#not because my wips were bad or something

[phyrestartr]

Nemesis (The Man I Miss) | Miguel O'hara x M!BlackCat!Reader (TEASER)

CW: jealousy, violence, brutality, self-loathing, implied depression, possessive relationship #NSFW, Top!Miguel, Bottom!Reader, hurt/comfort, anti-hero reader, complicated relationships, lonely reader, crook turned hero, reader is a tired guy, mutual pining - Note: Posting some WIPs I've had laying around for a while while I try to finish up the next HOUND update! Needed a bit of a break from it since it's pretty long, but I hope some teasers make up for the wait. Tysm for reading!

Taking care of Nueva York was exhausting. You were far too used to being the problem rather than the problem-solver. That job reserved itself for the one and only Spiderman–your Spiderman. 

At least, you liked to think he was yours. 

Knowing my luck, the prick’s run off with his shocking wife or something. The thought plagued your mind too often. And it was true: Spiderman disappeared. He no longer served Nueva York and kept it safe, he no longer caught you with your hand in the cookie jar, he no longer gave chase throughout the city before pinning you down on some rooftop and taking his prize by force. And you liked it–no, you loved it. Fucking with the man who’d always get to fuck you back came to be a part of life you relished. 

But now you were alone. Left by yourself to deal with lumbering lizards and giggling goblins while wondering how the fuck you’d ended up as a hero when you were anything but. Even the police couldn’t believe the switch, which caused some problems, and led to less-sexy chases that ended with you getting away no problem. 

I wish I had problems. Just one problem, though: Spiderman. 

You tossed aside your shiny leathers and collapsed into your bed. He’d never been there, no, but you fantasized about it. You thought about his impossibly wide back and the ripple of taut muscle greeting you in the morning, or maybe his built chest and strong neck–or maybe his handsome face–well, you’d never seen his face, but you had your guesses. 

Your chest twinged the slightest bit, somewhere between where your greed and feelings intertwined.

Ugh. You missed him. 

–

“Who's that?” Peter remarked as he walked up on Miguel. The lab was dark and dreary, spilling with shades of orange and amber where the blues couldn't reach. And Miguel, the source of the cold, stood in front of the firelight, gazing upon your image in the newscycle. 

Miguel frowned. “No one.” But he didn't tuck your image nor the article away. 

“Huh, looks like Black Cat. A 2099 Black Cat? Never thought I'd see the day.” Peter hummed and bounced a sleepy Mayday in his arms. “He up to no good?” 

“He's up to good,” Miguel bit out. “That's the problem. He doesn't do good.” 

“He's sort of an anti-hero these days,” Lyla cut in, blinking into existence on Peter's shoulder like the devil she was. “All thanks to Spiderman's influence–” 

“Lyla,” Miguel warned (begged?). 

“--aaand their sweet, cute budding romance,” she finished with a dreamy sigh. “Doesn't it just melt your heart?” 

–

You pinned him against the wall and let your hands trace through the hard lines of his muscles on your way down to your ultimate prize. Spiderman shuddered and stayed still, much to your surprise, letting you feel him, letting you acknowledge the hardness bulging under your criminal touch. Because he dreamt of this too. Dreamt of you touching him, of you falling down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his masked face even when you pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to stretched fabric holding back his filled cock. 

“So strong,” you cooed, “but not strong enough to resist, hm?” You sighed and worked him through the fabric with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be stopping the big bad from manhandling you like this, Spidey?”

“Hardly consider you the big bad,” he scoffed back. Spiderman tilted his head back with a choked groan whent hose diamond-tipped clawed gloves dug into his thighs. “Mierda, you–”

“Oh?” You grinned, so cheshire, so in-theme with your persona. “You can stop me any time, no?” 

He could’ve. But he didn’t. 

–

“A daughter,” you murmured. The flickering images–memories, maybe?–were there, waiting quietly for you, preserved and kept precious in shades of amber. But the scene was so alive; you could feel the stretch of the sun against your gloved touch, you basked in the crisp Spring air of that soccer game, you drowned in the warmth of that father's smile–

Spidey's smile. That was beyond obvious. The mountainous shoulders, the tawny skin, those hands– they belonged to him. Your beast. Your nemesis and lover, the man you hadn’t seen for far too long–

“Because you've been off taking care of a kid?” Your fingers, gentle, feather-light, ghosted across that foreign memory. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Who’s your baby mama?

The lab lights stilted and jittered. You snapped from your trance and made for the window you’d come in through, not bothering to see what was happening with your system jammers–you knew Lyla, she knew you, and that made the whole breaking-into-Spiderman’s-base thing more tricky and risky. Your jammer wasn’t fool-proof. It was quite easy to override, actually, but the interference was the difficult thing to detect in the first place. You only thought you’d need a handful of minutes to see your spider, anyway.

But he wasn’t there. Maybe he was off with his little girl. 

Something cacophonous and nerve-wracking churned to the sound of warping electricity behind you as you dove from the window and slid down the side of the skyscraper, claws shrieking against metal and glass alike until you could launch off and latch onto a passing hover car. The periphery of your mind swore it saw flashes of orange and yellow, more violent and heavy than the screens you stared at in that dower room, and maybe you might have heard a familiar voice too. 

The broad, tiny silhouette standing in that abandoned window gave you much more to think about.  -- Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[thebirdarts]

🌹 Elena & Dance Fever 🌹

Because I've been listing to Florence + the Machine non stop and they have amazing album covers 🌹

Roses<3 so red and green are her colours, and roses her flowers, but i swapped the night sky and moon for daylight and a sun, to reflect Elenas aspirations & her more joy seeking attitude- and similar with the plants, still roses, but now dethorned and protecting her as well as reaching out and for the skys.

[mushroomsie224]

Thinking about them again and realising that I don't like the idea that Greylock was practically a bully to Cedric in their schooldays or that Cedric hated him. To each their own, but I think they're just two dorks with a bit of rivalry who get super competitive at times. They get along quite well together when they're not competing! Well, and when Greylock's not pranking him. He's just the annoying friend, I guess. I don't want Greylock to ever stop being annoying, and I want Cedric to be seriously concerned if he does stop.

As for why Cedric wouldn't consider him a friend: this is Season 2 Cedric. Literally his whole arc is about friendship.

[palukoo]

yk it’s very funny to me that nearly 10 years ago I started posting an (at the time) unfinished multichapter wip and then found the pressure and process of continuing to write and update out of some like bizarre obligation to be so excruciating that I basically resolved to never do that again (the exception being the amy fic but like… that’s different) which means over the years I’ve posted WAY less fic tbh but it has also prevented my ao3 from being littered with unfinished works or works that I painstakingly finished like it was a chore and thus like generally much worse writing. my google drive on the other hand…….

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

just for tonight

a/n: sure, I was vigilantly working on a different wip (a very long one that needed a lot of strength to get through) but then this whole fantasy came to me and i just couldn't stop myself... at least i downgraded the idea from a full-fledged series (which i sadly very much do not have the time for) to just a slutty little one shot in an au that i can always pop back into whenever the itch pops up (or when anyone has a slutty request for it hehe).

summary: before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader's mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, posh political party, alcohol consumption, wet dream, lingerie, stockings, one night stand (except we already know those fools can't keep it to just one night), kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, oral, fingering, impact play, squirting, gaping, belly bulge, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4907

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

series masterlist | next part

masterlist | join my taglist

“You sure, you don’t want some?” you squinted over at your bodyguard as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips, “this shit costs more than my dress, which is really saying something,” you pointed to the red silk gown that hung from your frame, “this is Dior.”

“I’m good, miss,” Bucky uttered, tight-lipped as always. 

“Right, sorry,” you sat the glass down at the tall table you stood beside, “can’t drink while on duty.”

Posh parties such as the one tonight were always a bit of a drag to get through. Even though you’d been hauled along for most of your life, they’d never gotten any more amusing. 

But when your mother hired Barnes to be your personal bodyguard a few months back, the thought of getting dolled up just to have a bunch of provoking politicians talk your ear off about ideas you’d never in a million years support, somehow didn’t seem as bad as it used to now that he was constantly at your side. 

It had been a little incident involving your phone getting hacked, an explicit video nearly getting leaked, one that had been made for an ex who lived in another country to make the distance more barrable, and a few threatening messages from the perpetrator that had been the reason for your new shadow. 

Though you’d been resistant at first, storming into your mother’s office to state that you were a grown woman and didn’t need a babysitter just because someone tried to exploit an old sex tape that in your opinion wasn’t even that big of a deal, swiftly got squashed when a then stranger cleared his throat behind you and shared the more gruelling threats that had been made alongside the hacking. 

You’d hoped and prayed that he’d turn out to be a pain, that his personality could squash the feelings that fluttered inside of you whenever you looked at him, but unfortunately, he wasn’t an asshole. He was quiet, professional to a fault, but he wasn’t a dick. If anything, all of the silence and all of the glances to always keep track of you made the crush worse. It made you feel as if you were in a Jane Austen novel, reading between the lines of subtext your unreliable brain came up with.

“You tired?” he asked as a yawn rolled out of you. 

“Mhm,” you hummed behind the palm you had brought up to your lips. 

“The car’s ready to take you back to the embassy whenever you are.” 

A grateful smile twitched at your lip as you offered him a small nod of confirmation, “I’ll just go tell my mom.”

The ambassador, your mother, had her back turned to you as she talked business with a small group of people even though the hour had grown late. 

You waited for a sliver of a break before you tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Hey, mom?” her palm found yours as she turned to look at you, “I’m gonna head home.”

“Oh, alright,” she leaned in and pressed a small peck to your cheek, “see you tomorrow, love.”

“Bye,” you gave her hand one last squeeze before heading out of the elegant venue, your guard still only a few paces behind you. 

A dusty drizzle met your skin as you exited onto the midnight streets of Paris. The sensation made you want to walk home, though you still followed Bucky to the black car already waiting and slipped in when he opened the back door for you. 

The light from the city reflected on the back of his metal hand as it gripped the steering wheel. You could faintly spot the prominent veins on the other one dance beneath the inked skin as it did the same, tattoos you still ached to discover just how far they stretched beneath his dark suit. 

Though soon your gaze flickered away from his silhouette as he drove, and fluttered out to the glittering cityscape rolling by, the vision of which swiftly lulled you to sleep. 

When you arrived home, Bucky’s steely eyes found your slumbering form in the rear-view mirror. You didn’t rouse when he opened your door and carefully picked you up into his arms. You didn’t wake either as he carried you inside, all the way up to your bedroom, and layed you down on your bed. 

Gently, he removed your heels and quietly placed them down on the hardwood floor before he grabbed your duvet and tugged it over your form. 

But just as he moved to leave your side, half asleep you caught his hand.

“Don’t go…” you murmured hazily, eyes still shut. 

And so, he didn’t.

Bucky simply reached for the tufted chair nearby and, as silently as he could, scooted it closer to the bed. 

Barely an hour passed before you woke. 

Before you even blinked open your eyes, your fingers began to slide down your body as the sinful dream you’d been blessed with still lingered in your foggy brain. 

Though when your eyes did flutter open and discovered the star of the dream sitting in a chair right next to you, your hand halted its voyage, and you sucked in a startled breath. 

“You okay?” he asked softly as you blinked a few times. 

“Uh,” the throbbing that still lingered from the dream probably wasn’t going to fade any faster with him sitting there with his unwavering stare, “yeah, I’m–, uhm…” you propped yourself up on your elbow before sitting up more, “I’m fine.” 

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, it wasn’t a–…” your sentence then crumbled as you sucked in a breath, “what are you doing watching me sleep?”

As you met his gaze, he then uttered, “you asked me to stay.”

Your eyes then widened, “I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” though you couldn’t recall, heat still began to bloom on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

“It's alright,” his shoulders offered a faint shrug. 

Averting your gaze, you noticed that you were still in your dress. You weren’t quite sure if it pleased you or not that Bucky didn’t try to strip it off you, though it was probably less the moral intentions and more the fantasy of him peeling it off of you that swayed you. 

“Were you just planning on sleeping in that chair all night?” you asked. 

“No,” he shook his head, “I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all.” 

A tinge of guilt stung in your chest, “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I must have been asleep or something…” you then swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up. As your fingers raised up to pluck off your sparkling earrings, your feet began to carry you in the direction of your wardrobe. Dropping the jewellery off in a small porcelain bowl on the opposite bedside table, you then glanced back at your bodyguard and said, “you don’t have to stay any longer, you can go back to your room and get some sleep.” 

Offering you a nod, he then began to walk towards the door. 

Though, as you reached back to undo your dress, you abruptly uttered, “wait,” and he stopped before his steely fingers could enclose around the door handle. Turning to glance back at you, a bold request then hesitantly fell from your lips, “could you maybe help unzip me?”

He barely made a noise, simply hummed quietly in response before his slow stride carried him towards your frame as it twisted for your back to be turned to him.

When you felt his touch on the zipper, tugging it down ever so slowly, your breath came in ragged, and your eyes fluttered shut. You swore you felt his radiating heat seep into you as he exposed more of your goosebump-ridden spine. 

As the straps tumbled over your shoulders, your hands came up to your chest to hold it up even though you wished for nothing more than to let it drop before him.

And when the zipper finally reached its end, he lingered right behind you just long enough for you to catch the tether of it. Slowly, as if you were dealing with a skittish bird, you rotated around. You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes as you let yourself follow that magnetic pull you’d been trying to keep at bay. Your gaze flickered up to his lips as heated puffs of air seeped from your lungs and you slowly, hypnotically, inched closer. 

But then Bucky opened his mouth and said in a soft and quiet tone, “what are you doing?” making you halt, though not pull back. 

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know… I know you do…”

“You can’t,” he uttered, though didn’t move to walk away either as he captured your gaze, “we can’t, alright?”

“Why not?” you breathed, your eyes returning to his lips, “is it really that important for you to stay professional over everything else? Or is it that I’m just a job to you?” your heart felt as if it was gonna beat straight out of your chest, “you know I like you, I know you do. You notice everything, so of course you know. Am I right?”

A long exhale then flowed from his lungs before the faintest of nods tilted his head, “…yeah.”

“And I have eyes too, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” a shiver trickled down your spine, “so, are you really gonna just stand there and pretend you don’t feel something too? Just go back to your own room and continue to protect me like nothing’s going on?”

“Y/n, I can’t be with you,” he shook his head heavily, “you know I can’t.” 

Can’t or won’t?

Before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

As if your quiet whispers melted him completely, your bodyguard breathed, “…fuck…” and the next thing you knew, he’d grabbed your face and seized your lips. 

It was like something inside of him had snapped, something you had shattered, with the way that he kissed you as if he’d been drowning and your lips were oxygen. 

As you lost yourself in the sensation of his tongue dancing across your own, you let the red dress drop down your body, passed the sheer stockings that clung around your thighs, to the floor. Like fire, one of his hands disappeared from your cheek and ran down your frame, grazing over the black lingerie that was now exposed.  

Though heated and hungry at first, the kiss soon softened into lighter pecks. 

With his metal hand, he held your face close to his as he withdrew from the kiss, an action you weren’t quite ready for as you dreamily trailed after him a bit, longing for his lips. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” his hot breath fanned across your features. 

“Yes,” you whispered swiftly. 

But as you dizzily blinked up at him, he simply hummed for you to elaborate, “hm?”

“Yes, I want you,” goosebumps tingled across your skin. 

“You want me to what?” his thumb swiped over your cheekbone. 

“I want you to–, to–…” you fumbled as you felt your desire drip and soak your panties, making them cling to your aching core. 

“To what, huh?” 

“To–… fuck me,” the embarrassingly desperate words tumbled out your mouth. 

“You want me to fuck you?” his unwavering stare briefly dropped to your parted lips.

“Yes,” the syllable rushed out of you. 

“Say it again,” he tilted his chin. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” his feet began to shift, causing yours to shuffle back as well. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“One more time,” his hand had dropped down to your jaw and his fingers curled slightly to dent your soft cheeks. 

“I want you to fuck me, please!” 

With the hold he had on you, he swiftly dipped down and pressed his lips to yours once more. The world then fell out from under you as his grasp scooped down your frame and plucked you up.

Your arms tangled around his neck right before your back collided with the closet door and your lips tilted away from his as a short squeak slipped out. The distance however lent Bucky to let his kisses dance down the length of your neck and across your cleavage, so perfectly framed by the sheer fabric of your bra. 

Though the hickeys he began to plant across your skin made your eyes roll in your skull, your fingers still captured his tie and tugged him back up for your lips to crash against his. As you moved to push his blazer off, his sturdy grip on you shifted though still held you close as the jacket fell from his burly frame and your palms swiftly scooped over his broad shoulders and down his chest, now one layer closer to letting you actually get to feel the furnace roiling beneath.

Cupping his face close, whimpers seeped out of you and vibrated against his lips as his fingers dug into your ass and rubbed your barely covered cunt over the palpable tent in his pants, your want surely drenching through your thin underwear and marking him as well. 

You almost didn’t realise that Bucky had moved till he dropped you down on the bed. Taking a step back, his tongue briefly flicked across his breathless lips as his fingers lifted to tug his tie off. 

Staring directly into your soul, he uttered, “take your bra off,” as he tossed the tie to the floor and your fingers scrambled to fulfil his request. When you flung the lingerie to the ground, right next to his crumbled tie, the cool night air kissed your pebbly nipples and Bucky let out a murmured curse right before bending down to press his lips to yours. 

Balanced on your elbows, you parted your lips and let his tongue sweep across your own. His touch coasted down your frame, barely granting your tits any attention before his grasp hooked around your thighs and yanked you closer to the edge of the mattress. A surprised yelp escaped you at first at the sudden shift, but as the sting of saliva, that had lingered and connected you from your sloppy kiss, snapped back against your skin, the short cry morphed into a fizzy giggle. 

The light laugh however faded away when you watched him sink to his knees at the foot of the bed. Your legs curled up even further on either side of you, though you weren’t quite sure if that was you or him pushing them up and cracking you open that much more. You could feel his breath hit your pantie-clad core as his gaze fixated on the soaked spot right over your puff. 

When his palm slid up your inner thigh, he only had to reach out his thumb for the broad pad to ghost over your covered slit. His eyes swiftly flickered up to capture yours, checking your reaction as you began to squirm from his feathery light touch. 

Hooking his finger in the gusset, he pulled it to the side and a glossy string stretched out and clung to the fabric as he revealed your glistening pussy. 

A breathy moan billowed out of you as he began to touch you, rolling your little pearl beneath his touch. Finding your eyes once more, he held your gaze as he then leaned down to press a gentle kiss over your clit. 

“This okay?” his voice vibrated against your bundle of nerves, making you twitch. 

“Mhm,” you nodded foggily, “you can do anything you want.”

“Anything?” his lips twitched into a smirk as his fingers stretched from where they were clutching your panties to brush over your button.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “fucking anything.” 

Your mouth then hung agape at the sight of him dipping down to ruthlessly taste your desire. It didn’t take long before he lost himself in you so fiercely that he momentarily leaned back only to rip your underwear off. Both of his hands curved around your bottom, raking across your skin as he drew you even closer to his tongue and dragged it through your wet folds.

Bumping his nose against your clit, he let himself make out with your cunt a moment longer before planting a farewell peck over your pearl and pulling back. A dollop of spit dropped from his lips down onto your pussy. Catching the drop with his fingers before it slid away, he rubbed it into your own juices and made you that much more of a mess. 

“O-oh,” you moaned as he slowly slid a long finger into you after teasing your weepy entrance enough to make you shiver. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned at the soppy sounds his efforts conjured.

Craning down to kiss your clit sloppily, Bucky then slid his ring finger in beside the other, curving them gently as he reached even deeper. 

When he momentarily retracted his digits to land a small tap over your puffy petals, the smile that bloomed on your face only egged him on further. Plugging you back up, he then retracted and repeated the slap though with more ferocity. 

Your head began to lull a bit as he brought his vibranium digits down to roll your clit and his fingers began to fuck you harder, not faster, but with an intent that made your pussy sing for him. 

With your thighs trembling, they nearly slammed shut as you felt the end near, but your bodyguard only slid his strong metal forearm over your legs, hooking it right under both of your bent knees, to keep you spread nice and open for him. 

The veins on the back of his inked hand popped from how fiercely his fingers rocked within you. 

Stretching his thumb up to strum your clit, he tried to sneak a third finger inside of you as he felt your walls begin to flutter around him. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” as he always did in every manner, evidently. A smile curved at his lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a symphony of moans flowed out of you with every last tender stroke he offered you to carry you over the edge, “atta girl.”

Melted against the sheets, you caught your breath as he planted one last peck on your inner thigh before standing back up. 

Slowly, with his gaze ever glued on you, he unbuttoned his shirt, gradually revealing the silver shine of the dog tags that hung from his neck and the tattoos that sprawled across his skin. Going all the way up from the hand still shiny with your essence, the ink swirled up his right arm, across his pecs, down his back and even curved over to his left shoulder and intentionally tangled into the gnarly scares sprouting from the border of his prosthetic. 

When the button-up hit the floor, his fingers drifted down to unhurriedly remove his belt, pulling it out of the loops, he let it join the shirt before he undid his pants and let his cock spring free. 

“Jesus christ…” your jaw couldn’t help but drop to the floor as your eyes fluttered at the intimidating reveal. 

Noticing the anxiety that peeked through your lust-ridden expression, his low voice found your ears, “what? Did you change your mind?” 

“No, I just–…” you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fat cock as it throbbed before you, “I got a bit nervous all of a sudden.” 

“No reason to be nervous, baby,” he breathed out a smile as his fist curled around his girth.  

“Oh really?” you nearly began to laugh. 

“You’ll be fine,” drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips as he slowly began to stroke himself, “trust me.” 

“Really? Because I’m not so sure I’ll be able to take that…” 

“You will,” he uttered calmly as he dipped down to give you a kiss, “don’t worry,” a hand slid into your hair as he cradled your face and ushered your gaze to find his, “you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’ll be fine,” his thumb curved to sweep over your cheek a few times. 

“Yeah,” you gently nodded and repeated after him, “I’ll be fine.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. Kissing you once more, he then pressed a peck to your forehead before his grasp found your hips and he suddenly flipped you around, onto your stomach. 

Helping you up onto your hands and knees, a hazy smile stretched across your features as he bent down over you and pressed kisses all along your spine. Dragging his bulbous tip through your sopping folds, he then teased you for so long, never granting you any more than a dizzying nudge, that whines began to escape from you.

“P-please,” you heard yourself beg as your fingers bunched up the sheets. 

“What?” he continued to flick and tap your swollen clit with the head of his heavy cock.

“I–I want it–, plea–, please fuck me,” you blubbered desperately. 

“Oh, now you want it, huh?” you could hear the smirk that dominated his face, “suddenly not so nervous anymore about me stretching you out, are you?”

“Bucky, plea–, o-oh–,” you felt your limbs tremble beneath you as he slipped the very tip inside. 

His efforts were so slow at first, gradually giving you more of his length and just shallowly fucking you till you blossomed and opened up for him. 

Gradually, his thrusts began to ease from a mind-numbingly slow pace to something that truly scrambled your brain. You soon lost yourself completely to the molten sensation of his fat girth steadily splitting you open. 

Though when he finally bottomed out within you, a shrill gasp slipped out passed your lips and your frame shuttered beneath him. 

Drawing his hips back just enough for you to regain the ability to fill your lungs with oxygen once more, you heard him murmur in your ear, “what, is it too much dick for you?” retraining his thrusts slightly, he kept his tip from kissing your cervix, “that better or is it still too deep for you?” his hands dented your hips.

“N-no, no, it feels so good, it’s just–,” a whimper slipped out of you and broke up your slurring, “you’re so fucking big, I’ve never–,” you felt like you could feel him all the way up in your throat, “no one’s ever been that fucking deep before.”

One of his hands curved down to your clit at the exact same time as your own did. As they met, he let your own fingers swirl over your puffy pearl as his simply lingered, till he suddenly grasped your wrist and gently led it away from your pussy, further up to your lower stomach. 

“That deep?” he pressed down on your palm and let you discover the dull bulge that formed in your belly at every one of his dizzying thrusts, “has no one ever stuffed you that full before? Not even one of your pretty toys you play with so often?”

“Nuh-uh,” you panted as his warm contact dissipated from your spine and he straightened back up. 

A gravelly moan slipped out past Bucky’s lips as he glanced down to see how tightly your creamy pussy was gripping onto his cock. Your fingers returned to the sheets as his wide palm came down to slap your ass, your back arching at the impact and consequently angling his efforts so that the details of his dick brushed against your g-spot in the most heavenly way imaginable. 

He only buried himself inside of you a few more times, his heavy sack tapping against your buzzing clit at every electric buck, till your pussy gushed around his fat girth. 

“There you go,” he pulled out only to insistently flick your puffy pearl with his tip, “fucking hell,” he then plunged his cock all the way back in before dragging it back out, “keep going,” ushering more squirt to drizzle out. He kept up the overwhelming pattern till your pussy stopped gushing for him, till he’d pushed you through the overstimulation and your cunt slowly began to relax again for him. Eventually, when he steadily withdrew from you, he craned his neck to relish in the way your little hole had stretched out and accommodated so well for him, it even winking sinfully at him every time he pulled out, “good fucking girl,” he growled at the sight, “told you so, you’d do just fine,” your shaky frame jolted as he slapped your ass again, “look at you now fucking gaping for me, christ…”

With a ring of your cream staining the base of his cock, he let himself return to your warmth for longer than just a few seconds, fucking you with such ferocity that your pliant form, still molten and unsteady from your second orgasm, collapsed onto the mattress below. 

Though he successfully caught you before you could slip off his cock entirely, he still let you drop down on the bed, though softened the fall for you, before he followed suit. 

The weight of him on top of you felt so comforting and soothed on your tingly skin.

“You okay?” he kissed your cheek before spreading your stocking-clad legs with his own. 

“Hm,” you nodded foggily and felt yourself drool onto the sheets as he squished you further into the mattress.

Your shaky moans filled the bedroom as he slid back inside, “fuck, you feel so good…” sloppily nipping just below your ear before he picked up his pace. 

The chain that dangled from his neck felt cool on your skin and acted as a stark contrast to how hot his body felt pressed against your back. 

“You think you can be a good girl and cum for me again?” he groaned into your ear as his efforts echoed sloppily, “let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze around me one last time?”

“I-I don’t know,” you trembled beneath him, every one of his deep thrusts making you jolt and gasp for air as he was practically splitting you in half. 

“You don’t know?” he sweetly whispered in your ear as he curled his arms under you. One hand slid under your tit and caught your pebbly nipple in a rude pinch while the other soared down to your sore and swollen clit, “can you try for me? Try and cum again,” your eyes had fallen completely shut, so your whole reality had just become Bucky’s reassuring weight, his tantalising efforts, and his sinful whispers that seeped directly into your soul, “try and squirt for me one last time, sweetheart.” 

And so, you did. It didn’t even take that long before you tumbled over one last time and your pussy creamed for him, drenching the already damp sheets beneath you, as he swiftly came as well, throbbing deep within your clenching cunt and filling your little hole up to the brim till it tried to leak and escape around his girth.

His heavy pants faded from your ear as he slowly crawled off of you, cascading a tender trail of kisses all the way down your body till he gently retraced his track of pecks and settled down next to you. Fluttering your eyes open as his palm slid up to your heated cheek, he gazed into your hazy eyes for a moment before leaning in to softly press his lips to your own. 

You wanted to curl in closer to his frame, but your body was so exhausted that you could barely raise your pinkie finger. Fortunately though, as you layed there in wordless wonder, Bucky’s arms draped around you as he scooted in close, hugging you to him and gently caressing your skin as you continued to blink back into his ocean eyes, not uttering a word out of fear that you’d ruin the blissful moment.

After perhaps a small eternity had passed, he briefly raised his head up slightly to catch sight of the small clock on your bedside table. 

“There’s still a few more hours left before the sunrise…” he settled back down beside you.

“Oh, yeah?” a soft smile tilted up your lips as his touch began to travel south. 

“Yeah,” his lips gently parted in a silent moan as his fingers slid through your sore folds. His stare was transfixed on how your brows knitted together and a quiet hiss slipped out of you as he swirled over your sensitivity, playing with the hot load he’d pumped into you as it slowly leaked out, one of his digits too brash not to try and stuff it back inside, “what do you think?” sharing your breath, he inched in and let his nose nuzzle against your own, “do you want me to be yours just a little bit longer or would you rather I’d return to my own bed?” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[luludeluluramblings]

tbh I’m more intrigued by the idea of college-age Reader getting pregnant while unmarried still living in the manor and NO ONE has any idea who the father is (maybe she does, but she’s withholding that for now or maybe he’s not in the picture?) and it’s the biggest freak out ever. that just seems so fucking wild and potentially hilarious to me. and nobody noticing she’s pregnant until she’s farther along? or them finding out randomly?? imagine:

damian: you look pregnant. what is wrong with you.

reader: i am pregnant though

the batfam: ????????!!!!!!!!!! and then she proposes that now that she’s old enough and starting a new chapter in her life raising a baby and all she should just move out! (cue everyone disliked that meme)

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, I think I'm about to become a Pregnancy!Reader writer. Which, I'm not mad about. Kind think it would be fun, but I know the trope isn't for everyone. So, if it’s not your thing, I’m sorry.

A/N: Some of this is based off of things from my own pregnancies.

A/N: Oh, no. Frick, I wanna make this a series now. Check the bottom, cause I have a plot idea for this and I want opinions on it. I spiraled, this was supposed to be a quick blurb. I got carried away. Gonna build up to the yandere shenanigans because I’m turning into a writer with a million WIPs.

A/N: Tagging @skay-ali because I like their The Forgotten Daughter series.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Very minor Yandere Themes (like barely there), minor NSFW, graphic descriptions of pregnancy and medical procedures, Vomiting.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You don't really remember that night it happened. But, it only happened once and after you swore you'd never drink again. The hangover after that night had been one of the worst of your short life.

In fact, the sticky feeling between your legs and bitter taste on your tongue had also added to your decision to swear of these college parties. Luckily, you have enough of your memory to remember that you and your partner from that night had both been willing even when wasted. Even if you couldn't remember their name. Or, their face.

It takes you a while to notice. One missed cycle wasn't anything to freak out about, and it was exam season. The stress had probably caused the nausea. It wasn't until you were heading down to breakfast one morning and smelled the burnt eggs in the kitchen that Stephanie had burnt that you realized something might be wrong.

You, of course, ignore it. It was just a fluke. Burnt eggs weren't appetizing to anyone. But, then you nearly faint walking through the perfume section after looking to restock your favorite bottle of scent.

The doctor you finally went to another week later had asked about your cycle and the last time you had been intimate with someone. That's when the reality of things started to set in. You hadn't even thought to do an at home test to check. Your doctor was kind though, saying they could just do a quick urine sample and blood test just to make sure. It might be something else.

The next few minutes felt like ages. But, when the Doctor came back to tell you the positive results you panicked. Not as in panicked as in you broke down, but you threw up a mask. You're good at doing that. You must get it from your father.

When she asks you if this is good news or bad news you can't help, but blurt that it's good. Great even. Which causes her to beam at you. Before you know it, you're being handed a complementary diaper bag with formula and tiny bottles while being given the rundown on your possible due date and future appointments. You nodded you're head along with the information, sliding the paper's into the diaper bag as she hands them to you.

But, then she turns to you with delight and tells you that the Ultra Sound tech has an opening and you're just far along enough they can do your first ultrasound. It'll only be a thirty minute wait.

After nodding along once more, you go back into the waiting room. Holding your new bag with white knuckles and falling into deep thought.

This is happening. But, how? Are you even fit to be a parent? You've hardly ever been loved. How are you going to love someone else? How are you going to do this? What will the family think? What will your few friends think? You don't even remember who their father is. This is impossible. You're not ready. You'll never be ready. That churning feeling is in your stomach again and you feel that single piece of toast you had for breakfast about to come back up.

The thirty minutes fly by with those thoughts in your head. They still swirl in your head as your go back into the ultrasound room.

It's dark, but the tech had few soft lights on in the room. Its actually kind of... cozy.

What's not cozy it the tech telling you that she's going to stick a wand up your bits so you could see the baby. Your eyes screwing shut at the cold invasive feeling.

But, when you open them, she turns the screen for you to see. It's almost amazing how fast the image appears on the screen.

And, their moving. Actually moving. You end up laughing at the sight, causing the screen to flicker and the little blob to move. When the nurse plays the heart beat you can feel yours stuttering in your chest.

Watching them bounce in there with each laugh, it’s easy for the next words to spill out of your mouth.

“Oh, I’m gonna love you.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Every step after that feels remarkably less lonely. It’s not just you anymore. You have someone who you’re going to love.

You don’t bother telling the Family. Bruce would just lecture you on being reckless while the other’s would judge you for it.

Honestly, you don’t care if they did. This is your baby.

Funnily enough, for a house full of detectives and highly intelligent vigilantes no one actually notices. Not even Cassandra. It’s a bit insulting how much they don’t pay attention. But, your symptoms soon make it so you don’t care.

The waves of exhaustion, the way everything smells strong and certain things make you want to gag. Heartburn that burns your throat. The subtle cravings that make you cry when you can’t fulfill them. Thankfully you finished your exams because you were too tired to even move from your bed most mornings due to strange nightmares.

Eventually, someone does notice. And, it’s not anyone you would expect.

Of all things you cried over on the pantry floor, it had to be salt and vinegar chips. They hadn’t been what you wanted, but it was too late to go get french fries and a smoothie at this hour in Gotham. And, you stuffed them down your throat with angry tears.

It was Stephanie of all people to find you. You gave her a sharp glare when she seemed to grow wide eyed. Normally you avoid her gaze, but you were quite pissed about having chips in your mouth and not fries. As her eyes grew wider, your nose wrinkled in further annoyance at her.

Just as you’re about to tell her off, she speaks.

“Do you— um, want something else?”

It’s pitiful how fast your snarl turns into a pleading pout.

“Yes, please. I want fries. I want Jokerized fries so badly.” You practically blubber when she gives you a pointed nod towards the car garage.

It takes you a bit to get off the floor despite the fact that your bump is hardly noticeable, but Stephanie noticed the extremely subtle curve.

“How far?” She asks hesitantly, looking from the bump to your face.

You also hesitant for a moment, looking up at her with tears on your cheeks and a serious look in your eyes. “14 Weeks.”

Her eyebrows raise and a wiry pout appears on her face. “Damn. You’re smaller than I was at that time, so not fair.”

The slightly surprised that information gives you almost makes you pause. But, if you had you would’ve probably toppled back down to the pantry floor.

“Explain on the way?” You ask, still a bit nervous. The two of you had never been close since you moved into the manor less than a handful of years back.

“Sure.” She grins, leading the way.

As you both walk, she whispers. “Does Bruce know?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Ah.” Stephanie managed to hide the winces from you.

When you two finally make into the car, you’re already feeling better about life. You’re about to have your fries, and possibly a shake too. You didn’t expect to have any company, but surprisingly it’s nice.

Stephanie drives, and get the fries to go. Munching on them as Stephanie drives you back to the manor. Her sharing her own pregnancy experience.

"Wait, so Tim dated you when you were pregnant with another dudes kid? Babe, forget being me being small, you got game."

"Damn right I do." She says smugly, stuffing her own fries in her mouth. "So, um, do you wanna talk about what happened with you?"

And, just like that your mood shifts.

"No."

"Oh- Oh! I'm sorr-" She starts up, and you can tell she's assuming the worst.

"Don't you start, Stephanie." You interrupt with a pointed glare. "I don't want to talk about it because it's none of y'all's business."

That makes her cough on her french fry. "Wait, wait, what do you mean? Don't you want help?"

"Nah, I got it." Comes your stubborn reply, glaring out the window as you dip your fry into the cheesecake milkshake.

"... You should tell Bruce." She suggest after a moment of awkward silence.

"What? So he can ignore his grandchild, too?" Your filter is none existent with your hormones all out of wack.

"He doesn't ignore you-"

"Oh, yes the fuck he does." Your firmly state. Growing a bit heated. "Y'all all figgin do."

Stephanie is about to roll her eyes, chalking your words to you just being unreasonable. But, then the thought starts to creep upon her with each passing building when she realizes this is the first time she's actually hung out with you. Ever.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs to you. The silence falling over you both as the cars continues back to the manor.

"... I'm only forgiving you because you bought my fries..."

"Really?! That's all I had to do?"

"What? I was desperate for this- Wait! Hang on. Stop the car. Stop the car-"

"What? Why?! Are you- OH! Fuck!"

You ended up regurgitating up all the fries you had just eaten. Right into your lap.

"Oooo, that's nasty." Stephanie says, cracking the windows.

"Is it bad that I still want to eat them?" You mumble to her, eyeing the remaining fries.

"Please, please, wait till we get back or I'm gonna hurl, too."

"Fine." Comes your reply. Your eyes drifting shut for a moment. "If you tell anyone I'm gonna tell Cassandra about your crush on her."

"How did you- Frick, you are more like Bruce then I realize." Her voice going from panic to begrudging realization.

"Now, that's offenseive."

"Oh, come on. You're kids gonna have some of Bruce's DNA too."

"Eww. Eww. Don't remind me."

The banter between you both coming back with ease.

When you make it back to the manor, parting ways for the night. You feel at ease. You may have made have finally made a new friend in all this and gained a pillar of support.

As you shower and finish off your fries, you can't help but think about the apartments you had been looking at. Wondering what Stephanie will thinking of your nursery ideas.

Down in the cave, Stephanie slowly walks down the steps. Realizing this might have just gotten complicated.

"You okay, Steph?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Soooooo, what if, and hear me out, wee add some baby daddy drama to this?

A/N: Please note, I write a Reader that DID NOT grow up with the Bat Family, which means we could have some really really juicy drama here. But, we could just keep the options limited to just close friends of the Bat family.

A/N: What do y'all think? Baby Daddy drama? One of the Bat Boys the Daddy? One of the other vigilantes? Should I do a Baby Daddy poll? I just feel like this is an opportunity.

A/N: Also, Stephanie was a teen mom in some comics from my research. Which I think adds to this and gives her a better chance of bonding with Reader until shit goes down.

[aperrywilliams]

That Green Monster (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Your relationship with Spencer is fresh new, and some of his insecurities arise when someone new joins the team, making him react in a wrong way to you.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Fluff and Angst. And then fluff at the end (I don't even understand myself). Spencer lashes out. Spencer is insecure. Reader is mad. Both are so madly in love, though.

A/N: This one has been sitting as a WIP for way too long, so I decided to finish it today!

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

A shot in the neck.

That's what it took for you and Spencer to - finally - get together. To confess you loved each other.

Everything happened while working a case in Texas. You had cornered a suspect who was hiding in a restaurant. You wanted to open a communication line with him, but out of nowhere, shots got fired. And one of them ended in your neck.

What happened next was a blur to everyone, especially to Spencer. He barely remembers Morgan pulling him back so that the paramedics could check on you.

The ambulance ride to the hospital and the hours of waiting for news were excruciating.

In Spencer's brain, only the thought that he might lose you forever without coming clean about his feelings for you.

You have been in a similar situation before, but this time, he thought you wouldn't make it.

It would be the loss of a friend and the loss of the love of his life.

If Spencer has to be honest, he realized he loved you after your first month working at the BAU. And with every passing day, the feeling only got stronger. But he was scared of saying anything, afraid of changing - or losing - the strong bond you guys already had.

So, he kept it to himself for years. For six years, to be exact.

But what he didn't know was you had fallen for him, too.

And how could you not? You both went through so many things over the years: Spencer's kidnapping, his Dilaudid problem, your family issues, the injuries, bad cases, unsubs attacks, hospital visits, and so on. With every bump in the way, you both were each other rock. Always together, no matter what.

The team affectionately called you Mulder and Scully, but in reverse roles, of course.

But even if, at some point, both of you realized what you had was much more than a friendship, neither of you did something about it.

Until you got shot in the neck.

In that uncomfortable waiting room chair, Spencer prayed, to whatever or whoever could listen, for a chance to make things right.

So when you woke up in your hospital bed hours later, the first thing you saw was Spencer's face.

He was by your side as always. But this time, he had something to tell you. Spencer didn't have the chance, though, because before he could say anything, three words blurted out from your lips: 'I love you.'

Between happy tears, you both spent hours talking and coming to the conclusion you were both idiots in love.

You didn't say anything to the team, but you all knew they knew, so it became unspoken knowledge after you were released from the hospital.

-------

With you home due to your neck injury and JJ on maternity leave, Hotch decided that some help would be better than putting more pressure on the remaining team members.

That's why he borrowed an agent from Sex Crimes.

Spencer had already told you that there was a new agent, but he hadn't developed this information in detail.

You knew him on your first day back, a month after you got shot.

Once you exited the elevator on the sixth, you headed through the bullpen glass doors. When you pushed them open, you didn't realize that someone was going in the opposite direction, and you almost hit the guy in the face with one of the doors.

"Oh, my God. I'm sorry!" you exclaimed when you realized what almost happened.

The man shook his head in dismissal. "No, no. Don't be. Nothing happened."

"But I almost hit you with a glass door," you pointed. The guy didn't seem phased by it, though.

"I'm okay, really," he insisted, flashing you a smile. You hadn't picked much of his appearance, to be honest, but the guy was easy on the eyes. Another thing that caught your attention was you had never seen him before.

"Do I know you?" You asked with curiosity.

"I don't think so. I'm Agent Dodds. Jake Dodds," he introduced himself, extending his hand. You've heard that last name before. You told him yours, shaking his hand.

"Really? You are a BAU member, right? I'm the backup agent Hotchner brought to the team," he explained, and then it clicked. He was the new guy.

Jake Dodds was young, fresh and motivated. After his first year in Sex Crimes, he already has a lot of accomplishments to show off. And, of course, he was doing his best to impress Hotch and the team.

Coming to the office bright and early and being the last to leave gave Dodds a chance to engage with the cases and the team members - you included. Due to your neck injury, you were mostly on desk duty, so you had enough time to help Jake with paperwork and all the questions he might have about past cases. And Dodds had many.

In the weeks that followed, he has spent a lot of time by your side, working with you when the team wasn't out of town.

It was part of your nature to be forthcoming and willing to teach others. And having worked at the BAU for almost six years, you felt like you could teach one thing or two.

Spencer loves that from you; it's one of the many things that made him fall in love with you. But for some reason, Jake's closeness to you started to bother him.

Spencer knew it was irrational and without foundation. Still, in the past weeks since Dodds joined, with each laugh from you when Jake cracked a joke, every time you sat together at the office a little too close, or every day you decided to have lunch with Jake rather than him, Spencer's jealousy only got stronger. It didn't help the team's comments about you and Jake.

'Dodds looks hooked by her'; 'The newbie definitely is flirting with her'; 'Really handsome view she has over there.'

Spencer could only bite his tongue. He could easily assume that the team was only messing with the situation, but the green monster growing inside didn't let him think clearly.

Spencer knew you, and you would never do something to hurt him, so why did he feel that uneasiness inside of him?

Maybe the fact you were in the early stages of your relationship made Spencer insecure. It was all new and fresh; he was happy with you, but although you both have known each other for years, he was inexperienced in the love department. Being friends was one thing, but being a couple was different.

So instead of talking to you—which he knew was the right thing to do—Spencer did what he usually does when he feels overwhelmed: he shuts people out.

And you did notice, of course.

Something was troubling him, you knew that, but every time you brought up the topic, he dodged it. You didn't look much into it at first because you knew Spencer would talk to you eventually when he felt ready. Or you assumed he would.

But the days went by, and Spencer still hadn't told you why he had been so distant, so you decided to confront him.

You both were watching a movie at your place, but you noticed Spencer wasn't paying attention to the TV. After an internal debate about whether it was a good idea to bring this up, you tested the waters.

"Spencer, are you okay?" you asked him, genuine concern lacing your voice.

The question hung in the air enough to make you think he might not hear you.

"Spencer?" you tried again, swearing you heard him huff even if he tried to be subtle.

"I'm okay, just tired," he hastened to dismiss, not looking at you.

So he heard you, but you had to call his name again to get an answer. Something is definitely wrong.

Contemplating your options, you chose to end the 'patiently wait until he comes to you' strategy. You were his girlfriend now. Why he couldn't trust you enough to tell you what's going on?

"Okay. This bullshit needs to stop now. You have been weird for too many days to tell me now you are okay and just tired. I know something happened and need you to tell me what it is," you demanded.

Shifting uncomfortably in his spot, Spencer had an inner debate about coming clean to you. He didn't want to admit how much Jake's closeness to you was bothering him. Spencer didn't want you to think about him as the possessive and clingy boyfriend who can't see his girlfriend near other guys.

He wasn't like that, right?

"You are imagining things. I'm perfectly fine," Spencer deadpanned, eyes returning to the TV.

Your mouth went slack. Were you imagining things? Was he thinking you were stupid?

"So I'm imagining things, uh? It's not you being defensive right now, isn't it?"

"No." He gave you a curt answer that meant precisely the opposite of what he was implying.

You wanted to give him a chance to open with you, but Spencer wasn't engaging.

It seemed easier to talk about what was happening to each other when you were only friends. Why is it so hard now you are a couple? You couldn't understand, and your patience was running short.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" you called him out in frustration. "Who do you think I am? A random person who hasn't known you for fucking six years?"

Spencer internally flinched. He saw the confusion and anger mixed in your eyes, and he felt the urge to hug you tight, telling you he was being an irrational jealous asshole. But Spencer didn't bring himself to do it, and instead, he tried to play cool and detached.

"I already told you. Everything is wonderful, at least for me. Not for you?" Spencer asked casually.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He looked calm and collected, but you could feel he was anything but.

"Okay. I'll bite the bullet. So the distance between us in the past weeks doesn't bother you as it bothers me," you concluded.

Spencer let out a bitter chuckle.

"Funny you're bothered by that. You have seemed very busy in the past weeks," Spencer mumbled.

A slip that didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Very busy?" you echoed his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spencer shrugged, unamused.

"Exactly what it is. You have been very busy at the BAU lately. I only have been giving you space."

You squinted your eyes, raking your brain to understand Spencer's meaning. For your mandatory desk duty, you have spent more time in the office than in the field, but besides that, what has been different?

And then it clicked on you. Jake Dodds.

Sure, you've been very willing to teach him things and help him with his work, but that only explains Spencer's annoyance if there is another reason.

"Is this about Dodds? Are you jealous of Jake?" you questioned in disbelief.

Spencer's face paled. You had caught him.

After your deduction, he should have told the truth, but Spencer is stubborn enough not to give in, especially if that meant recognizing something he felt embarrassed of.

"W- what?! No! Where did you get that? I'm not jealous or remotely close to that," Spencer rebutted defensively.

Oh, he was definitively jealous. At the realization, you let out a giggle, eyes softening at your boyfriend. For you, there is no guy he should be worried about- not for Jake or any other person. Your heart is his, and you know there is nobody in this world you want to be with more than Spencer.

But Spencer's face deflated. You were laughing at him, and he felt even worse.

"Spencer, there is no reason for you to be -"

You couldn't even finish your sentence when Spencer cut you off, standing from the couch.

"I already told you! Am I not speaking English to you?"

His face was red, but not by embarrassment anymore. Now, it was a kind of contained rage.

Stunned by his reaction, it took you a few seconds to say anything.

"I - I'm just trying to understand what's going on. Don't be rude," you chimed.

Spencer let out a humorless chuckle.

"Rude, did you say? Am I rude because I disagree with you? Is that? Or am I rude because this doesn't have to do with you?"

"Excuse me? When did this turn into a problem related to me?"

You stood to mirror his stature so as not to look vulnerable.

"I don't know, you tell me. Are you disappointed because not everything or anyone in this world is revolving around you?"

Spencer's voice was cold and sarcastic, something you had seen in him before but never directed toward you. He was outrightly saying you were self-centered.

"Spencer -" you tried to warn him to back off, but Spencer didn't stop.

"No. I get it. You like the attention. But, I'm sorry, I'm not in the mood to indulge your childish self. Maybe the young and funny Agent Dodds could help you with that. But not me."

A dead silence settled in the room. If a needle had fallen on the floor, it would have made a noticeable noise.

You couldn't believe that man was your boyfriend—the man who was telling you such hurtful words.

Spencer saw how your features morphed from confused to hurt and then to offense, and with a twist in his guts, he knew he had fucked up.

"Are you done?"

Your tone was flat and collected, even if, on the inside, there was a storm of feelings. Spencer was deflated and looking for the right words to apologize.

"Hey, look, I'm -"

"I asked if you were done." You questioned harshly this time, and Spencer only gave you a shy nod.

"Okay, now get out!"

Your command was only followed by your actions as you walked to your entrance to open the door.

With horror, Spencer tried to sputter words to change your mind.

"I'm sorry. I - I didn't - Please, don't do this."

"I said, get out! I don't want you here!"

You emphasized your words, gesturing to the open door.

"Baby, I wasn't - I didn't mean what-" Spencer tried again, but you had made up your mind and didn't want to hear him.

"I don't fucking care! You had your time to explain yourself, and I don't want to hear anything else from you."

Spencer knew that nothing he could say at that moment would help his cause, so like a dog with the tail between his legs, he slowly made the walk of shame towards your door, but not before looking at you and begging for forgiveness with his eyes. It was a useless thing because you didn't even look at him back. Once he was out of your sight, you slammed the door shut, and your facade crumbled.

Tears started to fall freely, in a combination of pain and frustration.

It's needless to say, you couldn't sleep that night.

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

Spencer looked distracted and visibly sad.

Morgan knew something had happened to him, even if the man had denied the fact for the past two days. And Morgan was sure it was something related to you. It looked like Spencer would combust from guilt whenever his eyes landed on you. Morgan's suspicion turned to be right the moment you caught Spencer's gaze, and you purposely averted it.

"Okay, pretty boy, what did you do?" Morgan questioned Spencer when he caught him pouring coffee in the kitchenette.

"What? Me? Nothing!" Spencer defended himself, but the crack in his voice did nothing to help his cause.

"So she's not talking to you just because?"

Spencer shrugged, leaving the pot over the counter.

Was he being so obvious? If Spencer wanted to maintain the facade that 'nothing is wrong here,' he was failing miserably.

Morgan scoffed, grabbing a mug to pour some coffee for himself.

"Come on, Reid. There must be something. Since yesterday morning, you look like a kicked puppy, and she seems visibly upset, and you're both always attached to the hip."

Dangerous territory, Spencer thought. But at this point, his regret was more powerful than keeping your relationship private.

"She is mad at me," the man recognized. It was a 'vague' recognition, but it was something.

Morgan seemed not surprised, though.

"No shit, Sherlock. The question is why, pretty boy," Derek prodded.

Spencer sighed deeply. How could he express what really happened without telling the whole truth?

Morgan saw the struggle in Spencer's eyes.

"I know you are both hurting by whatever happened. Maybe talking would help you clear your head and think about how to fix it."

Spencer took in Morgan's words. Some advice could help, he decided.

"We fought. I mean, we argued two nights ago, and she kicked me out. And now she is not talking to me, and I don't- I want to apologize, but I don't know how."

Spencer winced, just remembering your fight.

Derek looked at him incredulously.

"She kicked you out? What in the world did you do so she reacted like that?"

The actual question was 'what he said' because, strictly speaking, he didn't do anything besides let his mouth run on its own accord.

He regretted every word he said to you the second they left his mouth, but the damage was done, and you were fed up enough to listen to his apologies, so you yelled at him to let you alone. He didn't blame you. But he was feeling miserable, and it showed.

Spencer told Morgan exactly what happened—word by word.

"Jesus, Reid. I didn't peg you like the jealous type," Morgan acknowledged. Spencer shook his head.

"It's not like that. I mean, I know she loves me..."

"But?"

Spencer sighed. "What if - what if she realizes there are better men than me? That I am not enough for a romantic relationship?"

Morgan's eyebrows knit together. Spencer's face was pure panic, only thinking about the possibility.

"And Dodds would be better than you? You know he's like a kid, right?" Morgan pointed.

"Yeah. A young man with a lot of confidence that makes her smile and has her undivided attention. He's smart and qualified for this job like any of us. I'm not better than him. And I can perfectly be disposable in comparison."

That was the thing. Spencer felt insecure about you finding someone better than him.

Morgan looked at him empathetically.

"Man, I think you are looking too much into it. I don't think you should feel threatened in your relationship with her. And I guess she thinks the same and feels hurt for you thinking that."

Spencer nodded. "That's why I know I fucked up. I hurt her for my insecurities. It's all my fault," he lamented.

"You need to talk to her," Morgan advised, and Spencer whined.

"How? She hasn't spared me a glance in two days!"

"You're a genius, Spencer. And above all, how long have you known her? Five years? Think of something."

"Five years, eleven months, three weeks, and four days," Spencer corrected without hesitation.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You'll figure it out."

Spencer sighed deeply as Morgan patted his shoulder before leaving the kitchenette. Derek was right; they should talk. Spencer just had to figure out how to make that happen.

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

That night you were sulking at your apartment, laying on the couch and watching some crap on the TV, when three knocks alerted you.

You weren't expecting anyone, and you didn't think Spencer could be outside your door. You were clear in telling him you didn't want to talk to him when he cornered you in the breaking room this afternoon.

But if you knew something about Spencer Reid, it was that he could be stubborn as fuck. So when you looked by the peephole and saw him standing there, you only closed your eyes and sighed.

Spencer knocked again. "I know you are there. And I know you don't want to talk to me. But please, let me do the talk. Please, at least listen to the things I need to say."

"You already said enough," you spat from your spot on the other side of the door. Spencer gulped hard. He said enough hurtful things to you to kick his ass, but he was determined to gain your forgiveness somehow.

"I can't stress enough how sorry I am for that. But I need you to know that I didn't mean any of it." Spencer paused, and when he didn't hear you say anything, he continued. "I'm an asshole, and I would understand if you want to break up and never see me again. I mean, well - it - it would be kind of difficult not to see each other because we work together, but you know what I mean. Or maybe not, I don't know. Jesus, what the fuck am I saying?" Spencer chastised himself, trying to control his nerves.

You could hear him struggling, so you decided to spare him a panic attack in the middle of the hallway. You opened your door and saw him still trying to sputter what he wanted to say.

"If this is your way to apologize, you are doing a terrible job." Your voice was not angry but tired. Because if he had had two tortuous days of you not talking to him, you haven't done it any better, overthinking about your fight over and over again.

Spencer's glassy, pleading eyes found yours.

"I know. It seems it's another thing I suck at," he admitted fidgeting with his hands. "Would you, uh. Would you let me try again? Apologize. That is."

It's true you were still mad with him, but you really wanted to understand why he reacted the way he did that night and said all the things he said. You know him too well to ignore that something else beyond mere jealousy clearly triggered his outburst.

Without saying a word, you gestured for him to get into the apartment. Spencer was quick to comply before you changed your mind.

You both took seats on opposite sides of the couch, eyes overly interested in your living room rug. After some minutes of silence and knowing he needed to say something, Spencer cleared his throat.

"I guess I'm going to start with the beginning," he prefaced, keeping his hands in his lap as you turned to contemplate him in silence. "Uh - you know it took me time to come clean with my feelings for you. A lot of time, almost six years," he chuckled nervously. You nodded, not wanting to interrupt him, fearing to get him more anxious.

"The thing is- I have been in love with you for so long and creating scenarios of us in my mind that - that now I know it is real, I don't - It's still difficult to grasp the idea we are together, you know?"

As Spencer raked his hair, collecting his thoughts, you couldn't help but remember all the things you both went through until you decided to tell the truth to each other. Six years is a long time. But you wanted to believe it has been worth it.

"I'm not used to a life where I get to be happy; when I think I am, things crush down, and I lose everything. It's a rule: good things don't last in my life."

You know how difficult it has been for Spencer to accept that he is not cursed or anything like that—a very difficult task, knowing the things he has been through.

"So my mind began to be haunted by the idea that it was a matter of time before you realized you could do better than me, and I'm only worth it as a friend."

His words made you recall the times you both discussed your love life in the past and all the doubts weighing on Spencer's shoulders. After those conversations, you always swore to make him feel loved and appreciated.

"And then you came back to work, and Dodds was there. I created this whole scenario, telling myself that you would be better with someone like him."

Spencer paused to gauge your reaction. You were openly listening to him, taking in every word.

"I know it's unfair to you. I - I betrayed your trust by mulling those ideas and saying all those hurtful things I truly don't believe. I'm so sorry; I don't have a defense other than my incompetence in dealing with my insecurities," Spencer concluded, letting a deep sigh escape from his lips and averting your gaze. He looked embarrassed and vulnerable, and it hurts you to acknowledge how small he feels about himself. You reached your hand tentatively, touching his forearm, and Spencer's eyes drifted back to you.

"Spencer, you have to know there is no one in this world who I love so deeply as I love you. No man could compare to you. No matter how young or confident or whatever difference you can name. You are the most thorough, caring, and selfless person I know, and I love you so fucking much it hurts," you gave his arm a gentle squeeze to emphasize your point. Spencer's cheeks flushed a bit. He still needs to get used to your compliments.

"What I still don't get is why you didn't tell me. Don't you trust me enough to talk to me about how you feel?"

Spencer hastened to reply, taking your hand in his. "No! It's not that! I do trust you with my life!"

"Then why didn't you tell me the truth at the beginning?"

"I - I don't know. I thought you would see me as the shitty boyfriend who can't see his partner near another man. It's as if I wanted to control you. And that's far from what I want," Spencer explained, scooting by your side as his grip on your hand tightened. "It was my problem, not yours. You did nothing to make this happen. I'm the one who must have to fix it." You shook your head.

"Baby, no. If it is something that upsets you, it is my problem, too. Spencer, we need to talk about those things and resolve them together."

Spencer's head hung low, taking in your words.

"But why? I am the insecure one, and you have done nothing more than show me how unfounded my fear is."

"Well, because you're still my best friend, and I care about you." Spencer's gaze met yours again. "It's the thing I first loved about us, you know? I love feeling safe with you and having the trust to talk about what is happening to us." With loving eyes, you brought his hand to your lips to kiss it.

"I want you to keep being my best friend, too," Spencer said with a hopeful smile. It was all you needed to hear.

"Then please don't forget that. You can always talk to me, and I promise to do the same, okay?" Spencer nodded at your words, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Okay. I promise," Spencer replied before wrapping you in a tight embrace. You melted in his arms, feeling his warmth and inhaling his scent, something you have been missing in the past two days.

"I love you," you mumbled into his chest. "So so much."

"I love you too. And I'm so sorry for my behavior two days ago," Spencer muttered in your hair.

You chuckled, slightly parting to look at him.

"Yeah, we have to work on taming that green monster, doctor. Otherwise, Hotch won't be able to bring anyone new to the team," you pointed, leaning to kiss his lips. Spencer smiled into the kiss.

"That means you forgive me?" he asked hopefully. You narrowed your eyes.

"Yes. But you still have to make it up to me," you teased, faking seriousness.

Spencer nodded eagerly nonetheless. "Whatever it takes."

"You could start making something to eat. I'm starving here after two days with a hole in my stomach," you rubbed your belly for emphasis.

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer smiled, standing and strolling quickly to the kitchen. He felt so relieved after coming clean with you that he swore not to make the same mistake again. That green monster fed by his insecurities dissipating as he thought how lucky he was to love and have you in his life.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[saintobio]

the art of loving, feat. l&ds rafayel.

pairings. rafayel, fem!reader genre. fluff, smut, established relationship, 18+ tags. artist x muse, hints of abandonment issues, clingy bf!rafayel, allusions to nude paintings, fellatio, cum eating, protected sex, praise kink notes. my third l&ds boy :’) there’s a full blown sylus oneshot coming but for now, i have to write abt our cute fish! i’ll continue the jjk wips on the weekend bcos my l&ds hyperfixation is currently taking over 🤧

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who makes you the muse of his paintings. he loves how he can adore your face while turning his blank canvas into something as colorful as you. it all started when he used to sketch you when you’re not looking. and it’s a habit that he, time and time again, still does. whether you’re reading, sleeping, or simply lost in thought, he finds these moments precious and captures them in his sketchbook. he actually has a dedicated corner of you on his mo art studio, where it’s filled with paintings and sketches of his beautiful girlfriend.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who loves to paint with you. he’ll set up a canvas next to his and guide your hands, laughing together as you create something… unique. look, he’s not making fun of your painting. in fact, he’d say you’re actually very talented. “it’s not bad at all,” he’d claim, “it’s an exquisite art… if i close my eyes.” how mean! but honestly, if you were to sell your artwork, he would still be the first person to buy it.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who gets playful with paint. while you’re on the subject of ‘painting together’, you know how cheeky rafayel is, and when he dabs a bit of paint on your nose or cheeks, the light-hearted paint fight ends in messy, colorful kisses. one time, he even left a purple handprint on your bum, and giggles each time he sees it from behind.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who gets clingy when you’re busy. he’ll sulk if he feels you’re not paying enough attention to him, often wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling into your neck to remind you he’s there. he can very grumpy, too. like a spoiled brat who he didn’t get what he wants. it’s just that he dislikes the feeling of being ignored and abandoned, so the last thing you knew not to do is make him wait too long on your dates or make him feel like your mind is occupied by anything else other than him. because he’d go as far as pretending to be in a helpless situation just so you’d drop everything and run off to him. how silly!

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who surprises you with personalized art gifts. from small sketches slipped into your bag to full portraits given on special occasions. it’s his way of expressing his love, because he’s very grateful of how supportive you are when he has art exhibits. your presence calms his nerves, and he always looks for you in the crowd to find strength in your encouraging smiles.

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who likes to cuddle while discussing his latest ideas. he enjoys your input and loves bouncing ideas off you. his hands like to roam around your body as he keeps you in bed all day, whispering sweet nothings into you ear and making the atmosphere warm and intimate. “i can’t help it!”was his usual excuse whenever you’d call him out for being too touchy. “sometimes, my inspirations come in the form of physical intimacy, you know!”

࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who can’t resist kissing you passionately when he’s inspired. he sketches you in intimate moments, letting you lie beautifully naked in bed and with only a blanket to cover the lower half of your body, like a vulnerable mermaid looking to be held by her prince. he’ll pull you close, hands covered in paint, leaving colorful fingerprints and delicate patterns on your skin as his lips capture yours in a heated kiss. he would peel the blanket off you slowly, taking his sweet time as if memorizing every dip and curve to later recreate in his art. his touch is both tender and electrifying. and his expressions, both raw and passionate as he eyes every inch of your body.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who whispers his deepest desires in your ear. his voice becomes husky with emotions, telling you exactly what he wants, and leaving you blushing and eager to feed him the attention he seeks. he’s very needy, indeed. but most especially in bed. he’d often grab your hand, allowing you to brush it against his toned chest and down to his… aching member. it’s begging to be released, you both know it. and so when he guides your head closer to his crotch, you already know what ‘job’ you had to do for him.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who whines a lot while you’re pleasing him, but in a cute way. he’s just very vocal about it. he’s incapable of keeping his little moans whenever he feels your tongue rolling around his tip, your lips leaving open-mouthed kisses along the sides of his length. it’s like suction when you fully take him into your mouth, the image of your head bobbing to suck his cock is extremely vivid in his head. “mhm~ don’t stop.” rafayel loses his mind over it. “my darling, lover girl. you’re so pretty, my baby.” and when you’d allow him to cum inside your mouth, he’s a weak man watching you swallow every single drop.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who respects your boundaries and doesn’t push you to try things in bed that you’re not comfortable with. when you told him he can’t do you raw, he willingly obliged. so, lo and behold the huge box of condoms on his nightstand. he believes in practicing safe sex because you both aren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet. but that doesn’t lessen the frequency of your activities in bed. in fact, his beloved box of rubbers would easily run out after 2-3 weeks.

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who likes to be praised when doing the deed with you. it’s just innate in him. you have to let him know if he’s doing good, have to let him hear how great he feels inside of you, how pretty he looks when you gaze down on him, and how amazing his hands are in finding your most sensitive places. “raf, you’re the best at this,” you’d moan into his mouth, the sound of skin-slapping echoing across his studio as you feel him racing through his climax, “s-so good, ngh~” he’s one to smile at your little whimpers. “yeah, you like where i’m hitting it, baby?” “haa—i do!” “thought so.”

⁺⋆𖧷 artist!rafayel who wants to be displayed all over your social media accounts. it’s as straightforward as he is—he wants his face to take over your account. he wants to know that you’re proud of him and that you’re showing off your handsome boyfriend whenever you can. he also wants you to interact with his posts, leave comments, and hit the heart button. every. single. time. he gets easily sulky if sees you ignoring his cute posts about you. that’s just how he is, and it doesn’t frustrate you one bit, because he just loves being the center of your world in exchange for treating you the center of his. that was the art of loving rafayel.

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[3amfanfiction]

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

[songmingisthighs]

My, My, Mine

group : ateez

pairing : jealous, dom!san × reader

genre : smut, pwp, requested

wc : 3.6 k

warning : mdni, possessive!san, mentions of patriarchal upbringing, san trying to exert his dominance in the relationship, san calling mc basically slutty or a hoe but not in those words, drunken sex (so maybe kinda dubcon-ish ??? is it ??), explicit sex (bondage, denied orgasm, sadism ?? idk man, san being a meanie, mc being whiny despite g0rl power, slight dacryphilia ?? big man likes whiny crybabies, multiple orgasm, degradation, filming while having sex (you've been warned), creampie, and more idk i can't list all of them but if you think i should list more as like warning, please lmk !)

a/n : idt i've written any san smut (other than the debauchery that was ignominy) so I'm excited for this request ! i had this in my wip for quite a while and I'm FINALLY finishing it !!!

a/a/n : sorry this took a while, I had to get in the right mood for this lmaooooo hope you enjoy it !

a/a/a/n : ALSO HAPPY SANI DAY !!!

buy me coffee ?

It hadn't been that long since you and San started dating and it was quite the adjustment.

On one hand, you loved him dearly, he and all of his adorable quirks. But San, as he was raised quite conservatively by a strong, patriarchal figure, had managed to show some of the traits. Sure, you could get used to having things paid for you despite it making you feel like a burden, but having to argue with San in public when he insisted that he should be the one carrying all of your things or even waiting for you at your office's lobby when he's available so he'd be able to accompany you home was not something you like. So you both adjusted. Or tried to.

You didn't realize the extent of his views until you went to a girls' night.

During the whole time, San kept texting you about your whereabouts, reminding you not to drink too much. You'd answer once or twice but for every answer you gave, he sent five more texts and it was getting rather annoying. You realized he meant well but the way he was doing it was making it seem like he thought you were an incapable idiot who was going to need him, your knight in shining armour, to rescue you from the bad bad men of this world. You had gone through life just fine without him before and you were not some dumbass.

The realization that the alcohol in your system was stirring your emotions should have been enough to get you to sober up especially knowing that San was staying over to take care of you (a compromise you begrudgingly accepted). But your friends were egging you on and you knew that you didn't want to face San without some liquid courage. It was high time you took him down a peg. Or peg him down. Whichever comes first.

"Honey, I'm home," you slurred, giggling when you got through your front door and started taking off your shoes.

There were shuffles and soon San's voice rang through your ears. "Baby! I missed you! Where-" the words died in San's mouth when he saw the state you were in, or more specifically, the clothes you were wearing. "What the hell?" he asked, standing at a distance looking at you with disbelief in his eyes that you couldn't notice because you were too intoxicated to be aware of your surroundings. "Sannie," You giggled, stumbling to your boyfriend after you shrugged off your coat to the floor to ask for a hug. San still accepted your hug but he was oddly quiet, his eyes hard, and his fists were balled around your waist.

"I'm home now, Sannie!" you were still giggling as you started peppering San's face with kisses. It was then that San smelled the heavy alcohol in your breath which made him cringe and push you back slightly, "What in God's name have you been doing?" Then his eyes travelled down to your clothes, "And what is with this outfit?"

You immediately recognized the tone that he was using on you and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, "I told you I was going to a girls' night at the club and obviously this outfit is amazing because the bartender gave me 2 free shots!" you excitedly said. San reeled back and crossed his arms on his chest, "You mean to tell me you flirted for free drinks?" it took you a moment to answer but you shook your head, "Didn't have to flirt, he saw me in this outfit and he just showed his appreciation. It was no big deal," you shrugged and you tried pushing past him but he easily stopped you by blocking your path. "(y/n), I have to tell you I'm not comfortable with this. It kind of seems like you were selling your dignity so cheaply. As your boyfriend-" "Whoah, go back to you accusing me of being a hoe," you cut him off. San's eyebrows furrowed and he immediately defended himself, "I didn't call you a hoe, I'm just stating that I am not okay with my girlfriend wearing something so short, skimpy, and revealing just so she wouldn't have to pay for her drinks!" he stated.

Truthfully, San didn't have much problem with how you dress. He actually thought that you looked absolutely hot. Hell, he bought you the damn dress when he thought that you were going to wear it when you go out with him. He trusted you completely but what he couldn't trust were the rest 99% of the population who might do something bad to you when you're intoxicated in clothes that for lack of a better word, provided a lot of access. Something bad like what he wanted to do to you when he first saw that dress which was to rip your panties in two, fuck you in the dressing room, stuff you full of cum, and make you keep them safe until you both went home so he can eat the cum out of you.

Had you been sober, you could've agreed with the part about your dress being short, skimpy, and revealing because you had spent the better part of the night trying to not bend down and making sure that when you were dancing, you were shielded by your girlfriends. But the implication still didn't sit right with you and the fact that San was using the boyfriend card ticked you off.

"You're my boyfriend San, not my owner or my master. I'm still my own person and had I flashed a tit or two to get free shit, I should be able to! I get to decide what I get and what I don't get," you huffed and tried pushing past him.

Your steps halted when San shot his hand out and placed it on your chest, his fingers rigid on your collarbones and when you looked into his eyes, there was a glint of darkness and lust that made you shudder.

"Is that how it is, little Miss Independent? You really think you're in charge of whatever you get, big girl?" he smirked, voice lowering down and it was then did you realize, even through your drunken haze, that you were fucked. Or going to be. Hard.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All hopes of your friend borrowing your dress were shattered and you had to break the news to her because right now, that dress was being used to tie your hands together behind your back while San had you on top of him, connecting his face with your pussy as he did his best to draw your third orgasm.

"Aww look at you," San chuckled darkly against your pussy, "Big girl can't handle two orgasms in a row?" The spank he delivered on your ass made your knees slip and allowed your whole weight to fall on San who happily accepted being suffocated by your sweet cunt. "S-San," you whimpered, trying to relieve the overstimulation by lifting your hips only to receive a guttural growl from below as his strong arms snaked around your thighs to ensure that you wouldn't be able to escape him. "San, please stop, it's too much" you whimpered while still trying to get out of his grip. Your senses had returned after the first orgasm when San managed to flush the alcohol out of you somehow only for it to be thrown back into a haze when he was working on your second.

Tired of your whining, San flipped you both over and allowed you a moment to breathe. Although it was hard what with the way your cunt was still throbbing and your heart still beating wildly in your chest. Despite his annoyance, San found your sprawled figure to be very delectable what with your flushed and warm skin, rising chest, and pussy glistening with sweat, spit, and arousal, making it seem like it was inviting him in again.

San grabbed your legs and pried them open, allowing him to glare at your pulsing entrance with eyes clouded in desire. "I thought big, independent girls wouldn't have to whine and beg like needy little bitches? Where's the confidence you used to get free drinks from cheap losers?" you somehow managed to lift your head to look at San who had his eyes now locked on yours as he leaned down close to your aching core, "Where's the confidence you used to allow people to think you're not spoken for?" Your back was arched and your jaw unhinged when San licked a fat, long stripe from your peritoneum up to your clit at an agonizingly slow speed. It was as if he wanted you to feel every single bit of movement he made that effectively drove your mind into overdrive. You felt your legs start to shake when he plunged three fingers into your leaking hole after spitting on your cunt, hitting your sensitive clit that he used as a bullseye.

The smug look on his face as he watch you writhe from overstimulation shouldn't turn you on so much but the way you physically reacted betrayed you completely as it chased for more of San, whatever he was willing to give you.

"You're a jerk," you whimpered through teary eyes. Though your voice was getting hoarse from the night out which was followed by him overstimulating you to high heavens, San could hear you loud and clear. "I thought you like getting attention?" San scoffed, pausing to him slapping you harshly on your cunt which caused your body to jolt at the impact, "That's why you were dressed like that, right? I'm just being a supportive boyfriend and helping you practice." The insinuation pissed you off and despite your struggling, you tried to get yourself up and away from him (and failing rather miserably), "I dressed like that for myself you possessive jerk," "Oh, so the lack of panties was what, for health?" When you couldn't answer him, he knew he got you dead on and being proud of himself, he smirked and pulled himself off of you and the bed. The sudden void he left caused you to almost whine out loud, brain forgetting that you were somewhat mad at him.

San came back to the bed completely naked and holding your phone. Immediately, he positioned you flat on your back and his thick thighs pushed onto your own firmly so you were basically folded. Your breath hitched when you felt his cock resting against your sensitive cunt a bit too casually. The skin-on-skin contact allowed you to feel how hot it felt and the way it pleasured you when it rubbed against you every time San made even the slightest movement. "You can say whatever you want and I'll do whatever I want. Seems fair, doesn't it?" Your heart beat quicker and harder in your chest simply from the way he hinted at his plan. "What are you going to do?" You asked, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. San only raised a cocky eyebrow, not even bothering to answer you properly and just simply tapping away on your phone. You had even considered that he might have contacted one of your friends or worse, call them before he fucked you.

But San didn't give you enough time to overthink because, in a moment's time, San flipped your phone sideways, pressed a button, and started pushing inside you. Your eyes watered again from the stretch and even though you were well-lubricated thanks to San's torture on your cunt earlier and also his spit, his size didn't make things easier for you. His cock glided smoothly but your muscles tensed up from the sudden intrusion, slowing his pace a bit and restricting him from being too rough. "Look at Miss Independence breaking down over her boyfriend's cock like a common whore," he chuckled darkly, relishing in the way you whimpered his name and your body arching in pleasure at the feeling of him, "Come on baby, show the camera how you're in charge of everything you get or don't get," he mocked. You were sure that your tears were not just from being overstimulated but also from the humiliation. You were a proud woman who could confidently say that you have never let a man use you even if he tried. But there you were on your back, hands tied, and mind fuzzy, hyper-aware of the way your body just submitted to San's every whim, betraying your better judgment that was still screaming for you to push him off and make him get a taste of his own medicine. But of course, your body was as stubborn as your mind as it refused to go against San.

"San, put away the camera," you whined, turning away from the camera only to have San grab your cheeks in one free hand and force you to look back at him. "Why should I? If you want me to stop, then do it yourself. Take the camera away from me," he smirked as he adjusted his knees so he could start rolling his hips into yours, creating a steady rhythm.

From the screen, he could see the way you glared at him as his words, knowing full well that although he had challenged you to do something you could absolutely not do anything due to the fact that your hands were bound behind your back. Had it been any other circumstance, San would tell you how turned on he was with you at that moment. The way tears made your eyes seem like they were glittering, the way your cheeks were puffed and flushed from frustration, and the way your body was opened up for him to use. The fire between you two was one of the things that San loved.

"Come on, (y/n), show the camera what you can do," he egged, thrusting harshly into you which elicited a high-pitched squeal from your lips. "Fuck you," you whimpered but you did as he told as you began fucking yourself back and instead of matching his pace, you fucked yourself on his cock quicker, convincing yourself that it was, in a way, you taking charge over him. Though, the satisfied look on San's face, paired with the way he licked his bottom lip as he pointed the camera to where you two were connected, proved you otherwise. "I can get fucked if I want to, I control what I get," you stated albeit slightly unconvincingly as your quivering bottom lip served as a dead giveaway. "Of course you do," San cooed mockingly before his free hand dropped to between your legs to spread your pussy lips apart, allowing the camera to capture the way your cunt was swallowing him so greedily.

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he saw your cunt pulsing and his head was running wild with filthy ideas. "Baby, I wanna breed you so bad so people would know who you belong to," Your breath hitched when his handsome face contorted into a chesire-like grin and your so-called control was stolen as quickly as you got it. "You're not gonna do shit to me San, I mean it," at this point, your defiance was more like a facade because you wanted what he was offering but your pride wanted to twist it around. San moved his hips quickly, greedily taking all of the pleasure he could get out of you. "Fuck, my big girl is gonna get creamed," he chuckled darkly, fucking you as he tried to keep the camera still to capture everything, particularly the way your cunt leaked so much arousal that his own crotch was wet with the transferred slick.

Your body was being used so well that your limbs (the free ones at least, which were your legs) were flailing about slightly. "Stupid little baby wants to have control when she can't even control her legs, she's fucked so stupid," he teased as you whined in protest, wanting to prove him wrong. So despite the weakness in your legs from the ministrations, you shifted your body around so that you were on your side and your legs were crossed over the other. The new position trapped San's cock inside you and the sensation of his cock being trapped halted his movements mid-way and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as a guttural groan echoed in your ears. You took his response as a mini triumph. "Fuck, you got tighter," he shuddered, body shaking as he took a shaky breath, "Were you trying to snap my dick off?" You feigned innocence as you began rocking your hips again, "Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe if I snap your dick off it'll become mine," you smirked. "You conniving slut."

No longer caring about the camera, San tossed your phone to the side and started pounding into you in a pace that was animalistic. "F-fuck- Aah! San!" you squealed when he planted his left foot firmly on the bed and pounded harder as if he was trying to destroy your insides.

"Say you won't go out dressed like that again," he demanded, face planted on your chest as his abuse of your cunt continued. He began nipping, kissing, biting, and licking all over the skin of your breast and it almost succeeded in clouding your mind into absolute submission due to pleasure. But you managed to firmly shook your head, "I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, I'll do whatever I want!" you answered between harsh pants and heavy breathing.

You heard San click his tongue before he ripped himself off of you in a flash, leaving you on the edge of orgasm and cold. "What the fuck!?" you whined, instinctively trying to get up to chase after San but your bound hands prevented you from moving easily.

San tilted his head and mockingly pouted, "If you can do whatever you want then so can I, baby." Your eyes zeroed in on his hand that jacked his hard, leaking cock and you knew well enough that it wouldn't take him much to cum at that point. Despite his treatment towards you, you wanted his cum, you wanted his cum inside you. "San, you get back here and fuck me!" you scream-whined, desperate to find release.

Hearing your demand, San went back onto the bed and got closer to you. For a moment, you thought San was going back to fucking you but he simply slapped his cock on your face, taunting you. "You want me to fuck you now? I thought you were in charge of yourself," he smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock on your skin, leaving a trail of precum mixed with what was left of your arousal. You held yourself back from using your mouth to chase his cock but your sexual frustration was at its peak and it was at that moment that your resolve broke and you whined. "Sannie, please fuck me, make me cum and then breed me so other guys won't even get close to me, please, please."

That seemed to satisfy San because his next move was to finally release your hands from the hold of the makeshift handcuffs and flip you over so you were on top of him. The pooling slick allowed him to slip inside you rather easily and once he was buried inside, you let out a gasp. "Ride me," San demanded, eyes fixated on you and hands on your hips firmly. San's words barely concluded before you started fucking yourself on his cock, letting out all the frustration both sexual and emotional from the whole bullshit. You anchored yourself on San's broad chest and used him to chase your own release.

"Yeah baby, do it, fuck yourself on me. Use my cock like the big girl that you are," San goaded, smirking and panting from the feeling of your cunt hugging his cock so tightly. "T-told you I'm i-in charge," you panted, throwing your head back as the pleasure ran through your body like electric shocks, making you tingly all over. "Sure you are, baby," San groaned when he felt his release coming.

With one swift swivel of your hips, your body tensed, legs clamped and your orgasm broke like a wave crashing. "Fuck!" you squealed, a couple of tears fell down your face as your body fell backwards without detaching your core from San. Seeing you in your own state of ecstasy, San sat up and shuffled around so he could have his chance chasing his high with you. You were in such a state of blissful release and satisfaction that when San started to overstimulate you once again with his cock, all you could do was groan and turn, trying to get away from him half-heartedly. "I'm cumming inside you, okay? I'm gonna paint you with my seed," San panted into your ear as his lips nipped at the skin, causing the area to tingle and you to whimper as you nodded weakly.

It didn't take long for San to cum inside you, fulfilling his previous promise. He let out a low, breathy moan that got your cunt clenching as he rode his release, making sure that his cum was not wasted and was kept inside you.

Neither of you spoke as you tried catching your breaths, still trying to cool down from the rigorous activity and for you specifically, your mind too far gone to recover so quickly. San momentarily peeked at the edge of the bed, particularly at your ruined dress and couldn't help but smirk, thinking that at least he had one problem done.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread

[daisyvisions]

Do I Wanna Know? | Octoberfest Day 2

➺ Pairing - best friend!Juyeon x fem! reader

➺ Drink - Old Fashioned with a hint of absinthe (aka best friend!au x high / drunk sex)

➺ Summary - They say you should always chase your dreams...But what if your dream is a person?

➺ Word Count - 0.9K

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), wet dreams, unprotected sex, dub con (don't read if triggering), foreplay, fingering, dry humping, messy makeouts, begging, wet dreams, marking, creampie, hair pulling, biting (?), a very in love Juyeon if you look closer , idiots-to-lovers eventually

➺ Author’s note - a shorter fic for today but I had this idea in my wips for a long time, felt like it was the right time to use it haha thinking of making a part 2 for this but do let me know if you’re interested in that! Title inspired by the Arctic Monkeys song of course. Proofread once, hope you enjoy!

➺ Taglist - @deoboyznet @snowflakewhispers @midnightfantasiez

@momhwa-agenda @nyu-topia @jaminthemiddle

➺ OctoberFest Masterlist

It almost seemed too real for Juyeon.

The way you whined under his touch. How his lips kissed the soft skin of your neck, one hand holding your neck while the other rested on your hip, enveloping you in a warm embrace as he cuddled you in his bed from behind. Holding onto you as if you'd slip away from him at any given moment.

He always had dreams like this. Dreams where he had you to himself. Dreams where he crossed the boundary of your friendship. Dreams where he could finally call you his. Dreams where you felt the same as he did.

Oh, how he hated waking up from these kinds of dreams, because he would have to face the reality that you were not his.

It's not that Juyeon hated being your best friend. He would rather choose your friendship over anything, even if it meant squashing down whatever romantic feelings he had for you. Even if it meant one day you two could no longer hang out the way you would because someone else had your attention.

Until then, he would cherish every moment he had with you, relish in dreams where he was the center of your attention for once. To touch you as only a lover should, just like he's currently doing in this very hazy but vivid dream.

"I want you," he mumbles in your ear, "I want you all to myself."

"Then have me. I've always been yours…" you whine out.

Something stirred within Juyeon as you said those words, making him tighten his grip on you as he started to leave love bites on your neck and shoulder. His hands snaked beneath your denim shorts, his palm cupping your sex as you moaned sweetly for him.

Juyeon's fingers start to dip between your folds, teasing your sensitive bud as you squirm against him. You couldn't help but desperately gasp his name, begging for him to undress you and tear you apart. And so he did, aggressively pulling down your shorts and pulling your panties to the side.

You could feel his clothed erection pressed up against your wet entrance as he slowly ruts into you, one hand cupping your mound as the other lifts your leg for better access.

Juyeon's breath falters as he feels your slick slowly dampening his clothes. He lets out a growl against your ear, swiftly removing his own pants as his desire for you grows stronger. He desperately needed to feel your skin against his, even your wetness was starting to feel too real for him to comprehend. He tugs his length briefly before aligning himself to your entrance, his tip eagerly nudging as he waits for your command.

"Tell me you want it." Juyeon gently holds your jaw with his other hand, wanting to look into your eyes as you beg for him to cross the line.

"Please, I want it. I want it so bad," you whine. Juyeon leans forward, his lips just a whisper away from touching yours as his eyes look down to your lips.

"If I give it to you, there's no turning back," he says with a deep and slow voice, subtly warning you of the consequences of your actions.

"I don't care," you breathe out, your eyes filled with desire. "I want you, Juyeon. I've always wanted you."

Without hesitation, Juyeon captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his hips slowly pushing forward as he enters you. You both moan into the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensation of finally becoming one.

Your hand instantly grabs his hair behind you as he starts to thrust his entire length inside you. Juyeon groans as you tug onto his hair, slowly increasing his pace while he holds your leg up. You two don't stop kissing as he continues to fuck himself between your velvety walls. Lips slotting between one another perfectly, tongues intertwining with one another, moaning into each other's mouths.

Everything about this dream was perfect to Juyeon, almost too perfect in fact. From all the wet dreams he's had, this one by far had to be the most vivid. Your touch, your sounds, even the smell of the shampoo you used, it almost seemed like—

"Fuck, I'm so close—" Juyeon slurs his words. "Come with me, please come with me," he begs.

"Juyeon, I— ugh!" Your walls suddenly squeeze his cock as you tighten your grip on his hair, tugging it as you fall over the edge. Juyeon comes right after you, his warmth instantly blooming inside you as he stills. He tries to catch his breath for a moment, trying to grasp why everything felt too real for him…

"Juyeon!"

He feels his body being shaken as your panicked voice causes his eyes to flutter open. His vision slowly adjusting as he feels his bed dip, your figure moving frantically as you pull away from him. Once Juyeon's vision starts to become clear, he sees your widened eyes looking back at him, as if you've seen a ghost.

"What's going on?" his groggy voice asks you, but you don't move a muscle as you're frozen in place.

Something wet flutters around his cock, making Juyeon hiss at the feeling. The moment he looks down to check, the realization hits him like a tidal wave… it wasn't a dream after all.

"Oh fuck…"

[juniefruit]

☆ Caught in a Web ☆

☆ Spiderman! Jisung x fem! reader 18+

☆ Summary: Peter Jisung Han lived a double life. One, as your best friend since first grade. Second, as New York's one-and-only Spider-Man. For the past few years, his life has been... well, complicated. It only gets more complicated when you see something you weren't supposed to which, surprisingly, had some pleasurable consequences.

☆ Warnings: Kind of silly, monster encounter, friends to lovers, mutual pining, ji and reader are in college, piv, making out, fast progression, for mature audiences ONLY. MDNI.

☆ Word Count: 3.3k

☆ Notes: this has been a wip for soo long I thought about scrapping it. Posting it now to just finally get it out of my drafts. Couldn't decide on whether to keep the smut or not. But hey it's here so: smut readers, enjoy!

Police sirens.

Cars honking. Incessantly. 

Subway cars screeching to a halt under your feet.

Skyscrapers towering above the crown of your head. 

That was New York. Your humble city, the one that never sleeps. You know who also doesn’t sleep? Jisung. Your best friend you met your first year of Uni. Attached at the hip, you could probably complete each other’s sentences– if the other would ever stop talking. 

University was its own battle, but having Jisung around made things that much easier. He lived in the apartment complex across the street, and sometimes you’d see the lights on in his window way past reasonable hours. But his skin was flawless nonetheless- not a dark circle in sight, not even on bad days. You could go on and on about him, his perfect hair, warm eyes, bubbly laugh. You would gush about him to your best friend- but you can’t, because he is that friend. So, you’re stuck screaming into your pillow from his astronomical charms. 

The news anchor’s voice cuts through the air, the TV against your wall flashing with another breaking news headline. When your eyes scan the title, you grin. Spider-man saves dozens in East Manhattan, it reads. With a sparkle in your eyes, you phone Jisung. He never picks up anyway. But you couldn’t stay mad at him, no– not when he flashes you a lopsided smile and promises to buy you dinner as an apology. 

7:53p.m:

You: Yo r u seeing this?? Spiderman’s on the east side!!

Missed Call

Missed Call

Missed Call

You wouldn’t call yourself a Spiderman fanatic– you just give credit where credit’s due. Try telling that to Jisung– In reality, you were enthralled with the masked man. He was just so cool and personable. He swung so gracefully through the city, catching everything from petty criminals to monsters even your nightmares couldn’t conjure up. You could see the outline of all his hard work under that skin-tight exo-suit, too. He handled news reporters like a champ- always knew what to say and how to leave you breathless. Until he swung off into a dark alley, until the next time his presence was needed. 

You had given up on calling Jisung, knowing he was probably gaming or sleeping and couldn’t reach his phone. It was only until the news had moved on to the next headline that you felt the buzz of your phone, which you threw onto the other side of your bed in annoyance. Of course you picked up.

“Hey, y/n! Wanna tell me all about it?” Jisung spoke, almost too enthusiastic for how out of breath he was.

“Uh, yeah! Did you see that spin kick he did? It was mid-air too! And he totally demolished that one—” Jisung zoned you out, back against the brick wall, hand gripping his mask. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple as he caught his breath, silently. “Where even are you?” Your voice raised in annoyance. “And out of breath too?” Jisung looses a breathy laugh. 

“Just went out on a run, cutie. Don’t you worry, I’ll be back soon.” 

You don’t sound too convinced. “Okay… Just don’t get mugged.”

“I’ll try. Still on for lunch tomorrow?” Your heart skips a beat for no particular reason. You agreed and said your goodbyes, but you didn’t sleep until you saw the lights turn on in Jisung’s apartment. The next morning, the crisp air had a slight chill to it, indicating the beginning of fall. Maybe you were imagining it, but everything had that autumn vibe to it. The streets weren’t overly crowded yet, as you waited in line at the coffee shop on the corner. Class was starting in a few minutes. 

“y/n, wait up!” You recognized Jisung’s voice from behind you. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a warm brown color that suited him well. “Walk with me?” You nodded, sipping your warm drink. It was too early for this, you thought. You enjoyed the comfortable silence, and so did he. Class was okay… But it was always better when Jisung cracked a joke or two about that one kid who always raised his hand, or the typo in the professor’s slideshow. The day trudged along, until you were back in your brick wall apartment, Jisung splayed across your bed while you sat crisscrossed on your side. Occasionally, you mindlessly glanced over at the various band posters on your walls, or the fairy lights above your desk.

“Do you ever think we’ve walked past spiderman, not knowing it was him?” You spoke whatever came to mind. 

“Uh, I don’t know, probably.” Jisung put on his best unamused voice. 

“I hope he’s hot.” You sigh, dreamily. He chokes on air. “What?” You ask, turning to him, faking annoyance.

“That’d be great, yeah.” He laughed at the absurdity of the situation. 

“I mean, look at him! He’s got sooo many muscles!” You gesture to the TV, going through the daily Spiderman-appreciation segment. Jisung rolled his eyes. He really didn’t get the hype. All he wanted was to stop these dumb monsters and go on with his day. Maybe if the news didn’t blow him up so much, he would’ve told you already. But he can’t risk it. 

“I’ve got muscles too, you know.” He didn’t want you to like Spiderman, he wanted you to like him. God forbid he gets a little jealous sometimes, even if he is technically getting jealous of himself. 

“Yeah, but are you spiderman?” You ask, jokingly. 

“Uh-” Jisung stammers. He was never good with confrontation. His heart was beating too fast and his ears were getting red. Breathing was getting difficult.

“That’s what I thought.” You fold your arms in victory. 

“Goodnight, y/n.” Jisung got up from the bed in a hurry, shuffling over to where his shoes were by the door.

“Eh? Did I say something? Whatever it was, I’m really sorry-!” The sound of the door slamming cut you off. You raced over to your bedroom window, and waited until you saw the lights in his apartment turn on. It might’ve been stupid, but you tore a piece of paper out of your notebook, and in big sharpie ink, wrote, ‘sorry :(‘ and taped it to your window before getting ready for bed. 

The next morning, Jisung had to blow off some steam. Quite the overthinker, he was. He didn’t see your message posted on your window, practically jumping into his suit and pulling his mask on, the rising sun set a golden glow across his form as he swung between stone brick walls and fancy office building glass. Leaves were turning various hues of red, orange and yellow. They fell like confetti from the tree branches that lined the streets. Screw my morning class, he thought, he could always pull an all-nighter to catch up. His superhuman energy meant he rarely felt tired. In the corner of his vision, the neighborhood coffee shop caught his eye. He could really go for a bagel. It’s gonna be one hell of a morning for the people in there, he thought as he swung down, and opened the door with a chime. Walking up to the counter clad in his suit and mask, the barista was too busy writing on a cup to acknowledge him, but he could hear the hushed whispers and surprised gasps of the cafe patrons. 

“Welcome in, what can I get for you?” “Lemme get uhh-” 

Jisung got that sudden feeling across his skin, like a wave of electricity. Something was about to happen. 

BANG! 

A loud explosion right outside, some of the window panes cracked. The ground shook in a deep rumble. So much for that bagel. Sprinting outside, A large crack in the asphalt was billowing steam. A little farther down, A heavy creature made of stone and mud was stomping down the road, laughing maniacally. Attempting an ambush, Spiderman launched a web at its back. Almost instantly the web string got stuck in the mud and was enveloped by the creature. Oh. At that, the monster stopped trodding, and slowly turned around. It had a face of assorted rough stones, kind of like a snowman. Jisung sighed. Alright, plan B. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked at the TV from your quaint living room, watching the fight go down on the live news broadcast. Sat in your comfy pajamas, you had decided to take today easy. Until now. Spiderman was leaping across building walls, launching strike on strike onto the monster. The cameraman was shaky, but you didn’t seem to care, as your eyes trailed every movement of spiderman’s agile maneuvers. All of a sudden you gasped, an idea striking you faster than a lightning bolt. If I leave now, I might have enough time to get there and meet spiderman in person! Frantically running to your closet, you changed into something lightweight and casual. Booking it down the apartment stairs and onto your bike, you recognized the location of the fight because that’s where you and Jisung would always get bagels after your morning class. The thought made you smile. Approaching the scene, you could hear the buzz of commotion. Right as you rounded the corner, you saw it: masses of mud and stone flying everywhere, shattering windows and denting cars. Steam was rolling off the creature, as if the sun was making it dry up. You abandoned your bike and quietly walked closer. They haven’t noticed you yet. That is, until one hit from the creature caught Jisung off guard and he tumbled onto the cement sidewalk, grunting on impact. You gasped in shock, covering your mouth. His mask scraped against the cement, ripping on the side, exposing his left side completely. The more he tried to fix it, the worse it got, until he angrily shoved the mask off with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Happy now?!” He shouted. There were little scapes littering his cheeks from the rubble. The monster grumbled in response. 

“Jisung?” His head whipped around at the sound of your confused voice. 

“Y/n-” Oh shit. Oh, this was bad. Of all people, he thought. “Y/n, get back-!” His voice was strained as the monster launched another attack. He jumped out of the way, closer to you. “Just- run, please!” He exclaimed. You stood there, staring at eachother for a few seconds to confirm that that was really him and that you were really you. Reluctantly, you stepped back before Jisung ran after the monster. Your knees felt weak and you could feel your lungs running out of oxygen. You heard fire truck sirens quickly approaching, and the rest was a blur. 

When you woke, the first thing your brain acknowledged was the plush feeling of your mattress under your fingertips. It didn’t make sense, but it was comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you took a deep breath in, mumbling something incoherent. The blinds in the window were only half closed, letting in the warm glow of the setting sun. Confused and tired, you tried picking yourself up, until a voice to your right interrupted your movement.

“Hey, take it easy,” Instead of making you feel giddy like it usually does, Jisung’s gentle voice made something like anxiety swirl in the pit of your stomach. He got up from his seat by your desk, walking over to lean closer. 

“Do you feel okay?” He asked, eyes cautious. You must have been out for a few hours, because the scratches on his face were cleaned up, and his hair was neatly done. His silver drop earrings dangled in the light. 

“No.” The anger was strating to set in. 

“Alright.” He figured it was better for him to be quiet right now.

“Care to explain?” Or not, Jisung thought. Your voice was slightly hoarse, not an ounce of humor in the tone.

“I’m, uh, I’m… Spiderman?” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled nervously. 

“You’re joking,” You don’t sound amused.

“You saw me yourself! You weren’t supposed to, but you did!” His hands waved in the air to defend himself. You groaned, running a hand along your face.

“Do you even know how embarrassing this is for me? I wanna die.” You whined in annoyance. All the times thirsting over him, screaming over him, and he means to tell you they're the same person? You’ve had a crush on two people, but it’s actually one? “You probably think I’m a major loser.” He loosed a breathless laugh at your confession. 

“You know I would never think that.” He spoke with certainty. And you believed him. Mostly. “You’re my best friend. I think you’re, like, the coolest person ever. And hey, I won't lie, you also give me the biggest ego boost when you talk about how much you loooove Spiderman’s muscles.” 

“Shut up!!” You swatted him away, but he didn’t budge. He snickered at your annoyed state. Teasingly, he pushed even closer, making you giggle. Your arms wrestled against his, until he tumbled onto the bed with you. Reluctantly, he let you catch your breath, laying shoulder to shoulder.

“You’re still my best friend, right?” You confessed. Truth be told, this was a huge reveal on Jisung's part. If he had to cut you off for your sake, it wouldn’t be easy, but you’d manage. You understood how troubling life in the spotlight is. He turned towards you, and you could almost feel his breath on your skin. It sent goosebumps up your spine. 

“Yeah, I am. Of course I am.” His voice was just above a whisper, but he spoke with confidence.

“What if the news thinks I’m your girlfriend? You know how they are,” You rolled your eyes at the melodramatic tendencies of American news media. 

“Would that… be so bad?” Jisung braced himself for the worst. He honestly wasn’t prepared for this, but if not now, when? You knew everything about him. Well, you do now. You were the one person he could truly let his guard down around and really be himself. You knew about all his favorite bands, his order at the corner shop, or even the route he takes to class that specifically avoids the news broadcasting station. He liked you. Like, liked you. There was really no other word for it. 

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, y/n. I’ll make sure of it.” 

He looked down at you with a wide, thoughtful gaze. His heart was racing. You finally let your brain catch up to your heart when you leaned in closer. He let you do so, but not moving an inch himself. Frankly, he was petrified. You carefully pressed your lips against his, measuring his reaction. It was only when you pulled away, your eyes scanning his face hesitantly, that he was thrown back down to earth from the euphoria that was you. He chased your lips as his brows furrowed in concentration, his warm palms coming up to cup your cheeks. You let out a hum in surprise, arching into him to feel his upper body against yours. The front of his body felt firm and defined even over the fuzzy sweater.

Jisung quickly became addicted to your body. He moved one palm lower, swiping over your neck and moving your hair out of the way in the process. He moved down; down your shoulder and to your waist. There, he squeezed you, trying to feel you through the barrier that was your sweater. Moving further down and stilling at your hip, he felt the edge of your jeans, wiggling his hand under the sweater to feel your soft lower waist. He let out a heavy exhale at the touch, and he didn’t even realize how big the tent in his jeans had gotten until you squirmed against him. He shifted your position so you were on your back against the bed, his hands exploring your body until they came to rest right under your bra. Jisung sprawled out above you, his sweater clung to his broad shoulders as he tried to regain his breath for the few short seconds his mouth wasn’t on yours. 

“Still wanna see Spiderman’s muscles?” He grinned above you, out of breath. The desire in his eyes was unmistakeable, but with a hint of playfulness too.  

“You’re insufferable.” You huffed, grabbing handfuls of the fluffy blue sweater and pulling it up and off his head. The planes of his chest overwhelmed your vision, his smooth skin driving you wild. His biceps bulged as he pulled your shirt off, his eyes drinking in your figure, scanning up and down. Impatiently, his fingers thread themselves into the belt loops of your jeans, tugging them down. You did the same to him. His hips were grinding against you in waves, like he couldn’t control himself. Your legs spread as far as possible to hold him closer. Jisung could feel the slow, aching throb spread through his dick, hissing through a clenched jaw. Your core felt his bulge, wetness sticking to your folds almost uncomfortably. Your hand glided against your hip until it reached the gusset of your panties to pull them to the side, holding them there. Pushing his boxers down, he finally slid his length through your lower lips, catching against your clit. One of his hands was balanced against your hip, thumb drawing circles against the skin. He leaned down to press a passionate kiss to your lips before his face moved to the side of your face, his deep breaths right by your ear. Pushing into your hole, he took his time adjusting. He moved slowly, shoulders shaking from the anticipation, whining through sealed lips. 

“Sungie, you don’t have to wait-” You whined, squirming slightly. 

“Shh, just let me have this moment,” He comforted you with a hand on your shoulder, his eyes closing from pleasure- Forcing himself to stay still despite the primal itch to just get on with it. The thrum of anticipation felt shockingly good. After a few moments pass, he drags the heavy weight of his cock out of your walls only to sensually thrust back in. Then, it was like the floodgates opened. Jisung gasped, starting to thrust in and out, his pace gradually speeding up. His hips rhythmically lift upwards to hit your lower belly, thighs slapping against your spread cheeks. Your moans kept him grounded, otherwise he feared he would lose himself in euphoria. His voice grew raspy the longer he groaned and moaned. His pace didn’t falter, even while your arms snaked up to wrap around his shoulders, bringing him closer. Your fingers wrapped around that little silver chain he always wears and tugged lightly. His dick reached deeper as he pressed himself against you, body hitting yours in all the right places. Your thighs lifted up to press against his outer hips, your walls squeezing with each push of pleasure from him. 

“I’m, ah, close y/n-”. He hummed, lips pressed against the column of your neck. When your core squeezed around him, he whimpered at the feeling of his impending release.

“You can let go Sungie,” Your palm reassuringly rubbed against his broad back, feeling up the hard working muscles at the same time. His sounds grew higher in pitch until he eventually snapped, his pleasure triggering yours like a domino. For what seemed like hours, the only thing you could perceive was Jisung’s heaving form above you, and the climbing steps of your orgasm that finally crashed down in one fell swoop. Cum and slick gushed out and coated your joined bodies as you caught your breaths. With a hum, you looked over Jisung’s shoulder to realize the muted TV was still on the local news channel. He gave you a short kiss to your spit slicked lips before rolling to the side.

“Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

“Your face is all over the news.”

“Oh shit.”

Check my masterlist for more!

Warning: Everything I post is 100% my original writing & thoughts. This also includes the moodboards at the beginning, that I create. Please do not plagiarize or copy. Tag for inspiration or add-ons. Reblogs are appreciated! <3

[ratatatastic]

for your consideration: gay bassist joke as the hot strong drummer carries him around like hes nothing more than a twig when hes very much not

ekky only choosing forsy for eye candy is another example of fork found in kitchen and he has to keep up his shirt off quote quotas even if forsy has now shown off his body to the masses but also unfortunately just reads too much like this (how it feels auditioning as a drumer)

[bunnybubae]

☔This and more

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: One Shot - Established Relationship - Slice of Life - Fluff - Smutty Smut 

Summary: Your weekend at the beach seems to be completely ruined, but luckily, your boyfriend Jeon Jungkook is ready to change everything. 

Warnings: A delicious lunch and a drink at home, they call each other bubi and baby, Bf&Gf shenanigans,✨surprises✨, overall a tooth rotting piece of fluff served with a side of hot steamy smut *wink wink*, the end ❤️

Smut Warnings: Lots of steamy kisses, teasing, love bites, actual bites, dirty talking, worshiping, fingering, oral (F receiving), brief blowjob, rough sex, unprotected sex (she takes the pill), cum on breasts, love making 💓, creampie

Wc: 5.6k 

A/N:  Hiii!🫣I know I should be working on the Red Light series, I promise it's wip and will come to life sooner or later, but I miss my boyfriend who's traveling for work and the weather is shit over here... I had this idea in my docs and I just felt inspired to finally write it. I hope you like it! 🥺 - Joy 🐰

The sun is scorching and the sky is always clear. People wear light clothes and have fun outside. This is summer, right?

Wrong.

Not this weekend at least, since the weather forecast predicted heavy rain until Sunday.

This weekend, in which you had plans with your boyfriend and your friends to spend it at the beach, with tents, lots of food and beach games. Everything ruined, since the first thunder that rumbled.

You wouldn't have been so upset about it if it weren't for the fact that work has been a living hell lately and that you really were looking forward to this outdoor weekend. Even if it was only for a few days, you really wanted to regenerate and disconnect from everything work related.

The sky is so gray, almost black, like your mood right now.

It's Saturday morning and usually, you and Jungkook leave shortly after breakfast to go grocery shopping, when, presumably, there are less people and it is easier to find what you need for the week. As if the bad weather wasn't badding enough, something seems to have hurt your boyfriend, who reluctantly told you that he can't come with you.

You sigh deeply, it couldn't go worse, you think, but maybe it's just your bad mood's fault for these thoughts.

You worry about Jungkook as you look for a spot in the supermarket parking lot. You text him once you find one, asking if he needs medicine or anything else for his stomachache, but he reassures you shortly after, replying that some lactic ferments will do the job.

You continue to stare at his response on the screen thoughtfully, maybe last night's fried chicken was too spicy?

Anyway, the temperature has dropped a lot because of the weather. You put on one of Jungkook's sweatshirts and get ready by putting the hood on before going out to reach the supermarket.

You spend about a couple of hours inside, looking for everything you had on your list.

As you’re about to reach the checkout, with a full cart and the only desire to go home, your phone rings.

It’s a text from Jungkook.

Bubi ❤️: “Bubi could you please buy some fresh mint and lemons while u'r out?”

You check his request a second time, not too sure you understand.

You stop in your tracks, frowning as you type a response.

You: “What do you need them for?”

You watch the chat and his name as it appears and disappears shortly after, waiting for his response, which comes a few moments later.

Bubi❤️: “I read somewhere that making tea with mint and lemon helps calm a stomach ache and I wanna try.”

You're not too convinced but It makes sense, if you think about it.

You reply that you'll get mint and lemons and that you'll go to the pharmacy before you head back home.

It’s almost lunchtime when you park the car in front of the apartment complex where you live.

The rain shows no signs of ceasing, continuing to pound on the windshield of the car. 

When you’re about to get out to grab the groceries from the trunk, you see your boyfriend come out of the front door of the building and reach to your car door with a little jog.

He’s holding an open umbrella in his hand and when he opens the car door to let you out, he smiles widely.

“What are you doing out here?!”

“Let’s carry everything to the elevator together,”

And with that, he leaves a tender kiss on your forehead, a little damp from the rain.

You had forgotten your umbrella at home, despite his warnings. Too caught up in the greyness of your mood, evidently.

Once you have emptied your trunk and reached the elevator with the grocery bags in hand, you sigh loudly. A little tired from the weight of the bags and a little guilty for your state of mind.

He's always so helping and sweet and you have been quite intractable since yesterday. You feel the need to apologize to him.

Jungkook looks at you in silence, a slight smile on his lips as he plays with the piercing of his lip with his tongue.

"I'm sorry, bubi..." You break the silence, taking him by surprise.

"Mh? For what?"

You watch him as you explain why you really needed this weekend away to rest and relax a bit.

Jungkook nods, listening to you until your elevator ride stops at your floor.

"I know baby, don't worry."

The elevator's doors slide open.

It seems he wants to say something else, but he picks up the bags instead and starts to walk towards the front door of your apartment.

You follow him with the bags in your hand, feeling a little lighter and determined not to ruin this weekend any further.

Jungkook opens the door, gets rid of his shoes in the blink of an eye, leaving them near the shoe rack before running towards the kitchen. You don't understand what's gotten into him all of a sudden and when you enter, you put the bags down next to you to take off your shoes and tidy up his too.

When Jungkook returns a few moments later, he picks up your discarded bags too and rushes into the kitchen with them.

"What are you doing?"

You know very well that your boyfriend has these energetic outbursts from time to time, like the good golden retriever boyfriend he is.

He doesn't answer, instead you see him come back towards you, slightly out of breath.

“Ook, so,” He begins, catching his breath.

“I know this weekend at the beach meant a lot to you, especially after spending the last 3 months working non-stop,” 

His hands find yours and squeeze gently as he guides you through the small hallway of your entryway.

“And I know how much you need this, so,” He pauses, making you stop your tracks right in front of him as well.

“I’m sorry I made you go grocery shopping alone with this weather.”

He moves aside, allowing you to see what he was trying to hide behind his back.

The couch has been moved against the wall, the big carpet is adorned with countless children's toys, the classic ones for digging or making shapes in the sand and you notice an inflatable ball and some beach towels hidden under a beach umbrella.

The living room didn't seem that big, yet everything seems to fit in effortlessly. 

You don't know what to say exactly, you observe everything with wide eyes and open mouth as Jungkook continues his speech.

"I know it's not the same thing, but-" You don't even give him time to finish the sentence, that your lips crash against his, your hands holding his face still as you kiss his mouth softly.

Initially surprised, Jungkook gives in in a split second, wrapping his arms around your small figure.

You let him hold you as a few tears threaten to escape your eyes.

You part from his lips just for a moment. 

"So you didn't have diarrhea," And with that, you both burst into laughter in each other's arms as a small tear rolls down your face for the gratitude.

You are truly touched by the effort he put into it, by the love that hides such a gesture.

The laughter stops and your eyes lock. Jungkook caresses your cheek, wiping away that small, solitary tear.

"Thank you, babe..." Your tone is sweet and full of love and gratitude for him.

"This and more for you,"

He grabs one of your hands that are still holding his face and brings it to his lips, he kisses your knuckles with such delicacy before he moves away from you.

"Anyway, you don't look like you're dressed for the beach, why don't you go change while I sort out the groceries?"

You look down at yourself and giggle, even though it's not that hot, the idea of ​​indulging in this little indoor beach is thrilling, you nod, telling him he's right, then you turn around, heading to your bedroom.

"No! Wait!"

Jungkook suddenly exclaims, making you stop in your tracks.

"I moved the bag you had packed to the bathroom, so you can change right there!"

"Oh okay, I'll take the chance to take a quick shower, then."

You reach the bathroom, getting ready to shower before you could finally wear your new bikini.

During your shower you can't help but smile at the idea that you're about to spend some time at the beach, without the beach, and the sun, and the sea. It's amusing. 

Once cleaned and smelling nice, you put on your lilac bikini and its matching beach dress, fix your hair a bit and go back to the living room.

You don't remember seeing the TV on when you came in, but the sound of the waves envelopes you immediately. 

On the TV, a high definition video of the waves lapping the beach repeats over and over and it's yet another detail that makes you smile. Jungkook has really thought of everything.

He's not in the living room, though.

You walk towards the kitchen, smelling something nice as you near the door.  When you enter, you find your shirtless sexy boyfriend in front of the stove as he cooks something. 

"Damn, that smells good," The kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh fish and lemon, it's so mouth-watering.

"That's what you needed the lemon for!"

You giggle as you approach him from behind, wrapping your arms around his hips and leaving a light kiss on his shoulder as you watch his movements.

"I just watched a tutorial, I hope it turns out good."

He moves in your arms, turning around so he can observe your figure.

He hums delighted by what he sees.

The swimsuit hugs your curves perfectly and the beach dress semi-transparent fabric allows Jungkook to admire and go wild in his mind, with that see-through effect that makes him crazy.

You know exactly what's going through his mind right now. You can read it in his expression.

Despite the many years of relationship with him, the passion and attraction between you has always been strong, never faltering.

Jungkook has always worshiped your body in every possible way. 

And his carnal gaze, which gently caresses your curves, is proof of that.

It's unbelievable how one single look from him is enough to make you feel like the most beautiful thing in this world.

“You like it?”

You ask innocently, spinning around so he can look at beautiful ass as well.

He hums in agreement, ��It’ll look great on the floor later.”

And it’s not the phrase that makes your legs feel weak, but the tone of his voice. Warm and provocative, just the way you like it.

He steals a kiss that’s way too innocent to justify the burning sensation in your belly, before turning his attention back to the stove.

“You should cook shirtless more often,” 

You try to speak, trying to sound unaffected, while your hands nonchalantly caress his pecs from behind, going down to his abs.

He chuckles softly, perfectly knowing what you're up to.

You love every single detail of his body. You swear you know by heart every groove and bump and yet the intensity of your yearning surprises you every time.

You sigh, trapping your lip between your teeth, unable to stop your hands from free roaming on his soft skin.

He is so addicting.

"Y/N.." Your name leaves his lips accompanied by a deep breath.

Your hands have the same effect that his skin has on you.

"What?"

You ask, not missing the contractions of his muscles under your touch when your hands tease his belly, just above the waistband of his swimsuit.

Jungkook turns off the stove and pushes the food away.

Then he turns around, and his face is now a few inches from yours.

In one quick and agile movement, he picks you up, letting your legs circle his bare waist. 

A deep breath escapes your mouth as his chest touches yours and a second later you're sitting on the countertop, its coldness briefly soothing your heat.

"You can't do that while I'm cooking,"

He lets out, then he urgently dives forward, peppering the thin skin of your neck with languid kisses..

You almost moan at the touch. 

"Why not,"

You ask, hoping your voice doesn't sound too desperate right now.

"Cause I'd have to fuck you hard and quick, right here on this countertop,"

You tilt your head backwards, allowing him to do as he pleases with your neck.

"And,"

He pauses, licking a long, slow stripe, from your collarbone to the skin below your earlobe.

"Even tho I know how much you love to be fucked like that,"

He softly kisses your jawline, then whispers right to your ear and your insides turn into boiling lava.

"I want to take my time with you, I want to taste you and savor every drop of your juice when I make you come."

His hands are nowhere on your body, you're only trapped between his arms that keep his weight slightly lean on you. And yet, your skin feels so hot, like his voice and words are washing the last bit of sanity away, leaving goosebumps all over you.

You gulp, unable to speak as you try to calm your breathing.

You love this man, you think you never stopped crushing over him, you're a total mess right now, by only his words and kisses on the neck.

"Fuck baby.."

You manage to say, even though your voice sounds strained.

"Be patient, yeah?"

And just like that, the magic is over.

He frees you, leaving your body hot and bothered just like that.

You whine a little, a sound that makes him chuckle darkly, probably proud of the effect he still has on you. 

You're a tad bit annoyed, you're not gonna lie, but the excitement for what's to come prevails.

After having lunch with some delicious lemony fish, you and Jungkook decide to enjoy some relaxation lying on the beach towels placed on the floor in front of the TV. The mint cocktails you made earlier rest next to you, while some music plays casually from your phone.

You have to admit that the whole vibe is working very well, you don't even miss the sand and the smell of saltiness in the air. Everything feels just right, with the man you love by your side.

The apartment isn't that big, but everything Jungkook has prepared for the theme seems to fit perfectly, without being too bulky.

You take a moment to observe your surroundings, while sipping your drink every now and then.

You notice that there is enough space between the towels and the television, so you decide to grab the Nintendo Switch from its dock, and place it in front of you.

"Wanna play?"

Jungkook, who seems far too relaxed on his towel, is drawn in by your playful tone, he smiles nodding before grabbing a pair of joycons.

"What do you wanna play?"

You think for a moment, as you scroll through the games you have, undecided between Just Dance, volleyball, which might be the most suitable for the beach mood, or WarioWare, which as stupid as it is, never fails to make you laugh.

"We could play some volleyball to begin with, what do you say?"

"I'm down,"

You make some space and strap your joy con, just to be sure you don't crash anything while playing.

The games go smoothly and match after match and sip after sip of your drinks, you grow dizzier. 

By the time you start playing Wario Ware, you both are a laughing mess, seeing your boyfriend copy those funny poses is the highlight of the day.

Your cheeks are hurting from the laugh and you don't even know what time it is while the rain keeps pouring outside.

The sound of sporadic thunder is a soft reminder that what is going on outside, doesn't bother you at all. 

Especially now, embraced in your boyfriend's arms, skin to skin, as the center of your living room becomes the center of your world.

He kisses you, ever so gently, as his mouth moves with yours in a dance they know oh so well.

You bet his lips shared some secrets with yours as when you part from each other for a moment, you both smile fondly. As if no words are needed.

The way he's looking at you makes you feel so lucky.

You feel so precious when he touches you, so cherished.

His hands are so tender and attentive, he outlines your sides, pushing his body to yours as if it was possible to feel you even closer.

The game is long forgotten as you share another kiss, less innocent than the previous one.

Your hands bravely caress his shoulders and nape before intertwining with some soft locks.

Some music is still playing from your phone, thrown somewhere on the carpet when suddenly, As Long As You Love Me by Justin Bieber starts playing. 

A pretty old song, but you remember you saved the acoustic version a long time ago, when you two weren't even a thing.

It couldn't be more apt for this moment in time, you think.

Your smile breaks the kiss and even though you feel your head a little heavy from the alcohol, you start singing.

He watches you fondly, swinging with you in his arms to the rhythm as he begins to sing the song with you.

His voice is heaven, you always told him that and he likes to sing for you. Although the shower or the car are his favorite stages most of the time.

You keep singing your heart out, pouring all your love in the lyrics as your gaze gets lost in his.

You've always been the sensitive type, especially in this kind of situation.

Your boyfriend seems as affected as you, though.

His gaze is glimmering and his embrace is tighter than before.

The song slowly but surely comes toward its end when Jungkook softly leans forward, whispering the last phrase right on your lips.

Your heart feels like it's about to burst in your chest and a moment later you're kissing him, like your life depends on it.

He lets you kiss him, lets you taste his tongue and maybe it's the alcohol, maybe the whole vibe, but you end up sprawled on the beach towels, kissing each other's brains out.

The beach umbrella, placed open on the ground for obvious reasons, offers some sort of shield from the artificial light of the lamp. The light filters through the colored material, leaving a soft hue of colors on your bodies.

You don't know where your beach dress has been thrown, the only thing in your mind right now, is your boyfriend's kisses.

He prints wet kisses all over your body and you feel like you're burning.

You breathe heavily, concentrating on the sensations of his lips on your abdomen.

"So fucking pretty,"

He states, seemingly out of breath. You shiver in pleasure as your heart skips a beat.

His hands reach your bikini bottom and you almost moan shamelessly as he asks,

"Are you already wet for me, baby?"

Then he pushes your bikini aside, not waiting for your answers, wanting to find out himself.

"Fuck, yes"

It's the only phrase that leaves your gaping mouth as he swipes his fingers between your legs.

You can feel the stickiness of your bikini and his breath right in front of your core.

"Want me to make you even wetter?

A soft yes leaves your lips, barely audible.

"Speak up, baby,"

It's a lewd scene, your legs are wide open in front of him and Jungkook is palming himself with his free hand. His swimming trunks are an uncomfortable obstacle but it's something he'll deal with later.

His attention is only focused on you right now.

"Kook-"

You moan as his wet fingers circle your clit.

"I want your tongue," you confess "Make me come on your tongue,"

You breathe out as your hands move over your tits, sliding under the fabric of your bikini top.

"Fuck, I love when you talk to me like that,"

He groans, and a moment later, he is giving in, licking your folds, sucking your clit, just as you like it. He knows it's going to make you a moaning mess before him.

He wasn't lying before, he is taking his sweet time savoring you, fucking you slowly with his tongue, then circling your clit and sucking on it every now and then.

When your body reacts at the waves of pleasure his motions are providing, he laughs darkly, the vibration of it a sweet addition to your pleasure.

Your body trembles, your orgasm building up at every french kiss he gives your pussy and you think you're going insane.

Your moans are louder, turning to sweet little whine when you know you're about to reach your high.

"I'm close, fuck, don't stop,"

As if he needed you to tell him not to stop.

Jungkook is quick to react, pushing with ease his middle and ring finger inside you.

The new stimulation makes you cry out in pleasure and he is so turned on by your sounds, he thinks he might bust in his swimming suit just with that.

"Love this pussy,"

He says, voice deep and steady.

"Can't wait to fuck you just right,"

And just like that, the built up tension in your belly snaps and a strong orgasm washes over you.

His hands, his words, the picture of his pretty cock slamming into your pussy, sends you over the edge. 

You let out a moan that sounds like his name and your hands move from your tits to brush his hair. 

You're still trembling from your orgasm when you open your eyes, not sure when you closed them and all you see is your boyfriend, hair disheveled, sucking on his wet fingers like a lollipop. 

His dark gaze meets your dazed eyes and he smiles, way too innocently considering the lustful motions of his tongue.

"God," you blurt out,  trying to regain a stable breathing, "Why are you still wearing that?"

You point at his bottom half, moving a second later to help him freed himself from the useless piece of clothing.  

His dick springs free, hungry and leaking some precum.

You hum, licking your lips as if you were a starved woman, ready to devour her meal. 

When you grab the base of his thick member and move to lick it, Jungkook surprisingly blocks your hand gently.

You frown, looking up mid motion, puzzled.

"I won't be able to hold back much longer if you suck me,"

His voice is almost apologetic and you tenderly smile, finding his confession hot and endearing at the same time.

"Just a little?"

You put up your best pleading eyes, softly adding, "Please?"

Jungkook's eyes roll back as he bites his lip and a deep breath leaves through his nostrils.

You know he likes when you beg for it.

While you scream in pleasure or with big innocent eyes, he just loves when you ask nicely, like a good girl.

He can't resist you.

He could never resist those pretty eyes of yours.

He shifts in his place, allowing you to get on your knees before grabbing your chin, ever so gently.

"Be a good girl then and open wide."

You smile in content, doing just as he asked, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sticking out your tongue.

When you look up at him, Jungkook slowly puts his fingers inside your mouth, and your faint taste still lingers in them. 

You suck and lick on them for a second, then when he pulls them out, he smears your saliva along his sensitive dick. 

His breaths are heavy and when he slams it a couple of times on your tongue he groans.

That's when he loses it a little. 

He grabs your jaw, helping you tilt your head at the right angle, then pushes the tip inside. 

You do your best by swirling your tongue around the salty tip, closing your lips around it just enough for him to feel a little pressure.

By the time you pop your lips open, he pushes a little more in, enough to stuff your mouth.

You instinctively bob your head, trying to get more of him inside and when a moan escapes his throat, you know he will stop you soon.

You take the opportunity to tease him a little, grabbing at his butt and fondling the soft skin of it as he sloppily thrusts.

Jungkook's sounds are animalistic, his thrusts are steady but right before he pulls out completely, he gives one last thrust that almost hits the back of your throat.

You gasp for air as he gently pushes you back down on the beach towel.

He swiftly takes your bikini away, both the bottom and the top, and latches his plumb lips to one of your breasts.

The coldness of his piercing mixed with his hot breath is a nice contrast for your perked up nipples.

You hiss when he bites the sensitive nub, but he quickly eases the pain away by kissing and lapping at the abused skin.

"Kook-"

A broken moan leaves your throat when he bites you again, this time on the delicate meat of your breast. It's softer than before, but you feel hyper responsive right now. 

"Can I come here?"

He whispers, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your chest.

You giggle, feeling a little ticklish when his fingers travel down your sides.

"Why are you asking?" you pull him closer till his cock is leaning between your folds.

The contact sends shivers down to your core and you buck your hips almost automatically.

"You know I love it, Kook"

He just needed to hear you say that aloud, that's clear when pushes up a little, aligning the tip of his member with your entrance. 

"You love it, huh? Thought you loved it more inside you tho,"

He pushes in, inch by inch as he finishes his phrase.

You gasp at the sweet stretch, feeling breathless as he bottoms up.

"I love it down my throat too,"

That makes him go feral. 

It's all you're able to say before he props up on his elbow, one hand behind your shoulder, the other clasped around your hip to keep you there as he fucks you at a ruthless pace.

You're fucking on the floor, on a beach towel, shielded by a beach umbrella with Wario Ware long forgotten on the tv and some music shuffling from your phone, meanwhile outside it's pouring and thundering since this morning.

It might seem a messy situation, but everything feels at his place.. Nothing is missing here.

Every thrust elicits soft moans from you. He promptly kisses you, and as you make out you wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him closer and closer.

That allows him to jack hammer into you with measured force. 

The squelching sounds are filling the room, followed by his throaty moans and yours.

You're about to come once again, the pressure on your stomach well fed by the way his cock is hitting on the right spot inside you.

"Kook," you cry out, "I'm about to-"

"Me too baby," he pecks your lips before he adds, "Let me feel you come all over my cock,"

His hips slap against yours impossibly fast, just as fast as your orgasm approaches.

Your body stiffens and after a few seconds there it is, the sweet release, the white pleasure that washes over you.

You cry out his name repeatedly, till your cry subside to a moan and you feel his thrusts getting sloppier and erratic.

"Fuck, yes, I'm coming too,"

And he pulls out quickly, kneeling between your trembling legs before he pumps his fist around his drenched dick a few times before hot spurts of his cum lands on your body.

He moans shamelessly and you love when he gets all vocal, it turns you on even though you feel totally devastated right now.

He covers your breasts in sticky white and some of it lands on your chin too.

You don't mind, not when he looks so blissed and fucked out.

When he empties his load completely, he watches you, admiring his masterpiece and offering you a hand.

He chuckles breathlessly and pecks your lips as he pulls you up.

"Let's take a shower, shall we?"

You nod, not sure if you're able to speak right. 

You make sure to turn off the tv and the music on your phone before you head straight to the bathroom.

Jungkook offers to wash you up first and you let him do it.

It's obviously not the first time you shower together, but it doesn't happen that often either.

You wash up each other, giggling and chatting like he was not balls deep inside you just moments ago.

By the time you finish your shower and dry up, it's dinner time.

You enjoy your evening eating the food you thoroughly prepared beforehand right on the floor, because yes, Jungkook refused to put away the beach towels saying that "Our beach experience is not over yet". 

Even though you shake your head in defeat, you chuckle, amused by his determination.

The evening went by in total relaxation, you're curled up on your boyfriend's side as another episode of Demon's Slayer flashes on the tv screen. The air is chilly right now and you feel the fatigue of the day get the better of you. 

"Wanna go to bed after this episode?"

He asks, noticing your breathing is getting heavier.

You fell asleep a couple of times for a few minutes, trying to keep track of what you're watching when you woke up, but it's kind of frustrating.

You hum in agreement, stretching your back a little.

When the episode comes to its end, Jungkook stands up from the ground and leaves the living room. You walk up to the window, curious to see the state of the world outside.

Perhaps you hoped to see a clear sky, but unfortunately you were disappointed.

It's still raining, though it's not pouring like this afternoon. Droplets of water are slamming on the glass in a soft lullaby.

It's soothing somehow and you take a moment to take in the different effect the rainy weather has on you right now, compared to this morning.

Strong arms circle your waist and a soft peck on your head draws your attention away from the window. 

"There's another surprise for you,"

He whispers right in your ear before you turn around to look into his eyes.

Your arms find their place around his neck and you look at him, intrigued.

"Another one?"

He grins at your curiosity, pulling you towards the bedroom just a moment later.

When you enter the room, you're welcomed by his favorite galaxy lamp while it projects purple and blue hue up on the roof. 

Small green dots serve as little stars, scattered all around as they are slow dancing and a camping tent about the size of the bed is placed on top of it.

You're shocked, unable to speak as emotions get stuck in your throat, you inspect the room with teary eyes, touched by all his effort to make this weekend just perfect.

"Do you like it?"

He tentatively asks, watching your reaction by the frame of the door.

When you turn around you quickly reach out to him, hugging him so tight you think you might break his spine.

You softly sob on his chest as he returns the hug, kissing the top of your head affectionately and when you finally look up at him with a wide smile, Jungkook breaks in the softest laugh you have ever heard from him.

"It's perfect," you state, "You are perfect,"

Jungkook's gaze fills with all the love he has for you, a gaze that doesn't need words and after he dried away your salty tears, you kiss him passionately. 

Nothing could ever compare to this moment, to this little piece of heaven he created for just the two of you, under a starry sky that belongs to you and him and no one else.

You poured all your love on every inch of his body, tasted his soft skin and marked it as yours.

He did the same to you, making sure your body was worshiped as it deserves.

That night, you made love like nothing existed outside of your camping tent, it was only you and him, becoming one as your soft moans mingled in the room.

It was gentle, like the time was no longer flowing until slowly but surely, you reached your high together, hugging each other as he came inside you.

You felt full of him, in every sense possible as he softly kissed your forehead and you whispered the sweetest I love you in the air.

You cuddled to sleep, refusing to leave your tent to go wash up and when the morning after you woke up between your boyfriend's arms, you knew another beautiful day on a sandless beach awaited.

Another day with the love of your life, in your little perfect world.