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eff4freddie · 1 month ago

Text

Sittin'

Joel Miller x F!Babysitter Reader No outbreak Joel Miller AU - Words: 10k

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI

You're working your way through medical school, supporting yourself by taking the occasional babysitting gig. One local single Dad needs someone to look after his 10 year old daughter Sarah on nights when he's late back from the jobsite. And it's all fine and good until your neglectful boyfriend decides to crash the party. Warnings: small age gap (Joel is 32, reader is in medical school), reader is babysitting Sarah as a side hustle to support her studies, Sarah is cute, reader has a shit boyfriend, Joel is trying really hard to resist, exhibitionism, thigh-riding, praise, dirty talk, thigh-humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, general defiling of a perfectly good granite countertop, Joel has opinions about how a woman should be treated as is not afraid to demonstrate them.

A/N: My attempts at writing PWP almost always end up like 10k lol. Whatever, I like a good slow burn. If you enjoy, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you - Freddie x

It was a hot night, the latest in a long line. You knew you were lucky getting to spend some of your evenings over at the Millers, simply because it meant you got to sit under Mr Miller’s air conditioner, the box wedged firm into the window in the living room, little droplets of water condensing and running down the pane of glass underneath it. You’d put a dishtowel down to protect the carpet.

You knew you were lucky, too, because once Sarah went off to bed you could spread your books over Mr Miller’s kitchen table, listening to the buzzing of the fridge as you tried to memorise the functions of the lobes in the brain. In class, your biomedicine professor had blown up balloons and handed out sharpies, inviting her students to draw the lobes in the right place, and yours had popped when you pressed too hard on the occipital lobe, and your lab partner had laughed and said that it was ironic, but you couldn’t figure it: the motor cortex would have been ironic, this was just startling.

You cracked your neck, rolling your shoulders and looking over to the clock on the wall. Nearly 10:30 PM. Mr Miller would be coming back soon.

Sarah was a good kid, and some nights she stayed up to ‘help’ you study, mostly by pointing to pictures in your textbooks and asking you to explain them to her. She’d hated the full-page coloured illustration of the eye, but had been fascinated by the heart, trailing her finger along the arteries, into the chambers, tracing the pathway in and out again. You’d make a cardiologist of her, yet.

Tonight, she’d only made it to twenty minutes past eight, her eyes growing heavy as she turned the pages of your book. This one didn’t have as many pictures, and you could sense her fatigue in the stuffy air.

‘What kind of doctor do you want to be?’ she’d asked, and you’d pulled your hair up off your neck to try and get some air on your skin. You weren’t sure how to explain it without sounding gruesome, without giving her nightmares. She was only 10.

‘When people have emergencies and they have to go to the hospital right away, they need to see a doctor to patch them back up again…’ you’d said, and she’d stared at you with a tiresome expression on her face.

‘I’m not a baby,’ she said, disapproving. You smiled at her.

‘Trauma surgeon,’ you replied. She nodded her head, deeming your answer satisfactory, and taking herself up the stairs to bed.

She was one of the easiest kids you’d ever babysat for, and over the years you’d racked up quite a roster. You’d started in high school, first saving up enough for the prom dress right in the storefront window, and then later keeping yourself fed during your undergrad. When you’d moved to Austin you’d rented a studio apartment in the back garden of a little old lady, a woman who had revealed herself to be an excellent cook if militant about her hydrangeas. You’d letterboxed the neighbourhood and picked up a few odd jobs but nothing lasting, until the evening you’d got a call from a very frantic Mr Miller, who was so beside himself he only asked how quick you could get there and didn’t even ask about your rates.

It turned out Mr Miller got caught up at the jobsite some nights, staying back later than he expected with his little brother to finish framing, or guttering, or wiring. He was running out of favours with his neighbours, he’d explained, and Sarah was still too little to feed herself. You hadn’t minded, his deep southern drawl doing something to you even over the phone, such that you found yourself cancelling plans just to go and sit on his couch that very evening, textbook over your knees.

Some nights with Sarah tucked up fast asleep you’d stand and stare at the pictures of the two of them, her holding up a soccer trophy nearly twice her size, him standing with his hand in his pocket, his other over the shoulders of a younger man you assumed was Tommy. If you were feeling particularly bold, or were procrastinating especially hard, you’d extend a finger and run them up and down the strings of Joel’s guitar, resting sentinel against the windowsill. You imagined his fingers pushing into the fretboard, the strings indenting the flesh.

It wasn’t even that he was handsome, although he definitely was. He was a young father, doing it almost entirely alone, and on any other man that would have made for grumpy, for overly tired, for entitled. On Mr Miller it made for kindness, for a nurturing type of strength, corded tight under his skin. For a single dad always thinking about his daughter, only ever wanting the best for her. For a man focussed on doing right for his family, small as it was.

You rolled your shoulders, the pre-frontal cortex just about beating you for the night. Just as you were wondering if the Millers kept any ice cream in the freezer, you heard the key in the front door. You listened as Joel followed the same routine, first toeing off his boots, letting out a little grunt as the second one hit the floor. You heard him huff as he stretched his back, rolling his hips in a little circle to try and get some stretch into them, before dropping his keys on the table and padding, surprisingly light on his socked feet, into the kitchen.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said, his pet name for you emerging on only the second time you’d sat for him and still, even after this many months, causing your stomach to do a little flipper.

‘Evening, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he tutted at you, moving over to the fridge and extracting a beer.

‘Told ya not to call me that,’ he muttered, but you could see the grin behind it. ‘How was my girl tonight?’

‘Perfect, as always,’ you said, smiling at him as he poured you a glass of sweet tea from the jug in the fridge without bothering to ask if you wanted any. You accepted it gratefully, suddenly noticing how dry your throat had become.

‘She’s a good kid,’ he said. He sat down, heavy, in the chair opposite you. The ceiling lamp buzzed above you both, and the light bounced off the fine sheen of sweat accumulating on his arms, on his cheeks. He glowed, even if it was under a layer of exhaustion.

‘You look tired, Mr Miller,’ you said, and he cocked a little grin.

‘You sayin’ I look like shit, Sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘No, never,’ you said, instantly regretting how quickly, how fervently, you had responded. He continued to grin at you, lopsided, the dimple on his right cheek popping out to greet you.

‘What is it tonight?’ he asked, and you held up your book to him. ‘The bio-mech-an-ics-of-thought: phys-ee-ol-o-gee of the brain,’ he intoned, before letting out a low whistle. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ he said.

‘It’s interesting,’ you defended, unsure why. ‘So long as there are diagrams,’ you added.

‘So that’s where the magic happens?’ he asked, gesturing to the illustrated image of the brain in the centre of the page you had been working from.

‘This is where thought happens,’ you nodded. ‘Kind of like…where decisions are made.’

‘Must be a woman’s brain,’ Joel deadpanned, taking a swig of his beer. ‘Can guarantee men make their decisions someplace else.’

You caught a glimpse of something dark in his eyes as he glanced over you. You blushed, swearing it was just the heat, and furious with yourself. This wasn’t like you; you weren’t some shrinking violet type. You’d had boyfriends, you’d had fun in college. You had no idea what it was about Mr Miller that made you immediately go all giggly, all girly, but whatever it was you wished it would fuck off.

The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You were used to this from him, the way his mind seemed to drift, the way he seemed content enough to let it. Gently, so as not to jolt him out of his thoughts, you closed your book, gathered your pens together. Everything tucked away in your bag you were surprised when you looked up to see he was watching you.

‘Apparently Sarah’s taken an interest in science,’ he said after a moment, his warm eyes watching yours for a second. You felt a tingle of pride in your chest.

‘Oh yeah?’ you asked.

‘Mmhmm, apparently after she pushed Simon Strzelecki off the monkey bars, she offered to patch him up again.’

You grinned before you were able to catch yourself.

‘That’s…very, umm…’ you trailed off and he huffed out a little laugh.

‘It’s very Sarah,’ he agreed.

‘M’sorry, Mr Miller…’ you started, but Joel stood up, waving you off.

‘Don’t be, Strzelecki’s a little shit’f the highest order,’ he said. ‘You gonna let me give ya a lift this time?’ he asked, and this time you shook your head at him.

‘No, I can walk it.’

‘Y’know I don’t like ya walkin’ around out there on yer’own,’ he grumbled, and you felt the insane urge to reach your hand out to rest on his bicep, to ease his evident discomfort.

‘I can handle it,’ you said, instead.

Something stole over his face for a moment, a sharpness in his eyes. For a moment you gazed up at him, the furrow in his brow deepening, the muscles in his jaw twitching as his eyes roamed over your face. Standing this close to him you were reminded how tall, how broad he really was. You dropped your eyes to his arms, crossed over his chest, and imagined him holding you with them, circling them around your back as you leant, safe, into his skin. You blinked yourself back to reality, worried for a second he could read your thoughts.

‘Know you can handle it,’ he said, his voice low, ‘just don’t like it, is all.’

You did this every time, this stand-off. You worried one night you would waver.

‘G’night, Mr Miller,’ you said, over dry lips. He nodded, once, at you, still evidently displeased something dark, something haunted, passing over his features before he brought them back into line.

He stood on the front porch, light still on, until you rounded his driveway and disappeared past the oak tree by the front lawn.

Mick was a guy from your Tuesday morning bio class, and you only realised he was your boyfriend when he introduced you to a few of his friends that way. You’d just gone with it, because it had seemed easier, and he was nice if a little full of himself at times. He was the son of the one the big ranching families, had been almost guaranteed a position at whatever college he chose on the day of his birth, hadn’t ever really considered that money was something you saved, something you worked for.

But he would never let you pay for dinner, and often he showed up to class holding a coffee just for you. You’d been on your own for a long time, had been self-sufficient well before you had any business to, and it was kind of nice to let yourself be cared for, if that’s what this was.

On nights when you had to work he would pout and complain, and you told yourself it was because he cared about you, because he wanted you around, even if some part of you knew he just didn’t like to be alone. Every once and while he would ask if he could come with you, ‘feel you up on the couch like it’s eighth grade’, and it made you feel exactly fourteen years old, like this was a summer job you had failed to grow out of. It didn’t help that he more than once referred to your sitting job as ‘cute’. His mother had stayed at home the moment she fell pregnant with Mick’s older brother, and as far as you could tell was yet to leave. You never asked about a future with Mick, terrified of what kind of picture he would paint.

On one such evening, after he’d been particularly insistent that you blow off your job and come and hang out with him and his friends, he’d starting blowing up your phone just as Mr Miller sat down beside you, weary-boned and sleepy-eyed, at his kitchen table.

You ignored the calls, tried to carry on reading even as Mr Miller arched his brow at your insistently vibrating device. You huffed, knowing at some point Mick would get bored.

‘You’re popular tonight?’ Joel prompted after a while, making you lose your place in the paragraph you’d read over at least ten times already.

You huffed out a sigh, reaching out and scrolling through the stream of notifications. He’d started texting, sometimes just sending a single emoji, sometimes entire paragraphs about how badly you were letting him down. You felt an ache bloom behind your right eye socket, and you reached up to your temple to try and massage it away.

‘It’s my boyfriend,’ you told him, and with your eyes still closed you didn’t see him scowl. ‘He wants me to come out to some bar with him and his drunk friends.’

Joel considered this for a long moment. When you opened your eyes they blurred under the sudden light, and you blinked away sleep to see him clearly again.

‘You should be out with your friends, it’s a Friday night…’ he said, almost looking guilty for a moment, and you rushed to reassure him.

‘No, no trust me…this is better. They’re boring when they’re drunk. And also when they’re sober.’

Joel smiled, straining just slightly, at this.

‘He a good man?’ he asked, and you scoffed a little.

‘He’s barely a man at all,’ you said, automatically. Later you’d reflect on this moment, feel it turn you inside out and scold your skin with the heat of your own shame. For now, though, you were too tired, and it was too hot in the kitchen, for you to catch it.

Joel caught it, though. He cleared his throat.

‘We met at college, and he’s…well, he’s kind of set up for life. He doesn’t have to worry about grades, or proving himself. He’s almost guaranteed his residency.’ You were aware you were starting to sound bitter, and maybe you were just a little. Something about Mr Miller, sitting at his kitchen table late in the evening with a beer, muscles wrapped in a plaid, his soft brown eyes watching you carefully, made you think he’d understand.

‘He doesn’t make you feel good enough for him?’ he asked, after a while.

You considered this, eventually shrugging your shoulders. ‘I don’t know if he makes me feel anything,’ you said, truthfully.

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table, his chin resting in his hand as he watched you, gazed at your face.

‘What do you want him to make you feel?’ he asked.

‘Seen,’ you said, without hesitation.

‘Just seen?’ he asked. His voice was deathly quiet now, almost entirely gravel. His eyes were burning, sharp. You watched as they darkened, stealing your breath out from under you.

‘Desired,’ you almost whispered. He dropped a hand to the table, his fingertips only inches from yours, resting casual on your textbook.

‘What man’s out there runnin’ round this town not desirin’ you?’ he asked, almost as though he couldn’t believe it, and you felt scorching heat on your cheeks, rushing down your sternum, pooling heavy in your core.

You blinked, terrified to move in case you broke whatever spell had befallen him. He turned thoughtful, his eyes dropping to the woodgrain of the table.

‘Y’been working a lot here…can’t imagine hanging out with me and a ten-year-old girl is the same as bein’ out there, living your youth…’

You felt something heavy shift in your belly, something essential curdle and erode.

‘I like it here, Mr Miller,’ you said, all big eyes and almost quivering lower lip. Joel moved away, sitting up straight and peeling the label off his beer.

‘Pretty thing like you, shouldn’t be spendin’ all night waitin’ on us,’ he said, almost to himself. You shook your head again, but he was closing off on you, you could see it in the way his shoulders were folding, the way his mouth was tugging down at the corners.

Without even considering it, operating almost entirely on instinct, you reached your hand out to rest on his bicep. You watched as his eyes drifted close, a long exhale through his nose. He grimaced, almost like you were hurting him, until he lifted his hand and held yours fast to him, wrapping his paw around you.

‘I really love spending time with Sarah,’ you said, just over a whisper, as he stared hard at the table. You could sense he was avoiding your gaze, and you wanted to say something to draw him to you, wanted to give him a little nugget of truth that he could take into himself, hold deep and quiet in his depths. ‘I love spending time with you,’ you said.

He raised his eyes to yours. His hand was so warm over yours, your cheeks so pink in the sleepless heat of the late evening. You saw his eyes fall to your lips and you slipped your hand from under his, reaching up to trace the contours of his jaw with your fingertips.

‘Baby…’ he whispered, ‘I been’ resistin’ you so long, don’t know if I can…’ and you pushed a finger to his lips. You didn’t want him to break whatever spell you were both suddenly under. Didn’t want him to take this from you both, whatever it was turning out to be.

‘Don’t argue,’ you instructed, quietly. With brows saddled, he nodded his head.

And he didn’t argue. Not when you moved your finger from his lips and traced it down over the hollow of his neck, over to his pulse where it thundered under your tough.

Didn’t argue when you leant forward, pressing your nose to his, giving him time to pull away, to move from your lips.

Didn’t argue when you pressed them to his, a little soft and quiet thing, earning you a wanting gasp from him, a prize you would hold in the cavity of your chest so long as your heart stayed beating.

Later, when you had gathered yourselves, when he had gazed at you and you had felt the want in him mixing with the regret, with the necessity of the un-having corrupting the want to take and take and take, you had simply gathered your books, tucking them quiet and neat into the bag at your feet. He didn’t argue with you about driving you home that night, suddenly quiet in a way that set your teeth on edge, and you felt an ache in your belly you couldn’t account for when he closed the door. You waited behind the trunk of the tree at the end of his driveway, counting the minutes he left the light on for you after you’d slipped from view, giving up when you got past 15.

You were unsettled. Joel hadn’t called for two weeks, and you were starting to worry that you’d ruined things, your silly little kiss bubbling corrosive at the base of your spine. You couldn’t help going over the whole evening again and again in your head.

You should have told him you preferred spending the nights at his house, that the way it smelt like play-dough and sometimes sawdust, sometimes pine, was so unique to the both of them that you felt your nerves settle the moment you stepped over the threshold. That the house was warm and quiet, that you could spread out your books and something essential to you, that in this space with them you felt more yourself than anywhere else on the planet, even locked away in your little studio apartment, even just you and your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You wanted to tell him Sarah was funny, and smart, and kind, and being around her made you nostalgic for the childhood you never had but ached for, that you felt all that time with her she was giving you something precious and absent, something simple and something sweet. That there were nights you weren’t sure who was sitting who.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t expect anything from him, that it didn’t matter to you if nothing ever happened, if he regretted letting you kiss him, if it had just been that it was too awkward in the moment to say no. Just that you wanted to keep sitting for him, just that if all you got was a casual conversation at the end of the evening and an argument about driving home that would be enough for you, because it would have to be, and so you could make it so.

You begged off seeing Mick for the second Friday night in a row, wanting to be available in case Joel called. You felt silly but you could use the cash. Your textbooks were $400 a piece, and next semester you were taking three classes. Just feeding yourself was enough to stop your studies in their tracks.

Two things happened in the span of ten minutes. A knock at your door stirred you from your lecture notes, and your phone rang. By the time you had it in your hand you were holding Mick back from your face, your palm to his chest, as you craned your neck away from him to speak.

‘M’sorry, Sweetheart, it’s just…I know, it’s a Friday…’

‘It’s fine, Mr Miller,’ you said, ignoring the way Mick was making smoochy faces over your shoulder. ‘I don’t have any plans.’

When you got off the phone Mick was pouting again, and you sighed.

‘I thought I was your plans?’ he said, and you shrugged at him.

‘It’s good money for easy work, babe,’ you said, the nickname sitting heavy on your tongue.

‘I can give you money,’ he said, pulling you towards him by your belt loops and nipping at your jaw. You cringed away from him.

‘That would make me your whore, right?’ you said, and he grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘Never seemed to bother you before…’ he said, and you bristled against him.

‘The fuck does that mean?’

“Oh, fuck me, babe, make me yours…” he imitated, his voice high in a general approximation of yours. You blushed, furiously. ‘You think good girls beg like little whores?’ he asked, and you knew he was kidding around, knew that he wasn’t smart enough to do it without outright insulting you, knew that you’d put up with this shit before so there was no reason why he wouldn’t assume he couldn’t get away with it now. You knew the way he spoke to you was basically your fault, and you couldn’t yell at him now that the precedent had been set. You felt yourself crumple, landing with a thump on the edge of your bed.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ he was saying, grinning at you like he’d won his prize. ‘You put the kid to bed, and I’ll come by and keep you happy ‘til Dad gets home.’

You hated the idea, the thought of Mick in that space you’d almost come to think of sacred making your stomach churn.

‘No,’ you said, and you watched as he arched his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You can’t come in…’

‘Say no more,’ he said, grinning again, and for whatever reason, you didn’t.

He arrived, just after 9 PM, already drunk. You winced as he parked his car in the driveway, right in Mr Miller’s spot, worried for a moment he was going to swipe the mailbox when he took the angle too fast. He skidded to a stop mere inches from Mr Miller’s garage door and you exhaled, realising you were bracing for the sound of splintering wood. He ambled over to where you stood on the front porch, tugging at your shirt sleeves in the cool night air.

‘Babe!’ he called, and you shushed him almost instantly. He was carrying a sixpack of beers, three of them already gone. His breath reeked and you wrinkled up your nose when he slung his arm over the back of your neck and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss.

‘This feels like high school,’ he said, and giggled.

‘This is my job, y’know,’ you corrected him, but he wasn’t hearing you, backing you up against the side of the house. You thumped into the brick, wind temporarily knocked from your lungs before he was on you, slipping his entire tongue into your ear in a way that made your skin crawl.

‘Easy…’ you said, and he ignored you, his hand not holding the beers rising up to paw at your breast over your shirt.

‘Mmm…such a tasty little slut,’ he said, and you closed your eyes. ‘Little naughty baby-sitter.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ you stage-whispered, not sure how well your voices wouldn’t carry over the breeze in Mr Miller’s cul-de-sac. He leant down, resting the beers on the front porch so that he could grope you with both hands.

He groaned as he rubbed his cock at your clothed centre. You moved your face to the side, letting your eyes slide closed again.

You tried to think of a romantic movie. Tried to remember some of the fragments of the romance novels your mother had kept stowed under the bed and that you snuck into the den to read to your giggling friends. Tried to imagine a different man, a stranger’s hands on your chest, a stranger’s fingers pinching at your nipples. Tried to imagine what it would feel like if they found the sweet spot, if they sent electric shocks into your belly, into your cunt. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push the sound of Mick’s heavy breathing out of your mind, focusing instead on rough and calloused fingers, the scruff of a beard teasing along your skin. Heavy accent and sweet pine, a groaned little ‘Sweetheart…’ as he slipped your shirt up over your shoulders.

‘The fuck’s going on here?’ you heard a gruff voice as your eyes sprang open, pushing Mick from you hard enough that he stumbled, backwards, landing on the grass.

‘Mr Miller!’ you exclaimed, shame burning bright on your cheeks as you righted your clothes. ‘M’so sorry, he just dropped by…’ you started but Joel was striding up his driveway, as you realised with a new flash of guilt he’d had to park on the street.

‘Hey, man…’ Mick was saying, his hands up in front of his face. ‘Just checkin’ in on my girl…’

You cringed, this particular pet name always feeling more like ownership when it came from him.

Joel looked up at you, his brows saddled. ‘You OK, Sweetheart?’ he asked you, and you realised for the first time he wasn’t angry but concerned, his fists balled up like he was ready to spring to your defence.

‘It’s Mick,’ you explained, glancing down at him as he tried to climb to his feet, getting as far as his knees and settling there for a second to plan his next move. ‘He…he wanted to…’

‘Yeah, I saw what he wanted to,’ Joel huffed out, reaching down to pull Mick upright by the back of his shirt. ‘Saw the way you were bracing away from it too,’ he said, looking directly into Mick’s grinning face.

‘What else you see, old man?’ he asked, and Joel dropped him back onto his knees.

‘You got your keys?’ he asked him, and waiting for the younger man to root around in his pockets.

‘Don’t steal my ride,’ he said, handing them over and not noticing when Joel slipped them into his pocket.

‘M’going inside, and I’m gonna call you a taxi, and you’re getting in. She can drive your car back to you tomorrow mornin’…if she doesn’t decide to drive it off a cliff,’ he said, abandoning Mick on the front lawn and coming towards you, grabbing your wrist gentle but firm in his hand and pulling you inside. ‘C’mon, darlin’,’ he said, and you followed, almost entirely on autopilot.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Miller,’ you started but he waved you away, placing a call for the taxi while keeping you fixed in your spot with his glare. When he was done, he rolled his shoulders, sighing.

‘You sit,’ he said, striding into the kitchen and emerging moments later with two glasses of sweet tea. You realised, as you lifted your hands to take your glass from him, that you were shivering.

‘I didn’t know he was going to do that,’ you said, and Joel shook his head. You felt the waves of disappointment rolling off him and you worried for a moment you might cry.

‘He always touch ya like that?’ he asked, palming at the back of his neck.

‘Like what?’ you asked, your cheeks burning again.

‘All…clumsy and…disrespectful,’ he said, quiet. He stared at the floor between you while you perched on the edge of the couch.

‘Well…’ you started, but you weren’t sure how you wanted to finish that sentence. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother to touch me at all, you thought.

Joel scoffed, his jaw squeezed tight. ‘Guys like that are all the same, Sweetheart, just…selfish. Even in the bedroom. No lady should be touched like she’s a piece of meat.’

You considered, for one crazy moment, if Joel wasn’t so much disappointed in you as he was in Mick’s prowess. Suddenly you had to stifle a giggle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Joel asked you, surprised.

‘Just…I mean, they all go to such fancy schools, get all that college for basically free…’ you started, trailing off when you saw him starting to smile. ‘He can’t even boil an egg, and I don’t mean mine,’ you said, and he laughed then, free and loud, and the sound of it made a little fizzle of joy spark up your spine.

This was fun, you realised, shitting on your terrible boyfriend with the most handsome single Dad you’d ever laid your eyes on. This was really, really fun.

‘So, I take it he don’t make you breakfast in the mornin’,’ Joel joked, and you snorted. ‘What you eat for breakfast, anyway?’ he asked, turning to you now, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You swallowed. ‘No, wait,’ he said, ‘let me guess.’ He pretended to look you up and down, his brow arching as he considered. ‘You’re not a waffles kinda girl,’ he said, thoughtfully. You grinned and shook your head. You’d never liked the sponginess. ‘But you’re too fun for plain old oatmeal,’ he said, and you felt a blush crawling across your chest. ‘You’re a pancake princess,’ he decided, finally. ‘Am I right?’

You pretended to consider it for a second before nodding happily at him. ‘Maple syrup and berries,’ you agreed.

‘Maple syrup and berries,’ he said, grinning in his victory. He paused, something passing between you. Suddenly he shifted forward, his knees just barely brushing yours. You found yourself mirroring him, leaning in enough that you had to put your hand out to steady you, landing it on the cushion only inches from his thigh. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek when he whispered in your ear, ‘tart…but a little bit of sweet for m’sweetheart.’

You felt heat scorch its way up your chest, reduced to kindling beside him.

‘Bet he don’t kiss ya like ya should be,’ he said, and you thought for a second of Mick, grinning and drunk out of his mind on the front lawn. You wondered if the taxi had come for him yet, and had absolutely no interest in going out to check on him.

‘Mr Miller…’ you whispered, and he groaned, then, his eyes rolling back in his head.

‘Please, baby, when you call me that…’ he trailed off, eyes blown wide and you felt, then, the thundering in your chest. From this distance you could see his racing pulse in his neck, the same pace as yours.

‘Mr Miller…’ you said, again, staring now at his lips. You wanted to reach out and just take a little nibble.

And he was on you, grasping the back of your head and bringing it down to him, crashing his lips into yours as you gasped, swallowing the echo down into his throat. His tongue, scorching hot, exploring your mouth as he teased it open, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheeks.

‘Thought about you…’ you said, without even thinking, and Joel pulled back a second to appraise you; your swollen lips, your doe-eyes gazing up at him.

‘Say that again,’ he mumbled.

‘When he’d take me, I’d think about you,’ you said, and you watched as his eyes fell shut, taking the moment to glance down at his heaving chest, the aching bulge between his legs. ‘Thought about your hands on me, Mr Miller, about your mouth.’

‘Fuck, Sweetheart…’ he said, almost as if it pained him, before his eyes snapped back open to gaze at you.

‘Kiss me?’ you asked, sweet as you could for him while you tried with both hands to hang on to the moment, to stay here in it with him. You would need to remember this, every corner of the room, every detail. Would spend nights reconstructing his face in your mind, the way he was looking at you now, wanting and red-cheeked, dark eyes and a hot little huff as your words landed their blows on him.

‘Canna touch you, baby?’ he asked, and you were nodding, pulling him towards you as he slid his hands over your waist. Threading your hands through his hair he brought you over him, straddling him on the couch as he stared up at you, brows arching high, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. You smiled at him, feeling like his prize, as you brought your hips down on him and watched his eyes ease shut, heard his breath stutter. He was big, you could feel it even as the seam of his jeans rubbed at your core. You could feel yourself aching for him, hot and pounding where you ground yourself down.

‘Fuck, Mr Miller…’ you gasped as you felt him push his cock up into you, his hands on your hips and pulling you down.

‘So beautiful, baby,’ he whispered, reaching up with one hand to cup your breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers that, even through your shirt, shot lightning bolts to your cunt. You gasped, a high-pitched little sound you were sure you’d never made before, and he soaked it down into his skin, kept it held tight and precious in the core of him, to keep him warm on cold evenings.

You felt yourself shivering, even as his warm fingertips dropped to lift the hem of your tee and trace their way back up to your tits along the skin. His enormous hands almost completely captured it, and you felt small, then, and shy, but when you looked down into his warm, brown eyes you saw only safety there, only naked desire for your pleasure.

You let your hips roll, that building ache in your core. You’d only ever felt this alone, had never had another person bring it out of you, and you felt the sharp edges of it as you felt a shard of panic slice through your gut. No one had ever done this for you, before. You weren’t sure if your body would allow it, weren’t sure if you could let go enough to fall.

‘Hey…’ Joel said beneath you, his eyes roaming your face. ‘Relax, Sweetheart,’ he whispered, reaching his hand from your hip to your jaw, pulling you down to rest your forehead on his. ‘Just you n’me, baby,’ he whispered as you rocked on top of him. ‘You can take what you need,’ he promised. ‘I got you.’

‘Joel!’ you gasped, the shiver in your body now ratcheting up your spine, your thighs burning as you rolled your hips on his lap, his cock still tucked away in his jeans. ‘I don’t know if I…’

‘Sssh…’ he cooed, raising a thumb to your lips and slipping it between your teeth. You sucked instinctually, swirling your tongue over the tip and letting your eyes drift closed. ‘Just feel it, baby,’ he said, ‘don’t force it. Let it grow.’

Never in your life had you felt like this. You took his thumb between your teeth as you ground, the spark of fear in your belly engulfed by the roar of your desire. You could feel your hips stuttering, could hear yourself starting to pant.

‘Good girl…’ Joel encouraged, slipping his thumb from your mouth now and smearing it across your lips. ‘Right here for ya, baby,’ he said. ‘Wantchya to feel so good.’

You cried out, smacking your hand over your mouth to stifle your cries. He was going to kill you, and you would let him again and again, let him bring you back to life just to kill you this way all over again. You had no idea bodies were made to feel this good.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, all the warning you could muster as he grabbed your hips with both hands, slamming his bulge up into you as he pulled you down, the seam of his jeans rubbing hard into your clit. ‘Yes!’ you whispered, your body shuddering as you felt yourself crest, the pleasure roaring from your cunt to your chest, exploding out of your skin as you rolled, roiled, boiled on top of Mr Miller.

‘Jesus, there she is…’ he whispered, and you opened your eyes to gaze down at him, your breath still coming in gasps as he watched you, awe and desire on his face. ‘There she is,’ he said again, like a prayer, a benediction.

You woke slowly, the dappled light streaming in through the oak tree beside Joel’s window. It took you a moment to orient yourself, to remember that you were in his bed because he’d considered it too late for you to take yourself home, even if you had Mick’s car. Because the pleasure he’d wrung out of you on his couch had left you boneless, because the idea of ripping yourself from his smell, from his heat, was unthinkable in that moment.

You stretched, noting that the other side of the bed remained made, that he had spent the night on the couch. You remembered that you had wanted to ask him to stay, that the words had formed on your lips, and that in that moment you saw the regret on his face, the longing to tuck himself in beside you and pull you into his chest, let the weight of the night take him and you with him, but that he wouldn’t allow it, that he was holding back. You weren’t sure why, but you assumed out of decency, out of respect. Out of some vague employee-boss professionalism you would both cling to in an attempt to paper over the grasping maw of desire opening up between you.

You had wanted him, and you had denied him, allowed him to deny you. You rolled to your back in a frustrated huff, surrounded by the scent of him, of his cologne and the scent of his skin imbued in the sheets beneath you.

After a while you heard noises in the kitchen and you left your cocoon, pulling your clothes on and padding down the stairs constructing a cover story for Sarah as to why you were still there. When you rounded the corner, though, you saw only Joel –in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, standing at the stove.

‘Hey, Sweetheart,’ he said casually, as if you hadn’t come on his lap less than twelve hours before, ‘Sarah’s headed off to soccer practice, so you and me’ll have to take care of all these.’

He gestured over his shoulder to the kitchen table, where a stack of cooling pancakes stood proud. You felt a shiver of shock run though you at the sight of them, turning to Joel with the curl of tears tickling the back of your eyes. ‘No berries, sorry darlin’,’ he said, without looking up. ‘But we got enough syrup to make it up to ya, I hope.’

You weren’t sure anyone had ever done anything like this for you. You wanted to sob, wanted to walk over to the table and pick up the pancakes in your fists and mash them into your skin, wanted to drown them in syrup and eat until your belly distended, wanted to force feed them into Joel. Instead, you stepped forward, your arms opening all of their own accord, wrapping yourself around his back like a Koala. He huffed out a surprised laugh, growing serious when he turned you in his arms to face him, seeing the gathering tears at your waterline.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ he asked, and you grinned, watery, up at him.

‘No-one has ever…’ you started, catching your words before they spilled too much of the truth. Understanding passed over Joel’s face.

‘Oh, my sweet girl…’ he said, and you glowed for a minute, the words reaching down into your chest and igniting something long extinguished.

He leaned down towards you, pressed his nose to yours, his forehead resting gently on yours. You inhaled him, his scent and the sweet smell of the pancakes on the stove, tried to imprint the memory deep in your DNA.

‘What the fuck is this?’ an angry voice sounded from behind you, and you snapped away from Joel, taking several steps back. Mick, still in his same clothes from the night before, stood furious in Joel’s kitchen.

‘The fuck, you let yourself in?’ Joel asked, matching Mick’s anger with his own. ‘This is a private residence, man.’

‘That’s my girlfriend, man,’ Mick spat, his face twisting into an ugly mask you weren’t sure you’d ever noticed on him before. ‘The fuck you doing feeling her up? You stealin’ my car and my girl?’

‘Mick…’ you started but he was ignoring you, advancing on Joel. You stepped towards him, hands up to placate, but Joel was suddenly beside you, tucking you behind him and shielding you with his broad chest.

‘Back up, buddy,’ Joel said, a whispered warning.

‘Me, back up?’ Mick seethed, about to go on before Joel interrupted him.

‘Yeah, you back up. You need to sit your arse down and learn yourself somethin’,’ he said, advancing on Mick so that the younger man took several steps backwards, heading towards the kitchen table. You wondered if anyone had ever actually stood up to him, if usually his wealth was enough to make people cower. He backed into a kitchen chair, slamming down into it with a thud as he stared up at Joel, the older man red faced and pointing a finger at his chest. ‘You think that little display last night was any way to treat a woman?’ he grit out. You watched as Mick shook his head no. ‘You think she enjoyed that, being pawed at in the dark like a fuckin’ street walker?’ he asked.

‘She looked pretty whorish a few seconds ago,’ Mick responded, petulant and stupid. You could see by the way Joel braced his shoulders, his back expanding in resplendent fury, that Mick had made the wrong fucking choice.

‘Ya little shit,’ Joel said, stepping back from Mick and towards you. He held his arm to you, beckoning you into his chest and you went to him, tucking yourself against his side.

‘You have a woman like this, you fuckin’ cherish her,’ Joel muttered, tracing his fingertips along your side and making you shiver. ‘Look at these pretty little tits,’ he said, moving to cup them as you blushed, tucking your face into his neck. You heard Mick’s sharp intake of breath, mirroring your own as Joel rolled your nipples through your shirt. ‘The way you were grabbin’ at ‘em last night, you think that felt good? You make her groan like this?’ he asked, applying just the right amount of pressure on the sensitive nubs, eliciting a moan from you, unbidden.

‘Listen, man, this is…’ Mick started but Joel cut him off with just a look, stern and disapproving, before his face shifted back to adoration when he turned to you.

‘Let’s show him, baby?’ he asked, his brows saddled high. You knew you were safe with him, that at any moment you could call it off, but you wanted this. You wanted Mick to see what Joel could do to you, the sounds you could make. Wanted him to feel small and insignificant in the presence of a real man, of real pleasure. Wanting him to see what money couldn’t buy.

You nodded your head at Joel and watched as the grin bloomed over his face. ‘M’good girl,’ he said, quiet enough that only you could hear it, and you felt the bolt of want shoot down into your core. Your cunt already aching, already dripping for him.

‘Show me where,’ he said, stepping back as you surveyed the space. You nodded towards the kitchen island, the bench just above your hip height. Joel nodded, lifting you up easily to perch on the edge, your body facing Mick as he sat, frozen, at the table in front of you.

‘Slip these off, baby,’ Joel said, tugging at your sweatpants and you lifted your hips as he slipped them, your panties along with them, out from underneath you. The granite countertop cold on the top of your thighs you revelled in the sensation of it, the hard, cold surface so different to Joel’s hot body as he hovered at your side.

‘Show him,’ he said, tapping you on the knee. You spread your legs, hooking one thigh over the edge of the counter and the other widening out to your side, your cunt unfolding before the two men in front of you. You watched as Mick’s face turned pink, sweat appearing on his brow. You turned to look at Joel, the hunger in his eyes as he devoured every inch of your skin. He reached over, running his fingertips over the inside of your thigh, moving closer to you, leaning over your body to whisper into your ear.

‘You’re dripping onto my countertop, baby,’ he said, and you could hear the glee in it, the wanting.

‘For you, Joel,’ you clarified. ‘Not him.’

‘Nah, never for him, I reckon,’ Joel agreed, his fingers slipping further towards your slit. You felt totally exposed and wanton, whorish, as Mick had put it, and your cunt was pulsing, aching from the desire of it. You felt like a priceless piece of art admired in a big city museum, like a stripper opening up her legs for hoards of braying men, like a girlfriend letting her disappointing boyfriend know in no uncertain terms he would no longer neglect her. You felt power coursing through your veins and into your cunt, your slick pooling on the top of your thighs as the most beautiful man you had ever seen stood beside you and teased the pleasure from every nerve.

‘Fuck…’ you whimpered as Joel’s fingers landed light and dexterous on your clit, the little bundle of nerves sending the pleasure roaring through your core and into your chest. You bucked your hips, nearly slipping from the countertop, Joel coming forward again to brace you against his chest.

‘God, look how much she wants it,’ Joel said over your head to Mick. ‘Bet you’ve never made her jump like that.’ You opened your eyes, not even having realised they’d closed, to watch Mick swallow hard and heavy. You beamed back at Joel, letting the pride in his face radiate warmth down upon you.

‘So good f’me, so good t’me,’ he said, spreading your lips apart with his fingers and pushing a fingertip inside. You gasped, shock on your face at the intensity of the need for him burning where he touched.

‘Please…’ you whimpered, just wanting more and just wanting him to never stop, just wanting him to reach inside you, to wring the pleasure out of you, to make you come so hard you forgot your own name.

‘Sshh…’ he cooed to you, ‘your boyfriend needs to concentrate so he can learn.’

You emitted a squeal of frustration, bucking your hips on his hand to try and draw him in, earning you only a chuckle from Joel.

‘Ok baby, m’sorry. Just like teasin’ ya,’ he grinned at you, before sliding two fat, rough fingers hard into your cunt.

For a second you lost touch with reality, your head flying back to the ceiling as sensations strong enough to take your breath roared from your cunt. The stretch was delicious, the heel of Joel’s hand rubbing hard at your clit as his fingers reached deep inside you, opening you up for him, your slick gathering in his palm.

‘Look how wet she gets,’ Joel noted, over his shoulder to Mick. ‘Such a shiny little cunt when she’s drippin’ like this. You ever work her up like this?’

You heard Mick grunt, a pleading note of displeasure, and you sighed as Joel started pumping, stoking the fire in your cunt that threatened to eviscerate you and everyone within the vicinity.

‘Joel!’ you gasped, rolling your hips again, trying to shove him deeper into your greedy little cunt as it grasped at him.

‘Could lick ‘er up, whatchyu reckon?’ Joel asked, already getting down on his knees as you groaned, certain now he was going to send you into the stratosphere. ‘Can I, baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, frantic, unable to form words.

‘Bet she tastes sweet,’ Joel said to Mick, who was inching closer in his chair, peering over Joel’s shoulder as your cunt swallowed his thick fingers. ‘Like watermelon on a hot summer day. You ever taste her, Mick?’ he asked. You watched as the shame bloomed over Mick’s face. Joel scoffed. ‘Course not, ya fuckin piss weak little prick,’ he spat before turning, diving in to lick a fat stripe at your folds, settling in to lap at your clit as his fingers worked you.

You screamed, sucking in huge lung-fulls of breath just to let them keen out of you, your hips slamming shut on Joel’s head as he sucked at you, every nerve ending screaming now as you felt the blooming heat of release.

‘Oh, he’s gonna make me…’ you said to Mick over Joel’s shoulder, watching you with owlish eyes.

‘Don’t talk to him,’ Joel admonished you, pulling your focus down to him as he perched between your legs, ‘you talk to me,’ he said.

‘Sorry, Mr Miller,’ you said, watching as his eyes rolled shut, a shiver passing over his shoulders.

‘Be the death of me…’ he muttered, returning his attentions to your pulsing cunt. You gripped his hair, rolling your hips on his face and rocking into him, chasing the release now gathering at the base of your spine.

‘Jesus…oh, fuck…’ you cried, trying desperately to warn him, your eyes slamming shut only to open in shock as he found new ways to wring the pleasure from you.

Joel worked you up, his tongue never fatiguing, setting up the perfect rhythm to hold you just on the edge. You could feel your sweat pooling on your skin, the heat in your cunt spreading down your legs, the pull of the knot in your belly.

To your utter dismay Joel stopped, lifting his face to address Mick at his shoulder. ‘You ever make her squirm like this?’ he asked, and you cried for him, then, scrabbling to grip his shoulders, his chin, to push him back to your desperate cunt. He laughed, nipping at your fingertips as they passed by. ‘Look at her graspin’ for me. You seein’ this? This is what real pleasure looks like.’

You cracked open an eye, the room spinning around you as you fought to regain control of your limbs. You saw the look of shame embedded deep into Mick’s face now, the sight of it somehow intensifying your pleasure, the building pressure in your cunt.

‘Fuck me,’ you gasped, turning your attention back to Joel, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Show him how to fuck,’ you groaned, pushing off the countertop and spinning up onto your toes, laying chest down on the granite now hot to the touch from your writhing body on top of it. You spread your legs a little, knowing that your puffy little cunt lips would be revealed to them both, and you heard them both groan, Joel’s chesty moan full of grit, Mick’s high pitched and brimming with regret.

‘Don’t do this, man…’ he pleaded, and you heard Joel’s little scoff.

‘That’s the thing, buddy, the lady always gets what she wants.’

You felt him come to stand behind you, heard the rustle of his sweats as he pulled his cock over the waistband. It took everything in you not to turn and admire it, knowing in that moment you would have plenty of opportunity.

‘Fuck, she’s got me weepin’,’ Joel said, and you heard the unmistakable sound of skin on skin as he wrapped his hand around himself and tugged. ‘Got me harder than a railroad spike, this little cunt…’ he muttered. You whined, swivelling your hips to try and entice him, begging him to move faster as the walls of your cunt fluttered for him. You heard him sigh, a happy little sound. ‘Ok, baby, I’m here,’ he said, running a hand up your spine to hold you gentle and firm at the back of your neck, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. ‘Gotta be gentle with my sweet little pussy,’ he said to you, leaning over you to place a chaste kiss in the cup of your shoulder blade.

‘Please, let him see it stretch me,’ you said, and you felt Joel shudder, notching himself at your entrance.

‘Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll chain him up in the basement, make him watch me fuck you every day,’ he muttered, pushing gently at first, the tip enough to make you gasp.

He was big, you realised. All of this time working you up he’d been leading to his moment, preparing to tease you open. ‘Oh, shit…’ you gasped as he pushed.

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, pausing until you nodded, frantic, hands gripping at the edge of the counter for purchase as you pushed back into him, sliding in a few extra inches, as Joel moaned.

You were dimly aware that Mick was moving, coming to stand in front of you, a look of sorrow and unabashed heat on his face.

‘Please, can I?’ he asked, rubbing himself through his pants and you swatted him away.

‘No, fuck you,’ you said, emboldened by Joel’s desire for you, by his cock currently splitting your folds. ‘You never get this pussy again,’ you hissed at him, and you felt a bloom of pride at the look of hurt crossing his face just as Joel cheered from behind you.

‘That’s my beautiful girl!’ he gasped, bringing a finger to your clit and rubbing tight circles into it, making you gasp as you let your head fall, resting on the countertop. ‘So good f’me.’

The burn in your cunt from the way he stretched you abated, the pleasure Joel was giving you from your clit causing more slick to gather, your cunt grasping him again, your walls fluttering as you felt the ache turn to sweet pleasure, to a blooming rapture.

You lost touch with the ground, Joel’s harsh thrusts pushing you further up the counter, completely at his mercy as your legs hung useless beneath you, hands braced against the granite to give him purchase. In this moment, spread out on his cock, your cunt open and dripping for him, the pleasure ripping the words from your brain, gasps racking your throat, you felt completely under Joel’s spell, his touch, his heat. Mind-numb, thoroughly fucked out, gripped in this moment between the build up and the threshold of release.

‘Oh, you’re gonna make me…’ you warned but Joel had you, was there already with you.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he grunted between thrusts. ‘Can feel it, can feel that sweet little cunt grippin’ me.’

You cried out, nodding your head furiously, entirely at his mercy now. ‘Yes, yes…Joel, it’s gonna…’

‘Let it go, baby,’ he moaned, and you felt none of the panic, none of the terror at your impending release, wrapped up safe in Joel’s body, in his groans of rapture, in the pull of the knot as it threatened to snap entirely.

‘Watch me make her come,’ he spat out over your head, and you were only dimly aware of what he was saying as your release sped towards you.

You writhed, your breath stolen from you by the roar of the wildfire across your chest. The push of your orgasm slipping you under, crashing your body into the shore, rolling and quaking underneath it as indescribable lust coursed through your veins.

‘Oh, fuck, there she goes,’ Joel spluttered, his hips stuttering as he started to deepen his thrusts. ‘Gonna fill up ya girl,’ he grit out, his final movements sloppy and desperate as he approached the edge.

‘Do it, baby,’ you whimpered beneath him, words finally able to escape the cage of your throat. ‘Need you.’

He did, then, his come exploding into you and washing you clean, cleansing you of Mick, of all your disappointments, of all your fears. You looked back over your shoulder at him as he crested, his eyebrows saddled and his eyes trained on you, a look of reverence and hunger, of sweet shock, as though he couldn’t believe how good it felt either, as if everything for him was also slotting into place, as if he knew in this moment he would never let anyone separate you, would never let anyone take you from his side, that in his moment you were his just as much as he was yours, that this was a forging of something solid and essential, something vital and something precious, something that was just for you.

You didn’t remember Mick leaving. Didn’t care to say goodbye.

Joel had peeled you off the counter and carried you upstairs, drawn you a bath and lowered you gently into the water, sat beside you and washed your body as you lulled in and out of a light sleep.

Drying you off he wrapped you up in his clothes, swamping you in cotton and his scent, before promising to make you a fresh batch of pancakes. You hadn’t let him, whimpering when he tried to leave your side, pulling him down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you.

Later you would figure out lunch, and then Sarah, and then the rest of your lives. For now, you had each other, and cool sheets, and the light patter of rain as a welcome cool breeze blew new life over the garden beneath Joel’s window.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic

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rafedarling · 4 months ago

Note

GQ COUPLES QUIZZZ

𝐠𝐪 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐳

pairing: rafe cameron x actress!reader; husband!rafe cameron x wife!reader warning: english is not my native language | word count: 1,2k au: like, reblog and comment are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. a sequel to “love, fame and the future” but can be read as a stand alone one-shot. taglist

like, reblog and comment are much appreciated 🥹

The studio was set up perfectly for what was about to be an intimate and fun GQ Couple Quiz. You and Rafe Cameron, your husband of just a few months, were sitting side by side on a cozy loveseat, ready to test how well you knew each other in front of the cameras. The energy between you two was electric, a combination of love, excitement, and the comfortable ease that came from being newlyweds still in the honeymoon phase.

Rafe leaned closer to you, a playful grin on his lips as he took your hand in his. "Ready to show everyone how well we know each other, Mrs. Cameron?" he asked, the sound of your married name making your heart skip a beat.

You smiled back, loving the way "Mrs. Cameron" sounded. "Ready to win this thing, Mr. Cameron?" you teased, squeezing his hand back.

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I don't know if there’s a way to win, but let’s see if we can avoid any awkward ‘I didn’t know that’ moments."

In front of you was a glass bowl filled with folded slips of paper, each containing a question about your relationship, your likes and dislikes, and your lives together. The rules were simple: you and Rafe would play rock-paper-scissors, and whoever won would draw a question from the bowl. Then you’d both answer it, hoping your answers matched.

You turned to Rafe with a mischievous look. “Alright, rock-paper-scissors to see who picks first. You ready?”

“Always,” Rafe replied, his competitive nature coming to the surface as he held up his fist.

“On three,” you said, and together you chanted, “One, two, three!”

You threw out rock, but Rafe’s paper covered it.

“Ha!” Rafe exclaimed, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. “Looks like I get to pick first.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, go ahead. Let’s see what the first question is.”

Rafe reached into the bowl and pulled out a slip of paper. He unfolded it slowly, drawing out the suspense before reading it aloud. “What is Y/N’s go-to comfort food?”

You both exchanged a knowing look, and you bit your lip to keep from giggling.

“I know mine,” you said confidently, glancing over at Rafe to see if he was on the same page.

Rafe leaned back, pretending to think hard. “Hmm… I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you dive into a tub of chocolate ice cream more times than I can count.”

You laughed, nodding. “That’s absolutely right. Chocolate ice cream is my weakness.”

He smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew it. I always keep a stash in the freezer for emergencies.”

You gave him a playful shove. “Emergency ice cream is very important.”

Rafe laughed, his hand resting on your knee. “Your turn, Mrs. Cameron. Let’s see if you know me as well as I know you.”

“Alright, challenge accepted,” you said, shaking your hands out as you prepared for another round of rock-paper-scissors.

Once again, you counted to three, and this time you threw out paper while Rafe threw rock.

“Yes!” you cheered, pumping your fist in the air. “I won this time.”

Rafe chuckled, pretending to be disappointed. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, reaching into the bowl to pick a question. You unfolded the slip of paper and read it aloud. “What is Rafe’s favorite way to unwind after a long day on set?”

You already knew the answer to this one, having spent many evenings watching him unwind.

“I’ve got mine,” you said, looking at Rafe expectantly.

Rafe grinned, clearly thinking the same thing. “Alright, on three?”

You both counted down together. “One, two, three!”

“Watching football with a beer,” you said at the same time he did.

You both burst out laughing, knowing you had nailed it.

“You know me so well,” Rafe said, his voice full of warmth as he reached over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I should,” you replied, feeling a wave of affection for him. “I’ve seen you do it enough times.”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead softly. “You’re usually right there with me, though, keeping me company. It’s better that way.”

Your heart melted a little at his words, and you squeezed his hand. “It’s always better when we’re together.”

“Alright,” Rafe said after a moment, glancing at the bowl again. “Let’s keep this going. We’re on a roll.”

You agreed, ready for the next question. You played rock-paper-scissors once more, and this time, Rafe won again.

He reached into the bowl and pulled out another slip. “What is Y/N’s most embarrassing moment on set?”

You groaned, knowing exactly what he was going to say. “Oh no, I think I know what you’re going to pick.”

Rafe smirked, clearly amused. “Let me guess. It involves a certain scene where you had to run… and then completely wiped out?”

You covered your face with your hands, laughing despite the embarrassment. “Yes! I can’t believe you’re bringing that up.”

“It was adorable,” Rafe said, trying to contain his laughter. “You were so determined, and then bam—down you went. But you got up like a champ.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face still warm from the memory. “And I had to do it in front of the entire crew. I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

Rafe grinned, shaking his head. “Nope, but at least it makes for a good story.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing along with him. “Your turn to share an embarrassing moment. I’m not going down alone.”

Rafe chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. “Alright, fair is fair. There was that time I completely blanked on my lines during a big scene… right after I bragged to everyone about how I had them down perfectly.”

You laughed, remembering the story. “Oh yeah, you were so confident, and then—nothing. Just silence.”

“I wanted to crawl into a hole,” Rafe admitted, shaking his head. “But hey, it happens to the best of us, right?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s all part of the job.”

Rafe smiled at you, his eyes full of love. “I’m just glad I get to do this job with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled back, feeling incredibly lucky. “Me too, Rafe. Me too.”

For the next few rounds, you and Rafe continued the quiz, answering questions about everything from favorite date nights to pet peeves. The more you answered, the more you realized just how in sync you were. Each time you got an answer right, you celebrated with a high five or a quick kiss, both of you clearly enjoying the experience.

Finally, you drew the last question from the bowl. “Okay, this is the final one. It says… ‘What’s one thing Rafe does that always makes Y/N smile?’”

You glanced at him, your heart melting a little as you thought about the many ways he made you happy.

Rafe looked back at you, his expression softening. “I think I know this one.”

“Alright, let’s hear it,” you said, genuinely curious to see if he would get it right.

Rafe took a deep breath, as if trying to get it just right. “I think it’s when I wake you up with coffee in the morning. You always smile when I bring it to you in bed.”

Your heart melted completely at that. He was absolutely right. Those quiet, early moments when he brought you coffee, still warm and sleepy, were some of your favorites.

“You got it,” you said, your voice filled with affection. “It’s the little things like that that mean the most.”

Rafe grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Good to know I’m doing something right.”

“You do a lot of things right,” you said softly, reaching over to take his hand.

The quiz had been fun, but more than that, it had been a reminder of how well you knew each other—and how much you loved each other. Even though you were still newlyweds, it was clear that you had something special.

Rafe looked down at your joined hands, then back up at you, his expression tender. “I think we did pretty well on this quiz, don’t you?”

You smiled, nodding. “We did better than I expected. We really know each other.”

Rafe leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “And I can’t wait to learn even more about you.”

Your heart swelled with love as you gazed into his eyes, feeling the truth of his words deep in your soul. “Me too, Rafe. Me too.”

The cameras might have been rolling, and the quiz might have been the focus, but in that moment, all you cared about was the man sitting next to you—the man you got to call your husband.

With one last kiss, the quiz came to an end, but your journey together was just beginning.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines

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angelsfat3 · 22 days ago

Text

ⓘㅤ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒. ⠀⠀( 地图。)

𝓢ummary “ ✉. A spoiled child in love with someone whose father doesn't see him as an investment, he doesn't see that he will be of much use to his prodigy son.

⠀،،⠀Genre. ’ Smut, angst (begining).

( 𝒄/𝒘. )───Fingering, virgin, age gap—Jungwon/20!MR/24, not reviewed.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Jungwon had just finished his daily training routine when he noticed something different about the studio. The section where the little kids usually practiced was always filled with laughter and chaotic shouting, but today everything felt more... harmonious.

His gaze shifted to the center of the room, where a young instructor guided the children with a patience that bordered on angelic.

Jungwon didn’t know exactly what made him stop there, standing at the entrance with his uniform bag carelessly slung over his shoulder. Maybe it was the instructor’s graceful movements, more natural than his own despite the difference in skill level. Or perhaps it was the way his smile seemed to brighten the entire space, as if nothing else mattered.

“Oh, that’s the new instructor,” one of the assistants whispered to him. “He’s just here to pay for his career. Works like crazy with those kids. Poor guy.”

That shouldn’t have mattered to Jungwon.

After all, he was used to being surrounded by people who lived to impress him, not by someone quietly working just to get by. But that first glance changed everything.

From that day forward, every practice at the studio stopped being a routine and became a reason to linger a little longer.

He wasn’t sure when exactly his silent fascination turned into something more tangible.

Maybe it was the day they spoke for the first time. Jungwon had let his guard down just enough to ask for a technical tip, and the young instructor, with his kind smile, had replied with something as simple as it was profound: “Stop overthinking it. Just let it flow.”

And it flowed.

Conversations in the studio, furtive glances that grew bolder, and finally, a moment alone that marked the beginning of their secret relationship.

But nothing could stay hidden forever.

The truth came out when Jungwon’s father confronted him one night in his study, his voice harsh and his gaze leaving no room for argument. “You can’t ruin your future for someone like him. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Living,” Jungwon replied with a conviction he didn’t know he had.

Because for the first time in his life, he had found something worth risking everything for.

The argument in the study was like a hurricane. Jungwon stood firm in front of his father, his posture steady even though his hands trembled behind his back. Every word his father spoke felt like a lash.

“What can he offer you? Love? Is that going to secure your future? You’re a prodigy, Jungwon! Someone like you doesn’t have time for distractions like this.”

“He’s not a distraction.” Jungwon forced himself to keep his voice calm, though inside he felt like his heart was about to burst. “He makes me happy.”

“Happy? Don’t be naive. Happiness doesn’t put food on the table or build a legacy. Let me make this clear. End this. Now.”

Jungwon didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared at his father, trying to understand how they could live in such different worlds. His father saw numbers, status, and reputation. But Jungwon saw something far simpler and more powerful: someone who saw him as a person, not just an object.

“I’m not leaving him,” he said finally. His voice came out quieter than he expected, but firm. “Whether you like it or not.”

His father’s expression hardened. “If you insist on this foolishness, don’t expect my support. You’ll be on your own.”

“That’s fine.”

The conversation ended there, but his father’s words lingered in the air, like a storm that refused to pass. It hurt. Oh fuck, it hurt too much, but he preferred to be happy with his boyfriend, with the beginning that he never saw him as a gold mine.

That night, Jungwon arrived at the instructor’s small apartment with his heart racing, weighed down by sadness and betrayal after the confrontation with his father.

He didn’t know what expression to wear or how to explain what had just happened.

When the door opened and he saw [...], his hair damp from the shower and an expression of surprise at Jungwon’s late arrival, all the day’s heaviness seemed to melt away.

“Are you okay?” [...] asked, tilting his head with that tenderness Jungwon loved so much.

“Not really,” Jungwon admitted as he stepped inside. He sank into the worn-out sofa, burying his head in his hands. “My dad found out. About this. About us.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. [...] closed the door carefully before walking over and sitting beside his boyfriend. “What did he say?”

“The usual. That I’m ruining my future. That I can’t be with you because you’re not... you know, like us.” Jungwon looked up, meeting the other’s gaze. “But I don’t care. I’m not going to leave you.”

A small, sad smile crossed the brunet’s face. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re fighting with your family, Jungwon.”

“You don’t understand,” he said quickly, taking his hand. “This isn’t just about you. They don’t understand what it means to have someone see me, to want me for who I am, not for what I can do. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

[...] sighed, his fingers gently squeezing Jungwon’s. “I’m not going anywhere... but promise me you’re not doing this just for me. Do it because it’s truly what you want.”

“It is,” Jungwon replied without hesitation. “You’re the only thing I really want.”

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the apartment’s lamp and with the echoes of his father’s words still in his mind, Jungwon knew he had made the right choice. Because sometimes, risking everything was the only way to find what truly mattered.

The silence between them broke with a long sigh from Jungwon as he glanced around the small apartment. It was modest, with old furniture and walls in need of a fresh coat of paint, but it had a warmth that made him feel more at home than any mansion he’d ever lived in.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost as if he feared the answer.

The instructor nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Of course. You’re always welcome.”

Jungwon let out a breath of relief and sank back into the worn-out sofa. He closed his eyes for a moment, but the weight of his father’s words still bore down on him. He couldn’t sit still.

“How can he be so... selfish?” he began, sitting up again, his hands gesturing in frustration. “Everything I do is for him. I compete, I train, I meet his damn expectations, but the moment I do something for myself, something that matters to me, he makes me the fucking villain!”

The instructor watched him calmly from the other end of the sofa, letting Jungwon’s words spill out uninterrupted.

“It’s like he can’t see me as a person,” Jungwon continued, standing now, unable to stay still. “I’m just a trophy to him. Something he can show off to his friends, an investment. But me? What I want? He doesn’t care. He’s never cared.”

“Jungwon...”

“And the worst part? He told me I’d end up alone. Can you believe that? Like his approval is the only thing I need to survive. How can he be so cold, so... control—”

“Jungwon.”

The instructor’s voice, though soft, was enough to stop his tirade. Jungwon turned to face him, his chest rising and falling with his labored breaths.

“Come here.”

It was more of a request than an order, but Jungwon obeyed without thinking. He sat down beside the instructor, who took his hands in his own. His touch was warm, an anchor grounding him.

“You don’t have to carry all of this on your own,” the instructor said, his eyes full of understanding. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t let his way of thinking consume you. You’re more than what he wants you to be. And you’re not alone, okay?”

Jungwon swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in his throat. He hated how vulnerable he felt in that moment, but he also knew those words were exactly what he needed to hear.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a while, his voice barely audible.

The instructor smiled, giving his hands a gentle squeeze before standing. “Come on, you need to rest.”

He guided Jungwon down the narrow hallway to his bedroom. Jungwon walked with his arms crossed over his chest and a furrowed brow, still venting as they went.

His voice, usually calm and controlled, now carried a frustrated tone, raw with emotion.

“It’s like he can’t see me as anything more than an extension of himself! Everything is about ‘our legacy,’ ‘your responsibility,’ ‘what’s expected of you.’ But me? What I want? Doesn’t matter. How can he be so damn blind?”

Behind him, the instructor followed silently, a faint smile tugging at his lips as his eyes studied Jungwon. There was something about the way he moved, all that restless energy simmering beneath the surface, that made him seem more human, more vulnerable... and surprisingly irresistible.

“It must be exhausting being so perfect all the time,” the instructor murmured, just loud enough for Jungwon to hear.

Jungwon stopped in his tracks, turning to him with a confused look. “What did you say?”

“Ah? Nothing, nothing.” The instructor shook his head, hiding a smirk. “Just that you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Jungwon let out a huff and kept walking. “I don’t have a choice, do I? If I don’t, I’m a failure to them. But I’m so sick of it. Sometimes I just want to... I don’t know, disappear.”

The brunette watched him more closely this time, his gaze trailing along Jungwon’s sharp jawline, the tension in his neck, the way his shirt clings to his lean torso, the enticing bulge of his cock barely hidden by the loose fabric of his pants and the way his broad shoulders rose and fell with each frustrated breath.

There was something so real about seeing him like this, so far from the flawless prodigy everyone worshiped.

It was impossible not to feel a certain hunger, a pull to get closer, to touch that perfection that now seemed within reach.

But he forced himself to look away, reminding himself that Jungwon was here because he trusted him, not because he wanted to be objectified by his impulses.

“Come on,” he said finally, catching up to Jungwon and gently touching his arm to guide him to the bedroom.

Jungwon allowed himself to be led, still grumbling about his father as they entered the small space. The room was simple, barely decorated, with a futon on the floor and a small wardrobe in the corner. Despite that, Jungwon collapsed onto the mattress as if it were the most comfortable place in the world.

“It’s so frustrating,” he continued as the instructor moved to the wardrobe. “The worst part is, I know he’ll never change. He’ll always see everything I do as something that has to meet his standards.”

The instructor began to change, grabbing a small towel to dry his hair and torso. The towel around his waist slipped lower as he moved, revealing a lean, toned physique—not overly muscular but clearly defined. He bent down to grab a pair of clean boxers, still listening intently to Jungwon.

Though he paid attention to every word, his gaze kept drifting toward the boy sprawled on his futon, his expression of frustration somehow making him even more captivating.

“Jungwon,” he interrupted finally, his voice calm but firm, “I understand why you’re upset, but you need to decide what you want to do with all of this. Do you want me to just listen, or do you want my advice?”

Jungwon looked up, realizing the instructor was now standing by the wardrobe with a pair of pants in hand, his torso still bare, droplets of water trailing down his broad back.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air in the room grew heavier.

“I want...” Jungwon hesitated, his anger momentarily eclipsed by the closeness of the other man.

He swallowed hard, feeling a sudden heat rise in his cheeks. “I don’t know. I guess I just want someone to tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

[...] held his gaze for a few seconds before walking over to sit beside him, still holding the pants in his hand, the towel precariously low on his hips. “You don’t need anyone to tell you that. If being with me is what you want, then you’re already doing the right thing.”

Jungwon stared at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. For the first time that day, he felt some of the pressure in his chest lift.

But he also felt something else, something he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Because even though he had come here to vent, now all he could think about was how close the instructor was—and how easy it would be to lean in just a little more.

[...], his hand still resting on Jungwon's waist, ran his fingers through his damp hair, setting the pants aside as he leaned slightly closer with a mix of concern and calm in his expression.

"Listen," he began in that soothing tone that always managed to make Jungwon lower his guard, "you don't have to carry all that weight just because your father says so. You have the right to choose your own path, even if it’s not the one they expect from you."

Jungwon nodded absently, but his eyes weren’t meeting his companion’s. They were fixed on his neck, where a bead of water slowly trailed down his skin.

He was trying to focus on the words—he really was. He wanted to process the advice, but something inside him was simmering.

The exhaustion, the frustration, the heat of the room—all of it seemed to amplify every small detail: the closeness, the low and steady timbre of that voice, the way [...] seemed utterly unaware of how he affected Jungwon. How even the smallest thing he did could put him hard as rock.

"I know," Jungwon muttered, almost absentmindedly. "It's just… it’s hard to ignore when it’s always been there. He controls everything. Even when I try to pull away, I feel like a part of me will always—"

He stopped, his words swallowed by a sudden, overwhelming thought.

He didn’t know if it was the accumulated stress or simply the fact that [...] was mere inches away with his towel barely clinging to him, but suddenly, the only thing he wanted was to close that distance.

[...] noticed the abrupt silence and looked up. "Are you okay?" he asked, leaning a little closer.

"Yeah," Jungwon replied quickly, though his voice was tight. "It’s just that…" He bit his lower lip, scrambling for an excuse for what he was about to do.

Without overthinking it, he shifted forward, planting his knees on the mattress and closing the gap between them.

Before the older man could react, Jungwon was seated on his lap.

The movement was so unexpected that [...] froze, his hands instinctively lifting but not quite touching him. "Jungwon?" he asked cautiously, his voice tinged with surprise.

"Sorry, I just…" Jungwon shifted slightly, pretending to get more comfortable, though his true intention was to create friction between the semi-erect crotch and his ass. Heat rose to his face as he felt the contact, but he didn’t back away. "It’s more comfortable this way."

"Comfortable?" [...] raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled but also faintly amused.

One of his hands finally settled on Jungwon's waist, as if to steady him. "I didn’t realize my lap was such prime seating."

Jungwon let out a nervous laugh, looking away. "Well… the bed’s not as comfortable as it looks."

"Ah, of course," [...] replied, his tone dripping with irony. But his eyes, darker and more serious now, remained locked on Jungwon, studying his every move. "Do you want to talk about what’s really going on, or are you just going to keep 'adjusting' yourself?"

"What? No, nothing’s going on," Jungwon answered quickly, though his tone betrayed his nerves. He tried to stay firm, but each subtle shift sent sparks of heat racing through his body.

[...] exhaled slowly, his hand on Jungwon’s waist giving a light squeeze. "Jungwon, if there’s something you want to tell me, just say it. You don’t need to play this game."

For a moment, Jungwon fell silent, his eyes lowering to where [...]'s hand rested on his waist.

The warmth in his chest grew stronger, blending with an inexplicable need. Finally, he looked up, meeting those eyes that always seemed to see straight through him.

"I’m not playing…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

[...] studied him for what felt like an eternity, his expression softening from confusion into something deeper, something that was both understanding and unreadable. Yet he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he stayed still, letting Jungwon take the lead, waiting for him to decide what came next.

The air in the room grew heavier with each passing second. Jungwon barely moved, but just enough to heighten the tension between them.

His hips subtly grazed [...]’s lap, a poorly disguised attempt at "getting comfortable," while soft, barely whimper sounds of restrained pleasure slipped from his lips, clear enough to reach the other's ears.

[...] frowned, his hands tightening around Jungwon’s waist, halting his movement. "Jungwon," his voice dropped, more serious now, "what are you doing?"

The boy looked up, his eyes glimmering with a mix of confusion and something deeper—something he could no longer hide. "Nothing, I just..." He murmured, attempting to shift again, but the hands on his waist held him firmly in place.

"No." [...]’s voice cut through the moment, low and commanding, enough to make Jungwon shiver. His fingers pressed slightly into the flesh of his waist, a clear signal that the charade was over. "Tell me, Jungwon. What is it you’re trying to do?"

Damn it. [...]—always so maddeningly correct, always insisting Jungwon use his words.

For a moment, Jungwon said nothing. His breathing was unsteady, his gaze avoided his lover's as a fierce blush spread across his cheeks.

Finally, he let out a long sigh, lowering his head until his forehead rested on the other’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered first, his voice barely audible against his skin. Then, after a beat of silence, he leaned in closer, letting his nose brush against the other’s neck. “I can’t take it anymore.”

[...] glanced at him from the corner of his eye, his muscles tensing under Jungwon's weight. "What can’t you take?" he pressed, though his voice had softened slightly, as if he understood but needed to hear it aloud.

“All of it,” Jungwon continued, his hands clutching the other’s chest as if searching for support. “My father, the expectations… feeling like this with you and not being able to do anything about it. It’s too much.”

[...] swallowed hard, his eyes narrowing as he processed the words. But before he could respond, Jungwon lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing against his neck as he whispered:

“I want you to mark me.”

Time seemed to stand still. Jungwon’s words lingered in the air, soft but charged with undeniable meaning. [...] exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as he wrestled with the emotions those words evoked.

“Love…” he began, but the boy didn’t let him finish.

“Please,” Jungwon pleaded, burying his face into his neck once more. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this, that I don’t want you… that I don’t want us…”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to. His hands slid to the instructor’s shoulders, gripping more tightly as his hips shifted just slightly, as though words alone weren’t enough to express the depths of his need.

[...] let out a low sigh, his hands still firm on Jungwon’s waist as he observed him closely.

Warnings he wanted to give. Boundaries he knew he should set. But in that moment, Jungwon’s raw honesty disarmed him completely.

“This isn’t something you can desire lightly,” he finally said, his tone firm but layered with a tenderness that made Jungwon meet his gaze. “If we cross this line, there’s no going back. Are you absolutely sure about what you’re asking for?”

Jungwon nodded without hesitation this time. His gaze, though still laced with desire, was serious and resolute. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

[...] let out a soft “tch” as he lowered his gaze for a moment, as though summoning his strength. In truth, his eyes briefly lingered on Jungwon's cock. It was throbbing.

When he looked back up, there was an intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down Jungwon’s spine.

“Alright,” he said at last, his voice low and tinged with something Jungwon hadn’t heard before: desire. “But I won’t let this be a way for you to run from your problems. If we do this, it’ll be because you truly want it—not as a distraction. Understood?”

Jungwon offered a faint smile, leaning in just enough for his lips to graze the corner of [...]’s. “Understood, my love. I'm not running, I'm choosing you.”

Jungwon, feeling the tension in the air increasing with every second, slowly rose from his boyfriend's lap, his hands shaking slightly, as if he was finally taking control of the situation, but also as if he were afraid of what might happen next.

He looked at [...], who was still sitting on the futon, watching him silently.

With a determined but somewhat vulnerable look, Jungwon made a small movement backwards, making sure his instructor was lying on the mattress.

The posture of his body was dominant, but there was a softness in his gesture that carried with it a mixture of emotion and desire.

“Lie down,” Jungwon said in a low tone, almost like an order disguised as a suggestion, while his eyes shone brightly.

[...] looked at him, a spark of surprise crossing his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he flopped back onto the bed with a slight smile, a gesture that invited Jungwon to play along.

Jungwon took a deep breath, his fingers tracing the line of his chest as he made sure he was ready.

He walked over to the bed and gently sat down on the instructor's lap, who was already slightly reclined, but the towel he was wearing was barely held over his hip, dangerous and unstable.

Jungwon's movement was fluid, almost instinctive, as if he didn't need to think about it.

He settled into the other's lap, feeling the towel slip a little further with each movement. The heat between them was palpable. Without thinking, Jungwon began to caress the brunette's chest, his hands gently moving down his abdomen, a slow but firm touch that made it clear what he wanted.

[...]'s hands slide up Jungwon's back, fingers splaying across the smooth fabric of his shirt. He loves the way Yang looks perched on top of him, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks. It's a sight [...] could happily drown in.

[...] he didn't say anything, he just watched Jungwon, his breathing starting to speed up slightly as he felt Jungwon's caresses on his skin, his ass moving on top of him.

Jungwon's eyes shone with desire, but also with a vulnerability that only the brunette could see, that look that made it clear that it was not just the body that he wanted, but his mind.

Jungwon, his fingers now brushing the base of the towel, looked up to meet the brunette’s eyes. “Do you mind?” he whispered, his voice low but laden with emotion.

[...] he shook his head softly, his breathing a little more labored. “No,” he replied in an almost hoarse tone. “Do whatever you want.”

Despite the familiarity of those caresses, there was something different about this moment. Something more intense. Jungwon felt like every touch, every movement, was a way to claim something deeper than just physical desire. And although his heart was pounding, he wanted more.

[...], eyes closed for a second, he leaned back, his body relaxing on the bed, but his hands still on Jungwon's waist, holding him firmly as he felt the pressure of his circular movements on his hard cock. “Jungwon…” he whispered, his voice husky and full of lust. “Fuck, I need you.”

Without warning, he surges up and captures Jungwon's lips in a searing kiss. It's all teeth and tongue, messy and desperate. [...] pours every ounce of his love and longing into the kiss, hoping Jungwon can feel it.

[...]'s hands roam greedily over Jungwon's body as he kisses him, mapping out every dip and curve. He palms Jungwon's ass, giving it a firm squeeze before sliding around to grip his hips.

[...] rocks up against Yang, grinding their cocks together through the layers of denim.

“Been thinking about this all damn day. Wanted you so bad.” [...] pants against Jungwon's lips, his eyes dark with desire. His hands slip under Yang's shirt, skimming over the warm skin of his back.

Jungwon, having his precious boy under it, was infecting me with his wildness with words and the direct way he said them.

He's not going to lie, he and [...] have clearly been intimate, although they didn't usually go beyond [...] Fucking his mouth without mercy or the famous 69.

Although, because [...] loved to use Jungwon's ass as his way of relieving stress, he used his cheeks as a pillow, he would gently bite them or squeeze them. That's why he got into the rhythm of always doing glute exercises (when he did occasionally exercise).

[...]'s eyes darken with lust at Jungwon's moans, his cock throbbing eagerly under the thin towel. "Fuck... Darlin'. Want to feel you all over me, rubbin' that perfect ass on my dick." He growls, his voice low and rough with desire.

[...]'s hands slide down to grip Jungwon's hips, thumbs digging into the sensitive skin where hip meets thigh.

He rolls his own hips upwards, grinding his denim-covered erection against the cleft of Jungwon's ass. The friction makes [...] groan, his head falling back against the pillows.

"Been dreaming about this, honey... Imagine you bendin' over for me, presentin' yourself like a pretty virgin present." [...] murmurs, his words slightly slurred.

Between whines of pleasure, Jungwon moved his hips circular in shape, feeling its erect length more fully. It was big, he could barely fit half of it in his mouth, it was a miracle when I managed to get it all in his mouth, his lips always ended up swollen and red!

Jungwon's hands traveled all over his chest, the tips of his fingers were now on his pelvis, dangerously playing with creating invisible patterns. “So fucking big.. I can't wait to have you inside me..”

Jungwon was teasing [...] with small jumps, precise movements on the tip of the brown-haired boy's cock. He loved doing it, so he would get more vocalization from his boy.

In a quick movement he pushed himself away from [...], moving him away from me a little, enough so that he could raise his legs, thus beginning to remove his pants along with boxers at the same time. “Enjoying the view?”

Yang asked him in a whiny voice, whispering it almost in a moan after letting out a flirtatious laugh. His legs tightened, causing his erect dick and balls to be seen in a way... Very appetizing, adding to his firm and perfect ass.

[...]'s breath catches in his throat as Jungwon strips off his pants and boxers, revealing his most intimate parts. His eyes roam hungrily over that perfect body—the lean muscles, the smooth expanse of honey skin, the thick cock lying heavy against Jungwon's thigh. [...] licks his lips, his mouth watering at the sight.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." [...] rasps, his voice rough with desire. He reaches out to trace the defined V of Jungwon's hips, his fingertips ghosting over the sensitive skin. [...]'s gaze is drawn to Jungwon's ass, those firm globes just begging to be touched, squeezed.

Unable to resist, [...] grips Jungwon's ass cheeks, kneading the supple flesh. He spreads Yang's cheeks apart, exposing his tight pink hole. The sight makes [...]'s cock throb, a bead of precum dampening the front of his towel.

"Look at you, all spread out for me like a feast." [...] growls appreciatively. He leans in, burying his face between Jungwon's cheeks. [...] inhales deeply, filling his lungs with Yang's heady scent.

It's intoxicating, making his head spin with sin.

[...]'s tongue darts out, flicking over Jungwon's tight rim. He laps at the sensitive skin, tracing the pucker with the tip of his tongue.

[...] groans at the taste of him, musky and earthy. He wants more, needs more.

“Aw! Shit... More, my love.. more..” Jungwon moaned softly, holding his legs behind his knees with one hand, the other was in charge of gently caressing [...]'s head. Gently squeezing his hair.

His tongue always worked wonders on that pretty tight hole.

With a low growl, [...] seals his lips around Jungwon's hole and sucks, his tongue pushing past the tight ring of muscle. He tongue-fucks Jungwon's ass, licking and sucking and nibbling until his dear is writhing beneath him, hands fisting in the sheets.

"Gonna make you feel so good, baby'." [...] promises, his words muffled against Jungwon's skin. "Gonna lick this pretty ass 'til you're beggin' for my cock."

Jungwon's head sank further into the pillows, his back arched a little, and his lips were parted, forming a small O, where he let out gasps. “K-keep moving your tongue a-and.. ugh!”

His tongue was so deep inside him that he felt like he could see the stars on the ceiling.

The hand holding my legs dug into one of his thighs, scratching his skin from the way [...] hands squeezed and opened his perfect cheeks.

“You are so fucking good, my love.. ugh.. my.. God..” His cheekbones, ears and whole face was completely flushed, it wasn't the first time they did this, but it always felt better than the previous one.

The sensation was clearly pleasant, but it reached this point where Jungwon felt his body turning stupid, weak.

[...] groans into Jungwon's ass as he feels those strong thighs clamp around his head, trapping him in place. He loves being buried between Jungwon's ass like this, inhaling his musky scent with every breath. [...]'s tongue delves deeper, fucking into Jungwon's tight heat with long, slow strokes.

"Fuck, you taste so good, darlin'." [...] rasps, his voice muffled against Jungwon's skin. He seals his lips around Jungwon's rim, sucking hard as his tongue swirls and curls. [...]'s hands grip Jungwon's ass, spreading him wider, opening him up completely.

[...]'s cock throbs in the towel, aching for attention. He grinds his denim-covered erection against the bed, seeking any friction he can get. The thin material creates delicious pressure against his sensitive flesh, making [...]'s hips buck involuntarily.

The movements did nothing but finally release the towel, leaving it crumpled on the bed, but freeing the thick, long cock of [...].

"Gonna make you cum on my tongue, pretty boy." [...] growls, his words sending vibrations through Jungwon's body.

He doubles his efforts, tongue-fucking Jungwon's ass with renewed vigor. [...] alternates between long, deep strokes and quick, fluttering licks, keeping Jungwon guessing.

[...] reaches up to palm Jungwon's neglected cock, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his tongue.

Heavens, [...]'s tongue is driving Jungwon wild.

The way it slides deep into his tight entrance, curling and twisting, is pure bliss. But his hand on my cock is too much, too soon. I can feel my release building, my balls drawing up tight.

"A-ah... No! Love... stop, stop, stop!" Jungwon's moans echoed through the room, his hips bucking erratically.

His body is wracked with small spasms of pleasure, his legs spreading wider in wanton invitation. Jungwon grab [...]'s wrist, trying to still his stroking hand.

[...] can feel Jungwon getting close, his hole fluttering and clenching around Jungwon's invading muscle. [...] wants to taste Jungwon's release, to feel him come undone in his hand.

[...] He couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. His hand moved frantically, his thumb massaging over the tip of Jungwon's dick from time to time.

Tears of overwhelming ecstasy prick at the corners of Jungwon's eyes. [...]'s ministrations are too intense, Jungwon's sensitive tip throbbing under his skillful fingers. He don't want to cum yet, not like this. He needed more time to savor the exquisite sensations.

[...]'s eyes widen as he feels Jungwon's body tense beneath him, his hips bucking wildly. The desperation in Jungwon's voice makes [...]'s heart clench, the urge to soothe and comfort his lover overriding his own need.

"Shh, it's okay, darlin'. I've got you." [...] coos, his voice low and soothing.

He releases Jungwon's cock, letting it bob free against his stomach. [...] tongue slows its movements, gentling his touches. He places soft, open-mouthed kisses over Jungwon's ass, worshipping every inch of skin. However, his hand continued to caress that throbbing vein, continuing to tease his urethra.

“L-love... Come on.. s-stoop~.." Jungwon beg, his voice breaking on a moan. His red lips tremble, forming a pouty 'O' as he pleaded with [...]. He need him to understand, to back off just a little.

His body is overstimulated, every nerve ending screaming for release.

Eventually [...] sits back on his heels, his hands resting lightly on Jungwon's thighs. He takes a moment to admire the sight before him—Jungwon sprawled out on the bed, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a breathless pant. It's a vision that takes [...]'s breath away.

"You're beautiful like this, baby. All spread out and needy for me." [...] murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. He leans in to press a tender kiss to Jungwon's hipbone, then another to his belly button. [...]'s hands slide up Jungwon's sides, thumbs brushing over his nipples.

"You know I want to take care of you, prince'. Make you feel good." [...] promises, his eyes locked on Jungwon's face.

He can see the desperation there, the need for more. [...]'s own cock is still hard and aching, but he pushes his desire aside. This moment is about Jungwon, about giving his lover what he needs.

[...] hands continue their slow exploration, mapping out every dip and curve of Yang's body. He takes his time, touching and teasing, coaxing Jungwon back to the edge of pleasure without pushing him over. [...] wants to draw this out, to make it last as long as possible.

"Tell me what you want, baby." [...] urges, his voice low and husky. "Wanna hear you say it, wanna give you everything you want. Everything you need."

“Just...” Jungwon's hands cup [...]'s cheeks, drawing him in close. Soft kisses flutter across his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead. His legs wrap around his narrow waist as he pull [...] nearer, bodies pressed flush.

"I think... Fuck, I just want you to fuck me, 'kay?" Jungwon whisper against his skin, nuzzling into the crook of [...] neck.

It was embarrassing, even now. Jungwon never found it easy to talk about what he longed for, he wasn't used to being listened to.

Jungwon's lips trail open-mouthed kisses along [...] throat as he breathes him in—leather, sweat, pure [...]. His tongue darts out, licking the curve of his pulse point before he bites down, marking him as his. Finally.

"I'm ready for you to claim me, darling." Jungwon murmur, voice husky with need. "Body and soul, I want to be yours completely."

[...] leans in to capture Jungwon's lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his love and devotion into the press of their mouths.

Those words were his switch. Even though Yang had said it minutes before. He wanted to make sure it wasn't just to ease all his pain, his stress.

[...] hands roam over Jungwon's body, mapping out every dip and curve he knows so well. But this time, it feels different. This time, it's not just about physical pleasure. It's about claiming Jungwon, marking him as his own in every way possible.

[...] breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down Jungwon's jaw, his throat, his collarbone. He pauses to lave his tongue over the mark he left earlier, soothing the sting.

"Gonna make you mine, darling." [...] growls, his voice low and possessive. "Gonna claim this sweet body and fill you up with my seed."

[...] sits back on his knees, his hands sliding down to grip Yang's hips. He takes a moment to admire the sight of his lover spread out, his ring filled with saliva and dilated a little, flushed and panting with need.

[...] gaze is drawn to Jungwon's ass again, that perfect pink hole just begging to be filled.

With a low groan, [...] removes the towel from under him, adding to how he put his chest against the mattress. The pressure of his cock against his stomach was almost irresistible, painful. It springs up, hard and heavy, the thick shaft already dripping with precum.

[...] gives himself a few quick strokes after he raised his hips a little, hissing at the sensation. But he doesn't want to rush this, doesn't want to make it about his own pleasure.

[...] reaches into his mouth with his free hand, pulling them out after a few minutes. They were full of saliva.

With a gentle touch, [...] circles Jungwon's rim, his slick finger pressing just inside the tight heat. He keeps the pressure light, letting Jungwon adjust to the intrusion. [...]'s other hand rubs soothing circles over the small of Jungwon's back, a grounding touch to help him relax.

Jungwon sank his head deeper into the pillows, turning to the side and biting my lower lip as he close his eyes. "A-ah... God... It feels so good," he moaned, his hips circling slowly, savoring the exquisite sensations.

"You're doing so good, baby. Taking me so well." [...] praises, his voice rough with emotion. He leans down to press a kiss to Jungwon's shoulder blade, then another to the curve of his spine. [...] tongue darts out, laving over the sweat-dampened skin.

[...] long, skillful fingers are driving Yang wild, making him see stars. His cock throbs insistently, the new stimulation making his release approach far too quickly.

He can feel his seed slowly trickling out, that thick liquid running down to his testicles.

"A-ahh... s-sorry! More!" Jungwon squeeze [...]'s hand, their fingers intertwined, as his back arches further. The pleasure is overwhelming, pushing him to the brink of exploding. I'm teetering on the edge, ready to shatter at any moment.

As Jungwon begins to push back against [...] fingers, he curls them just right, rubbing firmly over Yang's prostate.

[...] can feel Jungwon's hole fluttering around his digits, the tight muscles rippling with each pass. [...] cock throbs at the sensation, a pearl of precum bubbling up from the tip.

[...] fingers work Jungwon's prostate with expert precision, each thrust sending electric jolts of pleasure racing up Jungwon's spine. He can feel the blondie's body tensing, the telltale flutter of his inner walls signaling his impending release.

The intensity of [...] touch is overwhelming, his skilled bones stroking Jungwon's inner walls with a precision that leaves him breathless.

Jungwon moaned into his palm, muffling the sound as he felt his release approaching. His hips buck wildly, seeking more of that exquisite friction.

"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" [...] growls, his voice laced with pride and possession. "Wanna feel you let go, wanna watch you fall apart on my fingers."

"Uh-huh..." Jungwon replied in a low moan, his eyes closing as he tried to resist. As he tried to fight.

[...] thumb rubs tight circles over the head of Jungwon's cock, smearing the copious amounts of precum around. He can feel Jungwon's balls drawing up tight, the muscles in his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Let it happen, baby. Cum for me, cum for your boyfriend." [...] demands, his fingers pistoning in and out of Jungwon's hole at a furious pace. He can feel his own orgasm building, the base of his cock throbbing with the need to knot.

But [...] holds back, determined to bring Yang to completion first. He wants to feel Jungwon's ass clenching around him, wants to be buried deep inside that tight heat as he fills Jungwon with his seed.

Jungwon's body convulses, muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythm as old as time. He is dimly aware of the thin walls that are connected with the neighbors of [...], but I can't bring myself to care. All that matters is the blissful haze enveloping me, the feeling of [...]'s fingers still working my prostate, coaxing out every last drop.

"Fuuuck!" Jungwon gasp, a voice strangled as he come hard. His cock pulses, thick ropes of cum splattering across his stomach. The sensation is intense, more powerful than anything I've ever felt before.

Everything felt new, he felt so tired from a new sensation, from a new way of masturbating. He wanted to keep going, but he was completely empty, his ring squeezing tightly around [...] fingers.

“Get on your back, put that cute ass in the air. I’ll fuck you until dawn.” [...] whispered, chuckling darkly as he began to put more lube on his huge, hard cock.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁⠀⠀،،⠀⠀메모 ! ㅤ⸻ㅤ I don't have much of an excuse, I just wanted to make some good smut. + I'm sorry if you get to read another name/s, I usually write the drafts with my name. Also sorry if there are her/she pronouns, I'll fix them when I wake up.︐⠀📍

⠀𝒊. ⠀─⠀ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara⠀𝄒

. . . ₍⠀아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>⠀₎⠀ ִֶָ

˖⠀⠀ ݁⠀©⠀،،⠀If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!!

#enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨𝘧𝘢𝘵3ㅤ﹟ㅤ𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽.#x male reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #x male smut #kpop scenarios #x male reader smut #x male oc #x top male reader #jungwon x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #kpop x male oc

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alexlwrites · 10 months ago

Text

You ask and you shall receive!

Here's part 2 of "Yoongi never had a crush until you" from my notes app. I'm always open to more requests <3

(Check out part one here)

(Buy me a coffee on ko-fi!)

....

Tonight was the night. Yoongi could feel it, from the tip of his long luscious hair to his weirdly long toe. There was something in the air - whispers of certainty and peace that could either be a sign that Jungkook had left the premises or that tonight was the night that Yoongi was finally going to gather all the courage within his tired body and ask you out!

Furthermore! - he shook his fist in front of his mirror, eyes slightly crazed with a decidive stance - you'd say yes!

From there, everything would fall into place, stars aligning and errors corrected. His shoes would fit better, the wifi faster, the coffee tastier. Everything improved by your presence in his life.

He just couldn't stand all this nervous, jittery energy anymore! It was all so unlike his cool, calm, collected persona and he didn't know how to deal with his sudden difficulties to form full coherent sentences when you showed up. He had to put a stop to it and act on his new and, to be honest, slightly concerning feelings.

You see, he was a man with a written plan! In the depths of his pockets, under seven layers of coffee shop receipts from 5 months ago and guitar picks he thought he had lost, there was a small piece of paper with his plan detailed step by step: first he would calm the fuck down (crucial). Then, check for sweaty hands, unknown food stains on his outfit and bad breath (Just in case!!!!). Then, present his five slide power point showcasing his feelings and finally - finally! - ask you out.

In case you'd say no, he had an extra slide with more appealing arguments (i'm rich, it said). Otherwise, he'd move to south america and live his life as Carlos, the potato farmer.

Of course, as Yoongi's life was never as simple as a power point presentation, all his plans were forgotten when you showed up in his studio dressed up in a way he'd never seen, skin tight dress clinging to your body in the way he wanted to, rendering him speechless and brain dead.

"Yoongi! Sorry for the late hour, I just had to drop these documents before I left and I rushed here because I have plans for the evening..."

Ask her out, his heart said, beating so loud he was surprised you didn't hear it. Ask her out, make her yours, rip this sinful devil sent dress into pieces. Fuck the power point, fuck your canva vision board, ask her out, ask her out, ask her out, ask her...

"Out" he spluttered at last and he swore his heart shattered at the hurt in your eyes.

"Oh, im sorry" you said, dropping the stack of papers on his coffee table, lips pouting and eyes saddened in a way that made yoongi want to choke on his own fucking wrist "I'll leave you be, mr. Min"

"No-nO! I DIDN'T MEAN..." but it was too late and youd already left.

BUGGER.

BUGGER IT ALL TO HELL!

(Part three)

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x reader

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facioleeknow · 9 months ago

Text

Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him.

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern.

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him.

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

“What do you mean sir?”

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?”

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature?

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.”

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.”

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes.

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left.

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice.

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you.

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts.

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.”

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

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Can I request for Taehoon and Seongjoon NSFW??👀👀👀

Black Anon

Here's a cookie for you 🍪

Hi black anon! Thanks for the cookie and the ask! Taehoon came (heh) pretty easily but Seongjun will be in a part 2 unfortunately.

Seong Taehoon x Reader: NSFW hc

This guy just screams pretty. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty skin. You know where this is going.

You bet he's got a pretty dick too.

Good god does he know how to use it. You would never have guessed he was so inexperienced, but you've seen how abhorrent and prickly his personality can be at first. A deterrent for anyone that even tries to get close and in his pants.

And his moans? The prettiest, bar none. And he will blush furiously in the afterglow if you tell him and call you cringe for even saying something like that. Though if anything, he'll take that into consideration and might be a bit louder next time too.

The best is when Taehoon is fucking you, and the orgasm catches him unexpectedly. Like a rupture of a dam. He lets out the prettiest, sluttiest groan you have ever heard. Especially if he has to cut himself off from degrading you.

Oh yeah, degradation? He has a thing for that. It didn't actually start off as anything conscious. Just Taehoon being Taehoon. Awfully mean and condescending, that includes when you're in the middle of sex too. And then when he felt how wet you got and your walls clench around him as he berates you? Guess this is a thing now.

However, the words aren't too harsh. For him to even sleep with you, he has to like you a fucking lot. Taehoon does not do casual.

So yes. He will degrade you and prod enough with his words that some stuff sting in a good way (like the first rush of cold air after he spanks your ass), but nothing over the line or that crosses your boundaries.

Mr. Live However You Want likes to to fuck you anywhere, any place, assuming you're ok with it.

More than anything though, he wants to fuck you in the Taekwondo studio. Just imagining you bent over on the mats in his favourite place makes him a little feral.

And don't worry, it'll definitely happen at some point. Unfortunately for Taehoon that the days after that event, practicing with his dad standing right there also makes his brain malfunction.

Hansu being in the same spot where Taehoon has railed you as you're screaming out, drawing waves of pleasure with his tongue and fingers. Gross. Yeah the studio does a 180 and becomes a turn off.

It never happens again. But he does have a soft spot for that corner when he fucked you up against the wall, and the mat by the sandbag where you held on for dear life as he took you from behind.

Surprisingly sweet and thoughtful with aftercare. Doesn't need you to even ask. Taehoon is very efficient. Here's a towel, here's some water. Pulls you into his arms after you're both cleaned up. Silently observing you and checking over to make sure he didn't hurt you or go too far.

Think about it though, why wouldn't Taehoon be thoughful with aftercare. You just let him do that to you.

And, as mentioned, he likes you a lot to be even in bed with you. Probably has no qualms telling you he loves you mid sex. Just don't throw it back in his face, or he will be the sulkiest motherfucker ever and it will be a long time until you hear those words again.

#taehoon seong #taehoon x reader #viral hit #viral hit manhwa #viral hit x reader #viral hit webtoon #viral hit headcanons #how to fight #how to fight manhwa #how to fight webtoon #how to fight headcanons #seong taehoon x reader #seong taehoon #seong taehun #seong taehun x reader #taehun seong #taehun seong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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afternoondreaming · 4 months ago

Text

No Business Like Show Business (2/?)

Back at it again with the white Vans! (Does- Does anyone remember that? Am I getting too old?) Aaaanyways, we’re slowly gettin’ into it now! It began to get a bit too long, so Mr. Funny will just have to explain his shenanigans next time. Also, just letting ya’ll know, this is probably gonna be canon divergent. And I swear it’s gonna get funnier dw. You’re just a bit of a stick-in-the-mud right now.

The taxi you had hailed all the way out here skidded its tires slightly as it sped off. It had been a surprisingly long drive over to Puzzlevision— and an odd one, at that. You lived far away, and so as not to get sick, you avoided using your cell on the drive. It gave you ample time to watch the scenery, which seemed to gradually change the closer you got. Almost imperceptibly everything around you got more… Saturated. Colors showing brighter, eventually becoming almost painful to the eyes. It was reminiscent of color correction for TV, but why in the world would that be a natural effect?

You were aware that the world contained- for lack of a better phrase- an interesting cast of characters. Creatures of all shapes and sizes roaming about. You, however, lived in a painfully average area. Typical sights, typical people, and typical suburban antics. So far removed from the more fanatical aspects of life. Sure, you’d seen the occasional toad around town, but that was as exotic as it got. If even the nature around here was exceptionally strange, what would the people be like…?

That was another strange aspect you were noticing as you stood with your portfolio in the parking lot. There were no cars. No bikes. No sign of any human being inhabiting the studio that stood before you. Even the painted parking lines were noticeably faded, asphalt cracking and heaving from lack of care. You had the right address, you knew that. And you were certainly well within business hours. So where was everyone? With hesitant steps you began to walk to the entrance, fiddling with your portfolio and outfit with much more than pre-interview jitters. At the very least, you had told Tori where you were going, and your phone location was on. If you truly needed it, you could get someone to help you… Hopefully.

You let out a calming exhale before opening the door. Which quickly backfired, as the motion kicked up a huge cloud of dust. Sputtering out coughs you waved your hand in front of you to try to clear the air. Was this truly an abandoned building? As you got a better look, you became more assured of that thought. All of the furniture was dated and caked in a thick layer of dust. Though, you did notice a pair of footprints on the floor. Marking what must have been a frequently trodden path. What had you gotten yourself into? You turned heel, beginning to walk out so you could call a cab home. Suddenly your movement was halted by a heavy hand coming down on your shoulder. You couldn’t help the sound of surprise that escaped your mouth, jumping slightly and turning to see whomever it was. Slowly your gaze went up, up, up… Oh God. This man was towering! You liked to consider yourself of average height, and even then, your gaze would meet his midsection if you didn’t crane your neck.

A TV’s glow was what met your gaze, a neutral expression displayed upon it. So… He really was a television. Seeing him in interviews a couple of times, you weren’t exactly shocked. But… It was still slightly jarring in person. Everything about him but his color testing bars were in grayscale, like he stepped out of the classic silver screen. Rather fitting, you supposed. “Uh, hello? Puzzlevision to interviewee? I asked you a question.” The man ‘spoke’, if you could call it that, picture flipping to something akin to confusion.

You quickly corrected your agape expression, straightening your posture. “Oh goodness, I’m sorry. I guess I was a bit star struck…!” You laughed awkwardly, trying not to be stiff as a board. He removed his hand from your shoulder, striking a confident pose. He moved… oddly. It wasn’t fluid, but certainly exaggerated.

“Aha! Of course you were!” He looked awfully pleased with himself, yet surprised at the same time. “Your call for employment was answered by the one and only: Mr. Puzzles!” The titular Mr. Puzzles held the pose for a moment longer before returning to a neutral stance and face.

“Uh, yeah…” Mumbling, you reached out your hand for a handshake. Looks like flattery would get you pretty far here. If you didn’t hold yourself to higher standards, perhaps you’d use that to your advantage. “Still, my apologies. Lemme introduce myself, I’m-“

“Yes, yes, I know who you are, my rising star!” He interrupted you, turning around without shaking your extended hand as he began to walk. Apparently, he just expected you to follow. “I sent you a response, after all!”

“Wait-“ You started, beginning to speed walk in order to keep up with the long legged man. “I’m not a new actor…! I got a letter for the screenwriter position!” Was he getting a whole new staff?

“Again- I’ll repeat myself- I know.” Mr. Puzzles responded, his voice crackling with a flamboyant sarcasm. “I only hired a screenwriter- no actors. I just find your name lacking a certain… star power, is all!” …Had he just played a laugh track for his own joke? You found yourself frowning behind his back as you followed him. “It's terribly drab, my friend!” The man opened the door to another dusty room, gesturing for you to step inside just as you made yourself look less annoyed. “For someone like yourself? You need a title worthy of someone working at Puzzlevision~! You’ve headed multiple successful projects, but never having done so on your own. Someone with talent, but not successful enough to avoid being poached!” This was beginning to feel more insulting by the second. “Therefore! A rising star, an up-and-coming powerhouse, a starlet!”

“Now, wait a moment.” Hesitantly you spoke up as you began to sit down on the terribly dusty chair. There goes the dry cleaning fee you paid. “You’re right. I have headed multiple successful projects. But, screenwriters don’t work alone. I would’ve never done that because that’s not how it works.”

“Well, you’ll have to start now, because that’s how it works at Puzzlevision!” Mr. Puzzles sat across from you, unbothered by dust or grime as he crossed a leg and leaned one elbow on the table. “Besides having my expert guidance and leadership, Starlet, you’ll be working entirely by yourself!”

��Huh?

#fanfic #x reader #mr puzzles #smg4 mr puzzles #smg4 fanfic #self insert fanfic #self insert #canon divergence #mr puzzles x reader #smg4 puzzlevision #self ship #self ship fanfiction

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lvverleavr · 6 months ago

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Two French Doors | JTK

༘ Jake x f reader

༘ 2.8k words

༘ warnings: language, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it pls), and I think that's it!

When Jake gets the two of you a hotel room for the night, a mini fashion show turns into a lot more.

As soon as the glass doors opened to the hotel lobby you felt underdressed. Even people sitting at the hotel bar during what the small sign referred to as, ‘happy hour’ were dressed in dresses and ties. “Uhm, I’m here to check in,” You tried to shake the slight hesitation in your voice as they asked for the name it was under, “The reservation is under Kiszka but I think I’m in as a check in person,” You fumbled in your bag for your ID, sliding it across the cold marble, quickly pulling your hand back as you felt the woman's glance lingering at your picked nail polish.

“Alright here’s your key, you’re gonna go all the way down the hallway and take a left to the elevators. There’s a button labeled S you’re gonna press that to get to your suite,” She gave you a set of two keys along with a piece of paper, “That’s your itinerary, Mr. Kiszka requested we send with you when you checked in.”

“Suite-” The word caught in your throat, her eyebrows lifting slightly at your reaction.

“Yes Miss… Is something wrong?”

You shook your head, “Nope, everythings perfect. Thank you,” You quickly made your way to the elevator and scanned the paper in your hand. massage, car pick up 11 am, private studio session. “What the fuck..” You whispered to yourself as you wandered down the hallway and finally made it to your room.

The door opened to a large living space, a big off white colored couch that faced double french doors that led out to a small balcony, just enough room for a small two person table. You dropped your bags at the door, opening both the doors and letting the warm summer air hit your face. Two tall bamboo walls ran up the sides of the balcony, cutting you from the view of the balconies that came out beside yours. You left both the doors open as you walked around the rest of the suite. Nothing too crazy, just a small tv mounted to the wall and a coffee table. There were two doors set only a few feet from one another, one was a small door that led to a linen closet while the other was a set of double doors. You pulled one open and it led into a large bedroom with another set of french doors, this time the balcony only small enough for one or two people to stand on. The bed was made with what seemed like a hundred pillows and a small card was left folded along with a set of towels.

You walked over and picked it up, opening the card to see Jake’s handwriting, ‘I’ll see you tonight Angel, make yourself comfortable,’ You felt your cheeks grow a slight pink as you set the card on the nightstand, your gaze setting on the small curve with a soft light. As you turned the corner you entered the bathroom. A large bathtub sat in the middle, a bouquet of flowers stood on the vanity against the wall along with a box. You rolled your eyes, knowing the room alone couldn’t be the only gesture he had up his sleeve. You admired the flowers for a moment, your fingers running along a few of the pedals momentarily then your focused lied on the box, carefully removing the lid to see something black folded neatly inside of it. Your cheeks grew slightly pink as you held it up, turning to the mirror to then hold it against yourself. “He’s insane if he thinks I’m wearing this,” You mumbled quietly to yourself, pulling the fabric against you tighter, “absolutely delusional.”

You sighed, wandering for a few more minutes before checking the time. There was still quite some time until Jake said he would be back and you were getting impatient to say the least. “Hm..” You found yourself back in the bathroom, running the bath and stripping from your clothes. Once you were settled, you learned your head back, closing your eyes and letting out a content sigh. You were there for what felt like hours, any tension slowly leaving your body until you heard a familiar laugh.

Your eyes shot open as Jake stood in the doorway connecting the bathroom from the bedroom, “Jake-” You let out a deep breath.

“Sorry angel… Just me,” He smiled softly, “Don’t let me disrupt you… You like the room?” You nodded in response as he came over, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I’m glad baby,” He stood at the edge of the tub, his eyes wandering over the parts of your body that broke through the surface of the water.

“You’re staring,” You smiled, lifting one of your legs over the lip of the bathtub, prodding his thigh with your toe, “it’s rude to stare,”

“Is it? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you liked it when I stared,” He shot back, walking over to the vanity. “Did you see your present?” He looked at you over his shoulder as you grabbed a towel, wrapping yourself in it as you got out of the water.

“I did,” You let your hair down from the elastic, raking your fingers through it lazily.

“Yeah? You gonna put it on for me?” He smirked, stepping to the side so you could get your clothes.

“I don’t know… It’s beautiful Jake but I-”

“But you what?” He stood behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he guided you to drop your clothes once again. “And don’t say it won't look good on you because I’ve pictured you in it since the moment I saw it…” His lips connected to your neck, the warmth of his breath making the hairs on your arms stand up.

“Why don’t you try on the clothes in the closet first?”

“The closet?” You turned to look at him as he straightened up. “I thought it was just the-”

He smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to the bedroom and opening the closet. Hung up were three dresses each differing in style and color but all looking vaguely familiar.

“What are-” It took you only a few seconds to realize, “These are not the dresses from the boutique from back home are they-”

He smiled at you and nodded, “Of course they are, you loved them so much… I couldn’t let them slip away.”

You gripped your towel to secure it around one hand as you excitedly ran over to him, placing a kiss on his lips “Oh Jakey thank you thank you so much,”

“No need to thank me,” He placed a quick peck on your lips, “But I do wanna see you in them, do a little show for me.”

You blushed, “really-” he nodded in response, getting up and walking back to the living room. You turned your attention back to the closet, running your fingers along the fabric of the three pieces. “I can’t believe I'm doing this…” You mumbled to yourself through a smile as you put the first one on, smoothing it over your stomach and sides and peeking your head out the door. There he sat on the couch, his arms draped over the back of the cushions and his legs dropped apart slightly, a smirk settled smugly on his face. “Close your eyes!” You called out to him, watching him take one of his hands from the back of the couch and laying it over his eyes.

“Closed!” He smiled

You made your way in front of him, doing another quick check of your dress, your hands folding behind your back. “Open…”

He dropped his hand, his cheeks immediately darkening to a slight rose, “Oh honey-” His arm reached out, carefully sliding up and down your side, “Give me a spin hm?”

You blushed and nodded, doing a small spin. With each dress you tried on your confidence grew a bit more, and Jake's interest grew at a similar pace. His gazes lingering longer which made the way you showed your outfits off more and more personal.

“Okay one more, close your eyes alright?” You smiled, backing from where you stood right at his knees, watching as he let out a small breath.

“Alright angel,” He smiled, covering his eyes

You quickly made your way back to the bedroom, grabbing the box from the bathroom. You lifted the small black slip out of the box and laid it on the bed, the lace trim lined the bottom and the neckline and the slit went up a worrisome amount. “Here goes nothing,” You took a deep breath, hanging up the last dress and pulling the slip over your head, surprised at how perfectly it fit your body. You quietly opened the door, “Keep your eyes closed..” You said quietly, seeing an agreeing smile form on Jake's lips. You quietly walked close to him, taking another deep breath and straddling his lap, your knees hugged his sides as you kept yourself from putting your full weight down. “Open..” You said shyly, nervous for his reaction.

He didn’t speak for a second, his eyes just seemed to comb over every inch of your body. “Holy shit baby-” He let out a breath through his smile, his hands settling on the tops of your thighs.

“Is it bad?”

“Bad?” His hands slid up to your hips, “Fuck it’s anything but bad, do a spin I need to see all of you,” He lifted his hands to yours, helping you off his lap. You blushed and took a couple steps back, smoothing out the fabric again and slowly spinning around once. “Shit-”

You turned back to him, he was leaned back on the couch again, this time you could see a tension forming in his jeans. “I’m gonna take it as you really like it…” You blushed as he nodded.

“I love it, c’mere,” He reached over, his hands pulling at the backs of your thighs until you fell in his lap. “See? I knew you’d look good huh? I know exactly what to get my baby… Don’t I?”

Your face grew even redder, your hand resting on the side of his neck, “mhm..” Your gaze fell on his lips, his bottom lip was tucked between his front teeth and his eyes were trained on yours.

“Baby..” His voice was low and somewhat soft, like the calm before a storm.

“Mhm…” You didn’t look up to meet his eyes.

“Look at me…” His hand broke from your side, gently grabbing a hold of your chin and tilting it to look at him.

You finally lifted your eyes to his, settling yourself in his lap a bit more, pulling a small groan from his lips. “Stay still.. Just a second,” He lifted his hips up slightly as he shifted you on his lap, “Now you look so pretty baby… So pretty. Do you think you look pretty?”

Your mouth hung open slightly, withholding a true answer. His fingers tightened against the bare skin on your thighs, causing you to gasp slightly.

“Do you think you look pretty in this nice dress I bought you?” You began to shake your head, catching the look in his eye before changing your answer to a small, “Y-Yes,”

“Are you sure?” His voice was soft, a tone that should've brought you comfort, but instead made the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. You nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “Follow me,” He lifted you to your feet.

“What?” You looked at him confused, following him as he walked into the bedroom without saying anything.

“C’mere Angel,” He motioned as he walked into the bathroom, turning on the soft light that surrounded the vanity mirror. You followed, still slightly confused, “Jakey I thought you wanted me-”

“Oh I do.” He smiled, guiding you to the center of the mirror, “I want you so bad baby but there’s one problem,” His hands glided up your sides, fingers gently tracing just below the cups of your breasts.

“W-What problem-” You blushed, turning your head to watch his movements.

“Ah-” He corrected you, taking your chin in his hand and facing you back to the mirror, the dim light highlighted your already red cheeks and you could watch every one of Jake’s movements like time in film. “I don’t think you truly believe me baby, when I tell you how perfect you look right now,” One hand stayed gripped to your chin while the other dragged down your side, gently tugging on the lace trim as it rode up your thigh. You didn’t reply, feeling him pressed against you as his thumb gently caressed your jaw. “So pretty baby and you know what? I want you to see just how pretty you are.” He dropped his grasp, one hand swatting sharply at your ass while the other firmly placed on the back of your neck, guiding you down to bend over the counter in one swift movement.

You let out a small yelp at the feeling of his hand, the sting lingering for moments after he made contact, “Jake-”

He smiled at you through the mirror, “You see that baby? See your pretty face right there?” His hand gripped your hair, pulling it up so you saw yourself in the mirror. “Just like that… You’re gonna stay right there, and I’m gonna take you like the good girl I know you can be okay?”

Your face was bright red, you met his gaze through the mirror and nodded, “O-Okay.” You’d be lying if you were to say you weren’t excited, sure he could be rough but he was never like this. Your heartbeat pounded in your head and the adrenaline rushed between both your ears as you heard the metal of his button on his jeans hit the floor.

“Shit-” Was the first word that came out of your mouth, your head shooting down and your hands sliding to the edge of the sink. He started with no warning, no easing in this time, just the full feeling of him all at once. It hit you like a train and you loved it, his name escaping your lips as your stomach hit against the edge. He tightened his grip on your hair, snapping your head back to look in the mirror. “Jake-” You whimpered, his grip not loosening.

He slowed his movements only for a moment, his stomach pressing gently against you, his warm breath dancing along your neck and up to your ear, “See how fucking pretty you are? Look how perfect you are when you take me hm?” You didn’t answer, your eyes screwing shut as his free hand roamed past the material, his cold touch against our already sensitive clit leaving you near speechless.

“Yes!” You finally replied. He sped up, asking his question again. “Yes fuck Jake, I-I see how pretty I am,” You let out between whimpers.

“Good girl,” He loosened his grip on your hair, enough for his lips to connect to your neck, leaving small marks wherever he pleased. “How pretty you sound, those fucking perfect tits while I fuck you hm?”

You nodded again watching your hair move in a matching rhythm with his thrusts. Your eyes began to water as he powered through your first high, “P-Please,” You begged as he brought you close to your second, his fingers never straying from between your legs. You lost count of how many highs you both ran, at what you could guess was finishing on your fourth or fifth you felt his hips slow to a stop, meeting softly against yours.

“Oh now don’t look at me like that, angel,” He smiled, sliding your slip back over you and gently turning you around, “You could barely stand baby, even though I’d watch you like that all night.”

Your cheeks were wet with your own tears and you felt your knees shaking. His soft smile as he cleared you both off made the blush permanent on your cheeks and the way he stared at you when you got in bed brought a similar heartbeat feeling in your fingertips.

“What?” You smiled, his warm skin mixing with the cold sheets as you adjusted yourself on the pillow. He didn’t respond with words, his blinks were long and drawn out, a gentle smile laid on his face as he shook his head ever so slightly. “No, tell me..” You already knew what he was gonna say, he got like this every time. You’d make fun of him that he was being a dork but secretly you loved it. You loved that every night you spent with him would be followed by his dopey smiles and whispered, you’re just so beautiful. “Jake?”

“Mhm..” He hummed, you smiled as you took in the moment– the way his hair pressed against his forehead and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“You’re so beautiful” You whisper, watching his tired smile grow as he realizes his stolen line, his arm reaching up and capturing you in his hold even tighter.

“That’s my line” he chuckles tiredly against the nape of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending a wave of warmth over your skin.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #jake kiszka #Jake kiszka fic #lvverjake

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slackville · 6 months ago

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60 years ago today, June 27, 1964, the final episode of The Rocky & Bullwinkle Show (known as Rocky & His Friends during the first two seasons and as The Bullwinkle Show for the last three seasons) aired.

It originally aired from November 19, 1959, to June 27, 1964, on the ABC and NBC television networks. Produced by Jay Ward Productions, the series is structured as a variety show, with the main feature being the serialized adventures of the two title characters, the anthropomorphic moose Bullwinkle and flying squirrel Rocky. The main adversaries in most of their adventures are the Russian-like spies Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale. Supporting segments include Dudley Do-Right (a parody of old-time melodrama), Peabody's Improbable History (a dog and his pet boy Sherman traveling through time), and Fractured Fairy Tales (classic fairy tales retold in comic fashion), among others.

Rocky & Bullwinkle is known for quality writing and wry humor. Mixing puns, cultural and topical satire, and self-referential humor, it appealed to adults as well as children. It was also one of the first cartoons whose animation was outsourced; storyboards were shipped to Gamma Productions, a Mexican studio also employed by Total Television. The art has a choppy, unpolished look and the animation is extremely limited even by television animation standards at the time. Yet the series has long been held in high esteem by those who have seen it; some critics described the series as a well-written radio program with pictures.

The show was shuffled around several times (airing in afternoon, prime time, and Saturday morning time slots), but was influential to other animated series from The Simpsons to Rocko's Modern Life. Segments from the series were later recycled in the Hoppity Hooper show.

There have been numerous feature film adaptations of the series' various segments, such as the 2000 film The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle which blended live-action and computer animation and the 1999 live-action film Dudley Do-Right, which both received poor reviews and were financially unsuccessful. By contrast, an animated feature film adaptation of the "Peabody's Improbable History" segment, Mr. Peabody & Sherman, was released to good reviews in 2014.

Rocky and His Friends and The Bullwinkle Show were ranked the sixth Greatest TV Cartoon of All Time by TV Guide.

source:

Classic Retrovision Milestones (fb)

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purpdrawsthings · 6 months ago

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How's life being... Well, like that? Are you two being treated at least semi-decently? You're not being used as punching bags for Mr. Puzzles's emotions, right? Right?

SMG4 : Oh! It's... Not bad actually... Aside from having such terribly planned deadlines and overworking because Mr. Puzzles always gets ideas from... Who even knows who, to the point you even question your own mental stability... It's decent I guess. This is better than what we expected...

SMG3 : As for that semi-decently thing... I guess you could say it's like... Decent? It's like a normal worker and boss relationship but worser? He is a decent but a bad boss at the same time, moreee on the bad side cuz he's him. Also, we are not used as punching bags for Mr. Puzzles emotion. He does let it out sometimes but whenever it's in front of us he would make that crazy face for a second then go back into his office and scream so loud that everyone could hear it. He really thinks we wouldn't notice.

SMG4 : Huh, speaking of decent things, I actually got this "Best Writer #1" mug from him a few months ago because I was doing a good job as a lead script writer. I'd never knew he gave gifts.

SMG3 : And here I was thinking where the hell you even got that.

SMG4 : It's my emotional support mug by the way.

SMG3 : What.

PS : Yes I'm adding context to my older posts so people would actually understand.

Context : They live in actually pretty stable and decent environment. Think of it as a movie/office studio or whatever. Butttt due to them being kinda clumsy and very tired, the place got a bit dirty. Still nice either way. Though, it isn't nice that they don't get fresh air and are always stuck in there for eternity.

As for how Puzzles treats them, I would have to say kinda bossy. He always gives them work and well, other stuff. Like editing videos late. Buttt when they get a little sick, he let's them rest. And by rest I mean only for a day and nothing more than that. He wants to keep his movies coming out as consistent as possible. The reason why he acts like this is because all his time of making low quality films, he was just making them alone with nobody tbh. That's why he manages them so poorly

And no, Puzzles does not use them as punching bugs. He actually doesn't even use violence. He just shouts and gets way too frustrated. If he gets a little stressed, he would just go in his office and scream to let his stress all out. Great way of coping Puzzles =D

As for the last part, that was just a funny last part I just wanted to add because I thought it would be fun. I decided that if an employee [ basically one of the crew ] did a great job, he would reward them. In his case, 4 got three mugs with messages that were way too relatable to him =]

#SMG4 #smg4brainwashedauasks #smg4brainwashedau #SMG3 #purps silly questions =]#Brainwashedau!smg4 #brainwashedau!smg3 #smg4 au

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bexxa12 · 1 month ago

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STUDIO SECRETS|| JJ x Y/N

{Summary}

Jungkook, a musical prodigy whose voice captivates millions, finds himself drawn into a world beyond the spotlight. His path crosses with the enigmatic daughter of his esteemed producer, a woman whose secrets run as deep as the melodies he crafts.

Chapter 3

WC: 2,210

The door closed behind her, the sound echoing through the studio like a final note of a symphony. Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling that she had left an indelible mark on him, a spark of something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Mr. Kim cleared his throat, the spell broken, and Jungkook turned back to the task at hand.

They worked into the night, the energy in the studio palpable. The walls seemed to hum with the power of their collective passion, the music growing more intense with each passing hour.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, melding with the faint metallic tang of new technology and the nostalgic scent of worn-out vinyl records.

As Jungkook played, Mr. Kim's eyes never left the monitors, scrutinizing every note and beat with a meticulous precision that had made him a legend in the industry.

His graying hair was swept back in a neat style that defied the chaos of the cables and instruments scattered around the room

Finally, the last note of Jungkook's song faded into the quiet embrace of the studio. Mr. Kim leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his eyes closing briefly as if to savor the sound that had just filled the space. He opened them and nodded, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Good job, Jungkook," he said, his voice gruff but warm.

"We're done for the day. That was the final take."

The song they'd been crafting together had finally come alive, a fusion of beats and melody that felt like a piece of his soul.

As Jungkook stepped out of the music booth, the cool air washed over him, a stark contrast to the warmth of the spotlights.

"It was nice to finally meet her." Jungkook said casually, as he approached Mr. Kim.

Mr. Kim's eyes lit up at the mention of his daughter, Y/N. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

"How did she seem?"

"Determined, like you," Jungkook observed, chuckling.

Mr. Kim's expression grew thoughtful. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, that one."

Jungkook nodded, picturing the young woman who had visited the studio earlier that day.

She had the same sharp gaze and focused demeanor as her father, yet there was a warmth to her that was all her own.

"Yeah, she was pretty intense," Jungkook said, smiling.

"But in a good way. She talked about her cases like they were the only things that mattered in the world."

Mr. Kim's eyes twinkled with pride.

"That's her alright," he said. "Her passion for justice is unrivaled."

The conversation grew quiet as they both reflected on the day's achievements and the paths their lives had taken. Jungkook had always admired the producer's dedication to his work and family.

The way he balanced the two, especially in the fast-paced world of music and entertainment, was inspiring.

Mr. Kim's phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the silence. He picked it up, squinting at the screen.

"Looks like Y/N is stuck at the office again," he said with a sigh. "She's always working."

Jungkook leaned against the soundboard. "Is she okay with that?" Mr. Kim rubbed his temples.

"It's tough, but she loves it. Says she's fighting the good fight. Sometimes, I wish she'd take a break though."

Jungkook nodded sympathetically.

"You've taught her well," he said. "She's following her dreams."

Mr. Kim couldn't help but smile.

"I just want her to be happy," he said. "And if that means fighting for justice, then so be it."

Jungkook nodded.

"You know, I've never met anyone quite like her. Most people in my line of work are chasing fame or fortune, but she's out there making a difference."

Mr. Kim's expression grew contemplative.

"Yeah, she's one of a kind," he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

"When she told me she wanted to be a lawyer, I was worried it'd consume her, but she's found a way to keep her passion from becoming a burden."

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully.

"I can see it in her eyes," he said. "The same fire you have for music, she has for justice. It's pretty amazing."

Mr. Kim's gaze drifted to his phone's lockscreen. In the picture, his daughter, Y/N, was a young girl, her tiny hands clutching a makeshift microphone, mimicking her father's every move as he worked in the studio.

He couldn't help but wonder if she had inherited his love for music, or if it was his passion for his work that had inspired her to pursue her own dreams with such fervor.

"Well," Jungkook said, breaking the silence, "we should start wrapping up. It's late." Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes lingering on the picture before he set the phone down.

"You're right," he said, standing up and stretching. "Let's get you home. You've earned it."

Jungkook grabbed his bag and jacket from the chair, feeling a mix of excitement and exhaustion. As they walked out of the studio, the cool night air was a welcome change from the stale air-conditioning.

The city outside was alive with the hum of traffic and distant laughter.

"You know," Jungkook began, "I never thought I'd find a producer who understands me so well."

Mr. Kim chuckled, his eyes never leaving the descending numbers. "You've got a unique style, kid," he said. "It's been a hell of a ride working with you."

"Same to you," Jungkook said, his smile mirroring the producer's. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"Hold on a sec," he said, turning to Jungkook with a sudden seriousness.

"You ever think about what comes next?"

Jungkook cocked his head, a bit confused by the shift in tone.

"Next?" he echoed.

Mr. Kim nodded, his eyes searching Jungkook's.

"Yeah. You're on top of the world right now, but there's more to life than just music, you know?"

Jungkook took a moment to digest the question, his thoughts drifting to the moment he'd shared with Y/N during her visit.

"Sure," he said, his voice a little softer than before. "But music is what I know. It's who I am."

Mr. Kim clapped him on the back.

"I know, I know," he said. "But don't let it consume you. There's more to life than what's in there," he said, gesturing to the studio.

Jungkook nodded, understanding his mentor's concern. He knew all too well the pressures of the industry and the toll it could take on one's personal life.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice earnest.

Jungkook couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest. Mr. Kim's words echoed in his mind, prompting him to consider the future beyond the glitz and glamour of the music world.

"You've got a big heart, Jungkook," Mr. Kim said, his voice gentle.

"Don't let the industry change that."

Jungkook nodded, feeling the weight of Mr. Kim's words. He knew the path ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was determined to stay true to himself.

"I won't," he promised, his voice firm.

Mr. Kim nodded back, his eyes reflecting a silent understanding.

They walked towards Mr. Kim's car, the rhythm of their footsteps syncing with the distant sound of the city's heartbeat. Jungkook broke the silence once again, "You know, I haven't been home in a while," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

"Yeah?" The producer's tone was curious. "I think it's time," Jungkook said, looking up at the neon lights of the city. "It's been too long since I saw my family." Mr. Kim's gaze followed Jungkook's, understanding the unspoken longing in his voice. "They'd love to see you, I'm sure," he said.

Jungkook nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he said. "But it's more than that. I miss the simplicity of it all. The quiet mornings, the smell of mom's cooking."

Mr. Kim chuckled. "Sounds like you're due for a visit," he said, unlocking the car door.

Jungkook slid into the passenger seat, his eyes lingering on the cityscape as the Mr. Kim started the engine.

"I hope so," he said, his voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. "It's weird, you know? Being famous and all, but still feeling like the kid who used to run around the neighbourhood."

Mr. Kim nodded as he pulled into the flow of traffic. "You're still that kid, Jungkook," he said. "Don't let the lights and cameras fool you. They're just a part of the show."

Jungkook leaned his head against the cool window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as they drove through the night. His heart felt a tug of longing for the simple life he'd left behind.

The producer's words resonated deeply within him, reminding him of his roots and the importance of staying grounded.

As they pulled up to Jungkook's apartment complex, the stark contrast between the bustling streets and the quiet residential area was palpable.

Mr. Kim put the car in park and turned to him, his expression a blend of pride and concern. "Take some time, Jungkook," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had seen too much of the world. "Go home, recharge, and remember what's truly important."

Jungkook nodded, his eyes reflecting the neon glow of the city. "I will," he said, his voice filled with a newfound resolve.

Meanwhile, in the bustling law firm across town, Y/N was deep in thought, her eyes scanning through a mountain of case files that threatened to topple over at any moment.

Her office was a beacon of order amidst the chaos of the open-plan workspace, her desk a bastion of neatness in a sea of clutter.

Her concentration was shattered by the abrupt ring of the office phone. She picked it up, her heart racing from the sudden noise.

"Yes?" she barked into the receiver, expecting yet another urgent demand from a colleague.

"Y/N, the senior partner wants to see you in the conference room," the voice on the other end said. "Now."

Her heart skipped a beat. This was unexpected. She'd been burning the midnight oil for weeks, but she hadn't anticipated a meeting at this hour.

Y/N quickly gathered her thoughts and her files, straightening her blazer and taking a deep breath before heading down the hallway. The sound of her heels clicked against the marble floor, each step echoing through the late-night emptiness of the law firm.

She could feel the weight of anticipation growing heavier with every stride.

The conference room was a stark contrast to her cluttered office. It was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed the sprawling cityscape outside.

The senior partner, a sharp-featured man with a reputation for his no-nonsense approach, sat at the head of the table, his expression inscrutable. Y/N took a seat opposite him, her palms damp with nerves.

"You've been working hard," he began, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Very hard."Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts.

The senior partner leaned forward, his gaze intense. "We've noticed your dedication, and we have a case that requires that level of commitment."

Y/N's eyes widened. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. A chance to prove herself, to show that she was more than just the daughter of a legendary music producer.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice betraying the excitement she felt.

The senior partner slid a thick file across the gleaming mahogany table. "We're taking on a high-profile case," he said.

Y/N's heart raced as she reached for the file, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the folder. It was the kind of case that could make or break a career.

The kind that had the potential to change lives. She felt the weight of it in her hands, the pages thick with legal jargon and the stories of those in need of her help.

The senior partner began to lay out the details, his voice measured and precise.

"It's a murder trial," he said. "The defendant is a man named Lyle Castellanos. He's been in the system before, but this is his first degree charge. If we win, we could set a precedent."

Y/N's eyes scanned the file, her heart racing. A murder trial. This was bigger than she had ever imagined. The gravity of the situation settled heavily on her shoulders, but she felt a strange sense of excitement. This was it, her chance to make a real difference.

"You'll need to leave for Busan tomorrow," the senior partner said, his tone no longer one of praise but of urgency. "The case is complex, and we need you to be fully prepared."

Y/N's eyes snapped up from the file.

"Busan?" she repeated, surprise colouring her voice. The city was a world away from the bustling streets of Seoul, where the law firm was situated.

The senior partner nodded, his expression unyielding. "The case is there," he said. "We've got witnesses to interview, evidence to review. It's a fresh start for you, Y/N. A chance to show us what you're made of."

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I won't disappoint you, sir," she said, her voice firm.

The senior partner's eyes narrowed. "I'm not looking for perfection, Y/N," he said. "I'm looking for someone who won't back down from a challenge."

Y/N met his gaze without flinching. "Then you've come to the right person," she said, her voice steady.

"I'll take the case."

#bts fanfic #bts #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook

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