#me. mid row: wait what did they just say

[patron-saint-of-lesbeans]

God would love me if I was a worm (Isaiah 41:14)

[scarletwinterxx]

won't let these little things slip out of my mouth - jeon wonwoo imagine

i have a confession... i cried while writing this. now i'm sad no one will ever propose to me this way, why oh why did i even write this BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH🥺🥺🥺🥺

A/N: I HIGHLY SUGGEST PLAYING SPRING SNOW BY 10CM WHILE READING THIS. or not if u don't want to cry like a baby (like me🥹)

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold winter air nips at your cheeks as you walk beside Wonwoo, his camera slung over his shoulder as always. The streets are adorned with twinkling lights, festive wreaths, and the hum of Christmas carols drifting from nearby speakers. Despite the chill, you feel warm. Maybe it’s the cozy scarf he insisted you wear or the way his hand occasionally brushes yours as you walk.

He’s been unusually quiet tonight, though. You steal a glance at him, noting the slight curve of his lips as he stares ahead, the golden glow of streetlights reflecting in his dark eyes. He’s up to something. You just know it.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you say, breaking the silence, “what’s with the secrecy? You’ve been grinning like a kid who knows something I don’t.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Patience,” he teases, his tone as smooth as always. “You’ll see soon enough.”

He leads you to a quaint little gallery tucked away on a quieter street. The windows are frosted, but you can see the soft glow of light inside, illuminating what looks like an intimate exhibit. Your curiosity piques as he holds the door open for you, the bell above jingling softly.

The gallery smells of wood and faintly of pine, and the atmosphere is calm, almost reverent. Wonwoo leads you through the first room, where a variety of black-and-white photos hang on the walls. They’re beautiful, sure, but they don’t hold your attention for long. Not when you can feel Wonwoo’s excitement radiating beside you.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you gently toward a smaller, dimly lit room at the back. “This is the part I wanted you to see.”

The moment you step inside, your breath catches. The walls are lined with photographs, but these aren’t just any pictures. They’re familiar. Too familiar.

“That’s... Wait, that’s from our trip to Jeju!” you exclaim, pointing to a shot of you laughing on the beach. Another photo catches your eye—a candid of you staring in awe at cherry blossoms during spring. And then another, of you holding an umbrella, your face lit up with laughter as the rain poured down.

You turn to Wonwoo, your heart racing. “What is this?”

He’s smiling, that soft, shy smile that always makes your knees a little weak. “Keep going,” he says, nodding toward the other wall.

You walk further into the room, and your chest tightens as you take in rows and rows of photos. All of you. Every angle, every expression, every moment he managed to capture. There’s one of you napping on a park bench, another of you squinting at a map, and one where you’re mid-bite into an enormous burger, ketchup smeared on your cheek.

You burst out laughing, tears pricking your eyes. “You didn’t!”

The walls of the gallery feel like they’re closing in as you walk further into the room, your gaze darting from photo to photo.

Each one is a piece of your life together—your smiles, your laughter, even your messy moments. You pause at a picture of you trying to eat an ice cream cone that’s melting faster than you can keep up with it. You remember that day vividly, how Wonwoo kept laughing and snapping pictures while you tried (and failed) to salvage the cone.

“Wonwoo,” you say softly, your voice trembling as the weight of it all settles over you. “You’ve been collecting these... all this time?”

“Every moment I could,” he says from behind you, his voice warm and quiet in the stillness of the room.

You move to the next photo. And then the next. They’re all you, and it’s overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Then your eyes catch something different.

The very last photo on the wall.

It’s simple—a close-up shot of a ring nestled in a velvet box. The light glints off the delicate band, making it shimmer in a way that feels almost magical. Your breath catches in your throat as you take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is that—” you start, but the words die on your lips when you turn around.

Wonwoo is there, down on one knee in the middle of the gallery, holding that same velvet box in his hand. The air leaves your lungs as your gaze locks onto his, the vulnerability and love in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“It’s just us,” he says softly, as if he’s answering a question you didn’t ask. “No distractions, no one else. Just you and me.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He takes a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’ve spent so much of our time together trying to capture every moment, every expression, every laugh, because I never want to forget a single second with you. But the truth is, none of these photos come close to how I feel when I’m with you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—through my lens and in my life.”

He opens the box, revealing the ring that you’d just seen immortalized in the photo. It sparkles under the soft lights of the gallery, but nothing shines brighter than the love in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“I want this to be my last photo project,” he says with a small, shaky laugh. “Because after this, I just want to live the moments with you. Will you marry me?”

The world tilts and rights itself again as you nod furiously, your tears spilling over. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

Wonwoo grins—one of those rare, wide grins that you know he reserves for the moments when he can’t contain his joy. He slides the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and sure, before standing and pulling you into his arms.

The silence of the gallery wraps around you both like a warm blanket. It’s just the two of you, the faint glow of the photos on the walls casting soft shadows.

You lean back to look at him, laughter bubbling up through your tears.

“You seriously used a picture of the ring for the big reveal?” you tease, your voice trembling with joy. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s a story, isn’t it? And now it has the perfect ending.”

You rest your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “Not an ending,” you whisper. “The perfect beginning.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the story of your love etched in photographs, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[liz-on-leash]

Stepfather's Slut

NewJeans Danielle × Male Reader

[Commissioned]

Noncon, Blackmail, Slut Shaming, Fingering, Squirting, Throat Fuck, Cum In Mouth, Vaginal Sex, Quick Anal, Cum In Ass

3,110 Words

You stumble home, bone-tired after a long day, only to find your stepdaughter, Danielle, in a whole new light. As you pass her room, the sight before you makes you freeze mid-step. The door's ajar, and there she is, your sweet, innocent-looking girl, riding her pillow like it's the dick of her dreams.

Danielle's petite frame is on full display, her slim body glistening with a light sheen of sweat. The nightdress she wears is hiked up, and bunched around her tiny waist, revealing her long, slender legs and smooth, pale skin. 

Her small hands are busy, pinching and rolling her pert nipples, making those little tits dance. She's a fucking vision, and you can't tear your eyes away.

"Ohh... yes..." She's whispering to herself, her voice hoarse with desire. "Fuck me... harder..."

You watch, transfixed, as her hips grind in a slow, sensual rhythm. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted, and she's moaning softly, each sound a sweet melody of pleasure. You can see her pussy, glistening and swollen, lips parted as if inviting you in.

Your cock twitches in your pants, hardening at the sight. You feel a mix of surprise and arousal. Danielle, the well-mannered girl you thought you knew, is a secret vixen, a private pleasure seeker.

As you stand there, your mind races with thoughts of what to do next. Should you announce your presence? Or watch this private moment play out? The decision is made for you as Danielle's pleasure peaks.

"Oh fuck... I'm... cumming!" She cries out, her voice a mix of surprise and ecstasy.

Her body convulses, her back arching as she presses her face into the pillow, muffling her screams. You can see her pussy juices gushing out, soaking the bed sheets. It's a sight that pushes you over the edge, your cock throbbing.

Damn, Danielle's a squirter, a secret slut just waiting to be unleashed. You realize she needs a real cock, a hard lesson in pleasure and pain. And you're just the guy to give it to her.

You're a man on a mission, determined to get what you want from your stepdaughter, Danielle. After that eye-opening night, you knew you had to make your move, but you needed to play this smart. So, you start by setting the stage, ensuring her obedience.

The next morning, Danielle greets you with her usual polite demeanor, all smiles and sunshine. "Good morning, Father," she says, her voice cheerful. "Did you sleep well?"

You offer to make her breakfast, but the little tease declines, claiming she's running late for college. As you watch her leave, you imagine those long legs strutting down the hallway and that tight ass swaying under her short skirt.

Once she's out the door, you get to work. You've got all the time to set up the trap that will ensure she's yours for the taking. You place the tiny camera, no bigger than a button, inside the flower vase on her study desk. It's the perfect spot, giving you a front-row view of her bed.

At work, your mind keeps wandering back to Danielle. The memory of her humping that pillow haunts you, and now you've got a new vision to fuel your fantasies—her slender fingers working her tight pussy.

When you get home late, you're eager to check her room, but the door is closed tonight. You decide to bide your time, knowing the camera is there, capturing all the action.

The following day, you retrieve the camera, your heart racing with anticipation. You lock yourself in your office and play the footage. There she is, your sweet Danielle, but this time she's on all fours, naked as the day she was born.

"Oh God yes... right there..." she pants, her voice breathy and raw.

She's fingering her pussy, but it's the direct view of her ass that captures your attention. That tight tiny hole, clenching and unclenching, is begging to be filled. You can see her asshole, puckered and inviting, and you know you're gonna stretch both her holes wide open.

You smirk, knowing the time for waiting is over. Danielle's gonna get a real man's cock, and she's gonna love every second of it.

You're feeling a buzz of power as you set the trap, ready to spring it on your unsuspecting stepdaughter. It's the next morning, and you've got Danielle right where you want her. You call her into your office, a place she's always felt safe and secure.

"Hey, sweetie," you say, feigning innocence. "Got a minute? I need some help with something."

Danielle, ever the dutiful girl, enters with a smile, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. "Sure, Father. What's up?"

You gesture to the laptop on your desk. "I need you to help me with something personal."

As she steps closer, you hit play. On the screen, there she is, naked and writhing, her fingers working her pussy. Her eyes go wide, and the blood drains from her face.

"W-what...?" she stammers.

You let the video play, her cries of pleasure filling the room. "You're a slut, Danielle. And now you're gonna do as I say."

Tears well up in her eyes. "Wh-why do you have this? Why are you doing this to me?"

You lean back, relishing the power you hold over her. "It doesn't matter how I got it. What matters is that I do. And if you don't wanna be the talk of your college, or have your mom find out, you'll do as I say."

She's shaking now, her perfect little body trembling. "B-but why? You're like a father to me."

You stand, walk around the desk, and tower over her. "Exactly. And fathers discipline their daughters. Now, I want you to strip. I'm gonna film it, so there's no going back."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. She knows resistance is futile. With trembling hands, she begins to undress, her eyes never leaving yours. You've got her now, and the real fun is about to begin.

The power dynamic has shifted, and you're reveling in it. Danielle stands before you, a picture of vulnerability, her shirt halfway unbuttoned, tears streaming down her face.

"Faster, slut," you growl, your voice low and commanding. "Or do you want me to rip it off?"

"N-no, please, father," she whimpers, her hands shaking around the collar of her shirt as she hastens to obey. "D-don't do this. I'm scared, p-please…"

You're not having any of it. You step forward, grabbing her by the throat, and cutting off her air supply. "Call me Father again, and I'll make you regret it. You're my little slut now, and sluts need a Daddy to teach 'em right."

Her eyes bulge, pleading for release. You loosen your grip slightly, enough for her to gasp. "I-I understand, D-Daddy," she chokes out.

Satisfied, you release her, only to grab her shirt and rip it open, buttons flying. You shove her towards the couch, her bare breasts bouncing with the force.

"Now, play with yourself, just like in the video," you command, your voice laced with anticipation. "But remember, cum without permission, and I'll make you famous. Every guy at your college will know you as the campus slut."

Danielle collapses onto the couch, her sobs muffled as she buries her face in her hands. But you're not having any of her resistance.

"Spread those legs, Danielle," you order, your voice cold. "Let Daddy see that pretty pussy. Finger yourself, nice and slow."

She hesitates, but only for a moment. Her hands move to her thighs, pushing them apart, revealing her glistening slit. Her fingers tremble as she touches herself, her body betraying her, responding to your commands.

You watch, your cock throbbing with anticipation. This is just the beginning, and you can't wait to see her break.

You're a man on a mission, and that mission is to break your stepdaughter's spirit and make her your obedient little slut. With a swift motion, you rip the black skirt from her legs, leaving her completely exposed, her nakedness a testament to your power over her.

"What's the hold-up, slut?" you demand, your voice dripping with disdain. "I thought you loved getting off. Show Daddy what you got."

Danielle's hands, trembling, move to her pussy, her fingers sliding into her slit with practiced ease. She knows what she's doing, and it's fucking hot. You watch as she works herself, her eyes closed, biting her lip to stifle the moans you know are bubbling up inside her.

You're not having any of that silent shit. You slap her thigh, leaving a red imprint. "Moan for Daddy, you little bitch. Let me hear how much you love it."

Your words cut deep, and her sobs turn to whimpers, then to moans. "Ohh... D-Daddy..." she pants, her fingers moving faster, her pussy clenching around them.

"That's it, you filthy whore," you goad her on. "You're nothing but a cock-hungry slut, aren't you? Bet you wish you had a real dick inside you right now."

Your insults are like fuel on a fire, and her movements become frantic. Her pussy is glistening, her fingers plunging in and out, the wet sounds filling the room.

"Don't you dare cum," you warn her. "But if you stop, there'll be hell to pay."

She's at the edge, her body betraying her. "Can't... hold back... D-Daddy, please... let me cum!" she begs, her voice hoarse.

Her toes curl, her stomach tightens, and her fingers move in a blur. She's trying so hard not to cross that line, but her body is desperate for release.

"Please... Daddy..." she cries, her voice breaking. "I'm gonna cum... I can't... oh God..."

Her cries fill the room, a mix of pleasure and desperation. You grab her ankle, pushing her leg up, exposing her even more, her fingers now a blur between her legs. Her juices are flowing, dripping down to her asshole, glistening in the light.

Danielle's body is a live wire, every nerve ending screaming for release. She's trying to hold back, but her fingers have a mind of their own, working her pussy with increasing urgency. You watch, your cock throbbing as she teeters on the edge of orgasm.

"You're a mess, slut," you taunt her. "Can't even fucking control yourself. Do you want to cum so bad?"

Her moans turn to whimpers as she fights the rising tide of pleasure. Her free hand cups her breast, squeezing and pinching the nipple, adding to the building pressure.

"N-no, hnn, I... can't..." she pants, her hips bucking against her will.

You know she's close, and you want to push her over the edge. "Go on, you little bitch. Cum for Daddy. Show me how much you get off with I'm watching you."

Your words are like a trigger. Her back arches, her fingers working her clit in frantic circles. "Ohhh! fuck, no— I'm... cumming!" she screams, her body convulsing.

She's a sight to behold, her pussy clenching and releasing in waves as she squirts, her juices soaking the couch. But her defiance won't go unpunished.

"Stupid whore," you growl, placing the camera aside. "Cumming without permission, huh? That's gonna cost you."

You step out of your pants, your hard cock springing free. Danielle, still riding the waves of her orgasm, looks up at you with wide eyes as you straddle her face.

"Open wide, slut," you command, grabbing her hair and guiding your thick shaft towards her mouth.

She tries to resist, but you're relentless, pushing past her lips, filling her mouth and throat. Her eyes widen in surprise and fear as you start to fuck her face.

"You're going to drink my cum, understand?" you grunt, each word punctuated by a thrust. "From now on, you swallow, because you've been a bad girl."

You grip her head, holding her in place as you slide in and out, her throat constricting around your cock. She gags, her eyes watering, but you don't let up, using her mouth as your personal pleasure hole.

You groan, your balls are tightening. "This is your punishment for being such a slut."

You're face-fucking her with abandon, your thick cock sliding in and out of her throat, making her gag and choke. Her eyes roll back, tears mixing with saliva as she drools and gags, her body writhing beneath you.

Danielle's pussy is still pulsing from her orgasm, her juices flowing, but you're relentless. You thrust deep, over and over, your balls slapping against her chin. "Admit that you love my cock down your throat. Can't get enough, can you?" you grunt.

Her eyes are wild, her body trembling but despite the pain, she's responding, her pussy clenching and releasing around nothing, seeking the cock that's currently stretching her throat.

“That's right, you're a desperate little bitch," you taunt her. "Love getting treated like the whore you are.”

Your words are like a knife, cutting deep as you pound her face. Her body betrays her, another orgasm building, her pussy clenching and releasing around thin air. She whimpers, her voice muffled by your shaft.

You feel your balls tighten, and with a few hard, deep thrusts, you explode, filling her throat with your hot cum. She chokes, trying to swallow, but it's too much, some of it is leaking from the corners of her mouth.

You pull out, your cock glistening, and she coughs, gasping for air. But you're not done. You grab her by the hair, pulling her up and turning her around.

"On your knees, slut," you order, your voice harsh. She's weak, her legs trembling, but she obeys, presenting her ass to you. 

You rub your cock between her cheeks, relishing her softness. "Please... no more... I can't..." she begs, her voice breaking. "I need a break..."

You slap her ass, hard, making her cry out in pain. "Sluts don't get breaks, they do as they're told."

"But I'm your stepdaughter..." she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, have mercy..."

You grin, cruel and predatory. "We'll see how much you can take then I will consider letting you rest for a bit "

With that, you line up and impale her tight, wet pussy with one stroke. She screams, her nails digging into the couch, her body bowing under the force of your penetration. “No! Oh, God, hnn! Please, ahhh! Stop, uhhh..."

You've got Danielle right where you want her, impaled on your cock, her body a vessel for your pleasure. You hold still, your thick shaft buried deep within her, stretching her to the limit.

"Feels good, huh, slut?" you whisper, your breath hot against her ear. "You're better than your mom, that's for sure. You're gonna get fucked by this every day, so you better get used to it."

She shakes her head frantically, her long hair flying. "N-no... too big... too deep... it hurts!" she screams, her voice raw. "It's... inside my stomach..."

You tighten your grip on her slim waist, pulling back until your cockhead is almost out, then slam back into her, claiming her again and again. Her pussy is a hot, wet glove, gripping and massaging your shaft with each thrust.

"You love it," you grunt, each word punctuated by a hard pump of your hips. "So wet for me, can't deny it."

Her cries are music to your ears, her body a canvas for your pleasure. You pound into her, relentlessly, your balls slapping against her clit with each thrust.

"N-no— ahh! D-Daddy..." she moans, her voice breaking. "It's... too much... I'm cumming..."

Her sobs turn to moans, her body betraying her as pleasure overtakes the pain. You feel her pussy clench around your cock, milking you as she rides out her orgasm.

You chuckle, pulling her head back by her hair. "Admit it, you're a slut for Daddy's cock. It feels good stretching that tight little cunt, right?"

She's lost in a haze of pleasure, her eyes unfocused. "Y-yes... Daddy..." she pants. "It feels... so good... can't stop cumming..."

You grin satisfied, your teeth flashing in the light. "That's right, you are my whore. My cock owns that pussy now."

You quicken your pace, your balls drawing up tight. You yank her sweaty hair hard, pulling her onto your cock, her ass slamming against your thighs. The room fills with the sounds of rapid flesh slapping, her moans, and your sharp grunts.

"You're gonna be bred, slut," you stated as a matter of factly. “I'm going to flood that pussy with my seed, make you carry my baby. How about that?”

Her eyes go wide, panic flashing across her face. "N-no... my mom... she'll know..."

You smirk, leaning in close. "So what if she does? You worried I won't fuck you anymore?"

She shakes her head, her long hair sticking to her sweat-slicked body. "Yes, Daddy, I want your cock... all the time... I want your cum… every day…”

Her words are music to your ears, the perfect response from your obedient little slut. "That's my girl," you purr, your hand sliding forward to grip her throat lightly. "Always hungry for Daddy's cock.”

As if on cue, her body shudders, her pussy clenching around your shaft. "Cumming... again..." she mumbles.

You grin, a predator about to strike. "Well, if you don't want my baby, I guess I'll have to breed that tight ass instead."

Before she can process your words, you flip her onto her stomach, spreading her legs and ass cheeks wide. Her asshole, tight and puckered, is a tempting target.

"N-no, Daddy, not there, p-please. It will hurt a lot…" she whimpers.

But you're not listening. You line up and thrust, forcing your cock past the resistance, into the tightest heat you've ever felt.

"AAAAH!" she screams, her body going rigid as you impale her.

You don't give her time to adjust, pumping in and out, claiming her ass with hard, deep strokes. Her cries fill the room, muffled by the couch as you fuck her mercilessly.

"You're mine, slut," you grunt, your balls slapping against her with each thrust. With a few final harder thrusts, you explode, your cock twitching as you flood her bowels with your fresh white semen. 

You collapse on top of her, riding out your orgasm, your cock twitching inside her.

Danielle lies there, half unconscious, her body trembling from the intensity. You pull out, your cock glistening with cum.

You look down at her, your expression triumphant. No way she is going to college like this. She's staying home and you're going to fuck that ass till her mom gets back tomorrow. Need to stretch it out even more.

[its-avalon-08]

Hello! Can I req ln4 x reader where they are secretly married, but the entire world just know they're bestfriend. One day an interviewer ask if they are a thing and they say they're married but sarcastically (like Chris Evans and Elizabeth Olsen on Ellen show) and in the end they decided to just reveal it. Thank you!!

🗣️avaspeaks: i love this request so much!!! and i thoroughly enjoyed writing this one, and i hope i did it justice!

we decided to break the internet (ln4)

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡ ♡¸.•''•.¸♡

introduction - lando and y/n were practically inseparable since childhood. building sandcastle empires on the beach, trading pokémon cards at recess, navigating the awkwardness of middle school together - they'd seen it all. what neither quite admitted, not even to themselves, was the secret crush simmering beneath the surface of their friendship. every time lando tried to impress a girl with his skateboard tricks, y/n would "accidentally" trip him mid-grind. and whenever y/n had a date, lando would "forget" to return her favorite dress, the one that made her feel invincible. their sabotage was childish, sure, but it stemmed from a fear of losing the other entirely. one summer night, sprawled on the hood of lando's beat-up car, gazing at a sky exploding with stars, something shifted. maybe it was the whispered secrets shared, or the way their laughter mingled with the chirping crickets. in that moment, childhood friendship flickered, ignited by a spark of something deeper, a love waiting to prosper.

the air crackled with anticipation as lando norris and a stunning y/n settled into the interview chairs. formula one fans adored their playful dynamic, convinced they were just best friends. little did anyone know, they'd been secretly married for over a year and a half.

"so," the interviewer began, a sly smile on his face, "the fans are curious. is there anything going on between you two, romantically?"

lando shot y/n a mock glare. "absolutely! infact we're married!!!," he deadpanned, throwing his head back in exaggerated shock.

the room froze. cameras flashed. y/n, stifling a laugh, gasped dramatically. "married and absolutely smitten with eachother! lando, haven't you told them about movie night and all the crying over sappy rom-coms?"

the audience erupted in gasps and whispers. even the other drivers, strategically placed in the back row, looked bewildered. carlos, oscar,max,charles,daniel,alex and george laughed silently into their hands.

lando, playing along, clutched his chest. "oh no, you can't tell them about that! what will the neighbors think of all the late-night screaming about popcorn refills?"

y/n doubled over, tears welling up (from laughter, not the fake movie marathons). "and the screaming matches over who gets the last slice of pizza? lando, you monster!"

the room buzzed with confusion. were they…? weren't they…?

the interviewer, clearly flustered, stammered, "wait, so… you're saying you have movie nights and… screaming matches?"

lando winked at the camera. "the usual newlywed stuff, you know?"

y/n, wiping a fake tear, added, "don't even get me started on the scooter races in the paddock."

the room descended into chaos. reporters scribbled furiously, phones buzzed, and drivers peeked over their chairs, jaws slack.

lando, barely able to hold back a real laugh, reached for y/n's hand. "alright, alright," he conceded, "we might be exaggerating a tad. movie nights are definitely a thing, though. y/n's a terror with the remote."

y/n swatted him playfully. "hey! at least i let you pick the action movies sometimes."

suddenly, y/n did something unexpected. with a flourish, she turned her hand, revealing a simple gold band with a sparkling diamond. the room fell silent.

"oh by the way we've actually married for about two years now," y/n raised an eyebrow at lando, a wide, mischievous grin spreading across her face. "forgot to mention that detail, did you?"

lando, speechless for once, could only stare at the ring, then back at the stunned faces around him. the dam broke. laughter, loud and genuine, erupted from them both. the tension in the room evaporated, replaced by a mixture of shock, amusement, and a touch of awe.

as the interview wrapped up, the secret was out. lando and y/n, f1's favorite "best friends," were husband and wife. the post-interview scrum was a whirlwind. questions flew, cameras flashed in their faces, and congratulations poured in. through it all, lando and y/n stuck together, their laughter echoing through the room, a testament to their love and their ability to surprise everyone, even the f1 world.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more! thanks for reading!

leave a like, leave a comment!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[xoxotria]

starcrossed | hjs

pairing: professor!hong joshua x student!reader

themes: professorxstudent relationship, flirting in public, smut

warnings: none

tick. tock. tick. tock.

time was moving painfully slow today. normally you’d find dr. hong's class interesting but today you just couldn't seem to focus for some reason.

well—you couldve been focusing on the lesson if it weren’t for your stupidly hot professor teaching, his attire slightly different from his usual because the first few buttons of his shirt was unbuttoned whilst his tie hung looser than it normally would around his neck.

it was as if the world was plotting against you to actually do well this semester because of the temptation speaking to the entire class infront of you.

you shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts for your professor (he wasn’t that much older, just your senior of 2 years as he had graduated early) but goddamn was he fine. you just couldn’t help but think of him that way—his perfect head of hair that is perfectly messy and perfectly wavy on days he doesn’t gel in place. he's tall and buff. some people describe him as somewhat on the thinner side but i can tell he has more than some hidden muscles under his suit. his big brown eyes are hypnotizing; and his pink plump lips—fucking perfect.

don't even get me started on his hands. hands that i've imagined on my body in the most inappropriate ways—gripping, spanking, rubbing, choking.

he's a profiler so he's probably picked up on the fact that you were attracted to him. and you no profiler but you think he's attracted to you some way too. he looks at you when he thinks you don't notice (but you do). and they're not just any kind of looks; they're long looks, looks that start at your legs and end at your eyes. like that one time you just so happened to wear a short skirt and thigh high socks. walking in late and stopped him mid sentence as he watched you take a seat on the front row. he quite literally choked on his words. and in that moment you felt such a boost of confidence to be able to get that sort of reaction out of him. seeing what you did to him turned you on enough to be miserable for the rest class.

today you were not wearing a short skirt and you were bored. you wanted to get his attention somehow. it's wrong—so wrong.

but this couldn't hurt right?

you remembered you were wearing a tight fitting tank top under your sweater. you decided to discreetly pull down your top and take off your sweater then lean forward and pretend to be engulfed in the subject he's discussing, showing quite a bit of cleavage just enough to get his attention.

he usually paces from one side to the other when he discusses to check if the class was still listening. and you happen to be sitting towards the right side of the room and he's walking towards the left so you wait patiently for him to turn around.

he's walking. walking. walking. and turn.

"what i find interesting is the part where jane says that a lady's imagination jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment. what do you think she—" he stopped dead in his tracks; he spotted you.

you smile innocently as you feign to be listening intently to the discussion.

"uhh, ahem" he clears this throat nervously.

"miss, what do you think she meant by this?" he improvised, catching you off guard.

people started to turn their heads in you direction so you instinctively leaned back and slightly pulled up your tank.

shit, he got me there.

you could see a small smirk form on his face as he waited for your answer.

"well..." you start hesitantly, "that women are used to being disillusioned."

"that's your take?" he cocks his head and raises an eyebrow.

"yes. that's how i interpret it. how would you sir?" you both start to engage in a back and forth. your gazes locked on each other.

"i believe she refers to women's ability to develop deep feelings for someone when they respect them," he walks a few steps forward with both hands in his pockets. you nod your head slowly in agreement.

"i suppose you're not wrong. but the two don't necessarily contradict each other." you add, feeling more confident now with your answer.

"mmm you're right miss. I can always count on you to give me good answers."

you had laid low for the rest of the class, periodically answering some questions for recitation. he had avoided lingering too much on your side of the room probably to remove suspicion on his side from his flustered outburst.

"that's all for today, class. have a good weekend."

slightly embarrassed from what happened earlier in class you try to leave swiftly, passing by the professor's desk avoiding eye contact.

"miss, may i speak to you for a second?" he called out behind me as you curse under your breath for not getting out faster.

you turned around hesitantly and saw him sitting at his desk, looking at papers; almost as if he hadn't called you over. you walk back to his desk as the last few students leave the classroom, leaving us alone.

you start to get nervous as your brain imagines all the things he could say to me.

could he be mad about what you had said in class? is he gonna call you out for your flirting? is he gonna kick me out of his class? fuck—that can’t happen. this was a prerequisite for another class you have next semester.

"the last paper i assigned was due yesterday, you haven't turned it in" he looks up at you as he props his arms up in front of him and interlocks his fingers, resting his chin on his hands.

you had let go of a breath you hadn't realized you were holding—a late paper you could handle but him calling me out or worse dropping you from his class? another story.

"i'm sorry professor, i haven't finished it yet" you make slight puppy dog eyes in the hopes he'll be the tinest bit forgiving. normally he hates it when students turn in their work late and you did not want be one of them that he mentally puts a label on for being tardy.

"can you have it done by tomorrow? i'll be in my office at around 9pm, you can drop it off then. normally i wouldn't open office hours on weekends but i can make the exception; just this once."

"i can do that. i'll have it done by then sir."

"good. you're a bright student, i wouldn't wanna see your grades suffer due to tardiness." he leaned back on his chain and places his hands on his lap.

your eyes had drifted towards his lap—it almost looked like an invitation but you knew better than that.

"thank you dr. hong i greatly appreciate it." you say with all sincerity as you watch a small smirk form on his lips.

does he like it when i call him that?

"i'll see you tomorrow at 9pm sharp, miss."

well, fuck. no escaping him now.

⋆˚🐾˖°

you've finished your paper as soon as you got home and now your mind is being filled with tempting ideas you should not be entertaining.

what if i wore a short skirt again? no. it'll be too obvious what you trying to do.

but wouldn't that be the point though? what point was i making anyways? am i really considering trying to get my professor to sleep with me? you groaned as you jumped into your bed.

the thought kept looming over my head the next morning, during the day, in the afternoon—the entire time i was awake and before i knew it it was time for me to get ready. it's settled—you want him and you wanted him bad.

⋆˚🐾˖°

you walked into the campus surprised that the main buildings are even open at 9pm on a saturday. the halls were so dimly lit, you almost couldn't find his office if you didn’t know the way to the room like the back of your hand.

you were late but that was on purpose. you were hoping it'll get a rise out of him. you decided to put on the same skirt and knee high socks as the last time, except your skirt is slightly more hiked up and you were wearing a very form fitting cropped sweater.

once you reached the door with his name on it you stop for a moment to muster up courage. you loved his name, it really did suit him.

you knock on the door and hear a faint, "come in."

you open the door to reveal a room that looks like any typical college professor’s office; but in a good way. it's lit up by a few lamps and candles, there's books on shelves and on the floor all opened as if dr. hong rummaged through it for research, there's a small couch with throw pillows and a blanket and his desk is facing the door—it was homey. you liked it.

it's not until the click of the door closing that he looks up from whatever he's doing. he does a quick double take and gulps and from where you were you could see him shift in his chair slightly.

"you're ten minutes late," he leans back on his chair and intertwines his hands together on top of his lap.

"there was traffic leaving my house i'm sorry." you lied.

"do you have the paper i asked for?"

"yes," you reached into you bag and dug out a folder with your essay neatly tucked inside and walked over to his desk and handed him the folder.

"i wanna read it over and give you your grade before you leave. please, make yourself comfortable."

you obliged, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and dropping your bag in the other.

he began reading my essay while you observed him. it was evident he was trying extra hard to focus. as he read and turned the pages you were entranced by the way his fingers moved and caressed the paper softly as if it was fragile.

at this point you were starting to imagine his hands on you again, creating a wetness between your thighs in probably the sluttiest panties you owned and if you had been a bit more entranced you wouldn't have noticed all the times he snuck glances at you while he read the paper he seemed to be approving, which was another relief.

finished he dropped the folder and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"it's a great essay, A+." he finally spoke.

you let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding.

"thank you dr. hong.”

"you're a great writer," he complimented, "but you really need to work on the tardiness."

"yes, you're totally right. i will work on that sir."

silence filled the room and all that raced through your mind was that you had to make your move.

now or never.

you stood up slowly and walked around the desk, your finger tracing the smooth wooden surface. you don't say a word and can tell he's trying to decipher what the hell you doing. once you were all the way around you sit on the desk, right in between his legs.

"what are you—"

"do you like having me as your student, dr. hong?"

he gulps and shifts in his seat, "yes."

you hooked your foot under his chair and pull him closer watching as his eyes drift towards your lips then up to your eyes again.

“what’s your favorite thing about me being your student?”

"uh, well, you're very smart and—"

"are you sure it's not staring at my ass and legs when i wear skirts like this?" you cut him off, leaning forward slightly.

he exhaled through his nose, looking deep into your eyes and you see he's giving in. concern flashes in his eyes for keeping things professional as it fades into lust and desire.

"i do like it when you wear skirts like that," his voice was no longer hesitant. he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you—and that was all he needed not to be nervous.

"mmm, why?" both of you were inching closer to each other. you could smell the perfume he wears to class that always seemed to get your attention in more ways than one.

god, did he smell divine.

"because i can imagine lifting it up to fuck you bent over my desk." his hand began sliding up your leg feeling you up as he did.

your breath got caught your throat when you heard him say it.

"that's what you're gonna do to me?"

"mhm, maybe that'll teach you a lesson on being tardy all the time." he stood up slowly, towering over you with both his hands are now caressing your thighs—his thumbs getting dangerously close to your soaking core.

"then teach me, doctor."

a smirk grew on his face as it did on your own as you challenged him. he tilted your chin up with his finger and leaned down slowly—painfully slowly. your lips graze each others as he avoided kissing you fully.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, your lips nearly touching.

"you can fuck me." you said impatiently breathing getting heavier.

"but can i kiss you?"

it confused you that he wanted to be a gentleman now after explicitly telling you he wanted to fuck you bent over his desk but then you realized he was just teasing you some more.

"yes." you breathed out before pulling him in by the back of his neck and practically going in tongue first.

he immediately pressed his body against yours, and you pulled him even closer by his cardigan. once you was clutching it you thought: why does he still have this on?

you quickly started to unbutton his cardigan as if your life depended on it whilst he slid his hand in your hair pulling on it by the roots.

"you're greedy huh? i bet you're already soaking wet."

"why don't you see for yourself?"

how you even got to utter that sentence was past you. you just needed him and you needed him now.

he grinned before attaching his lips to yours again and slithering his hand under your skirt and into your panties. you moaned softly into his mouth at the feeling of his fingers sliding in your folds and brushing against your bundle of nerves with the fingers you fantasized so much about.

"i hadn't even touched you and you were already this wet for me? all this for me?" he slid his hand out and put his fingers in his mouth and sucked—your mouth hung open in both shock and desire.

that was fucking hot.

"i wanna taste more of you, babygirl." he said looking at you through half hooded eyes.

he got down on his knees and scooted you forward to align himself with your entrance as he then began peppering kisses up ypur thighs as he hiked the skirt up more and more.

once you were exposed he kissed your clit through your underwear—at this point you couldn't help but groan as you grew heavy with anticipation. he hooked a finger on your underwear and tugged them off before he kissed your clit again. this time his lips made direct contact with your skin and a louder moan escaped your lips—you swore you could see your juices coating his soft pink lips.

he started licking softly and slowly. your hips beggining to rocking against his face almost as if they had a mind of their own. he picked up the speed just a little bit and then he stayed in that pace.

fuck this man is driving me insane. i want him like this—all day and everyday, always.

like waves your pleasure kept rolling in as he fucked you with his tongue. you could feel the familiar knot building up in you as began panting and moaning like crazy as his tongue danced slowly on your clit in circles. that's when he inserted a single finger and hooked it upwards hitting that one spot that makes you cry out in pleasure.

"oh fuck!" you cried out pulling his face deeper with your thighs as you crossed them behind his head as you heard him moan in response. your hand was tangled in his beautiful head of hair and you tugged on it slightly.

you couldn't believe it. he's moving ever so softly but you can feel so much pressure building up and then it crashed down on you—hard. body began shaking uncontrollably as your thighs clenched together locking him in but he didn't stop what he was doing.

it wasn't until you had come down from your high that he detached himself from you. this man really had you seeing stars for a moment.

he got up and kissed me again tasting yourself on him—his lips felt so nice on mine that i could kiss him forever.

"get up." he commanded softly as you followed.

he pushed his chair to the side and turned you around kissing your neck as he ran his hands all over your body with you becoming a moaning mess again.

"say my name." his hands grabbed my breasts as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head from the way he played with your nipples with his fingers.

"joshua." you moaned out.

he groaned into your ear and quickly bent you over pressing his hard dick against your ass.

"you see what you do to me? every time i see you in class you're teasing me. coming into my class late in a short skirt like a slut."

he lifted your skirt and gave your ass a slap, making you jolt and moan at the same time from the sting it left.

"are you gonna keep being a bad girl? or are you gonna take my dick like the good girl you know you are?" he whispered into your ear as he spanked you.

"why can't I be both?"

"i knew you were greedy from the start." he chuckled lightly before pulling back to unbuckle his pants and get rid of his underwear.

he lined himself behind you grabbing unto your hips for support.

“do i need to use a condom?” he asked.

i shook my head no.

“i’m on the pill.”

you heard him say a quick fuck under his breath when he realized that he could cum inside you without worries.

"fuck!" he cursed as he inserted his dick in you.

"you're so big," you breathed out as you felt as if your voice had left your throat for a moment.

"you can take it."

once he was fully in he thrusted in slowly so you could adjust to the pleasurable pain.

you gave him the signal and he started to thrust faster. small moans and whimpers can be heard from both of you along with the rattling of his desk.

he took a handful of your hair and pulled, making you moan louder and even though the building was pretty empty both of us could still be heard by guards so he grabbed your panties and stuffed them in your mouth to muffle your loud moans.

"that's my good girl." he said in between pants as he lifted your leg and placed it on top of the desk to get a better angle.

"touch yourself." he whispered into your ear as your fingers found your clit feeling him thrust in and out of you.

you were getting over stimulated feeling both your fingers and his dick sliding in and out of you at a fast pace.

you could tell he was trying to holding back moans as he panted out.

“you look so pretty taking my dick like that. it looks so much better than i even imagined in my head.”

all you could do was moan and cry into your panties. you couldn't really tell him you were so close, but he could tell by the way your walls clenched around his dick.

"cum for me my sweet girl."

you felt the knot in your stomach dissolve as your orgasm crashed over you. you swore you came so hard you squirted and blacked out for a moment.

“fuck joshua!” you cursed as he still thrusted in and out of you, chasing his own high.

he quickly turned you around feeling his high and pushed you on your knees to cum in your mouth. his mouth hung open in an O shape as his hips buckled into your mouth. you swallowed every last drop and stared at each other for a moment—both out of breath.

"quite the mess i made." you said looking up at him, slightly embarrassed after catching your breath.

"was that the first time you squirted?" he asked as you nodded.

he took your hands and helped your stand. your legs we shaking like a baby deer's as he helped you to your feet and pushed your hair out of my face.

"don't be embarrassed. it was very sexy. and i'll take care of the mess."

he chuckled as you nodded and smiled back at him.

"did you learn your lesson about being late?" he placed his hands on your waist and you rested yours on his shoulders.

"if this is what i get for being late then i'm gonna be late everyday for the rest of the semester."

and the sound of his laugh filled the room as you smiled at him.

"fine," he replied, "as long as you wear outfits like this more often."

you had placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“deal.”

so tell me, how can something so wrong feel so good?

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 9

Title: Sugar Cookies and Devious Confessions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Exams season and Solstice? Consider YN locked in, loaded, ready to go, hangry, and sentimental. Jungkook is just along for the ride with a hefty side of acts of service, quality time and physical touch are his love languages. Who'da thunk?

Warnings: T, language, fluff, so much fluff actually, I've surprised myself, semi-sexual conversations, JK is a menace but Reader can keep up...mostly, touch of angst tbh, reader gets hangry and is bad at taking care of herself sometimes, but apologises and makes up for it, mostly just wholesome this time. And fun!

Word Count: 6,675

Release Date: December 8, 2024. 12:30PM

A/N 1: Hiiiiiiiiiiii. It's here, thank you to those who reminded me. I literally would have forgotten for the third week in a row without them. I love you all.

A/N 1.5: Chapter ten will be coming sometime between Dec 20th-30th as it is festive and that's all I will say about it.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Jungkook’s learned many things about you since your friendship started. 

From your favourite colours to your favourite brush to paint with. He learned that you are always team morally gray love interest in the books you read in your limited spare time, although that one was learned a little against your will. 

He’d wanted to know why you always went for them, and very begrudgingly you admitted you found it appealing when they’d do anything to protect the main character. That they always did what they thought was best or what needed to be done despite their sad backstory, because for some reason, they all had sad backstories.

Every. Single. One of them. 

And you claimed it suckered you in every time. 

But through all of your time spent together—specifically during midterms—Jungkook learned just how much you ignore all of your basic needs as a human being when it comes to exams season. 

How you’ll forget to eat all day in favour of studying, or staying up late to finish your practical exam projects, making absolutely sure they’re up to your impossibly high standards, disregarding sleep.

So it doesn’t surprise him when he turns the corner to the greenhouse cafe to see you, thinner than normal with bags under your eyes, slaving away at something on your computer. 

He hates that he can tell you’ve lost weight through your winter clothing.

You look up, briefly smiling in greeting. He can tell just from how long it took you to notice him that you need a break, a good healthy meal and some sleep.

He smiles back, but bypasses you and walks straight into the cafe. You don’t think twice about it, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Hey Vivian,” he says to the barista.

“Hey JK, the regular?” She's restocking some cups and lids to the counter.

“Please, but tag on a hot chocolate for YN and some tarts.” Vivian nods, typing the order into the cashing system, very much used to either of you adding on each other's order to your own at this point.

“Machines ready for you,” she says, already prepping the first drink—his by the looks of it.

Jungkook pays and waits patiently, watching you from the window. 

“How long’s she been here?” he asks over the currently frothing milk—that’s for your hot chocolate.

“Since seven. She grabbed a tea and hasn’t moved since.” 

It’s almost 1:30 now, and Viv looks at him knowingly. She’s watched you do this to yourself every mid-term and exam season since you started. 

“Ah. I see.” He purses his lips.

It’s only a few minutes before the drinks and tarts are ready. Jungkook grabs them and heads out the door, calling a thank you over his shoulder.

“Okay look,” he says to grab your attention as he stands directly in front of you. The act of walking to the front of you alone clearly not enough to gain it. 

Looking up, your eyes widen in glee at the treats he carries. You attempt to reach for them but he pulls them back.

“Nuh uh, you need food.” 

You look at him confused. “Those are food.”

“No, these are the reward. You need a meal.” 

You try to interrupt him. Most likely to say you do eat meals, but instant ramen or a box of mac'n'cheese do not count, and he cuts you off before you can. “A healthy meal, Picasso, something to give your body nourishment and energy. One that fills you up.”

You scowl at him. 

“But–”

“No buts,” he cuts you off again. “Healthy food. Full, happy belly food,” he says, gently patting his stomach so not as to spill his drink. “Pack up, we’re going to the cafeteria and getting you some.”

“But–”

“Y/N,” he says sternly, giving you a look that says he will not be budging on this, and that if you refuse, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder to ensure it happens. 

It was the voice of a future King, he thinks. Then internally shudders. That’s not who he is with you, but he can admit that sometimes this side of him comes in handy during times like these. 

“Fine.” You snip, very clearly not happy about this.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to have any art supplies with you today, just your computer, a notepad and pencil case. You gather them quickly, throwing them into your backpack with an annoyed look because you don’t want to stop, but he’s forcing your hand.

He doesn’t care. You need this, and it’s clear as hell you were not going to do it on your own.

You were so fucking stubborn sometimes. 

His mask, hat and baggy shirt combo mixed with some large combat boots and a slight slouch in posture has worked wonders disguising him from the public so far. In fact, he’s pretty sure it intimidates some people seeing as how they nearly jump out of his way. You’ve joked about it before, calling it his ‘scary dog privilege’…whatever that meant. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind, though. Despite being four months into the school year, and his speech at the beginning, people still fawn and stare at him. Trying to get his attention, his approval. Anything to get something from him, even if it’s just a look in their direction. 

He wonders if it will ever die down, if it'll ever go away. Or if with new freshmen every year, a new horde of people will seek him out. 

So, he’s grateful that with this little disguise on, no one bats an eye at him as you two walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get across campus to the cafeteria. He knows you’re more than mentally drained, because you’re not checking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one realizes you’re with him like you usually do. 

You enter the main building, luckily the cafeteria on the ground floor, just near the back. Once there, you walk straight to the fridge of premade to-go foods. Grabbing a fruit cup, a chicken caesar salad, and a container of mixed vegetables with dip, you turn to him.

“Is this good enough for you?” you snark.

“Yep, great choices,” he says, ignoring your tone. “Very healthy and nutritious. Plus you nearly have all the food groups.”

“I do have all the food groups,” you say back, deadpan.

Wow…

You really need some sleep, he’s never heard you sound so lifeless. Or mean. You’re only ever truly mean when you’re beyond exhausted, too tired to care. 

He’d say your mood and overall vibe is like a mixture of brown and gray, but he knows if he said it out loud you’d make him specify which specific shades of brown and gray, so he keeps the thought to himself. Both not to provoke you and to be polite.  

“You’re missing dairy and grain,” he says.

You point to his hands holding the tarts and drink.

“Fair point,” he concedes, and trails you to the register, grabbing a protein shake from a nearby fridge on the way. His card is out and paying before you can reach for your wallet and you accept it, even too worn out to yell at him for buying you something. 

Hot chocolate and the occasional bag of tarts you're fine with, because half the time you’re also buying him his coffee and sharing your tarts, so you see it as a fair trade. But anything outside those and you damn near throw a fit, claiming you don’t need him to spend his money on you. 

You never want anything from him, so unlike everyone else in his life.

He leads you to a more private booth in the corner, scary dog privilege in full effect as no one dares stand in his way, and you very unceremoniously plop down, sluggishly shucking off your bag and coat. 

Definitely a brownish-gray. 

You two eat and drink in silence; you, slowly picking away at your food, him, finishing his drink then eating the vegetables from the container you don’t like. It’s a peaceful silence, contented as your mood gradually improves and some colour returns to your face the more you get into your system. 

The sight relieves him. 

“Sorry,” you say, eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him. And he knows it’s for the way you treated him pre-food.

“No worries,” he replies. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That's good.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to push, but now that your mood’s improving, he hopes it’s safe to.

“Hey,” you look up at him, the bags under your eyes more evident under the artificial light and his heart breaks a little at the sight. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight?”

A small close lipped smile finds your face, eyes soft, appreciative. The corner of his own lifts to match. 

“I promise I’ll try.”

You fall asleep early that night, 9pm. 

You don’t know what allows you to, but your exam worries fade and assignment anxiety slips from your mind the heavier your eyes grow. In the back of your head however, a thought slips through your defenses; you know it’s because of the look in Jungkook's eyes when he’d asked you too. 

The one of worry—genuine worry—for you. 

You hate yourself for causing it. You never want him to have to worry about you, god…he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to add to it. 

But mostly…

But mostly you let yourself succumb to slumber because you don’t want to disappoint him. 

He asked you so kindly, and you know he had your best interests at heart when he did. He always does. 

You don’t have it in you to deny him that simple favour. To take care of yourself a little better.

So you sleep, just this once. For him. To help relieve him of the stress you caused.

And you know that that thought is what lets you until 10am the next day.

You feel better than you have in weeks.

You have everything you could possibly need to make all the recipes you have planned for today. Eggs, flour, sugar, soju, cutters, extracts, ginger, honey, chocolate chips, food colouring, some fruit concentrates and more are stuffed into the bags that dangle from your now struggling arms. There’s also another much lighter bag filled with a surprise for him that sits near the crook of your elbow. 

 Jungkook’s not going to know what hit him.

The door clicks open and you watch his eyes nearly leave his skull before he reaches to take them from you.

“Oh wow, you really weren’t kidding were you,” he says as he takes them to the kitchen with ease. 

Stupid muscles, you think, but the thought doesn’t hold for too long, glad at having your arm circulation back. 

“Solstice cookies are no joke in my house,” you say, following him.

“Clearly.”

He starts taking things out of the bags and you grab the one with the surprise in it before he can get to it.

“Won’t we need that?” he asks.

“Yes, but it’s not for cookies,” you start backing away towards the living room, bag behind your back. “It’s a surprise.”

Jungkook has a goofy grin plastered on his face as he follows you, and you put one on to match.

You stand in front of the coffee table and order him to sit and close his eyes, a sarcastic ‘yes ma’am’ comes from his lips, but he does as told. 

You set the contents of the bag on the coffee table; a small fake tree with built in lights, some tiny baubles in a box, a star, a polaroid camera and a custom, empty ornament.

“Okay, open!”

Jungkook opens his eyes and the same goofy grin returns, but this time there’s a sparkle in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

His voice is gentle and lovely when he asks, “What’s all this Picasso?”

“Your very own tree to decorate. We have lights, decorations, even a star for the top,” you say as he leans and picks up the star. “You said you didn’t really celebrate anymore so I wanted to bring some celebration back to you—if you wanted to, that is.”

He twirls the star in his hand, smile never leaving, as he inspects it closer. “Did you make this?”

You turn sheepish. “Ah… yeah. They don’t really sell mini toppers for the mini trees, just the baubles, so that guy’s made from the finest cereal box cardboard and tinfoil on the market.”

He just stares, at the star, at the tree, then to you. You can’t tell if you screwed up or not. Did he hate this?

But then he’s standing and you’re in his arms as he hugs you. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do for a second, before you let your arms go around him, hugging him back. 

He’s solid, you can feel the strength in him as he breathes, and the weight in his arms as they hold you. 

But also warm. So warm your cheeks start to heat to match the rest of your body that seems to be on fire. 

It ends before it barely started, and you find yourself missing him the second he’s gone. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head as if not realizing what he’d just done until after he stopped. You want to tell him it was okay, but he says, “thank you,” immediately after, and squats down to open the baubles. 

“You’re welcome,” you say as you watch, sitting down on the couch. He looks like a kid, the brightest of smiles on his face as he goes to place the first one, but pauses, and hands it to you. 

“You know better than me where to start.”

You giggle, placing the red sphere near the middle, and gesture for him to put on the next one. It continues like this until the box is empty, you then him, then you then him. He places the last ornament and looks to you, star in hand. 

“You do it,” you say. You’ve done this a million times with your mum, you doubt he’s done the same.

He carefully grabs the top branch that sticks up, placing the star over it. Your heart swells at how gentle he is with your handmade decoration. 

“Now the last step,” you say, as you reach for the camera. This was your favourite tradition with your mother, the yearly solstice picture. You have one from every single year after you were born, and even one with you in your mum’s belly. 

“Turn around,” you say, spinning your finger and he does, you follow.

You’re both on the ground in front of the tree, and you lift the camera, leaning into him. Still so warm. He leans right back. 

“Say 'Solstice!'” you call out, and smile.

“Solstice,” he says with you as you snap the picture.

You pause for a moment, making sure the image is done capturing before leaning away again. 

The image prints out, and you take hold of it, shaking so it develops faster. 

“Can you get some scissors, and a permanent marker?” you ask Jungkook. He leaves for only a moment, returning from the kitchen, scissors and marker in hand. 

You reach for the empty, custom ornament. It’s a camera, and where the lens would be is a spot for a picture. Cutting the polaroid to fit, you slide it in, and write solstice followed by the year on the back of the ornament.  You put it in the middle of the tree, letting the baubles frame it.

You don’t see Jungkook watching you do all of this, a look in his eye that would melt you if you saw. 

“And now for the magic,” you say, turning on the built-in lights. The tree twinkles as the little LEDs reflect off baubles, like stars on a clear night winking at one another.

You're too busy looking at the tree when you hear a click. Following the sound you see Jungkook, polaroid camera in hand, lens facing you. The image pops out and he grabs it, placing it on the coffee table beside the tree.

“Aren't you supposed to shake it?” you ask.

He looks purely serene as he responds. “Nah, polaroids have chemicals and dyes layered in them, so if you shake them you can get microbubbles or marks on them.”

You didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he does. His talent for photography, a result of years of study and practice. 

“Oh, good to know,” you say as you take the camera from him, and direct him to look at the tree. You snap a picture to match your own, placing it on the table beside the one he took. 

He stays sat there, staring at the tree for a while, the occasional flit towards you before the tree once again.

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook says, breaking the comfortable silence. He clears his throat before adding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You don’t know what else to say besides that, but you can see the happiness in his eyes. Their glow. Their warmth. 

You don’t think you need to say more. 

He knows. 

Time is quickly passing, and you have five recipes to get through today. So as much as you find yourself not wanting to move, perfectly happy sitting here with him for the rest of the day in this beautiful silence, you can’t. The tree is only the beginning of your day together.

“Cookie time?” you ask. 

Jungkook looks to you and takes a deep breath, as if he was also content to stay where you were for the day.

Just you, him and the tree.

“Cookie time.”

“You bitch!” you say as flour flies from his hand to your cheek. 

You were three and a half recipes in, having made two easier recipes first to ease him into a more difficult one. Shortbread, maejakgwa, and gingerbread now sit around in tupperware and cooling sheets around the apartment. 

But because of that, Jungkook is slowly losing all seriousness as you retrieve the sugar cookie dough from his fridge. It was actually the first thing you’d made, knowing it had to chill for a while beforehand, hence the three and a half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, all knowing smirk plastered on his face like a neon billboard. 

You refuse to sink to his childish levels, and remove the beautifully chilled dough from its refrigerator bowl. Wiping your face with a cloth to clean yourself of the flour, you order him over.

“Come use all your unnecessary muscles to roll this out, quarter inch thick,” holding out the rolling pin to him. The smirk lessons only slightly, but he does as told. 

“All my muscles are unnecessary, huh?” he says after a minute of rolling. You’re by the sink washing some dishes as he does and you can all but physically see the egging in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“And why’s that?” He asks as he finishes rolling out the dough and begins on his cookie cutter decisions. You’ve learned he’s particular about which one’s he wants to use for which type of cookie. 

“Because you have like a million eight foot tall, 450 pound security guards following your every move at all times,” you say, as if this was obvious. In reality, it was a solid team of six guards who were at their tallest 6 '4, and maybe 285 at their heaviest. 

Admittedly, they were all really nice guys, having met them numerous times over the months. And you were planning on stealing some of the cookies from today to give them little solstice bags. 

Jungkook’s never going to be able to eat them all by himself  anyway…you think. And even if he could, he really shouldn’t.

“So, because I have security guards,” he looks at you unbelievingly, “my muscles are unnecessary?” 

“Yes. Why have them if you don’t need them?” At this point you’re just teasing him.

“Lots of reasons,” and he starts listing as you continue to clean. “They look nice, but that's obvious.”

“I’m sure your groupies don’t mind that at all,” you sneak in under your breath, referring to his enormous, and rather lewd mouthed female following on social media. 

“Hey, you leave my groupies out of this, they’re nice people,” he says, pointing a white powdered finger. You scoff and go back to the dishes mumbling something about how they feed his ego. 

“There’s also the fact that I like being strong. I like that I don’t get winded from jogging up the stairs, and I like that I have the ability to help damsels who show up at my place with their arms full of far too many heavy bags.”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs. “You can’t say I’m wrong.”

You also don’t have to acknowledge that comment.

He takes it as a win in your ever ongoing battle of wits. And just to try and even out the playing field a little more, as you are currently winning by a landslide, he adds on a little more to his answer, hopefully one you’re not expecting, and therefore winning by shock factor.

“There’s other reasons too, but those are a lot less PG, to say the least.”

He—

Your hands pause their ministrations for mere seconds before continuing.

How did he say it so…casually!?

Like he didn’t essentially just tell you he likes being strong for bedroom purposes. A topic you’ve never been anywhere near speaking to him about, and he just… brings it up like that? So cryptically as if he wants you to ask for clarification. 

And you do want clarification, damn him!

You hate that it makes you curious. Hate. It.

You like knowing things, not to be nosey, but because you like the mental safety it brings. When you and Nel first started having sex you did a deep dive on everything you could, to make sure nothing was a surprise and that you didn’t hurt yourself or him if you tried anything new. 

Little did you know half of the research was for nothing. Nel has never been the most sexually adventurous person, whereas you wanted to try out new things, explore, see what you like via trial and error, he was fine with good ole missionary and a handful of other basic positions. 

What you two do now works though. And that’s what counts. Compromise. Overcome. Enjoy and respect each other's boundaries. 

But it makes you wonder if Jungkook knows anything you don’t. 

That reason alone is apparently enough for you to hear, “Like what?” leave your lips before you can stop it. And you internally freak.

What the fuck! You did not just ask him that. 

That did not just come out of your mouth.

You did not jus-

“You really wanna know?” he asks, eyeing you over his shoulder with a single quirked brow, like he can’t believe you said it either, but he’ll dish you if you want him too. 

How interesting. You don’t remember gaining this level of trust from him, to be honest about something so personal. So private. 

You wonder when that happened. 

No, you say in your mind. But your head is gingerly nodding yes. 

Stop that! You think to your body, betraying you once again.

Jungkook hums before picking up a cutter, a simple circle. 

“Well,” he punctuates the word with a cutter punch. “Uhh…there’s a certain level of—” a punch, “—power dynamic I prefer having, and they definitely help with that,” another cutter punch. “I also like being able to lift my partner with relative ease, or carry them if need be. Legs around my hips is a personal favourite.”

Your dishwashing slows as he continues, unable to stop the images that flood your mind thanks to your visual thinking. 

Stupid art brain.

A small pool of heat starts to form low in your stomach. Stupid art brain.

After some more circular cutter punches, you think he’s finished and you’re relieved, but then he switches to a spikier one and continues. 

“I’ve also learned that finger strength seems to be a fan favourite,” he jokes and you gulp, forcing that thought out of your head as soon as it enters like a slingshot.  “And most of my previous partners seemed to enjoy the fact that I could, uhm…well, that I could hold them in place while I did… that is…whatever I wanted to them.” 

You ignore the wetness in forming your underwear. This conversation, regardless of who it was with, was not helping you and your complete and utter lack of sex. 

Another enormous downside to long distance, your libido and its easily excitable nature due to lack of use. Maybe an appointment with your vibrator is due soon, if you’re this affected by these attempts at sterile descriptions of sexual-like encounters. He isn’t even saying anything expressly dirty. He’s trying to be as respectful and informative in his answers as he can.

Plus, you did this to yourself. 

“But if I had to pick, I think there’s a tie for my favourite part about having unnecessary muscles for non PG purposes,” he says, and looks at you with another quirked brow, seeing if he’s allowed to proceed.

You’ve entirely stopped washing the dishes. Too focused on not focusing on the growing need blooming inside you. 

Oh yes, you’re penciling it in right now: Vibrator appointment. Tonight. 10:30pm. 

Sharp.

Time to accept the consequences of your actions.

“Consider it a potential learning opportunity. Academically speaking, of course,” you say, as a way to make this educational. That’s all this is anyway right? To see if he knows anything you don’t. 

Right?

Right.

“If you say so Picasso.” He tears the leftover dough from the neatly cut cookies, and starts laying them on a baking pan. “First, I like that I’m strong enough to flip my partner over whether they’re, uhm...” he struggles for an ‘academic’ sounding word, but settles for, “restrained, or not.”

Heat. Everywhere. There's heat everywhere and you immediately go back to the dishes, changing the flowing water to ice cold and ignoring the throbbing of your core. You’re pretty sure if you slipped your hands down your pants right now, they’d be just as wet as they are cleaning the mixing bowls. 

Maybe you should reschedule to 10. Or even 9:30. Hell, why not 9 while you’re thinking about it.

“Secondly, I like the muscles because they help me make great use of walls.”

You nearly drop the bowl in the sink, not having nearly enough time to recover before he’s looking at you again, sugar cookie filled baking pan in hand.

“You ever done something like that?” he asks, sly smirk visible. He’s trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke for the sake of comfortability.

He’s spilling ‘all’ his secrets, why shouldn’t you spill one.

The oven dings, signaling the preheating is complete and it’s ready for use. He comes closer to you, only because the oven is opposite the sink, puts them in and sets the oven’s timer for 12 minutes. Turning back around, he’s not two feet from you.

You force your voice to be as smooth and cool as possible as you face him, your own smirk plastered. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Yes, yes he would.

“Call your goons in, I have their bags ready.”

“They’re not my goons,” Jungkook says, texting Shen, head of his security detail. “They’re my guards.”

You’re both finishing up cleaning the kitchen, all of the ingredients are put away, the dishes are cleaned, and Jungkook is washing down the counterspace as you write the names of everyone on the little bags filled with the results of your combined labours.

The coffee table is covered in little polaroids from today, all still resting from when they developed. Half of them have some form of baking related mess on them, be it some flour or a small lump of dough. 

You look at one he took after throwing more flour on you, your nose is scrunched and it looks like half your face is white with the stuff. It’s cute. There’s another beside it, Jungkook is pretending to lick raw batter from the whisk, eyes wide, tongue outstretched. It’s chaotic.

They’re perfect.

Shen, Dae-Seong, Asa, Rowan, Micah and Hikari are Jungkook’s security detail. They all have shared apartments in the same building. Never too far away. Shen and Asa are stationed on his floor, Mikah and Rowan are on the floor below and Dae-Seong and Hikari are on the one above. 

“Guards, goons, same difference,” you say, but you hear knocking not seconds later, no doubt Shen and Asa. 

You go and open the door, welcoming them in.

“Hey Y/N,” Asa says, scooping you up for a hug, your feet dangling. Asa’s one of the guards who’s super tall, and he’s always been very affectionate towards you. Come to think of it, a lot of them are. 

“Hey Asa, how’s Natalie?” you chuckle, hugging him back lightly. Natalie is his wife, who's still back in the capital.

“She’s good, excited to have me home soon.”

“No doubt, say hi for me.”

“Yeah, will do.”

He sets you down just in time for another knock. 

Rowan, Micah, Hikari and Dae-Seong all make their way in too, giving high fives, light hugs or happy greetings to you as they do. Soon, you’re being towered over by men, feeling very small, but never scared as they are always so lovely to you.

You suspect you’re quickly becoming their favourite. 

Jungkook they’re used to seeing, they’ve known him for years, protected him for years. They give him shit, a nod or grab him by the neck with their arms as they play wrestle to greet him. No hugs or high fives to be seen with him, only laughter. Mostly at Jungkook. 

When they’re around, Jungkook is the most at ease you’ve ever seen him at. 

“So what’s up?” Shen asks. He’s the least affectionate out of everyone, stoic even, but that doesn’t surprise you. He’s responsible for the safety of the future monarch, that’s a stressful job.

You look to Jungkook, who’s now sitting on the couch. He signals with a hand that this is all you.

“I don’t know if you all celebrate, but just in case you do, Jungkook and I spent the day baking,” Rowan snorts at that, and you ignore it, motioning for them to follow you to the kitchen. The island carrying their individually labeled goody bags comes into their view.

“And this is just a little thank you for all you do from the jackass in the other room,” you point with a thumb to the wall the couch is on the other side of. The men snicker. 

“I heard that,” Jungkook calls.

“You were supposed to,” you call back, then to the group once more, “and it’s also a Happy Solstice from me.”

Rowan and Asa are still laughing at your less than kind words about their charge as you begin to hand them their bags. Each one says thank you as you do, and Asa gives you another hug. He may be 6’4 and god knows how many pounds, but really, he was just a big teddy bear—a lethal one— but cuddly nonetheless.

“We’ve got a decent selection, but feel free to trade,” you say, giving Shen his bag last. He has a thing with going last, you have no idea why, but you respect it. You whisper to him that he has an extra of each cookie, and not to tell the others, including Jungkook. He gives you the absolute smallest of small smiles, followed by a hushed ‘thank you.’

It’s the most tender you’ve ever seen him.

Micah pipes up. “What’s this one?” he asks, holding up a cookie.

“So, we’ve got gingerbread, maejakgwa, sugar cookies, shortbread and that, my dearest Micah,” the mountain of a man blushes at that, and you laugh, “is a yakgwa cookie. Think chewy honey and ginger.”

He pops it into his mouth instantly and you swear if he could, he’d melt into a puddle. 

“There’s no way King Pain in the Ass over there made these, they’re way too good,” Hikari says, on his third one. He seems to be trying one of each, seeing which he likes. So far? Apparently it’s all of them.

“Cross my heart,” you say, “it was a gallant team effort.”

“Thanks kid,” he calls to the prince, currently entering the room to see his guards happier than he has in a very long time. He will never admit it out loud, for fear of endless mocking, but the sight warms his heart.

Dae-Seong comes up to you, and very politely asks, “Could I get the recipe you used for the maejakgwa? My wife would love these.”

“Of course, Dae-Seong,” you place a kind hand on his forearm. “Give Minji my best will you?”

The man nods, grateful. 

All the recipes today were from your memory, so you get your phone, and start typing it out. 

You have him text it to himself from your phone when you’re finished, and use that as your que to grab the camera.

“Everyone,” you call out, and immediately seven pairs of eyes, with seven full mouths beneath them, are looking at you. Jungkook’s eating some from his own stash, or so you hope. “Crowd your favourite royal on the couch please, it’s picture time.” You shake the camera gently in your hand.

“My favourite royal’s back at the pala–” Hikari tries, but a punch to the shoulder from Jungkook has him laughing in favour of completing the sentence. 

You love the relationship he has with them. Like brothers.

Quickly, Jungkook is squished between the six men, one on either side and four on the floor in front of him. They tried to fit more on the couch but they're all so big that they couldn’t.

“Everyone needs to smile, and if they don't, I'm taking more until they do,” you say pointedly, eyeing up Shen. He only nods that he understands.

“Say Solstice!”

A chorus of deep voiced ‘solstice's' ring your eyes as you look through the eyepiece and snap the picture. It prints out and you leave it with all the others on the coffee table. You see that everyone is smiling in the picture as it develops. 

Perfect. Everything about today has been perfect.

After a few more minutes of chatting, the guards have to get back to their posts, and you’re at the door, wishing everyone a happy break as they leave. 

Shen, as usual, hangs back, wanting to be the last to leave. He’s standing beside Jungkook, both watching you as you bid the others farewell. 

“I like her,” Shen says to Jungkook quietly. 

“Me too,” Jungkook says back. 

Shen can see the prince means that in more than one way.

“Keep her around.”

“I'm trying my best to.”

It’s nearing 7:30, you’re both full after ordering dinner in, not wanting to be anywhere near a kitchen until next week, and working on assignments. Jungkook’s editing some photos, and you’re writing part of an essay from your phone, having completely forgotten to bring your computer in all the excitement. 

“Hey,” you say, sitting in your spot on the couch. You nudge him with a socked foot, he has headphones on so he can focus.

He doesn’t look to you, but removes a headphone. “Yeah?”

You lock your phone, brain mush for the night. “Can we move movie night to tonight? I have an exam at 8am on Monday and I want to use tomorrow to study.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a while, deciding that today would let you know if you needed to make the switch or not. And given that you’ve spent the day on your feet and partially socializing, you doubt you’ll be able to focus for the rest of the night, exhausted. But the good kind of exhausted.

You’ve been taking better care of yourself since that day with Jungkook. Not drastically, but you’re starting to listen to your body’s signals a little more, and right now it’s telling you you need TV and sleep. 

Appointment be damned. You’ll reschedule.

Jungkook hits the space bar and removes his headphones before closing the computer. 

“Yeah, of course. But–” he cuts himself off, looking at the tree in front of him. The lights are low in the apartment and it’s dark out, so the tree shines, glowing from within. The picture of you two still sits in the middle, and the now multiple stacks of polaroids sit around its base like presents. 

“But?”

“But that means I won’t see you after today. I only have two exams left, Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, then I’m back at the palace.”

Oh. 

Right.

“We don’t have to, I can just study earlier in the d-”

“No! No, it’s okay. It just…it changes a few things,” he bites his lip as he thinks, and places his computer on the coffee table. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes Picasso, please?”

You’re very confused but comply, closing your eyes and waiting. You hear him get up and then him walking, then a door opens. There’s some rummaging before the door closes and his footsteps near again.

The couch dips right beside you.

“Hold out your hands.”

You hold them both out, palms up, and something bumpy and cylindrical is placed in them. 

“Okay, open.”

In your hands is a leather rolling brush case, held shut by not only matching leather strings, but a red ribbon and bow. 

“Oh,” you didn’t know you were doing gifts. “Jungkook. It’s—it’s beautiful.”

“Open it.”

You untie the ribbon, setting it to the side as you also untie the leather strings, and unroll. The case is filled with brushes from Olliveri and Schultz, the best brush makers in the realm. And a small, very surprised gasp escapes you. 

You’ve never once owned any of their products. Their brushes go for $50 at the lowest, for the smallest of brushes.  

Exquisite craftsmanship goes into each and every brush, hand carved wooden handles, the best bristles you can buy, and rust resistant ferrule. You’ve always dreamed of having one of their brushes, and now here you are, with a whole set.

They’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Jungkook I—I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t possibly acce-”

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Please. I even made sure they put in an extra fan brush cuz it’s your favourite.” 

You notice the two brushes on the end, identical. 

He remembered. 

A lump is forming in your throat, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“I haven’t—I don’t—,” you take a breath, “I didn’t get you a gift, though.”

“Today was gift enough,” he says, and you can see in his eyes he means every word. “I haven't had a solstice like this in…a really long time, and the memories from today are enough, more than enough. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, you haven’t been at this much of a loss for words since…ever. You can only think of one thing to convey how thankful you are.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you squeeze, his arms immediately around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I love them.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath too, savouring this moment for as long as he can. The feel of your arms around him, squeezing. The soft curve of your body up against his. His hands on your waist, you’re warmth under his touch, or maybe that was him, he can’t tell. And he doesn’t care. 

 It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated physical contact that was more than a nudge or playful shove. 

“You’re welcome, YN. Happy Solstice.” 

Chapter Ten: TBR

A/N 2: Fun fact! The tree and tin foil star are based on what I do irl. I have a dollarstore tree with little baubles and lights, but I made the star from a cereal box and tin foil because there weren't any toppers when I bought it.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU

Kara goes to the concert expecting nothing more than a tepid evening out. Well, as tepid as a night alone with her goddaughter could be. Esme has a knack for pulling Kara out of any funk she's in, no matter how deep her doldrums. And Esme's excitement to see this specific artist Kara's never heard of is nearly infectious.

Kara finds herself grinning in the car as Esme strictly tells her not to turn the radio on.

"They're gonna play one of her songs, and we need to go in fresh!"

So they simply chat on the ride to the arena, and upon arrival Kara is floored by the flood of people flowing from the parking lot to the venue itself.

"She's only the biggest name in pop music, Aunt Kara," Esme teases with a grin. "What did you expect?"

Kara's eyes go big with an exaggerated shrug of her eyebrows. "Not this!"

"Come on, old lady. This is why we got here early."

Esme finds fast friends among the other fans in line, but Kara steers clear of the parents clearly commisserating over the ordeal. She's not a parent, just a chaperone, and she has no intention of allowing herself to be infected by the endless negativity of long suffering caregivers bemoaning the whims of their tweens and teens.

Once inside, Esme heads straight for the merch table, clearly intent on spending her long-saved allowance money on anything she can get her hands on. The kid's wrists are already stacked with friendship bracelets, her own tote of swaps nearly empty and waiting to be stuffed with shirts and mugs and posters. Kara eyes the mounting total, then catches the moment Esme starts weighing the balance of what she has against the hoodie advertised at $60.

Kara rolls her eyes at the price, then reaches over with her card outstretched. "Add a medium hoodie to that, please."

Esme squeals with delight, and as soon as they're clear of the stall she throws her arms around Kara.

"Thank you!!!!"

"You're welcome," Kara says with a chuckle. "Just don't wear it til you get home. It's going to be hot in there."

"Okay!" Esme is already swapping her existing t-shirt for the tank top she'd gotten, emblazoned with the face of a young woman and the performer's name: LENA

"How do I look?" Esme asks with a spin, bracelets clicking.

Kara grins. "Like the world's cutest groupie." She tilts her head towards the crush of people heading into the stands. "Come on, let's go grab our seats."

"What's a groupie?"

Kara rolls her eyes, only to pause mid-turn when her phone starts vibrating in her hand. She hesitates, meeting Esme's eye.

"Just a sec, sweetie."

"What? No! Aunt Kara you promised no work."

Kara grimaces. "I know, but it might be an emergency." She scans the corridor, gaze catching on a short row of food vendors. "Here, why don't you take this and get us some nachos?"

She shoves forty dollars into Esme's hand and fishes out her bluetooth, nestling it in her ear.

"Aunt Kara..."

"I gotta find a corner somewhere," Kara continues. She points to a section of cinderblock wall a little ways down. "I'll meet you in across from the restrooms, okay? Five minutes, then I'm all yours."

Esme huffs. "Fine."

Kara answers the call, but waits until she sees Esme add herself to the food line before she starts speaking.

"This better be good!" she shouts into her phone. She can't hear anything but a jumble of sound on the other end, the din around her crowding out any words that might have been spoken. "Hold on!"

Reassured to see Esme already in conversation with a number of girl's around her, Kara goes looking for a quieter spot. She finds one in the nearest stairwell.

"What?" Kara snaps.

"Um," her assistant says over the line. "Mrs. Jasper called again? She wants--"

"Eve," Kara growls. "Do not tell me you called me, tonight of all nights, because Mrs. fucking Jasper called making some other inane request."

"I'm sorry!" Eve squeaks. "It's just--"

"Tell her it is after hours, and that she will be hearing from me personally first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh, um. Okay. I guess--"

"Go home when it's done. And turn off your phone. You shouldn't be working this late either."

"Um. Okay. Thank you, Miss Danvers."

Kara ends the call with a roll of her eyes. But her frustration hardens into panic when she tugs on the door to return and-- it doesn't budge. She yanks again, harder, and still nothing.

"Fuck!" she shouts. She begins pounding on the door. "Hey! Can someone open this door?!"

No one comes to her rescue, her calls likely drowned out by the same noise that had driven her here in the first place. With another curse, Kara steps into action. She chooses to go down, hoping that the next door will open. It does, but the corridor she steps into is nearly empty. She hears a bit of bustle further down the hall, but out of sight.

She heads towards the sounds, trying the handle of every door she passes. None of them turn-- save one. She leans into it a little too hard as she tries the knob, and nearly tumbles into the room at the unexpected open.

Managing to right herself with a small yelp, Kara straightens-- only to freeze upon locking gazes with the young woman staring at her. A young woman Kara recognizes from the shirt her goddaughter had just put on.

Lena tilts her head with a droll grin.

"Well, you aren't my tea with honey."

[kurocamille]

❝maybe frat boys aren’t so bad (aka miscommunication leads to makeup sex?!) ❞

Frat!Bakugou Katsuki x reader (second part of my frat!Bakugou series) mdni

part 1 / master list

5.3k+ words

after your hookup with Bakugou, somehow everyone knows. this means that you’re on mean girl Mika’s watchlist and that you’ll have to distance yourself from him. however, Bakugou gets it in his head that you don’t want to be with him, and when he sees you with Kirishima, he doesn’t think you’ll ever let him back in your life (or your bed). Turns out it was all just miscommunication…

warnings

part 2 of 2, jealous Bakugou, miscommunication trope, fingering, cunnilingus, hand job, blow job, making out, hickeys, he bites you once?, penis in vagina sex, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, female/afab reader, creampie, “baby” as a pet name

It had been exactly one week since your night with Bakugou Katsuki. As you had expected, rumours about the two of you had reached far across campus in no time. After all, Bakugou is very popular.

Unfortunately, the result of this rumour was that everyone knew what happened… including Mika and her minions. So, last week, instead of waking up to an expected empty phone, it was instead alive with thousands of nasty messages.

When you opened them, the bulk of the message spam followed the same pattern. ‘You’re such a whore,” or “I can’t believe you’d steal Bakugou from Mika, you bitch,’ or, at worst, from the culprit herself, ‘I heard you got with Bakugou. If you think you can take him from me, you’re wrong. I’ve got loads of people who can fuck you up.’

Obviously feeling threatened, because only the lord knows what Mika can do with her money and power, you had chickened out and never replied to Bakugou’s message. No matter how much you wanted to see him again, it was not worth the damage Mika would inflict.

—-

Now, after seven days have gone by, all spent avoiding Bakugou like the plague, you finally think you can go to class and fly under the radar. You arrive on time as usual, sitting in the middle row of the lecture hall.

It’s a massive class, and although many people are already there, there are others filing in as the prof starts their lesson. You, being too engrossed in your note taking, don’t notice as a body slides into the empty seat beside you.

“Hey, what did I miss?” the voice says in a hushed tone.

You look up and see none other than Bakugou Katsuki, still very much blond and still very much attractive. Instead of replying you turn back to your notebook, tearing off a piece and quickly scribbling a message down.

You slip the note reading, ‘Literally nothing, pay attention during class!’ into Bakugou’s waiting hand. He huffs and attempts to speak to you again, but you face your paper and ignore whatever he’s saying.

“Please be quiet up there!” The professor calls him out, and he slouches down in his seat, begging for class to end.

After everyone finally gets dismissed, Bakugou tries to poke your shoulder to get your attention, but you’re already dashing out the door, praying that nobody saw you together.

“Wait, Y/N,” Bakugou calls for you, jogging to catch up to you. Damn him for having such long legs…

“Sorry, I can’t talk to you,” you reply. It comes out more harshly than expected, but no sense in trying to chummy up to him again if Mika was threatening you. So, you turn on your heel to leave him again.

“Just hear me out,” he blurts out, lightly grabbing your shoulder to make you face him.

You don’t move, instead you stand there with your hands on your hips, waiting for him to continue.

Finally, he gets the hint and speaks again. “I’m sorry if it was bad for you…”

What?! “It wasn’t bad for me, it’s just–”

“No, it’s okay if you don’t want to see me again, but I’d rather you tell it to me now, to my face,” he interrupts you mid sentence.

Ha, you think, Ironic that the frat boy doesn’t want to get ghosted, but as you had realized much longer before this, Bakugou is not your average frat boy. Although he looks like a pretty boy with no space for a committed relationship, he has much more depth than you could even imagine. Despite being a flirt and allegedly a playboy, Bakugou had only ever treated you with respect, so you suppose you at least owe him this one conversation.

“Bakugou,” you start, unsure of how to follow through to your point. “It wasn’t bad. If anything it was too good. I just– I just can’t afford to be seen with you.”

A hurt look flashes through Bakugou’s eyes before he gives a slow nod of understanding. “I get it, you don’t want to be with a guy like me. It’s alright, guess I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Wait, that’s not–” you start, but Bakugou is already walking away with his hands stuff in his pockets.

You stand in the middle of the busy hallway for a good few seconds before you hear a giggle that breaks you out of your daze. It’s Mika, she’s leaning on the wall we chatting to her friends.

“She’s almost as much of a player as Katsuki is,” she says to her friends in what she pretends is a whisper, but you know she wants you to hear.

“Yeah, but at least he’s good in bed. She seems like the desperate type.” All of them burst out into a fit of giggles. Y walk off, not even bothering to hear the rest of the conversation.

—

A month later, you haven’t heard from Bakugou at all, his one lone message still sits in your inbox, unanswered. You can’t help but be a little upset knowing it could’ve happened if not for the circumstances. It doesn’t matter, though, as far as you know Bakugou got back with Mika for a bit, dumped her, and is now moving through girls like a snowplough.

You’re sitting in a cafe when somebody plops down in the booth in front of you. He seems to recognize you, but you can’t fully place his fiery red hair and toothy grin. “Hey, Y/N, right?”

You furrow your brows. “Who’s asking?”

He laughs heartily at your question. “Sorry, I thought you might remember me. I’m Kirishima Eijiro. I was at that party a few weeks ago.”

Looking down, you see him offer a hand, which you shake quickly before placing your hands back in your lap. Even though the issue with Bakugou and Mika had blown over, and you had fallen back into your mundane life, you were still trying to avoid anything “boys and Bakugou” related.

“Well, I’ve been having some concerns about my buddy,” he thinks out loud.

“Are you really certain I could do anything about this?” you reply hastily. Maybe you shouldn't have said that so soon.

“That’s the thing,” Kirishima replies. “I’m not tryna blame you or anything, but I think you might be causing some… altercations… in his sex life.”

You smack your hands down on the table, catching the attention of surrounding customers. “What?!” You sink back down after receiving a glare from a neighbouring table.

“I didn’t mean that it was bad!” Kirishima speaks for you as you drown in embarrassment.

“Sorry, you kind of implied it though.” The flush on your cheeks doesn’t dissipate.

“Right, actually, moreso the opposite. You might’ve heard Bakugou’s been sleeping around a lot. He and Mika are officially over this time. I’m not going to tell you why, but what matters is that he’s been trying to make up for losing you, at least I think,” Kirishima spills.

You make a non-coherent splutter, but Kirishima doesn’t let you reply. “I tried to tell him this was all about Mika and her stupid followers, but he’s not into socials, and he’s stubborn as hell, anyway. He believes you’re avoiding him because of his reputation, but you’ve gotta help me. He’s been insufferable lately, and even as a member of our frat, the number of girls he’s been with is getting slightly concerning.”

Kirishima looks at you with begging eyes, and you know it’s serious if he came to see you. You look down at your lap, your heart racing with confusion and anxiety.

“I’m sorry, but how can you be so certain? I’d like to help, really, but I’m not sure where I come in,” you say slowly.

“Call him or something. Give him some closure, and let him know it isn’t because of his “player” mentality or whatever he’s got stuck in his head.” Kirishima gets up and places a bill down to pay for your food.

Just then, a familiar figure passes by and notices you through the window. You’re too wrapped up in your conversation with Kirishima to notice the way they ball their fists and huff away.

“Thanks. Hope to see you around.” Kirishima leaves you sitting there confused.

You sit there in awe at the conversation. Why are you supposed to care about Bakugou’s overactive libido anyway?

Sighing, you stare at your empty cup and decide to leave the cafe. It turns out it’s just starting to rain when you trudge back to your dorms, and you get drenched.

—

That night, you lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. Thoughts of Bakugou continue to invade your mind, and you hear yourself groaning in annoyance.

Maybe I should call him, you think. But, ugh, that’s kind of weird and pathetic.

However, the more you think about it, and him, the more your thoughts start to go back to your night in his car. You remember how it felt to have his big hands on your body, how they felt inside your–

You stop that thought before it can progress.

Again, you let your mind wander. If you think about it, if you actually wanted him again, would it really be fixing his libido? If it benefited both of you, it couldn’t be that awful to call him again.

Nevermind, you’re just thinking too much. How could you even consider it?!

Just go to bed, you beg yourself.

You stare up at the ceiling until your eyes blur out of focus, but somehow, somehow, everything leads back to him.

Flushing, you try not to think about his adept fingers moving in and out of you. Slowly, your panties get wetter and wetter, and you realize that the only way you’re ever going to get over him is by getting under him.

Finally, you decide to roll over and give in to your desires. The glow of your phone screen is glaringly bright, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. When things come into focus, you unlock your phone and click on Bakugou’s number before you lose confidence

“Hello?” Bakugou’s raspy voice answers after five rings.

“Hey, Bakugou,” you whisper. “I wanted to tell you something. Don’t hang up, please.”

“Okay,” he yawns.

“Kirishima came to me today. Can we talk this over or something?”

“We are talking. And I know. I saw” is his gritted reply.

“You’re right, I’m in no place to be asking for anything. I’m sorry. I just need to talk to you in person. I need to get something off of my chest.”

“Oh, something? Or, somebody… like, Shittyhair?!” he practically seethes through the phone.

“Wait, what?!” you yelp.

“Why are you even calling me over if you’re with him.”

“What?” you repeat yourself. “I’m not with him?”

“You literally just said you saw him today,” he argues.

“That’s what I was calling about. He sai–” you start.

“If you’re coming to me with your boy problems, hang up.” You can tell he’s on the verge of leaving.

“No!” you huff madly. “If you’d let me finish, you’d know that he came to tell me he’s worried about you.”

“Oh, really? Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been fucking, since apparently I wasn’t good enough for you, or whatever,” he replies angrily.

“I swear, Bakugou,” you sigh. “I haven’t been with anyone since our night together.

Bakugou pauses before replying. “I don’t fully believe you. Especially when you just gave me proof you went out together”

You blush as you speak your next words, admitting something to him you thought would happen under different circumstances.

“I haven’t been with him, and I swear it, because…” you hesitate. “I’ve only ever been with you.

A sharp breath is blown out on Bakugou’s end, and you wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Seriously?” His breaths are suddenly slower and calmer.

“Yeah, I swear. Can I just talk to you in person? I really do need to tell you.”

Bakugou makes a slight shuffling noise on his end, and you hear someone’s murmuring in the background, likely one of his frat brothers.

“Fine. You want me to come to you?” he finally replies, giving in (almost too easily, in your eyes).

“Yes, please,” you reply quietly.

“I’ll be there soon.” With that, he hangs up.

After the same short drive from last time, Bakugou shows up in your dorm parking lot. He shoots you a text message that he’s here, and you greet him at the door.

It’s about one am, and despite your disheveled tank top and shorts, Bakugou is dressed as handsomely as ever. “Hi,” you say.

“Hi.” He gives you a sad smile in return.

“I want to apologize.” You bow your head shyly. “It was my fault for all the confusion. I should’ve told you what was up. I just didn’t want to mess up my chances with you or your relationship with Mika. Kirishima told me about everything that’s been happening.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry, too,” he replies.

You look up in surprise. Altogether, pathetically, you had expected more grovelling, so this is unexpected.

“It was all Mika’s fault, anyway, and I promise things are over with us,” he says, his face pink with embarrassment. “And… I guess I could say that my judgement of you and Shitty hair was a little preemptive.”

“You think?” you laugh quietly.

“I really am sorry, okay.” He looks up at you and deep into your eyes to solidify his point.

Your face feels hot, and you’re sure he can see the growing blush across your cheeks. Even so, you smile and say, “So, are we good?”

“Yeah,” he replies, returning your smile.

There’s a long pause between the two of you, but it doesn’t feel awkward like you might expect. The gap between you feels like it’s closing, and eventually your lips are just barely touching. His breath fans over your face, and you grip his shirt, taking him in a kiss.

Bakugou holds you to him, his back pressed against the door of your dorm. When you slip your tongue against his, he doesn't decline. He gingerly holds you, squeezes your hip with one hand, and cups your face with the other.

“I don’t deserve you,” you sigh as Bakugou starts to pepper kisses all over your neck.

“You do, it’s me that doesn’t deserve you.” He moves your face so your gazes can meet.

Bakugou gives you one of his signature grins and catches you in another heated kiss. His tongue swiftly swipes across yours, causing you to moan in his hold.

When he changes the angle of kiss, you become entangled, your hips pressed flush against his, earning his groans in your ear. With his newly growing boner and your wettening panties, you feel unbearable lust growing.

“Can we go upstairs?” Bakugou asks.

You nod, keying yourselves in and rushing to your room that’s right around the corner.

As soon as the door opens a mere inch, Bakugou jumps back on you and pushes you down to the bed, a haze of desire over his eyes.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” He nips on your neck.

You can only moan in response when he kisses down your chest. Pulling your tank top over head, Bakugou, or Katsuki, you suppose, focuses his attention on your chest. Your body stiffens as he glides his tongue over your hard nipple..

“That feel good?” he asks when he pinches the other nipple while continuing to lick long stripes on your breast.

“Yeah,” you hum in reply.

You feel so good under Bakugou, writhing in pleasure as he sucks hickeys into your skin. You feel his hand sneak up to the top of your waistband and you yelp in surprise. “Ah! Katsuki”

“Can I continue what I started last time?” he says in a begging tone, lightly tugging at your panties.

“Please,” you moan equally as wanton as him, and you’re almost immediately spread bare for him.

Kissing down your chest, Bakugou gets spurred on by your moans. He gives your clit the sensation it's been craving. Slowly, pressure is added to the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself seeping down onto your sheets.

When he sees your glistening pussy, he laughs, “So wet again, baby, and I’ve barely even touched you here.”

“I was getting wet thinking about you earlier,” you mumble into the back of your hand.

“Good.” He smiles. “Don’t think about other guys from now on, you’re all for me.”

There’s no time to reply in shock because Katsuki dips into your depths, swiping up and down your wetness. One finger slips inside smoothly, moving in and out with ease.

Testing it out, Katsuki moves down to your sex and adds his mouth to the mix. This new feeling sets your body on fire. What he’s doing to your body is more than anything you’ve ever experienced, and your core tightens uncontrollably.

“Wait, ah!” you cry out, but Bakugou doesn’t relent. Instead, he adds another finger and curls it into your g-spot.

Working in and out of your cunt, you feel yourself squeezing around his fingers. The feeling of his strong fingers moving inside of you and his lips sucking on your throbbing clit brings you to your limit embarrassingly quickly. You can’t find it in yourself to care, though, because it just feels so good.

With one last strangled moan, you cum, the pleasure sending you over the edge. You tingle all over post orgasm and feel your eyes slip into the back of your head for a second. As Bakugou continues to finger you, your body lifts off the bed into his mouth.

Then, suddenly, you feel something else coming. Something that you feel coming upon you just as fast as your orgasm. You try to sit up and stop Bakugou, but his hand keeps you pinned to the bed. The overstimulation on your body creeps up on you, and there’s a new pain that accompanies your pleasure, adding to your second high.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out when Katsuki switches his fingers for his mouth.

Nimble fingers swirl circles on your clit as his tongue darts out to meet your pussy. It licks up and down, teasing your entrance with the occasional poke inside. And, when you’re least expecting it, it finally slides to your hole, working on thrusting as far into your depths as you can.

This feeling is incredible, and the way Bakugou groans into your pussy drives you mad. Feeling the finger leaving your clit, you whine, but it’s replaced with his tongue again. This time, his tongue switches between your folds and you clit, stimulating every inch of your already twitching sex.

“You’re so good, baby. Love this so much,” Katsuki murmurs when he lifts off of you for a moment.

“Kiss me, and let me touch you, too,” you moan, bringing his face to yours.

You aren’t bothered by the fact that he was just eating you out when you start dipping into each other’s mouths. If anything, the look in Bakugou’s eye tells you it turns him on more. The genuinely lewd look of his tousled hair and wide pupils raises your heartrate so high you can feel it beat inside your chest.

Absent-mindedly, you fumble with the buttons on Bakugou’s jeans. He helps you by leaning back and pulling his shirt over his head. You don’t miss the way his muscles flex and the way he flaunts his abs.

Then, with a quick tug, Bakugou’s pants and boxers slide off. His dick stands proudly, pretty and thick as ever. You place your hand on it like you did last time. He responds well to your touch and groans lewdly when you give it a squeeze.

You slick your palm with spit, and Bakugou helps guide your hand back to his leaking cock. Together, with his hand wrapped around yours, you move on his member, fingers trailing along the prominent vein down the front.

Once you’ve built up a rhythm, you meet Katsuki’s tender gaze. The red of his irises disappear as his eyes flutter shut. He leans forward and recaptures your mouth in a slow but sloppy makeout.

You twist your hand on Bakugou eliciting a breathy moan from him. He twitches in your hand signalling his impending orgasm.

“Can I cum in your mouth?” His mouth is by your ear, moaning and releasing hot breaths to spur you on.

You freeze, and your motions stop. Bakugou notices your alarm and moves to look directly in your eyes. “You don’t have to– I would never force you.”

“No.” you shake your head. “It’s just that I’ve never done that.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen in shock temporarily then fall back. “You want me to teach you tonight, baby?”

You bite your lip meekly and nod your head. Bakugou grins in return, helping you down to his crotch. As you come face to face with his cock, it twitches releasing some precum out of the slit.

“Just put your lips on it. Do what feels right,” he says and pulls your hair into his hands.

You kiss his member just like you would his lips. The wet noises coming from your mouth are so loud and such a turn on for Bakugou. His grip on your head tightens, and he has to force himself not to push you down.

Bakugou hisses when you place the tip in your mouth and give it a hard suck. Wanting to please him even more, you take more of him deeply in your throat. At this point you feel impaled by his large dick with your nose just a few inches from his groin.

Despite your struggle to take him in entirety, Bakugou doesn’t notice and instead groans every time you slide down on him. You gag frequently, and you’re more than certain your teeth have grazed his shaft multiple times, but Bakugou acts like this is the best head he’s ever received.

The longer you go, the more moans fall out of his open lips. His head tilts back when you curiously brush a finger down his balls. He’s much more sensitive than you imagined he would be, and his hips thrust up uncontrollably.

“Fuck, sorry,” he groans, he pulls you off of him to check if you’re okay.

“It’s alright.” You lick him one last time. “Do you think we could maybe go all the way?”

Bakugou blinks at you wordlessly. Then, after about a minute of silence, and worry, on your part, he replies. “You mean, can I take your virginity?”

You hum in reply, and Bakugou throws you back to the middle of the bed

“I left the condoms in my car,” he realizes aloud.

“That’s okay,” you whisper in his ear as seductively as you can. “I’m on the pill.”

“Fuck, okay.” Bakugou acts like your response is the sexiest thing ever.

He leans down and kisses your neck one last time. You feel his cock against your stomach leaving a hot trail of precum on your skin. Everything about this moment is hot, but you can’t take his slow kisses any longer. You need him inside of you, thrusting deep into your core.

Just when you’re about to take matters into your own hands, Bakugou leans forward and brings himself to your entrance. It is at this moment that you realize how big he is, and that he’s going to try to fit that entire thing inside of you.

You let out a deep breath when he finally slips inside. The stretch is rough, his cock prodding your most intimate crevices. As he inches into your depths, he grasps onto your hand, pulling you to him in a surprisingly romantic way.

The way Bakugou moves within you is gentle, far softer than he was when he ate you out. You can only assume he wants your first time to be soft and sweet. He grips softly at your waist, slowly moving in and out. When your eyes meet, you give him a sweet smile and a nod, hoping he’ll move a little faster.

He takes the hint well, and suddenly Katsuki leans over you, your hands meeting his hardened chest. You jolt with both pain and pleasure after the first deep thrust. Then, as he pumps his cock more and more, you feel the pain fading away, the stretch to accommodate becoming pleasant.

After Bakugou notices your growing comfort, he goes ahead with pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in. Differently from before, you can feel him even deeper, and your body arches to meet him when your groins come together.

Swiftly, Katsuki moves you from your back to a position where you’re sitting on his lap. The sensation of him thrusting up into you makes your toes curl and loud moans to fall from your lips. In turn, Katsuki groans and continues to rut his hips like it’s his sole mission.

“You tighten up when I’m in you like this, did you know?” Katsuki groans in your ear, his hot breath hits your skin and makes you shiver.

The feeling in your cunt overwhelms you, but it’s so good, and you know now you won’t be able to get enough. Meeting Bakugou’s thrusts, you attempt to ride him, earning deep groans in return. Bakugou screws his eyes shut and allows you to move opposite to his thrusts. With the constant movement, and the occasional brush against your pleasure spot, your cunt tightens further.

Bakugou grips your ass with his large hands, wanting to feel your insides constrict even further. Unbeknownst to you, this is his first time going raw, and it’s making him cum like it’s his first time, too. So, unashamedly chasing your highs, you grind against each other as fervently as you can.

The air in the room is hot, but the heat in between your bodies as you ride him is far hotter. Both of you elicit loud noises from the other, your neighbours probably hearing your moans through the wall. Normally something like this would embarrass you to no end, but Bakugou’s fucking you so well that you feel you inhibitions melt away along with your innocence.

The coil in your stomach twists, and you feel your high coming. However, Bakugou stops short and leaves you bouncing on him by yourself. After only a split second of confusion, Bakugou slaps your ass, leaning back into a pillow.

“Want me to ride you?” you breathlessly say, attempting to make your voice sultry and not actually inquisitive.

It fails, but Bakugou doesn’t make any visible notice. Instead, he grunts out a quiet ‘yeah, please’ and grips your flesh, moving you against him. The pleasure of having him grind you on him does wonders for your pussy, and the new angle he’s hitting you at has you seeing stars.

Unlike before, Bakugou’s cock hits your g-spot every time now that you're fully riding him. The new feeling sends waves of heat to your stomach, quickly pushing you towards the edge.

Katsuki had been holding out strongly for a while, but as soon as he leaned back and let you ride, he was pretty much done for.

He feels himself unable to control his orgasm, which is creeping up way too fast. You don’t mind, though, as you’re equally as close. When you feel his dick twitching deep inside you, balls contracting and signalling his release, your cunt tightens more than it ever has before.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” Bakugou grips your ass and pushes himself up so he can thrust again.

You, on the other hand, yelp in surprise at him readjusting your position, moaning uncontrollably as he goes so deep you think he’s hitting your cervix. You fantasize about how Katsuki slips in and out of you with ease, balls coming up to hit your ass, which unknowingly makes you milk his cock harder.

With a surprising bite to your neck, Bakugou thrusts into you one last time, and calls out your name.

The spurts of cum he makes into your pussy have you cumming on the spot, as well. Both of you moan as you reach your highs together, Bakugou trying to quell his own by pressing his hot mouth to your skin.

“Katsuki!” you cry one last time, slumping forward onto his shoulder.

Neither of you have ever felt this good—you especially, never having thought your first time would be this wild. But Bakugou surprises you with his sexual prowess, and has you basking in a hazy afterglow, one that you won’t forget anytime soon.

You blissfully gaze at him as he continues to thrust ever so slowly, milking out your orgasmatic pleasure.

His eyes are half-lidded, yet you know he’s still very alert of your bodies. Then, he, for the first time since he penetrated you, lets go of your body for a split second, and you miss the warmth of his hands, but you’re quickly satisfied by him going to grab your waist.

Bakugou effortlessly pulls you off of his body, his heavy breathing, muscled chest catching your attention. The genuine ‘splurt’ that comes from between you two when he unsheathes himself makes you blush and awkwardly chuckle in embarrassment, but Bakugou stares amazedly at your pulsating cunt.

You try to cover yourself, despite the fact that he’d seen it all before, but his hand pries your legs apart and dives towards your pussy.

“Wait,” you abruptly say, hoping he’s not already wanting more.

“Hmm?” he hums, curiously drawing a finger down your slit.

“I’m not sure I can go again.” You look at him as he dips his fingers into you ever so slightly.

Instead of replying, Bakugou sets your nerves on fire with his feathery touches. Then, when you look down, you see what’s caught his attention. It’s his milky white cum thatleaks out of your hole and onto your dark bedspread.

“Katsuki, I’m so sensitive. Am I supposed to be able to go again?” You stop his hand’s movement with your own.

“Oh, nah, sorry, baby. You were so good, I forgot you were a virgin.” He grins at you, and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks

He finally takes his hand off of your body and mumbles something about going to get something to clean you up.

“Ah, wait!” You stumble after him, your limbs too sore to hold you up properly. “Let me find something for you.”

You meet Bakugou in your ensuite where he’s already holding a towel. From the doorway, you take a step forward, but your knees buckle and you fall right into his arms.

“It was that good, huh?” he jokes, making you flush in embarrassment.

“Nuh uh,” you counter, but your wobbly legs betray your words.

He chuckles in response and sets you down on the counter, the cold surface strikingly frigid against your burning flesh. He gently pats you down with the towel, making sure his cum is wiped clean from your skin.

“All done,” he says once he’s finished wiping all your skin down.

You go to thank him, but stop when you notice yourself in the mirror. Bruises litter your neck and even your chest. When did those get there? you think to yourself.

“Oh my god, Katsuki!” You go to playfully punch him, but he catches your hand in his.

Placing one hand on your waist and the other on your chin, angling your head towards his, he places a chaste kiss on your lips.

Then, when he pulls away, a goofy grin breaks out onto his pretty face. “Oh my god, Katsuki? That’s what you’ll be saying next time.”

Your face bursts into flames, and Bakugou chuckles, holding you for a moment in your dim bathroom light. “So, when’s next time?”

a/n: hi guys!! i’m back with part 2. i’d love it if some of you sent prompts to my inbox or even commissioned me because i tried extra hard to finish this promptly 😃

tags @oldfruitloop @mimi53213 @cheyehc

[letaliabane]

The Aftermath (CARE FOR SERIES)

Pair: Thorin Oakenshield x Healer!Reader (a pretty short human one too lol) A/N: The fight for Erebor is finally over! The war has been won! However as the mountain and the town of Dale begin to thrive once more, our couple are more apart than ever before, and Thorin is keen for answers. Will they allow themselves the joy of not only peace, but love? Genre: Bouts of angst, but also lots and lots of fluff that we’ve ALL been waiting for (including me), and some good ol’ smut! Warning: brief mentions of abuse/torture, smut (not heavy smut but still a warning just in case) animal death (one hunting scene nothing too details or gorey but just in case) PREVIOUS (The Light Within)

Six months had passed since what was now called the Battle of the Five Armies, inked into the fresh pages of books, told by spokespeople in Dale and within the halls of Erebor. As the dwarves began to return to their mountain and build anew, celebrations began, the ale flowed and rich foods ladled over rows and rows of tables with joyful music ringing through the grand halls of the mountain.

And yet all the while, Thorin, the King to the throne of Erebor, dressed in the finest of furs and sat with food barely touched, could not find it in his heart to celebrate. Not when the woman he longed for was no longer by his side.

The days that followed the end of the war were a blur of pain. He vaguely remembered Kili calling your name from afar. 

It was only after he had substantially recovered that he was informed by his youngest nephew of what had occurred between Y/N and the dwarf who had guarded his door. He did not resist dealing the appropriate punishment to them. 

With Oin being firm in stressing his need for rest and proper recovery, Thorin had sent members of the company, either alone or in pairs, to look in search of her, to bring her back to him. All returning with no such luck. 

And though the duties of being King rested heavily on his shoulders more than ever before, his thoughts often still drifted to her. Her wonderful laugh that had his heart soaring, her glowing smile that had long ago captured his heart, her kindness, her bravery. Her stubbornness matched his own. How all he wished was to up and leave to find her, and somehow encourage her to return to his side—

'Thorin?'

He turned towards Balin who sat on his right, his face drawn in concern.

'Are you all right laddie? You've barely eaten anything tonight and been quiet.'

'Have a lot on my mind is all Balin. Nothing to worry about,' Thorin said with a forced smile, taking a long sip from his ale.

'You'd think with the war over you wouldn't have too much on your mind.' Dwalin piped up from next to his brother, stabbing into the meat on his plate. 

'Unlike you Dwalin I have a kingdom to take care of. My mind will never settle.' Balin quickly spoke up. 'Be that as it may, you should take the time to celebrate your victories my King. After all you have fought for you deserve this more than anyone else.' 

Seeing Dwalin had turned to other conversation, Thorin muttered quietly, 'I cannot celebrate when I have not undone all my wrongdoings... I cannot celebrate with who I truly wish for most.' 

Balin halts mid-mouthful, quickly putting down his cutlery. 'Thorin we have looked high and low for that lass and sent the best trackers after her. If she wished to be found we would have found her by now.' 

The King slammed his fist down onto the table angrily. 'It's not good enough!' 

There was a dreadfully long pause between them, thankfully no attention drawn away from the merriment as the crowd continued to drink, laugh and dance. 

He sighed heavily, turning back to his advisor. 'I'm sorry Balin, I did not mean that.'

'It's quite all right laddie. All I wish to say is that maybe we let her have her peace. It's the very least she deserves.' 

Without another word, Balin turned back to his plate, continuing to eat quietly. Thorin sighs heavily, nails digging into the wood of the table. His thoughts wandered once more to Y/N, and then it struck him. 

He shot to his feet, shocking those around him as he left the table without a word, ignoring those who called out after him as he left the Great Hall. 

Making his way to where the ravens roosted, he knew there was one person whom he could summon for assistance.

Gandalf trudged through the grand marble halls of Erebor, led by Dwalin and Kili through the mountain city. He had received an urgent letter by raven requesting his presence with the King

'Do you have any clue of why I was summoned?' The wizard addressed Kili who shook his head. 'No Gandalf! It was a surprise to see you at the gate! I'm guessing that it's business to only do with Uncle.'

'Which is what I'm afraid of ...' He grumbled quietly to himself.

After moving through multiple winding corridors and staircases, he was led into a small but lavish study. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with books, an oak carved table and matching chairs fitted with red velvet cushions sat in the middle of the room while a roaring fireplace warmed the room.

Just as the elderly wizard made himself comfortable at the table, the large doors opened revealing King Thorin.

'Gandalf, I apologise if I've kept you waiting,' The King called out, shutting the doors behind him before entering the room.

'Not at all Thorin! Or should I say your Majesty?' Gandalf jested to which Thorin chuckled.

'That is not needed here between us Gandalf,' he said as he sat himself down at the other end of the table, 'I know my request for your visit was sudden, and I'm aware that I've already asked plenty from you during our travels. But I needed to attend to a matter of urgency that I believed required your expert hand.'

'Oh? And what might that be?'

Thorin sighed. 'I need your assistance in finding Y/N.'

Gandalf's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 'Oh? Is that so?'

'Don't play coy with me Gandalf. I've been told that you were seen taking her away from Erebor while I was injured. I've been searching and searching, and I haven't found her. All I want ... All I want is to see her again.'

Gandalf took a moment to take in Thorin's appearance. Though he carried himself with confidence, he could see the pain in the King's eyes, the longing. Dark shadows creased beneath his eyes, jaw tight and locked.

'You must understand something Thorin. Y/N has survived through what one could only describe as the depths of hell, and very lucky to have returned. There isn't a day that goes by that she fights to keep the peace she has built for herself. A peace that she lost long ago, and I'm not talking about a place to call home,' Gandalf places his fingertips to his temple. 'But here, and when she feels endangered, she will linger no longer than she needs to.'

At his words, Thorin couldn't help but think back to their journey together. The way she flinched at loud noises, when her grip would tighten on her sword when overwhelmed, how at peace she was in silence when they all had sat upon the boat to Lake Town. His eyes flickered back to Gandalf as he continued.

'If she wishes to remain alone, I ask not only as your friend but also as her Guardian, that you leave her be.'

Immediately the King felt anger swell within him, the impending roar to command his authority. But as the thought of Y/N swept over his mind, the anger dulled, instead understanding overwhelmed him.

For so long he had only wished for peace away from the kingdoms, away from responsibility. He knew what that longing was like. It was the feeling he felt when he saw her among the company. Her gentle yet fierce nature, a beacon of hope so bright within the darkness that seeped into all of their lives. If anything it would kill him to take that feeling away from her.

Thorin stood to his feet and found himself in front of Gandalf, kneeling (as best he could with his newfound injuries) before him. 'As King, I swear to you.'

The old wizard chuckled, resting his hand on Thorin's shoulder with a firm squeeze, 'Come now my friend, there is no need for all this. We must make our move swiftly and without further hesitation.'

The sun shone down through the thick forests to the West of Erebor, the rustling of leaves moving in the wind, the echo of a stream rolling over rocks nearby, the singing of birds and deers grazing across the hills of rolling green.

All the while, Y/N made sure each step she took was as quiet as possible, avoiding any fallen logs or sticks before hunching down.

The stag she had been tracking for quite some time had come to a halt, grazing at the tall grass.

Pushing the single braided parting behind her ear, she quietly grabbed an arrow from the sheath that hung from her shoulder and pulled it taut in the bow that had hung at her side. And with careful, even perfect precision, as the stag raised its head, she let the arrow fly and hit the stag which immediately fell, twitching before going still.

With a sigh of relief and a smile of victory, she rushed over, first making sure that the animal was no longer suffering before pulling the arrow free from its side. Wrapping the animal up carefully, she shrugged it over the back of her horse, Shadow, a black stallion that she had tied to a tree not too far away. Making sure the animal was secure, Y/N took Shadow by the reigns and led him back onto the forest path.

Soon she found herself in familiar sights, turning off onto a small path leading to a small stone cottage by the lakeside surrounded by blooming white daisies. A vegetable patch had been put together at the front, the first signs of growing carrots peaking from beneath the earth, bright strawberries and raspberries sprouting from bushes to Y/N's delight, growing plentifully in the new season.

This was her new home.

She pulled her horse into the small stable which she had recently finished constructing. After removing the saddle and gear she gave Shadow a quick brush down.

'Thank you girlie, you did well today,' She whispered, giving it one last pat before filling up the horse's bucket with some of the freshly picked carrots from earlier that day. She couldn't help but smile as the horse's head disappeared into the bucket immediately, devouring its treat.

With a huff, she picked up the stag and began to carry it to the front of the cottage, only coming to a quick halt at the sight of the door standing ajar. She most definitely locked it before leaving on her hunt.

Immediately she dropped the stag to the ground, pulling her sword from her hip before pushing forward, kicking the door open. With a quick scan of the room, she found nothing amiss, nothing moved - nothing astray.

'My girl put that away!'

She couldn't help the scream that left her, turning to find Gandalf sitting in the armchair by the fireplace which had only moments ago been empty.

'Gandalf! How many times have I told you to inform me of your arrival! You always have some way of frightening me,' She screeched, angrily putting her sword back in its sheath.

'And where is the fun in that Y/N?' The elder chuckled as she brought the stag into the house, placing it in a corner of the room where she butchered her hunt.

Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to help chuckling, moving towards the kitchens putting a kettle on the stove. 'What brings you here Gandalf? Your letters made me think I wouldn't see you for a while!'

She heard him sigh heavily, hearing the creak of the chair as he stood to his feet, 'Well I've travelled quite the ways to see you. From Erebor.'

'Oh?' Y/N said, keeping her back to the wizard, hiding her shock. 'Royal business I'm assuming.'

'Yes, actually having to do with you my dear.'

'With me? What do you mean ––'

The crash of pots broke the heavy silence that followed, having slipped from Y/N's hand. She had turned back to face the wizard, only to see the one dwarf she had hoped not to see again standing behind him. Dressed in his old travelling clothes, familiar from their journey shared together, his hair down and rippling over his shoulders.

Y/N huffed. 'Gandalf ––'

'My dear ––'

'You promised!' She gasped, stepping back into the counter, gripping and digger her nails into it. 'You promised me you would never let him know.'

'I know,' Gandalf said as he stepped up to her, pulling her hands away from the counter into his own, feeling them shake within his hold. 'And I'm sorry. But you know as well as I that you will regret letting him go if you don't at least give him a chance.'

Before the fear over took her he gently placed kiss to her forehead, whispering, 'Be brave, little one, and use the second chance you were blessed with.'

Y/N looked up at Gandalf as he gave her one last smile before leaving her side. After grabbing his staff and hat, he gave Thorin a nod before closing the cottage door behind him.

The silence that ensued was deafening, almost choking the air within the cottage. Y/N's eyes looked everywhere but at Thorin, trying to calm herself.

But Thorin's gaze had never moved from her. It had been so long since he had seen her. The way the sun fell through the window behind her made her shine like a star, and he couldn't help but be mesmerised by her beauty.

'A lovely home you've built Y/N, and all by yourself?'

She glanced towards him, nodding silently, muttering to himself, 'Beautiful.'

As he looked around the room, Y/N took the chance to take him in. She noticed the healed scarring on his face from the war, as well as the cane that he kept at his side putting his weight against it. It seemed he carried more than mere scars from the battle against Azog.

With a sigh, she turned to him, 'Thorin ––'

'If I may speak,' He cut across her quickly. Only when she nodded he moved slowly to her side. 'I understand you ran from Erebor after an incident occurred during my injury.'

'Thorin ––'

'Please Y/N.'

She squeezed her eyes shut, falling silent once more.

'I know why you left. You sought out the one person you knew who would bring you safety and that was yourself. The person you've had to rely on for so many years. I wasn't present in that moment to contend with your fears ... I wish to be someone you could confine in and trust.'

He reached carefully towards her, and when she didn't flinch, he gently caressed her hand. Staring down at this, unable to resist Y/N intertwined their hands together. When she looked up she found Thorin staring past her eyes, his other hand now running across the braid that hid behind her ear still held together by a very familiar bead. His branded bead.

'You still wear it ...'

She smiled. 'Why wouldn't I? Just because I left doesn't mean my heart changed.'

The next few hours flew by. Thorin had helped Y/N skin and prep the stag which she made into a rich stew filled with vegetables from her garden and along with freshly toasted golden bread pulled from the oven. They barely spoke throughout but worked with few words exchanged.

It was after the meal had been devoured, the red wine that Thorin had brought along in his pack was poured and they sat warming by the fireplace that Y/N spoke.

'I know Gandalf already told you most of the story, about my family and all that. I was captured by the orcs and kept under their watch. They enjoyed having a human prisoner for entertainment in their encampment,' She muttered as she fiddled with the dents in her cup. 'But when the fear faded the numbness seeped in and then the anger followed. All I could think about was my family, each of them struck down and for what? Bloodlust? Such a waste ...' 

She lost herself in the flames that climbed across the logs within the fireplace, tears brimming in her eyes. Thorin sighed heavily before placing his hand gently upon hers. Y/N gasped softly at his touch, pulling herself from her thoughts. She squeezed his hand firmly in return. 

'Their faces were ingrained in my mind every day through every lashing, every beating, and every shaming. It fuelled me to do more … to observe, listen and eventually scrape my way to make an escape.'

As silence ensued, Thorin took her in carefully. Her eyes became glazed, lost in the depths of her mind, her memories a prison of pain and destruction. He knew that spiral all too well.

'I lost my younger brother Frerin during the great war against the orcs and Azog. Happened to be the last of the battles that occurred,' He uttered.

Y/N's head shot up in shock. He smiled sadly.

'He had rushed Azog alongside my father. In the tussle, he and his men got separated and pushed back into the woods that circled Moria. It was days later that I found him by the edge of Mirrormere Lake,' His expression became grim, grip tightening around her hand briefly, 'He was face down, eyes gouged, choked on his own blood. I'll never forget the way the blood soaked the earth and stained the waters, the stench of death was .... inescapable. With the weight of my father and brother's death, I was forced to pick up the pieces of my family and people when all I wanted was to kill. To lose myself to darkness and never turn back.'

Thorin's gaze flickered towards the flames within the fireplace. 'I built a wall of stone around my heart because I found that with love comes the greatest price of all. One day we'll lose it, no matter how hard we try we will lose it in some way. That all changed ...'

Y/N's head tilted with curiosity, 'What changed?'

Thorin turned back to her, gulping heavily. 'You came along.'

Y/N couldn't help the gasp that left her lips. He abandoned his cup on the side table to turn his body towards hers, still grasping her hand in his own tightly. 'I know that this scares you Amrâlimê, and to be truthful, I also am frightful. But I just want you to know that not a day goes by where I don't love you and never will stop.'

His words went straight to the pit of her stomach, heat spreading throughout her body like the bowels of a cauldron. Thorin's hand remained in hers, but there was an urgency in the way his fingers tightened around her. Though his eyes have a certain gentleness, there is also something else. A simmering hunger filled with a deep intensity, and before she could say another word, she pushed her lips to his.

Thorin growled against her mouth like a hungry animal satiated yet tempted for more, returning the kiss fiercely and pulling Y/N in close by her hips. Without hesitation, she sat in his lap wrapping her arms around his neck, running her fingertips through his hair.

Clothes are hurriedly stripped away, and when Thorin tosses her tunic aside, he notices the scars that littered Y/N's body, some areas of skin puckered red from the wounds that still healed.

When she noticed his gaze hovering around her body, she couldn't help bringing her arms up to cover herself but he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

'No don't. You’re a sight to behold, you are ... ethereal,' He muttered, bringing her to stand between his legs, pressing a kiss to her sternum, hands running gently down her back and hips, coming up to caress her breasts. A stuttered gasp left Y/N, head falling back as he pressed kisses upon her breasts, the feeling of his rough hands sending sparks across her body. 

'Oh Thorin,' She breathed, tugging him to his feet before kissing him firmly. His kisses changed, heated, firm and responding with equal fervor. His hands moved below his thighs, lifting her with quick ease before laying her down on the furs before the fireplace.

However, she was quick to roll him onto his back, unable to stop the laugh that escaped her at the brief shock on his face. Thorin was quick to rise and capture her lips once more, smiling against them.

Y/N reached down gripping his cock before sinking down onto him slowly. Both of them gasped against each other's mouths at the sensation, Thorin wrapping his arms around to bring you close, chest to chest, nothing more left between them.

They move together in the throes of passion, hips slapping against one another, sweaty, warm skin, his hands squeezing her hips. She allowed herself to fall against him, forehead pressed to his shoulder as she shuddered in pleasure.

Through the haze, Thorin raised his hips, fucking her deeper, her moans louder before he silenced her with a firm kiss. It's almost too soon that he finds himself strung tight, close to the edge.

She arches against him, chasing the rising tide within her. 'Don’t stop,' she pants, her voice a shaky breathless plea.

Y/N leant forward, hands pressed to his chest, nails digging into his skin as she swiveled her hips harder, Thorin grabbing a handful of your ass. She cries out, eyes rolling back as she collapses against him shakily. He follows quickly behind, burying his cock deep inside her.

In that moment the world faded away, and it was just the two of them. The sounds of heavy breathing and the hiss of fire upon wood filled the air. The broad daylight pouring through the windows had dimmed with the setting of the sun, leaving the room with a peach glow.

Thorin ran his hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. He kissed her cheek, then down her neck, to her shoulder. She trembled against him, her hands wrapped around his shoulders.

Lifting her face, she met Thorin's gaze to find him already watching her, pressing his forehead against hers.

'Amrâlimê, my dearest, my fierce heart,' He said between kisses which he placed along her face, lifting her chin gently to kiss Y/N's lips gently. 'Mine'

Y/N smiled against the corner of his lips, pressing another firm kiss to his lips. 'Yours.'

​FINAL CHAPTER (At Last) CARE FOR TAG LIST:  @alyhull , @bellastellaluna​ , @sdavid09​ , @aidanturnersass​ , @letsbeinspiredby​ , @hiddenmangaka​ , @female-hux​ , @elia-the-bibliophile​ , @fangirlbitch02​ @nickangel13​ @thatteluguchick​

[2kverrr]

MATT TAYLOR - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Matt Taylor x Reader

like every other year, the washington family open up their lodge to their teenagers for the winter. everybody had been waiting for this time of year, booze all week long, no rules, only friends, snowfights, blasting music in the middle of nowhere - to put it shortly, it's haven.

big movie nights on the big projector with hot chocolates and lots and lots of booze

you and matt had been plotting activities since summer, dodgeball in the main living area - come on, it's massive. what else are you meant to do in a room that big?

sledding - even if it meant falling off the edge of a cliff, its all apart of the fun.

matt loved making plans with you, you've never been too sure why, because you're not very punctual, you're an extremely dangerous driver and quite forgetful.

he's an attractive guy, sporty and in shape, really kind; it was a mystery to you why he was still single. it's not like girls actually go for brains anymore - you don't think so anyway.

secretly the group were rooting for the two of you, you oblivious of course, but matt had planned this all out, all fun and games but then you 'accidentally' trip or 'accidentally' fall and in desperate need of a knight in shining armour, then that's where he comes in, heroic and masculine, you are immediately in love with him, you get married, move to fiji and have 4 kids (the first of the bunch HAD to be called matt. jr). it's pretty specific.

it's the day of the winter break we'd all been waiting for, mike had already prepped matt for this big breakthrough. mike slaps his hand onto his face and slowly drags it drown with a grown, "bro, stop being such a pussy - worst she can say is no. no?" the two continue to stroll towards the lodge, slightly unsure where they were headed in the snowy atmosphere. “yeah, i get that,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “but what if she laughs at me?” the thought made his stomach twist uneasily, and he shot mike a frantic glance. you knew matt's used to being the object of jealousy, he's much like mike in that sense, he doesn't have to do much to be adored by people. “dude, she’s not some goddess in a tower,” mike said, rolling his eyes. “she's just a girl! think about it. you’ve spent half your life being friends, spilling deepest and darkest secrets, spending the majority of your time together - hell even your distant family have nicknames for him. "god damn it man! you know her better than anyone, so you should be first to know how she'd react.” matt shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to portray an air of confidence he didn’t truly feel. “just be yourself. you’ve got this.” he whispers, spotting you exiting from the ski lift, patting matt on the shoulder and leaving him with you.

the walk up was oddly awkward, in fact the first 3 days were uncomfortable with the curly-headed boy.

of course, that did not stop you from getting black out drunk every night. day drinking faded into beer pong, then faded into shot competitions, then another cheeky drink when you woke up to prevent any hangover.

matt tried his hardest to get you to lay off the drink, but automatically josh would interrupt and tempt you even more.

it had to be past midnight at this rate, ashley fell asleep on the couch with chris, beth gently placing a blanket over the two of them. sam was attempting to defuse a row between mike and emily as hannah observed hopefully, while josh was falling asleep mid-conversation with jess - embarrassing. all while you were basically fighting matt to grab the bottle out of his hands. “give!” you reach out, but just like every other time, matts long arms push at your shoulder to keep your distance. you huff, stumbling back with half closed eyes, “cocksucker. i’ll find something else. hell - i’d eat crack if josh had any.” you remark with flailing arms. you had promised yourself a good time, a good time that didn’t involve battling your best friend for a taste of liquor. "come on, how about we go find the biggest bed for you to sleep in, i'm sure emily won't notice." his eyebrows raise, awaiting your drunken response. your mouth drops in a shocked manor and your eyebrows furrow as though your offended, "wow - matt, nice going." you try to cross your arms but you end up stumbling into the counter, the boy's hands immediately reach out to stabilise you. "it'd take a lot more than that to take me to bed, thank you very much, mr taylor." you scold, trying to inject a sense of indignation into your slurred words. the room felt like it was swaying gently; perhaps it was the alcohol or maybe just your overwhelming desire to keep your balance. you glared at matt, half-heartedly trying to regain your composure, but the corners of your mouth couldn't help but twitch into a smirk.

you couldn't remember much after that, besides the blinding light bursting through the curtains beaming into your eyes, only a single silhouette there to block it.

you're quite used to getting black out drunk, in fact you've got a casual routine, wake up, hole into your head until you stumble towards the cabinet wherever you are, managing to grab some sort of pill. lie in the bath - this is a crucial step. no water besides from when you awkwardly attempt to drink some from the tap. eventually you throw up the pills you'd taken, so you take a few more. at this point you should be okay to get up and carry on with your day.

you tell yourself this is how it’s meant to be; the routine is as much a part of your identity as the lingering pallor in your cheeks. you’ll put on a brave face, mask the chaos with a smile, and carry on with your day, ever-so-slightly hopeful that today might be different.

though you're not so used to going on a three day bender, every drink you consume having at least a drop of some form of alcohol. so your routine didn't exactly apply.

"hey," a voice whispers, slowly placing a cold cloth on your head, “you okay?” it’s light and gentle, a contrast to the erratic thrum inside your skull.

you squint against the light and the silhouette shifts, revealing matt, but this time with a softer expression, worry etched into the corners of his eyes. “you were insane last night,” he says, half-smiling, half-concerned. matt takes a deep breath, the worry still lingering in his eyes, and leans back in his chair, allowing you some space.

“seriously, what were you thinking?” he asks, his tone shifting to something more serious.

“you can’t just push yourself like that, especially when you know you haven’t slept in days.” the warmth of his concern wraps around you, thick and palpable, grounding you even as the room spins slightly.

"shit, " you roll over, while trying to sit yourself up, "i'm really sorry" your hands slowly and deeply massage your face, "can't remember a thing."

matt softly chuckles, placing his hands onto the arm rests, “well, where to begin? you were fighting me for a drink. scolded me for tying to sleep with you, which was the opposite of what i was doing. you searched the house for cigarettes and eventually gave up and tried to uber 3 bricks of coke to the lodge. erm… you threw up in the hot tub, on the counter, on emily, on me and i think a bit of miles show when you threw up on emily for the second time.”

you suppress a groan, sinking back into the chair as matt’s words cascade over you, each one accompanied by an embarrassing flashback that jolts through your mind like electric shocks.

"what?" it was all you could say. frozen and still in your own embarrassment.

“oh! and let’s not forget the part where you tried to convince jessica that she was actually a mystical mermaid forced on earth to enchant her way into human hearts."

you open your mouth to speak but the curly-haired boy continues.

“-not quite done yet, darling. you couldn’t let go of this ‘mermaid theory’, convinced you could see jess’s scales. so you flung your drink at her and then yelled ‘be free, my aquatic queen’ right in her face.”

you wince, burying your head in your hands. “for fuck's sake, please tell me you're lying,” you let out a muffled groan. matt's infectious laughter rings in your ears, despite your mortification and god awful pain you're in.

matt leans forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “and after your mermaid debacle, you decided to perform a dramatic interpretation of 'under the Sea' from The Little Mermaid for the whole living room."

you immediately butt in, "liar!" you rarely ever laugh in front of your friends, never mind whatever this is.

"i swear I’ve never seen sam laugh and cry at the same time.” he shakes his head, barely able to contain his amusement as he gestures broadly, “you were flapping your arms like a fish out of water, and the way you-“

you roll your eyes, “enough!” you raise your voice, a slight anger in your tone as your embarrassment begins to ebb. you immediately feel bad for the once giddy boy, "sorry, i don't usually tend to have hangovers this bad…" you say, a hand attempting to tame the pounding in you heard, you put the boy at ease with a smile, "…did i at least have a good audience?"

"an audience of friends who might never look at you the same way again,” he teases, but his smile is warm and understanding. “but hey, that’s what makes us family, right? You do something outrageous, and we love you for it. maybe not jess… or emily. but the rest of us do. i love you.” his words hang in the air, unsure of their stance, good bad? neither of you knew.

“you love me?” you manage to say, half teasing and half genuinely astonished, heart fluttering uncomfortably in your chest.

he briefly fixes his posture, shuffling in his seat, “maybe. even thought you can be a bitch and you have a slight alcohol issue, you’re still lovable.”

you take a moment to take a note of reality, the mess on the floor, presumably caused by you. your hair was unspeakable, makeup smudged, deep and heavy eye bags, one of your lashes hanging off your cheek while your other was probably exploring the outside, it’s definitely… a look.

“even after all this?” you wave down your body and across the room

he leans forward, fiddling with his thumbs, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “that’s exactly it,” he says gently, “you’re unpredictable, messy and unapologetically you, and i think it’s fucking awesome. you’re so… so, so, so real.”

his sincerity makes the room feel smaller, as it the weight of his words could encircle you both in an element of quiet intimacy. you can throw but smile, your heart swelling. “so, what does this mean for us?” you query hopefully.

“maybe it’s the start of something new.”

you made the bold decision to lay off of the drink for your own sake (also because it took you the rest of the week to recover) - instead you’d accompany matt in whatever he was up to.

mike felt a bit disappointed that his pep talk was wasted on a sappy conversation rather than a manly knight in shining armour act.

jess eventually forgave you, insuring you tell her everything about the two of you. emily would occasionally listen in nonchalantly as she clearly hadn’t forgave you for the sick-tuation (get it? i’m so sorry)

matt takes pride in waking you up with a drink or some food, it’s a bit difficult when your only options are out of the washingtons’ sparse cabinets.

you had to make a slight change in your ‘how you got together’ story when meeting his parents, either way they loved you, and thought you were a great reason for matt to take his laser focus off of football.

speaking of football, you’re at every game wearing some old spare shirt he had laying around.

when he first met your parents, god it was something you should’ve prevented. matt sides with your mum’s every word, dishes, staying out too late, waking up too early. honestly everything and anything.

he’s easily the most caring, you’re always on his mind, your wants, your needs, what you’re doing, how you’re doing.

in return you help him study, you’re not much smarter, but with matt, you find fun in the coursework.

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys falling in love at first sight

☆ characters: ace, rayleigh, marco

☆ up next: one piece characters with a jealous gf

☆ a/n: my last post generated a lot of new followers and requests! i'm so happy and am excited to start working on all the requests. i also will be posting a master list soon so thank u for being patient with me on that front haha. enjoy! &lt;3

ace

1k words

“Welcome aboard!!”

Cheers erupted from the crew, as they all swarmed the deck.

Joining the Whitebeard Pirates was always celebrated with an enormous party. 

The sun had started to set but it still beat down relentlessly on the ship and Ace craned his neck to try and get a better view.

You were all the crew had been talking about for weeks. 

Some thief who had managed to steal from the Whitebeard Pirates and get away with it. 

He remembers how Whitebeard laughed when Izo and Thatch came moping back from inventory, nearly pissing themselves when they were forced to admit they’d been got by an amateur. 

Whitebeard had ordered that you be tracked down immediately because anyone who stole from him with that much skill and audacity deserved a spot on his crew. 

After a few weeks of searching, Izo came back with you. 

From what he’d heard you weren’t easy to convince. 

There was alcohol being passed around and the spray of champagne bottles being opened left and right misted his neck. 

He pushed through everyone and began making his way toward the front.

He eventually bumped into Marco who’d secured a front-row seat, downing beer as your fellow pirates all came to get a look at you. 

“What’s the big fuss? Can’t get any damn sleep around here,” he groaned. 

Marco laughed, “Jealous that you’re not the shiny new toy anymore?”

“Barely.”

Both men had given up on trying to get a look at you and decided they’d wait for everything to die down.

“Want a beer?” 

Ace nodded and readily accepted the cool can, chugging it within seconds.

“It’s hot as hell out here.”

Marco took another sip of his drink, “If you feel hot how do you think I feel.”

“Well you’re kind of fire too, you know, like- the whole phoenix thing is-”

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s different though.”

“I mean, you could argue that the blue fire is hotter than the red part.”

“Yeah, dumbass, but the point of my devil fruit isn’t fire.”

“Okay well, they’re close enough.”

The heat got the better of the both of them and they gave up their argument, both fairly moody at the heat and the noise. 

“When’s the food part starting.”

“Soon probably, apparently Thatch has the hots for the kid.”

Ace choked a bit on his drink.

“What do you mean? Like he thinks he’s hot?”

“She.”

This caught Ace even more off-guard. 

“She!?”

Now he really wanted to get a look at you.

After another few minutes, the crowd relented, and people started making their way back to the rest of the ship. 

As the group of cheering pirates around you thinned, you felt relief flooding your senses. 

You took a deep breath and walked on board the Moby Dick.

It was massive. Now that you could actually see it, you realized just how intimidating of a ship this really was. Of course, you’d had a general idea since you did rob it blind, but still. It was different when you were a welcome guest. 

Ace took his chance now, and as the last of your welcoming party dissipated he made his way over to you.

As if on cue, you turned to look at him. 

The sun was positioned perfectly behind your head and framed you in a sort of angelic light, it poured up and over your frame from behind you, casting golden hues through your h/c hair. 

He stopped in his tracks, one foot still caught mid-step, trailing behind the other.

You were… pretty.

The slight breeze that had been brought with sunset, swept through your hair, leaving your face completely out in the open.

Your lips were slightly parted, had you been saying something?

He didn’t know, he was too enraptured with everything else. 

You stood tall, it was clear you had pride to spare.

Your tan skin glimmered with the same regal hue as your hair, and never in his life had Ace felt that something- someone had commanded his attention so thoroughly with just their presence. 

You walked toward him, Oh my god she’s walking toward me.

He was proud and he had abundant confidence in his worth but if he’d ever doubted that, it was now that he did. 

You extended a hand towards Ace, and as if moving through honey your movement was gentle and smooth, but certain. 

“Hi! I’m Y/n, I think I’ve seen your wanted posters before. You-”

Whatever else you said wasn’t registered by the freckled boy in front of you. 

His cheeks were red and his eyes set.

He was breathing deeply, hanging onto everything you did, drinking in the magnificent sight of you.

He instinctively reached his hand up toward his head to take off his hat and hold it against his chest.

Your voice was silky and hung in the air like cigarette smoke. 

The way you looked at him, your eyes intensely focused and direct, had his knees feeling shaky. 

Any ounce of ego left in his body from the first sight of you, drained out of him as you spoke.

His brain was flushed with sudden anxieties.

Had he come across as a creep? What if you took to the other guys? He was young and maybe you wanted something else? Maybe you didn’t even want a guy at all and your ambitions involving piracy had nothing to do with men! 

You looked at him with a puzzled look, your nose wrinkled slightly.

“Are you okay?”

Fuck, she’s so cute.

If he had been less out of it, he would have heard Marco’s cackling in the background.

“Real smooth, Ace!” Thatch yelled from the balcony outside the kitchen.

You laughed, She laughed!

Ace blinked back the muddled thoughts and premature anxieties that had started fuzzing his thoughts. 

You were giggling to yourself and seemed nearly ready to try and introduce yourself to the next person. 

Ace had a million things he wanted to say to you, but he had time. You both had all the time in the world. 

So he instead opted to tip his hat and flash you a smile. 

“Hi.”

rayleigh

1k words

A quick stop, Roger had promised.

No more than two days, he’d said.

Everyone knew he was lying, and that they’d be landbound for at least a week, but no one was going to complain.

Almost no one.

“Roger, we should get going,” Rayleigh urged, but the Captain was three beers and ฿3,000 into a game of poker. They wouldn’t be leaving until morning.

Roger laughed loudly, earning stares from the bar's patrons. 

“What’re you in such a rush for?! There’re women and booze all over the island, go find some to your liking and quit complainin’!” He laughed again and Rayleigh gave up and decided he’d just head back to the ship for now. He’d send someone to pick up the captain in the morning. 

He didn’t mind the island itself. It was a spring island, and the clime sat at a gentle temperature, with easy-going winds. Tall grass covered the majority of the island and flowers were in bloom all over. 

Yellow daffodils and pink tulips littered the island, dotting the hills and fields with spots of color. 

He made his way slowly back toward the ship, taking more time than usual to enjoy the scenery. If he was going to be stuck here he may as well enjoy it. 

The sun was just about the set, and vibrant hues of orange colored the sky and with his hands in his pockets, he wandered through the hills back to sea. 

The island had no real port, there was just a bay where ships parked. There weren’t any walkways or built-in passages from which to disembark from the ship, you simply had to drop the anchor and paddle or swim to the rocky shore. The grass grew right up to the edge of the ocean, and he sat down in it, deciding he’d wait until it got dark. 

A soft rustling to his left caught his attention.

Tucked in the grass, was a girl sleeping, a book in her hands. 

She was wearing a white dress, and it moved together with the grass, back and forth, pushed by the wind.

A cool breeze ran through your body and with a slight shiver, you slowly blinked your eyes open, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, rolling onto your stomach. 

You flipped through the pages of your book, going back and forth a few times before deciding to close it altogether. 

You sat up, stretching your arms out over your head, letting your hair fall over your shoulders. 

Rayleigh was, for lack of a better term, entranced. 

He was completely hypnotized by the sight of you. 

He felt as though you’d materialized before him, a beautiful fairy or something similar.

He’d heard stories of sailors coming across women whose beauty stopped them in their tracks. Women that they thought about every night after those initial encounters, held a complete hold on their minds.

He thought that now he felt something similar. 

He felt awkward just sitting and watching you, and thought he might say something. 

A tug in his chest urged him to stand up and try and present himself, but he felt an irritating nervousness spread throughout his body.

C’mon, Rayleigh.

He was usually so… good at this. 

If he saw a pretty girl at a bar or a port or an island he would just talk to her. 

Everything after that came naturally. 

He was a Roger pirate for god’s sake, people around the globe feared him and revered him, and yet… and yet with every breath, he took to try and start a sentence he came up blank. 

The thirty seconds he’d spent trying to speak to you felt like an hour and he thought his heart might stop when you’d turned around to look at him. 

“Oh! Hello!”

He drew in a breath. 

The colored sunset light fell on your face and illuminated your features in soft hues.

Your eyes widened slightly at the man standing before you and you gave him an awkward smile. 

“Have you been standing there a long time?”

An accusatory look settled on your face, and your lips settled into a frustrated pout.

“I, um, yes,” he admitted, a blush creeping onto his face, “I wasn’t- I mean- I had just sat here to enjoy the, um-”

“Yeah, yeah, you creep, I get it.”

You laughed as you said this, and he relaxed a little.

“You’re not from around here are you?” you asked.

“What gave it away?”

“You seem surprised that someone was sleeping outside. It’s normal here, I swear I’m not some weirdo or anything. Our grass is known for being soft.”

He sat back down, slightly closer to you this time.

“What’s that?”

You sat closer to him, pointing to the log pose on his wrist. 

“It’s a compass. Pirates use it on the Grand Line, it works by using the magnetism from each island to route the way toward the next one.”

“You’re a pirate! You don’t look like one! Or act like one.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

You giggled, and he felt completely swept up by your presence. How quickly you started trusting him, the curiosity in your voice that only grew with each question he answered. 

You continued asking him questions, what being a pirate was like, why he was a pirate, and who else did he know that was a pirate. Had he killed anybody?

The more you talked, the more he started feeling like himself. His wittiness and sarcasm started slowly coming back to him, he was able to put aside his awe for your beauty in exchange for his usual flirtiness.

The dynamic between you seemed to shift back and forth between who felt bold and who felt shy. 

“Do you drink?”

“Do I look like I drink?”

Rayleigh laughed, and you joined him. 

Night had set hours ago, yet you kept talking as though you had all the time in the world.

You inched even closer to him, he sat with his legs crossed, and you sat on your knees, feet tucked underneath you. 

You were facing each other and you leaned forward, bringing your lips closer to his.

“When do you leave?”

He tucked some stray pieces of hair behind your ear, trailing a hand down your face.

You rested your head against his palm, looking up at him. 

“Soon.”

“That’s too bad. I like you a lot. You’re more than a pretty face.”

Rayleigh smiled at that, “I haven’t heard that one before!”

In a burst of energy and eagerness you pressed your lips to his, and just as quickly retracted. 

He smiled again, bigger this time, and brought his arms around your waist, holding you in place. 

You pressed another kiss to his lips, still too quickly for him to reciprocate. 

He laughed and you felt proud at the blush you saw coloring his cheeks. 

“Tell me, pirate, are you busy tonight?”

“Not at all, pretty.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Very much.

marco 

1.2k words

“Why can’t you send Ace to do it?”

“‘Cause I sent ‘im to go get fish from the market,” Thatch explained, “And before you ask, I can’t go either ‘cause I’ll be here. Cooking.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be back soon.”

Marco threw on a sweater and made his way into the town they were staying in. Thatch was all worked up and excited since they’re known for their produce and food quality.

Naturally, everyone had been sent out to get different ingredients for him.

Marco looked down at the short list he was given, ‘Apples’. 

‘Very concise,’ he thought to himself. 

It was midday and the sun was shining. It was fairly warm on the island, and it was covered in trees. 

There were several signs that pointed him towards the location of the apple farm your family owned. 

He found it with ease and walked around for a bit when he didn’t see anyone out front. 

Every tree was teaming with ripe apples of all kinds. Overripe ones littered the floor and there were some chickens walking around. 

He had been walking for no more than five minutes before he saw you.  

You were reaching up to try and grab the apples that were up on the higher branches of the tree.

You strained your arms upward, using the trunk of the tree as support, your long legs balancing on the tips of your toes. 

Your short dress slid up against your thighs, revealing a soft tan line. 

A few beads of sweat formed on your forehead and after your third reach with no success, you gave up. 

He could feel the pace of his heartbeat start to pick up slightly. 

You looked so calm and at ease. The line of your body as you stretched upward was tantalizing and he couldn’t look away. 

He didn’t want to scare you so he gently cleared his throat.

You turned around in a panic, knocking over a few of the apples in the full baskets that were on the floor next to you.

“Oh! Welcome! Sorry! Sorry- I’m the only one in today and I was trying to get a few more baskets full,” you explained to him. 

“No worries,” Marco said. His voice was deep and he sounded so laid back. 

You were still a bit too far to converse at a normal volume so you walked to him, caught off-guard by how handsome he was. 

He wasn’t wearing anything surprising, nor was he doing anything that was out of the ordinary but you could tell that he wasn’t from around here. 

His hands were calloused and he had a few visible scars spread across the visible parts of his skin.

“What can I get for you today,” you smiled at him. 

“I was sent out for apples! I suppose I’ll take two baskets pleas-”

Marco’s voice trailed off and he cut off his own sentence as he looked and actually made eye contact with you. 

Oh, god. 

He knew you’d probably be hot based on what he’d seen earlier but you were… unspeakably beautiful. 

Your cheeks were full and bright.

Your lips were a lively pink and your eyes caught the shifting glimmers of sunlight in them.

Your hair was pulled back into two messy braids and your loose strands of hair swept back and forth over your face. 

You were unbelievably flattered. 

Naive as you were to love and its complications, you knew what a tempted man looked like. 

An unfamiliar sensation tugged at your chest. You felt like the tendons and muscles around your heart were opening and contracting wildly. 

Your breath hitched in your throat and settled itself right on your vocal cords, you couldn’t say anything. 

You both held a hilariously awkward form of eye contact for several moments. 

Marco swallowed and cleared his mind, regaining his composure to the best of his ability.

“Two of these,” he said again, blinking his gaze down toward the floor as he gestured down toward the basket. 

You took a deep breath and nodded, grabbing another basket for him. 

They were heavier than they looked and after watching your two failed tries at lifting the baskets, Marco offered some help. “Oh, y-yes, please! Thanks,” you said, stepping back as he walked over and picked up the baskets with ease.

“How much do I owe ya?”

“Um.. j-just ฿15.”

“Fifteen?! That’s it?”

“We have, um, a discount going on right now... For handsome travelers.”

Why would I say that? Oh my god, why would I say that!? your cheeks started to rapidly heat up and you shuffled your feet nervously.

Your heart started beating faster against your chest when Marco responded, “How sweet. Take this as a tip then.”

He had a devilishly handsome smile on his face, and you looked at the money he was handing you. “Oh fifty is way too much- I can’t accept that, that’s more than the two baskets would normally be anyway.”

“Well, this is what I always tip beautiful girls.”

You laughed, trying to ignore the rising temperature of your face. 

How embarrassing to be this easily flustered. 

He smiled at you, clearly enjoying himself. 

“C’mon, I insist,” he closed your hand around the money and gently guided your hand back toward your chest. 

You pouted, feeling guilty that he gave you so much money.

“You’re sure?”

“Sweetheart, I’m a pirate,” he said, “There’s a lot more where this came from.”

His voice was full of confidence but he was so relaxed. 

It made your stomach twist.

The way he carried himself- you could tell he was dangerous, but he was so laid back. 

“A pirate?”

He nodded.

You put the money away, and played with the ends of your braids, unsure of what to say to him. 

He bent down, one arm on each side of you.

Your breath caught in your throat and you stood frozen still.

He picked up the baskets, one in each hand, from your sides.

“As much as I’d love to spend the rest of my day here, I’m afraid I have to report back soon.”

You nodded, sheepishly looking down at the floor. 

He smiled at you again, winking this time. 

He turned and started walking back toward the entrance.

You knew you’d probably never see him again and a kind of unknown anxiety made its way to your chest. 

“Wait!” you called out, running after him.

He turned around.

“Will... Will I see you again?”

This time a less nonchalant smile spread across the Commander’s face. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he teased, “I’ve got wanted posters in every town from here to North Blue.”

You pouted again.

So cute! Marco thought to himself.

“You know what I mean.”

“I can work something out.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Marco,” he answered, “What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty face.”

You smiled. 

He couldn’t help but stare. 

It suddenly dawned on Marco the Phoenix, First Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, that he was positively, undoubtedly fucked. 

You stood in front of him, waiting for him to say something else. 

“You’ll see me again,” he said, this time with unwavering certainty,

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 6. Don’t make plans for the next morning.”

[realcube]

dilf december

day twenty-three ⭑ denki kaminari ⭑ rockstar au!

tw: flashing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, & slight exhibitionism (?)

floor tickets to see the chargebolt reunion concert, what could be better than that?

plus, since most of their fans were young adults when chargebolt were in their prime, now — decades later — the majority of their listeners have grown to become fully-fledged adults. that's not to say the didn't have any other young adult fans, but for the most part, the other members of the audience that were on the floor with you were considerably older, hence you were easily able to push past them and secure an extremely close view to the stage.

of course it was a bit ironic you were utilising your tequila strength and cursing out the middle-aged fans you ploughed through, when the lead singer of chargebolt himself — denki kaminari — wasn't exactly young anymore either. the band hit its prime around fifteen years ago when he was twenty-three, so currently during the reunion tour, he is thirty-eight. it's not like he is geriatric so you're not worried about him dying mid-set, but now that he has shown signs of aging, the public generally don't regard him as the same playboy heart-throb that he used to be.

that doesn't include you, of course.

despite his mature face and faint lines, in your eyes, kaminari has aged like fine wine and he still makes various parts of you throb every time you watch him perform. thus, during his concert, you were cheering and screaming his name against the barricade like you were in dire need of an excorism. perhaps you were the only die-hard fangirl left, but so be it, you wanted that man to know how hot he was.

it was a cramped space so you were frequent;y being bumped and jostled amogst the busy crowd, but it's nothing you weren't used to. you simply allowed yourself to get lost in the blaring music, while your eyes were fixed to kaminari who stood in the centre of the stage, singing his heart out — vocals somehow better than before.

the concert was more amazing than you could've ever imagined, and you were enjoying yourself so much that it felt like the event drew close much sooner than it should've. next thing you know, you open your eyes to everyone cheering and applauding the band, while they take their wave and say their final goodbyes to the crowd.

and you don't know what overcame you in that moment. perhaps it was the adrenaline from the intense music and dancing, or maybe it was just the alcohol in your system from pre-game. but seeing the members, kaminari in particular, gazing over the front row were you were standing, prompted you to reckless pull down the neck of your thin white tank top to expose your tits, as you scream, "sign me , denki!"

his eyes widen at the lewd display, shocked at first. but it doesn't take long before his true nature takes over and a dashing smirk crosses his lips. you're heart is pounding in your chest so loudly that you can't hear what he is saying, but you know he mouthed something at you specifically and motioned for you to 'wait a second'. however, after that he just continued to thank and blow kisses to the audience, before skipping off stage with the rest of the band.

you were left confused and dishevelled for ages, leaning up against the barricade in attempt to catch your breath as secuirty slowly began to filter people out of the concert hall. meanwhile, you stayed put, silently replaying the moment in your head over and over again. what was it that he said to you? his mouth was moving but you only caught the last part, when he was speaking in tendem while holding a figure up, and you are almost certain he said told you to 'wait a second'. but how long did he mean by a second? and more importantly, what was supposed to happen after that time?

eventually, around fifteen minutes after the show had ended, it was time for the people on the floor to exit the concert hall too. security surrounded everyone, rounding everyone up and strictly telling them where to go. not wanting to get yelled at, you promptly straighten yourself up and begin to trudge towards the exit with everyone else.

however, just as you are walking away from the barricade, you feel a big hand grab you roughly on the shoulder and spin you around. you gasp at the mean touch, and your heart sink to your ass when you turn around and see a tall, male in a security uniform, with his arms crossed over his chest. "come with me." he demands, gesturing for you to come through the barricade.

you blink. giving a rather plain expression while your mind ran at a hundred miles an hour. who was this guy? why was he telling you to go somewhere with him? was he even a real member of staff or was he just pretending in order to kidnap or something? what if he was actually security? does that mean you are in trouble? does it have to do with the fact you flashed the lead singer of chargebolt? are you getting arrested for public indecency?!

this thoughts run rampant in your mind, but on the surface, you silently duck under the barricade and follow the guy as he lead you backstage.

it was quite dark and surprisingly conjested, with other members of staff rushing around frantically, which put your worries at ease about this man being a kidnapper, because only a dumbass would try to nab you in front of all these witnesses. however, eliminating that theory only heightened your concern about being arrested.

eventually, after weaving through a maze-like interior for around ten minutes, the man finally halts in front of a plain black door. it's almost camoflaged with the black walls; you probably wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't stopped you directly in front of it. he knocks on it and soon, it creaks open, and you instinctually wince as it does so, afraid to lay your sights upon the police officer that stood on the other side.

but shockingly, when you widen your eyes, you see that standing the doorway is denki kaminari, the lead singer of chargebolt and the man you had flashed not too long ago.

the wind is knocked out of your lung and you immediately feel light-headed, as your brain was struggling to differetiate reality from your imagination — despite the fact your eyes were saying that he was right in front of you, everything else about this situation felt so surreal.

he was still dressed in the same clothes he wore on stage, a black jacket with silver embellishments over a white shirt, with matching black trousers. strands of his yellow hair were matted to his forehead, since he clearly exerted himself a lot during the show. regardless, he was so dreamy to you, and it was his charming smile that would set your heart ablaze.

when denki realises who has been delivered to his door, he nods to the security guard then faces you with a bright smile, " 'sign-me' girl!" he exclaims.

dizzily stumbling in place, you croak out, "y— yeah?"

"how are you?" he asks casually, and out of reflex you are able to respond, "good. how about you?"

"great. a bit tired from that show. it's been a while since we've performed like that, y'know?" he jokes with you, though it doesn't take a genius to see how star-struck you are, so it doesn't surprise him when you don't respond right away, so he just continues, "want to come in and i can get you that autograph?"

you nod, mutely. the security guards walk away while you are welcomed into the room by kaminari. you lurch inside, hyperaware of every step as you do so. you enter a room that appeared to be a lounge or a practise room: there were various musical intruments set up, such as a drum set and an electric guitar connected to an amp which was propped up against the wall. there was a sleek black centre table between the couch and a huge flat-screen tv, complete with hefty surround-sound equitment. the couch was an off-black, leather four-seater which stretched the length of the wall. there were also LEDs and posters decorating the wall, which gave the room a very casual feel — that and the lingering aroma of weed.

"go ahead, take a seat. make yourself comfortable." he motioned for you to take a seat on the couch, and without the vocal ability to protest, you comply and carefully sit yourself down at the very edge. while he sits on the table across from you, "so, what's your name, 'sign-me' girl?"

"(y/n) (l/n)."

"cute name." he says, then quirks a brow, "and did you enjoy the show?"

you nod.

"great. there was a lot of pressure tonight since this was our first performance in years. i didn't want it to be disappointing compared to our old shows. but i'm glad to hear you liked it." he muses, leaning back on the table and stablising himself with his hands, "have you been a fan for a while?"

you nod.

"did you go to any of our old shows?"

you shake your head.

"why not?" he tilts his head, curiously.

"i was too young." you murmur, too nervous to meet his eyes when as you speak, which he finds incredibly sweet.

"thought as much." he chuckles, rummaging through the pocket of his jacket to grab a sharpie, then he pulls off the cap with his teeth and tosses it aside, saying, "so let's give you an autograph to celebrate your first chargebolt concert."

"thank you." then, without giving it much though at all, you pull down the collar of your tank top to free your tits, pushing them together in the process. it was chilly enough in the room that you erect nipples were straining against the fabric, so at least now they were bare.

meanwhile, kaminari simply watches, aghast. his eyes are wide but there is no other visual display of shock on his face, yet he never expected to get your tits out again. he was under the impression that you flashed him the first time in order to get his attention, so you could get him so sign a piece of memorabilia, or even just a piece of paper or a phone case. he didn't anticipate that you would be so dead-set on having him sign your chest, not that he was complaining, it was a lovely sight to behold but still.

you, on the other hand, thought the whole reason he had brought you backstage was to see your tits. plus, it's not like you had any other merchandise on your person for him to sign anyway.

now it was his turn to gape at you, utterly dumbfounded. it took him a moment before he was able to collect himself and gulp down his concern. "right.." he croaked, slowly leaning in to, hesitantly pressing the tip of the sharipe right above your left areola.

he wasn't shy, per se. he's signed plenty of breasts in his time as a rockstar — male and female — but he was certainly reluctant as it's been a while since he's engaged in such rauchy and lewd activities. but the sight of you pulling down your top in front of him was almost nostalgic, a sight for sore eyes, and they imbued him with the confidence and vigour of the younger version of himself.

thus, with one swift motion, he scribbled his messy signature across your bare tits, cradling one in his hand once he was done, while staring at your chest and admiring his work. "there we go. what do you think?"

your perked up at the feeling of his hand cupping your breast, though you didn't anticipate such an intimate touch, it was something you could quite easily grow fond of, since his hand on your body just felt so right for some reason. "i like it. thank you."

he nods, eyes still glued to your boobs, he muses, "i'll call in the rest of the band and they can sign these pretty things too." he opens his mouth wide as though he was about to call their names and he watches with amusement as your face drops into a look of dismay, which is when he stops and instead of yelling, he bursts out laughing, "don't worry, i won't. these are for my eyes only, sign-me girl." he utters hoarsely, idly massaging one in his hand, allowing his finger to gently graze your pointed nipple, sending a shudder down your spine.

"plus, i wrote my name too big. there's not enough space for theirs." he runs his hands over your chest, emphasising how his signature took up the whole width of the canvas, "they'd need to sign somewhere else." he teases, playfully quirking a brow as he does so.

the blood rushes to your face at his suggestive comment, and in another moment fuelled by adrenaline and alcohol, you mutter, "could you sign me somewhere else, please?

[mellifluouaamor]

ENGLAND ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. he tries to kabe-don you but ultimately fails.

with a skip in your step, you walked up to ireland and pinched the back of his green shirt, pulling on it like a child trying to get their father's attention. feeling your persistent tugs, the irish man turned his head with an arched eyebrow and the moment he recognised you, his lips curved into a friendly smile.

"dia dhuit, (y/n)! you look like you're in a good mood," he remarked, only to blink when you suddenly shoved a book into his face. he immediately took a step back, startled by your sudden enthusiasm. "wh-what's this?"

"you've gotta read this light novel that japan let me borrow. it's so good!" you said, opening the book as you begin explaining the plot of the story so far to him.

sitting two rows behind you, england perked up upon hearing your remark, the hand holding his rose-patterned teacup pausing in mid-air. after germany had proposed for a break in the middle of the chaotic world meeting, he had been observing you, intently watching you chat away with japan as he presented you with one of his light novels. he wondered why you're so obsessed with japan's light novels and was a tad bit curious about the one you're trying to get ireland into. however, he's been struggling to work up the courage to approach you these days, which left the englishman quite frustrated with himself. he's afraid that you might reject his attempts to talk to you and act very passive-aggressive towards him; he'd rather save himself from the heartbreak.

"aww..."

having been so preoccupied with his thoughts, england didn't notice that ireland had left you to continue reading on your own. the soft giggle you let out as you flipped the page made his heart flutter inside his chest, and france, who spotted the red tint dusting his cheeks, gave him a disturbed look before quietly scooting his chair away from him.

"i really want to go kyun kyun like the high school girl in the story... when will i meet someone who can make my heart go doki doki?" you mused with a sigh.

england was perplexed by the unfamiliar terminology you had mentioned. lowering his teacup on the saucer, he pondered the words with a hand on his chin.

what does "kyun kyun" and "doki doki" mean?

❀

japan was surprised when england approached him to ask about the japanese onomatopoeia frequently used in his media.

"hmm... to put it simply, kyun kyun is the momentary tightening of one's chest caused by powerful feelings. it's meant to sound like your heart is getting squeezed, and is used most commonly in a romantic context," japan said.

"you say that it's supposed to be romantic, but that sounds terrifying instead!" england exclaimed, slightly shaken by the thought of his heart literally getting squeezed, "and doki doki?"

"doki doki is the sound of a heart that's beating fast."

"i see. then how do i make (y/n) go kyun kyun?" he asked, making america who was sitting next to him spit out his cola.

as japan suppressed the laughter that was bubbling up in his throat, he replied in a shaky voice, "y-you probably want to do the kabe-don to them then. it's a gesture that prevents escape - you just have to use all of your strength to trap them against a surface."

england knitted his eyebrows together as he tried to visualise what he's to do. "use all of my strength to trap them against a surface? that sounds rather... barbaric." but it definitely sounds like something he would have done during his olden days as a brutish pirate. "i suppose it wouldn't hurt to try..."

as soon as he left to search for you, america grabbed japan's shoulders and proceeded to shake his soul out of his body. "yo, why did you have to give him that idea?! it's totally not going to end well!"

the englishman easily found you strolling through the corridor just outside of the meeting room, holding a drink in one hand and the light novel in the other. he waited until you were close enough before calling your name, prompting you to lift your gaze from the book; the moment your eyes met, england shoved you against the door beside you as his hands landed on either side of your head with a resounding slam. you shrieked, the sheer terror you felt writing itself all over your face as you dropped the things you were holding, your drink spilling all over his polished shoes.

your reaction was the complete opposite of what he had hoped to elicit from you, and the commotion got the countries inside the meeting room curious. some poked their heads out the door only to see england cornering your terrified self, causing them to gawk at the sight as misunderstandings began to brew in their minds.

"m-mr england, did i upset you somehow?" you timidly asked. his eyes widened when he picked up on the fear laced in your voice, and to add insult to injury, ireland walked past the two of you, muttering what a "weirdo" he is.

[neowinestainedress]

Hey! Could I ask for some drabble/fic if you're comfortable with it? Bf haechan can't keep his hands off of her gf's body. All day sensually rubbing her nipples, belly, clit, even with her clothes on. It gets her aroused and she returns the favor by rubbing his body on the sensitive parts too. She just doesn't know that he's so eager to breed her until one day he did a number on her and promised to make her boobs lactating and her belly swollen soon. Only then she realizes how nasty and messy he actually gets every time they fuck. At the end of the day, he lays you down on your back and puts a pillow to support your hips, believing it could help you conceive better. Love your work.

w!: unprotected s*x, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, fingering, handjob, nipple play, dirty talk, aftercare

a/n: this took me longer than i wanted to but i received two breeding kink asks in a row and i didn’t want to make a copy of one another so i needed a break in between. anyway, i hope it was worth the wait!

“Why are you so touchy?” You ask, tilting your head to the side to look at your boyfriend that’s laying on the couch with you, his hands not leaving a single spot of your body untouched. 

“What? I can’t appreciate your body?” Haechan pouts, lightly squeezing your boob and making you laugh. 

“No, ‘course you can,” you say, closing the book you’re reading and keeping the mark with your thumb, “it’s just you’re all over me lately. More than usual, and your usual is already a lot.” 

Haechan shrugs, going back to caress your belly until his fingers craze your covered clit through the fabric of the thin shorts you’re wearing. 

“Oh, yeah, I had to imagine this is where it was going,” you giggle. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he whispers, starting to rub his fingertips in circles. 

“About fucking me?” 

He shakes his head, and nervously bites his lips. “Yeah, but not really. It’s more specific…” 

“Oh, what is it?” 

“Nothing, just go back to reading,” 

You frown, confused he’s hiding something from you. Usually, he’s pretty upfront about everything that runs through his mind, so how weird could this be? But you shrug it off, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your clit and nipples. 

“Fuck it,” you groan when the feeling gets stronger, and you carelessly slam the book on the coffee table before turning around to face him. Your hands quickly find their way in his pants, moving under the hem of his underwear to grab his hard dick. “Just touching my boobs got you so hard?” 

“It’s not my fault they’re so pretty,” he says, eyes falling on them, perfectly pressed against the tight top by the bra, “… and so full.”

“What?” You ask, not sure you heard right, but he shuts you with a kiss. 

Another frown forms on your face, and you start thinking that he might have a sudden passion for boobs so the hand that’s not stroking his dick moves up on his stomach until it reaches his sensitive nipples. 

“Fuck,” he moans, head falling back. 

“Oh, sensitive, aren’t you?” 

“Shut up,” he grunts but you only chuckle at his flustered expression. 

You think you’ve solved the enigma, but you have no idea how far from the solution you actually are until a few days later Haechan’s fucking you, legs on his shoulders and cock slamming inside you. 

“Wanna breed you,” he confesses, and from the temporary shock on his face you know he didn’t mean to say it out loud, but his secret is out so he decides to be honest. “I’m sorry, but I really want you — fuck — want to see you carry my baby.”

You’re a bit taken aback, mostly because your brain is already far gone from all the fingering, and touching, that this new information mid-sex it’s the last drop. 

“Do you want to?” He asks, hips slowing down just a bit. “Want to be the mother of my children?” 

“I do, I — shit — yes, I want to,” you whimper, a bit surprised this is even up for discussion. 

“Fuck, babe, I love you so much,” he groans, kissing you messily as he goes back to the fast rhythm of before, leaving you breathless. 

You should’ve known, from how messy he is, how happy he was the first time you let him fuck you raw, how he sucked at pulling out (because even if you were on the pill you were pretty forgetful and thought that could save you), how messy he actually was once you two were done, pumping his fingers into your swollen cunt to push all his cum back in, and lastly, how unbothered he was when you forgot the pill.

“I want it so much, want to see you all full of me, want to see your boobs grow and be full of milk,” he groans before his hand cups the right one, touching it gently as he leans down to suck the other nipple, making you arch your back and moan louder. “I’ll take care of you, massage you when you’re sore.” 

You can only whimper and cry as you feel overwhelmed with pleasure, yet you can’t help bucking your hips into him, eager to feel more. 

“Gonna give you another load, babe. Gonna make sure you’re full of my cum, so much it overflows,” he says, voice hoarse as his hips snap faster in and out of you. Want my cum?” 

You nod swiftly, feeling close to the edge again, looking at him with watery eyes. 

“Beg me for it, beg me,” Haechan moans, voice pitched and face contorted in pleasure. “Beg me to make you a mommy.”

“Please, Hyuck, please, breed me,” you plead, nails sinking into the skin of his arms when you can’t control your body anymore. 

“Fuck,” he groans, “come with me,” he urges, rubbing quick circles on your clit, triggering your orgasm and consequently triggering his too. 

“What are you doing?” You ask when he grabs a pillow from the end of the bed and gently places it under your hips, pushing some cum back into you with two fingers, making you bite back a whimper. 

Haechan smiles, leaning close to kiss you. “Heard it helps conceive,” he confesses shyly, a red blush spreading on his face. 

“You don’t get to act shy after you just confessed a breeding kink and probably even succeeded considering how forgetful I am of the pill,” you joke, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Maybe it’s your unconscious telling you something,” he says, caressing your belly, making you look down. 

“Maybe,” you smile, sighing happily. “Maybe we could also go for another round later, just to make sure we succeed.” 

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[drmaddict]

Dear Diary

Summary: Jason got his hands on (y/n)s diary. Of course, nothing good can come of this... or maybe it can?

Word count: 850

Warnings: angst, but lots of fluff after

Authors note (Warning: looong Authors note):

When I was about 13 or 14, my then best friend tricked me.

She had sent me a link through a chat. It was one of those online fortune-telling sites. Ask a question about your future and I'll give you an answer.

Complete bullshit, of course, but I always found them funny. What do you do when you're 14? You ask if you have a chance with your crush, or possibly that cute guy who's always in guitar class.

What I didn't know was that on the other side, my friend was sitting with one of her friends, laughing her ass off.

They went on and on about it. I always valued my privacy. I was very shy and insecure.

When they made fun of it in front of me, my confidence and trust was broken. It has never really gotten back together since.

The whole thing still weighs on me in my mid-twenties. I never talked about it until now.

Unfortunately, my story didn't have a happy ending, but what are fanfictions for?

I was sitting in the cafeteria, listlessly looking at my food.

The guys were euphorically talking about the next DnD campaign when all of a sudden Jason Carver appeared at our table.

The grin on his face did not mean anything good.

"King and Queen of Freakland."

"Get out of here ball boy." growled Eddie.

"Why so hostile? I've got some good news after all. At least you finally got a chance to get laid. The way I see it, nothing more than languishing has happened yet."

Jason pulled out a small, green book from behind his back. My book. My journal. My chest tightened so violently I should have imploded. I felt sick to my stomach. Stiff as a board, I sat there. I should have knocked it out of his hand, but I was just a useless statue.

He flipped open the book and began reading aloud so loudly that the entire cafeteria could hear.

He strolled through the rows and read out my thoughts. Thoughts I never told anyone.

"He always listens to me. Even when I'm interrupted, which is really all the time, he asks again and listens to me. For someone who likes to talk so much, he's a really good listener."

He flipped a few more pages. I wanted to dissolve.

"I wonder what his lips feel like."

Turning pages.

"His eyes are beautiful. Like chocolate or coffee. He's never been this close to me before."

He put on a stilted sugary-sweet voice.

"And for all of you wondering who it is that turned dear (y/n)'s head - You shouldn't have a crush on Eddie Munson, but of course I'm an idiot who does."

The crowd laughed and silent tears ran down my eyes. Since Jason was still the center of attention, I quickly and silently slipped outside.

I heard Jason groan painfully, but I just kept running.

Now, if I was quick, I could just sign out at the secretary's office and say I was sick. It wouldn't even be a lie. I'd be gone before anybody saw me again.

"(Y/n). (Y/N)!" shouted Eddie from behind me. I heard his shoes hit the linoleum in quick strides. "Now wait."

A hand grabbed mach my shoulder and turned me around. I tried to wriggle away, but alas, Eddie was stronger than he looked.

"Here." He held my journal out to me.

I grabbed it without looking him in the face. I quickly wiped away the tears, but I wasn't fooling anyone.

I felt small and stupid and humiliated. "Thank you.", I whispered in a broken voice.

"Don't cry over this idiot."

I shook my head and tried to turn back around, but he didn't move away from me.

"I hate it when you're miserable."

"It's okay."

"No it's not okay!" He turned my head with his big hands that I practically had to look at him. "I don't want the girl I have a crush on to feel bad. I don't want her to cry."

I looked at him out of wide eyes. What?

"You always listen to me too and you're always nice to everyone and you have beautiful eyes and you smell insanely good. Do you even know that?"

His warm eyes looked at me as gently as I've ever seen him.

"Don't listen to that idiot! He has no right to do something like that, even though he might think he does." He grew quieter and sadness was in his eyes. "I'm sorry he's going off on you like this because of me."

I shook my head. "Eddie... No... Jason goes after everyone when he can, doesn't he?"

I looked down at my feet again. "Are you serious?"

"With every word."

"It doesn't feel real."

He laughed. "Come on we're going to math. Then the harsh reality will have us back.... Besides, I need motivation to go, and it's really always you." He smiled at me. "You look cute when you think... And a little hot how quickly you solve this tangled mess of numbers." He grinned. I blushed.

"You don't have the homework, do you?"

"Well, I was thinking I could possibly copy it off you.... I'd offer you dinner for it too.... Friday at 8?"

"Are you trading math homework for a date right now?", I laughed, still tearful.

"To be honest, the date's free.... You could also kick me in the balls and it would still be standing." He grinned at me, but uncertainty was in his eyes.

"Friday at 8.", I said and pressed my assignments into his hand.

He gave me a tight squeeze. "If I hadn't just broken Jason's jaw, I'd almost have to thank him."

"You broke Jason's jaw?", I asked in shock.

"Edward Munson to the principal's office immediately!", an angry voice rang over the loudspeakers.

He sighed and handed me back my notepad.

"I'll see you around. Don't forget about me while I'm in prison.", he grinned.

Quick as a flash, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. A glow of red settled over his skin.

"See you?"

"See you."

[unicyclehippo]

flew for the first time in a very long time, since well before covid started, & oh i missed it so much. first, how remarkable an invention a plane is, how clever, how world changing!! it can seem so normal but actually we are FLYING. i looked down on the clouds that look down on me. the sun rose & everything was brilliantly incandescently white. i stared out the window for the entirety of the admittedly too-short flight & cloud spotted—i saw lions & palaces of cloud & a fleet of dolphins breaking out of the waves. mostly it looked like quilting wadding. i love to fly. i love to people watch, i love to cloud watch, i love the clouds, i love the captains & the cabin crew. when i fly i feel like i will never run out of things to love about humans

a short list of things i loved about the two flights i took:

- special shoutout to the cabin crew, ground crew, they’re incredible. literally all the crew i interacted with had the biggest smiles & were so so friendly & helpful. if ur a crew member out there, i love you. huge shout out to the mid 50s (?) hostess on my first flight—short, super sharply put together in the “im a modern witch” kinda way—who had a quip for almost every comment directed her way. the only one i rmbr was when an elderly passenger called her love she replied “how’d you know my name is love? you must be a psychic!”

- all the passengers i saw were calm & unruffled at the least & sometimes very nice! all around me i could hear people meeting & passing with those small human courtesies repeated & repeated—pardon me, d’you mind if i duck past, hey do you need help with your bag, oh mind their head there, where are you headed, can you get by do you need some room, thank you, thank you, thank you, can i help you, can i help you, can i help you

- special shoutout to the passenger w the crying baby. he was such an upset baby & the only thing that calmed him was being walked up & down the aisle over & over. every time he came down the aisle, i saw heads turn toward him & people smiling their baby smiles—exaggerated, kind, often accompanied by a scrunch of the nose or a tiny wave. ‘he doesn’t sound happy poor thing,’ i heard a lot, or things like it, as his dad bounced him in his arms, & then, invariably, help was offered. ��my mother swears by this trick‘ — ‘my husband does this to calm our kids” — ‘my wife always does this’. the flight was delayed by nearly fifty minutes. no one was allowed out of their seat as we idled on the tarmac except for this unhappy baby & his dad, walking up & down the aisle.

- special shoutout to my seat buddy, who had a wonderful bright yellow backpack with rainbow straps. i have a matching one & told her so. she said it was a whim, on account of the yellow & rainbow. i told her it’s a very durable bag & one of my favourites. there’s a softening that comes with a compliment, a small comment when we meet—it’s an invitation from then on to say whatever little something pops into our heads. are you listening to music? what book are you reading - oh it’s a library book! good on you mate! we gotta use them more. do you know how to get the headphones working—ooh i figured it out. mind if i use your charger, mines not working. hey the refreshments are headed this way did you want anything? are you headed home? my family is in the row in front & she smiles every time they twist uncomfortably to chat through the gaps in the seats. later, as we are waiting to disembark, she confesses she was on the flight before but it was cancelled . you mean i could’ve had more space, i teased. she laughed, apologises. i could have had far worse company…but not by much, i teased a little more, & she laughed harder. get home safe, we say to each other—i don’t know her name, she knows mine just because my mother whispered it through the seats (are you too hot back there? do you have enough leg room? i can’t move the seat but - oh your sister wants me to recline my seat onto you, im going to squish you!). get home safe, i hear echoed by ten more people to their seat buddies as i hurry off the plane. the last is from a smiling crew member (refer back to my first point. i love you crew members).

- a turbaned man held his baby up at the huge windows looking out to the planes. she clung to him for a minute then tried to dive out of his arms, her own spread wide like the wings of a plane, laughing.

- the women having dinner in the food court as we waited for our plane. i was facing away from them & somewhat half heartedly eavesdropping but every now & again they said something so familiar that it may as well have been my own sisters sitting behind me. ‘—don’t hate her but some of the things she says-‘ ‘i know, i know. can she even hear herself? it’s like. so self-centred.’ ‘and she THINKS she’s being the nice one or she wants us to think it? i don’t even KNOW anymore. like, either she’s so conceited she thinks we love everything she does or she knows she’s behaved badly & is enjoying, i don’t know, us not knowing what to say?’ ‘i KNOW. and, like, we have to be honest,’ ‘absolutely,’ ‘but at the same time it’s like. she should know.’ ‘she should KNOW.’ ‘but she doesn’t or she’s pretending not to and im so done.’ i don’t know who you ladies were, i never saw your faces, i wish you all the best with your friend.

- the Intensely Cheerful & Organised Mother who was my seat buddy on flight 1. you were corralling three teen daughters &, from the glimpses of your notebook i caught, were studying for a test on medicine or maybe nursing. i know you were all on your way to see taylor & you were Determined that it was going to be the perfect trip. i have never seen someone work so hard at getting their luggage to fit in the overhead compartments but you managed to find a space for all of it & i applaud you now

i know there’s more but im for bed. basically i love to fly & im so happy to have done it again