

“your accent,” you explain. “very new yorker.”

“yeah? you like it?”

you mirror his smile. “yeah, i do.”

the class falls silent as the teacher insists everyone quiets down and focuses. dally's voice drops to a whisper when he responds, playfully pushing you away. “alright, miss hollywood, go do your work,” he teases. “gonna tell the teacher you’re distracting me,” he threatens, obviously playing around because he knows that he’s the one distracting you.

you smile and turn your head back to your sheet to finish it up. you begin peacefully working. dallas can’t help but stare at you as you do so. nibbling at your pencil while you’re thinking, constantly adjusting your top, brushing your hair out of your face every now and then, he notices it all. he can’t help it, he thinks you’re the sweetest person he’s ever seen.

you look up at him, feeling his intense gaze on you. you make eye contact and instantly turn away again, cheeks going pink like a tulip. why is he looking at you? do you have something on your face? you don’t know. you subconsiously wipe your cheek to make sure, and adjust your top again.

dallas finally looks away, and you take a breath and relax your shoulders. as much as he was acting sweet towards you, you could tell he had this rough edge that you should be worried about. but what truly worried you is the fact that his edge didn’t worry you. if anything, it lured you in. you wanted to learn everything about him. he was like the ocean, he was calm and beautiful but you had to swim out far and dive deep down to find out everything about him. and it felt like no one had, yet. he was a mystery. you liked that.

as you’re working, you hear the rip of lined paper beside you, then the scratch of a pencil. a few moments later, dallas hands you a piece of paper with a note on it.

“how do you do question 1?“ it reads.

you read the note and look up at him, smiling. you write down your answer, saying that he needs a calculator. you hand him yours, assuming correctly that he doesn’t own one.

he slides you another note a few seconds later. “it keeps saying weird shit on the calculator”

“what does it say?” you write back.

he takes longer than usual to write. you wait in anticipation. after what feels like forever (but was probably 15 seconds) he hands you another note. you read the numbers. you don’t understand how he got that answer. you read over it again, and then it clicks. it’s his phone number.

he’s looking at you as you read it. you look up at him and gently nod, putting his number in your pocket. you rip another piece of paper and write down, “i’ll call you.”

he reads it and writes back, and is about to hand it to you, until he quickly takes it back and adds something. then he hands it to you.

“good. (p.s. your little lace top is kinda cute)”

you read his little p.s. and smile to yourself, then to him. you mouth thank you to him. he mouths “anytime” back.

you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you and dallas winston say hello to each other in science class.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #dally winston #dallas #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston fluff #dally winston fluff

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beautifulsenpai · 3 months ago

Text

— I WILL NEVER LET YOU LEAVE ME

possessive pro heroes x pro hero male reader

taglist. @kaminari1 @eeveedragonxd @xrisdoesntexist @forgetaho @clown-ace @charlie-2024

— chapter summary. trying to forget the all might incident, three u.a students were assigned to study under (name) with endeavor tagging along to “help” (name), but was he just there to only “help” or is there something more?

senpai’s note. wanna request a fic, or headcanons? look at requesting rules before requesting darling

chapter one

chapter two

hellish encounter

after that disturbing encounter with all might, (name) would constantly try to avoid all might whenever and whatever he could, but it was getting harder every day. it seemed like all might know where he was every time, and it was frustrating, finding new methods to ignore the retired hero. handling him, and his hero duties seemed a bit overwhelming. (name) wished he could talk to someone about this matter, either the other heroes or even his mother, but he doesn’t want to be a burden to his other comrades or a liar since he started this “being a hero” job a week ago, how can he be trusted when he barely joined? who were they going to trust, a beloved hero that worked for 40 years or a newbie?..

‧₊ ᵎᵎ �� ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

it was the dead of night, surprised shouts and gasps interrupted the busy sidewalk as a suspicious man, wearing a black jacket with its hood over his head pushed them out of his way with a stolen purse in his hand, looking frightened, panting lousily as he continued running as if he was running away from someone. the man looked behind him, a smirk slowly began to plaster his face. (there’s no way those foolish heroes could catch up with me! how fast i am running, i wouldn’t be surprised that those heroes are still way behind—), the thief couldn’t finish his thoughts when he let out a yelp when a twining vine was wrapped around his ankle, and pulled him upwards, leaving him dangling in the air, trying to wiggle his way out of it, obviously failing.

(name) looked down below with a pleased smirk. he was following the crook at high speed while jumping from building to building. (name) walked towards the edge of the high building in a prideful manner, taking his time before jumping down. he landed on the ground with his feet with a thud without a scratch or a bruise. he dusted his arms from the filth that may have attached to him from the fall and the land. (name) waited for the others while he heard the man struggling to be released from the vines, but it wasn’t long for the others to arrive, and by “others”, he meant endeavor, and u.a students izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, and shoto todoroki.

izuku, katsuki, and shoto were assigned to study under (name) to learn a thing, or two. (name) was enthusiastic, and thrilled when he heard the news, that he would get to teach some talented u.a students about his ways, get to know them better, and even get to chat with them! he was even more delighted that he gets to work with endeavor, currently the number one hero. it was kinda strange for endeavor to volunteer to work with him since (name) had the chance to teach the three students by himself, but he quickly brushed it off since he thought endeavor wanted to be close to his son, so (name) happily let endeavor tag along.

back to the present, the four of them arrived shortly while (name) was waiting patiently, his hands behind his back, and with a closed-eye smile. the four arrived at the scene, and they didn’t seem out of breath or tired in the slightest. “pick up the pace guys! this is the third burglar i detained!”, (name) whined dramatically as he crossed his arms across his chest and turned away from the group. (name) pouted, “it seems that you’re all losing your grip, maybe you’re all too slow to join me..”, (name) stated with a sigh afterward, of course, what he was saying was a lie, he just wanted to make some jokes, and maybe play with katsuki’s head a bit.

“HAH?! WHAT DID YOU SAY?! I’M WAY FASTER THAN YOU, YA NEWBIE! DONT BE SO COCKY! I’LL PROVE IT TO YOU BY CATCHING SOME CRIMINAL, JUST WATCH!”, katsuki shouted at (name) with his eyes widened, and (name) swore that he saw smoke coming off his head. (name) didn’t get the chance to tell him that he was messing around before katsuki blasted himself away from the group in high-speed, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. the four of them stood there, watched how katsuki left the group. (name) chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his head and sweat-dropped.

“i didn’t mean to rile him up like that..i was just messing around!”, (name) admitted as he turned towards the group. “don’t mind him, he’s always like this.”, shoto told him to make him feel at ease. “you are very quick mr. (last name)! the way you predicted where the thief was going is impressive!”, izuku gushed with a smile afterwards, his cheeks turned a bit pink from seeing splendid display. (name) eyes slightly widened, and his face turned red from such words said to him. he was not used to being praised from up close, and if he did, he would be red as a tomato, feeling over the moon.

(name’s) eyes shut tightly, he placed both of his hands onto his cheeks as he giggled flusteredly with his face still red as a tomato. “oh izuku! you’re so sweet! how could i end up being paired up with someone so delightful as you!”, (name) babbled with imaginary sparkles sparkling around him, he ruffled izuku’s hair and it made izuku cheeks turn red as well from the physical contact and the flattering praise while shoto stood aside, watching the two interacting. they had completely forgotten about endeavor, but endeavor didn’t mind, he was behind them not too far with his arms crossed against his chest while keeping a close eye on (name). he watched how his face turned red from the compliments that izuku said, and the silly gesture (name) made, he thought it was quite cute.

he knows he shouldn’t feel these romantic feelings towards (name), considering the age difference, but he couldn’t help it. the first time when he laid eyes on (name) when he was introduced into the hero lifestyle, endeavor knew that he was the most prettiest human being he encountered. it was wrong, so wrong. he was a married man with beautiful children, and the thought of loving someone more lovely than his wife just kept him up late at night, resulting in him losing sleep at times. can you blame the guy? endeavor was a bit irked about the deal that he made with the other heroes about sharing (name).

honestly, he could care less about the other heroes. all that he needed was (name), by his side, retiring as a hero to be a stay-at-home husband, was it so much to ask for? that dream cannot be fulfilled because of the others, well if they’re on board with that idea then maybe it’s not a lost cause. all they need to do is wait for the perfect opportunity to strike, but endeavor had little patience and even some of the other heroes did as well. well, i guess they had to wait, and let it all play out.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

the police later on arrived to apprehend the criminal, thanks to (name’s) quirk and speed. they returned the stolen purse to the old lady, who thanked them all. after all that they tried to find katsuki by wandering around the city that was slowly turning empty from how late it was getting. they eventually found him, and katsuki surprisingly did capture a criminal who he later bragged to (name). that bragging turned into embarrassing mumbling from (name) ruffling his hair, and telling him that he always knew that he would with a kind smile afterward. now, they all walked through empty sidewalks, checking if there was any more suspicious activity. izuku, katsuki, and shoto were walking alongside each other, chatting while endeavor and (name) were behind them from a distance so that they wouldn’t hear the pro heroes’s conversations.

it was silent between the pro heroes while it was loud from the students. (name) was too nervous to strike up a conversation, staring down at the boardwalk with flushed cheeks from walking beside his idol while endeavor side-eyed (name), staring at his perfect features, paying close attention to him. (name) then decided to break the awkward silence, but on cue, his phone started ringing. (name) was a bit confused, his face blank as he reached for his pocket for his phone as endeavor watched him. (who would be calling me at this time?), (name) thought curiously. he checked the caller ID, and when he saw who it was, (name) wished he wouldn’t have checked. (name) narrowed his eyes, bit inside of his cheek and he didn’t know that he was clenching his phone tightly. as soon as he noticed that he was gripping his phone, he quickly loosened his grip, if he continued, he would have broken his phone on the spot.

(name) sighed, he silenced his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket as he continued walking, deciding to deal with this matter later. endeavor was curious about who was the one that called (name), and even more keen on why he reacted that way. to be honest, seeing him a bit grumpy was a tad cute. “are you alright?”, endeavor asked as he stared ahead with his cheeks slightly turning red, slightly embarrassed from asking. (name) looked up at endeavor with his mouth slightly open, after a couple of seconds, his eyes shut softly with a heart-warming smile. “yes, im fine!”, (name) answered cheerfully as he stared ahead as well as if he forgot what had happened. “who called you.”, endeavor asked, but it somehow sounded as if he demanded (name) for the answer, making (name) feel a bit uneasy but shrugs it off as he thought endeavor was worried for him. “honestly, no one important!”, (name) replied truthfully as he kept up his happy attitude. endeavor did not like that answer, now he was more eager on who was trying to call you.

(name) looked up at the skies, staring at how bright the moon was, the night air was warm, the stars sparkle and shimmer the night skies. he raised his wrist to check the time on his watch. “10:06..i haven’t realized how the time went by so quickly”, (name) realized that they’ve been out for so long that the students have missed dinner. (name) frowned at the thought as he thought of what he should do, he wanted to continue to stick around with the u.a students since they were amazing to hang with, izuku was such a kind and courageous kid, and shoto was a cold person but also a calm, composed and well-mannered boy while katsuki is not particularly kind and fiery but he’s also a hard-working and ambitious person. he gnawed the inside of his cheek, thinking of some idea. an imaginary lightbulb lit, and popped up on top of (name’s) head as he smiled from ear to ear as he thought of a brilliant plan.

it took endeavor by surprise when he saw (name) jog up to the boys and wrap his arms around the student's necks to bring them all close together, like a hug that katsuki seems try to pry his way out of with curses leaving his mouth but (name) had a strong grip around them, still having a smile on his face. “we should call it night boys, but soon after i treat ourselves a bite to eat, it’ll be my pleasure!” (name) suggested as he looked at each of them to see their expressions on what they think of the proposal. izuku sweat-dropped, “i-i don’t know, we don’t want to be a burden to you-”, “you won’t, i promise! come on, you’ll enjoy it! pleeaassee?”, (name) pleaded. izuku nervously smiled, “w-well, if you insist!”, izuku beamed, resulting (name) to smile as they both stared at shoto to know his answer. shoto shrugged, “i don’t mind.”, he spoke as the three of them turned to katsuki to see him still struggling to get out of (name’s) tight hold. “LET GO OF ME, DAMMIT!”, katsuki demanded as he moved his head frantically, but they all thought of it as him agreeing.

(name) shut his eyes, giggling, “yay! this will be tons of fun!”, he cheered as he brought them closer, causing katsuki to be even angrier. as they did this, endeavor stood by himself behind them with folded arms as his eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed. he watched them with a bit of…jealousy? endeavor thought it was a bit absurd, he has no reason to be jealous of (name) nuzzling onto the students, but he can’t help but think that he should be the one that (name) was clinging to. he imagined a scenario, well it might sound silly to others but it sounded fantastic in his eyes, where endeavor was carrying (name) in a bridal carry after saving him from a villain. (name) would be nuzzling to him, crying happy tears, repeating how he “saved him”, and how much (name) “loved him”, that sounded like a dream come true. he realized that (name) and the kids walked off without him when he was busy daydreaming a delusional image before speed-walking up to them to catch up, endeavor must have been looking like a fool just standing there, dozing off.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

the restaurant that (name) took all of them was an old-style japanese restaurant that claimed to always visit here with his mother when he was a young boy. none of them complained, the restaurant looked elegant and gorgeous. so, they all had an enjoyable time, sitting at a booth table, (name) let the students order whatever they desired, and all of them, including (name) ordered quite a lot. they continued to chat there, and (name) learned some things about each of the students. he learned that katsuki has musical talents, especially in drums, shoto has a small crush on a student from his class but feels embarrassed and has no need to tell anyone, which is reasonable, and even endeavor looked a bit grumpy when he heard shoto’s little secret. (name), izuku, katsuki, and shoto gossiped and talked as if they were friends, and (name) wished that was the case. he hoped that the students thought (name) was cool enough to be considered a companion to them.

they had all been at the restaurant for at least an hour, it had been too long that the three students were napping, shoto sat in the middle while katsuki and izuku were sitting on each of his side, izuku and katsuki were resting their heads on shoto’s shoulders. the sight was so cute that (name) quickly took a quick picture on his phone of the trio. the only people that were up were the workers, endeavor, and (name), it was noon after all, and frankly, people would normally be asleep at this hour. (name) glanced at the trio, and quietly giggled at seeing their cute drowsy faces, and had to stiffen a chuckle from katsuki drooling a little bit. (name’s) eyes were a bit droopy as his hand hovered over his mouth, yawning softly, i guess he was getting a bit tired as well. (name) grabbed hold of his cup of water before bringing it towards his lips, and taking sips of it. “have you dated anyone (name)?”, endeavor asked. (name) eyes widened as he gagged from his beverage, he quickly set the cup down and leaned over the table as he tried to cough as quietly as possible, well that question was out of the blue.

after (name) recovered, he gazed towards endeavor with his eyes still widened where endeavor was holding onto his own cup, staring at it. where did that question come from? they were nowhere near talking about that subject. there was no reason to lie, so might as well tell him the truth. (name) cheeks turned slightly red, his hands resting on his knees as his eyes were looking anywhere besides endeavor. “i-i have.. but it didn’t work out so i broke it off”, (name) answered as he took another sip from his drink out of shyness. endeavor’s eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched onto his cup after (name) confessed. in endeavor’s eyes, someone had already claimed (name) before him? someone showed him devotion and passion other than him such as holding hands, embracing each other’s warmth, and has (name) and his old affair partner had intercourse before? the thought of anyone at all fooling around under the sheets with (name) made a vein pop on his forehead and a bit of smoke started to arise from his head.

the awkward tension was broken when one of the female waiters sauntered over to where they were sitting with a tender smile on her face. she placed a cash tray with the bill from what they ordered on the table and slightly bowed at the two pro heroes before walking away. (name) reached out his hand towards the cash tray to pay for what they ordered but endeavor swiftly snatched it before (name) could take it, “please, allow me.”, endeavor requested, but how endeavor spoke sounded like a command as he brought out his wallet from his pocket. (name) was a bit surprised at endeavor’s sudden request, he was about to protest, wanting to treat everyone. endeavor noticed what (name) wanted to do, his brows drew together as he shot (name) a darkened glare with narrowed eyes, causing (name) to halt his movements and a shiver running down his spine.

something about that glare didn’t sit right with (name), he knew that endeavor was an aggressive and intimidating man, but that glare seemed off. It didn’t feel intimidating or hostile, instead, something more darker but (name) can’t seem to figure out what. (name) decided to back off and let endeavor pay for what they all ordered, feeling a bit baffled and somehow a bit frightened. endeavor’s face slightly softened as he saw (name) retracted. endeavor opened up his wallet and withdrew his lustrous black credit card from his wallet before settling his card into the cash tray, waiting for the waiter to come back. endeavor didn’t mean to intimidate (name). he refuses to let (name) pay for anything, not even a single cent. endeavor would rather spoil (name) when he finally gets him, spoil him with luxurious gifts, and cash, not letting (name) work a single day of his life and let him rest in his home as a house-husband, where he belongs.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🐷 ⋅ ˚✮ 🦙

the night finally ended for the two pro heroes and the three u.a. students. izuku, shoto, and katsuki went off back to u.a., to their dorms, and (name) was about to call it a night but endeavor insisted that he walk him home. of course, (name) was a bit bewildered again. it was a bit odd for a grown man who was a pro hero to offer to walk his colleague to his home. for some weird reason, (name) wouldn’t mind even though he was a grown man and was perfectly capable of walking himself home but he’s not sure if he wants to be around endeavor for a bit after endeavor shot him that stern glare earlier. but he doesn’t want to seem rude or unfriendly to endeavor, even after he kindly paid for everyone's meals that (name) was originally going to pay. so, why should he refuse?

the two of them were now walking side by side on the sidewalk, passing by other homes as it was silent between the two of them, (name’s) eyes were awkwardly glancing to the side as endeavor kept his eyes on (name’s) form, making sure the staring was subtle. the silence was killing (name), he desperately wanted to strike up a conversation but he still felt a bit uneasy about earlier, he still couldn’t believe that a pro hero was literally walking him home. (name) nervously fiddle with his fingers as he awkwardly glanced slightly to the side which endeavor thought his actions were sweet. (come on, say something! but how do I even strike up a conversation with him? what do I even say to him? should I ask about his kids or hero work?), (name) thought as he tried to figure out a topic to discuss with endeavor. (name) lets out a soft sigh as he finally dared to speak, “s-so, endeavor-”, “call me enji.”, endeavor interrupted. what. (name) was once again dumbfounded as he took a quick glance at endeavor with a raised brow.

(did I hear that right? endeavor is allowing me to call him by his first name? we hardly know each other and we’re already on first name basis?), (name) thought astoundingly. he never thought that endeavor would ever let him call him by his last name, let alone his first name due to endeavor’s persona. (name) was lost in his thoughts until he finally noticed that they were in front of his house. (name’s) house was a lovely traditional japanese mansion, just like enji’s. (name) stopped in his tracks and turned towards endeavor with his hands intertwined together and a small smile on his face. “w-we’re here! uhh- I appreciate you walking me safely to my home..”, (name) thanked endeavor shyly as he rubbed the back of his neck, he never had someone walk him home before so he didn’t know how to act. endeavor hummed in response as he took a glance at (name’s) residence.

he immediately noticed that (name’s) home was similar to his. endeavor thought that they both have something in common with their choice of residence, that’s a step closer to winning his heart. endeavor sighed lowly and gazed down at (name), his stern demeanor softening just slightly as his cheeks faintly blushed red. “well, I reckon that I’ll see you soon during some certain patrols..”, endeavor spoke. endeavor’s eyes closed as he slowly leaned down towards (name’s) height. (name’s) eyes went wide at endeavor’s actions, he quickly understood what endeavor was about to do. endeavor was about to kiss him. so many thoughts ran across his mind such as why endeavor was leaning down to kiss him? didn’t endeavor have a wife? why is endeavor about to kiss him if he has a wife? but (name) instantly backed away, bid endeavor a quick farewell and hurriedly went inside his house as endeavor watched. he was a bit bewildered from the sudden rush and how (name) instantly backed away from the inviting kiss. well, at least endeavor knows where he lives.

#x male reader #male reader #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #my hero academia x male reader #boku no hero hero x male reader #sub male reader #all might x male reader #yagi toshinori x male reader #endeavor x male reader #enji todorki x male reader #beautifulsenpai

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minisugakoobies · 5 months ago

Text

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror.

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway.

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!”

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble.

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and -

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink.

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.”

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?”

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening.

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head -

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle.

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin.

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.”

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept.

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time.

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin.

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job.

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again.

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not.

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well.

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.”

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?”

“Just going over some shots.”

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that.

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much.

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.”

“Oh, yes, please!”

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here.

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue.

“Thanks.”

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience.

“So, tonight’s the night, right?”

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.”

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him.

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself.

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?”

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye.

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne.

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?”

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you.

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company.

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?”

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him.

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now.

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him.

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told.

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile.

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head.

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.”

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.”

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips.

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you.

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21): I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping.

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin.

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again.

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!”

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.”

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you.

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook.

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.”

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned.

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.”

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do.

You’ve got his love.

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin.

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him.

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away.

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.”

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence.

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next.

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper.

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat.

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?”

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.”

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face.

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.”

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?”

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing.

It makes you want to make him lose control.

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you.

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.”

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.”

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.”

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself.

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat.

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now.

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement.

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?”

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him.

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?”

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound.

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.”

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?”

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside.

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you.

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.”

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in.

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his.

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust.

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.”

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own.

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work.

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?”

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?”

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.”

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that.

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye.

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.”

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.”

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.”

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode.

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.”

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!”

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss.

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth.

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway.

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him. If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now.

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion.

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can.

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel.

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now.

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier.

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal.

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.”

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust.

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back.

“Love you so much, jagi.”

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady.

“I love you, too.”

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!”

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position.

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for.

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump -

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again.

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.”

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.”

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again.

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go.

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment.

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.”

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.”

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way.

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.”

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.”

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.”

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back.

************************************************************************

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

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#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #thebtswritersclub #fic: paradise

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