#please just fucking end the series already

[the-catmans-offical-2]

The offical art when it comes to Ed and Wrath are few and far between. However, there's some things I've noticed and would like to share!

Wrath, as a human, would have blue eyes - while this is something we pretty much already knew just by watching eps 28 through 30, if you look at Ed's eye color then you'll realize that they're very close to being inverses of each other!

Also Wrath is cool colors (Blues and greens, blacks and purples) whereas Ed is warm colors (Yellows and reds, whites and oranges). I think that's another contrast or inverse between them to show who they are as characters - with Wrath being a homunculus he is colder colors like the tones of a dead body or just generally not something alive, while Ed has warmer colors like a living human would.

There's more differences between them! Wrath's iris shape is (in the picture and originally) more circular than Ed's - who's is more ovular. Wrath also has slightly larger eyes than Ed, giving him a bit of more childlike appearance though his facial shape keeps him appearing as though he is of similar age to Ed. (I remember reading somewhere once, and please correct me if I am wrong but I personally believe this greatly, that Wrath was made with the goal kept in mind that he'd be an opponent to Ed of similar age and similar in other ways as well.) Wrath also has sharp teeth whilst Ed has dull flat ones - oddly enough Wrath's ears are pointed slightly and Ed's ears are rounded, furthermore giving the visual feel that Wrath isn't human. He must appear rather uncanny to Edward or to any human - same with the homunculi in general - because he looks human but with subtle things that make him... Off.

Wrath is all smilely too, whereas Ed looks more serious or weary; Showing off Wrath's inital innocence (which stays there throughout the series until he was betrayed by Dante and Envy, and I will fight anyone on that) and Ed's lingering distrust for Wrath. Fun fact, in CoS he seems to trust Wrath more even though the two never see each other again. Oh, they're gonna be the end of me. ED FUCKING ACTED LIKE HE KNEW WHAT WRATH WOULD WANT, which leads me to believe they had a talk or just SOMETHING during ep 51 that was cut out.

I have no idea what this image is from so please let me know if anyone knows! I've been curious for a while.

Anyway, Wrath:) He's poking out from behind Ed, and there's more things to point out between them!

Wrath is wearing dark clothes whereas Ed's wearing light ones. Like usual, Wrath's hair is down and messy while Ed's is up and neat. This is the offical art that made me realize that Ed has longer, thinner eyebrows than Wrath - who has thicker ones!

Also Wrath seems to be staring directly at Ed, but I personally can't read his expression as anything? Maybe curiosity? I'm not good with reading facial expressions lmao.

I only added this one bc WRATH LOOKS SO SILLY WHO THE FUCK PUT HIM IN A LIL SUIT??? HOW THE FUCK DID SOMEONE PUT HIM IN A SUIT???

I'm looking for a clearer image for this so I may update this post at some point to put the clearer one there if I find it!

Anyway so Wrath and Edward are standing back to back. They have a slight height difference with Wrath as the shorter of the two (I bet Ed is very happy/j)

Ed's expression is more angry or solem while Wrath's is a grin - but both can be said to look angry I'd think.

They both have a hand on their hip (Ed's in his pocket but Wrath doesn't have pockets, L) and the opposite arm resting more languidly at their side. They're both standing straight, Ed's head is tilted slightly downward while Wrath's is tilted up - no one else is shown standing back to back. Only Wrath any Ed. Al is there, standing beside Ed, but Gluttony is standing with his side to Alphonse, and Lust is more off to the side and facing the others rather than with her back to anyone. I think it is to further show that Ed and Wrath are such parallels (and Lust is standing a little to the side, possibly showing how she isn't really obeying anyone but herself - showing how she betrayed Dante and went to help Ed get Al back in exchange for becoming human again; But we know how that played out..)

I'm not really gonna talk about these here, as one of them is simply a scene redraw, and they're more Izumi focused if you look at them - with Izumi appearing somber while Ed looks weary or even fearful, and Wrath is just.. Being a kid. Running and flipping, and then in the redraw fighting Ed and Al.

The same could be said about these!! They aren't really interacting - in the first image Wrath is asleep at a table with the other homunculi, and in the second he does appear to be staring at Ed; But again Ed isn't focused on him.

Probably some of the ONLY FUCKING COS OFFICAL ART I HAVE FOUND with Wrath in it. Wrath and Ed are facing opposite of each other. No one, other than Wrath in the image, is fully facing at a side profile - which at first I thought represented how he had died, but Alfons is there and so is Eckhart.

Ed looks wistful, not angry but not happy. Sad perhaps, which is what he seems to be a lot in CoS. But Wrath, he looks down right angry. Yelling maybe? His mouth is opened wide and showing his sharp teeth, his visable eyebrow furrowed, he looks dirty and tired. Clearly this is during his fight with Gluttony. I love that they're seperated by the margin, representing the Gate kinda - Armestrian characters on one side, 'our world' characters on the other.

Again, this isn't really Ed and Wrath in particular. But I want you all to really look at Wrath. He's licking his Ed arm. In a similar fashion Dante does to Lyra's arm after possessing her body, and basically asking Hoenhiem to.. Yk, fuck. While I definitely don't think Wrath is doing it out of sexual desire or reason (that is a child, that is a child, that is a child), I do believe he's doing it to mimick or copy Dante. Wrath could've seen that she liked Hoenhiem, which is putting it lightly but for the sake of the sake I'll just say she liked him, and then copied her by licking said limb out of liking Ed or desiring (non-sexually) his body/limbs. To become human.

Also jfc Envy is buff, go back to being a twink you loser.

Uhh I dunno, I just rambled a lil. Maybe I'll make another post with this? Maybe not, but this is what you get for now!! Use my ask box if you have any questions! :)

[skyburger]

"fnaf is the scariest game ever" "no its silent hill" "well i think its resident evil" everyone shut up!!!!!! youre all wrong. its actually zack & wiki quest for barbaros' treasure (on the nintendo wii) but only the level "keeper of the ice". that level scared me so bad as a kid and you can tell because its the only individual level i remember the name of off the top of my head. like there is nothing scarier than a) being chased and b) being on a time limit. and you know what this level has? BOTH OF THOSE. this level is still scary to me im like AHHHHH!!!! and then i die

[girlscience]

I hate getting into something that has a canon(ish) sapphic couple, but I only end up caring about one of the two women 😭😭😭

[red-dyed-sarumane]

crying at work today bc i had a sudden realization about tenshi as i was retranslating aru sekai shoushitsu. noticed the word saisei used in both songs and had a thought. like. the whole rebirth type theme really does tie to her. its not just the umareyou mou ichido melody as lyrics at the end of the song its in the other lyrics as well its in the first ou line in aru sekai shoushitsu. she has something to do with this. so say she is the reason they get second chances. we also now get to answer the other question i had, which is if the other's are people and they can lose that and therefore no longer repeat, does tenshi have something to lose? and i dont like the answer i got. shoushitsu calls it a "major sin" and since she's an angel naturally theres going to be a punishment for that. we know the song starts with rain, and rain is our symbol for this whole calamity, both end and beginning of it, but it doesnt end with rain. it ends with the motif. it ends with the world going dark. at first i thought u know well yeah if u die in one world its going to go dark before u wake up in another. but i think this is different now. & i draw ur attention to the art again. the umbrella- she was a safeguard, but theres nothing left to it now. its useless essentially. shes sitting not standing, shes not fighting anymore. shes crying but she's also smiling- like shes made a decision she doesnt like, but shes sure of. i think she self sacrificed for them. she wanted to help, to give them a chance, but in doing so she passed limits she wasnt supposed to (similar to what happens in laboratory but more specific to her).

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 3

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (IN STOCK!!!)

⋙ product description (summary): choso's finally had enough and if you won't listen to reason he will fuck it into you. but will you still choose him in the end or will he make that choice for you? ⋙ side effects (tw): THE LONG AWAITED BRAT TAMING! rough sex. throat goat!reader. more angst. spanking ass/puss. teasing. edging. lots of delayed pleasure. jealousy. cunnalingus. mirror sex. dom!choso. breeding kink. dirty talk. backshots. fingering. squirting. daddy kink. thigh riding. nuru/thigh fucking. intoxicated reader. drug use (weed). slight voyeurism. yandere choso. baby trapping. mentions of violence (not towards reader). mentions of somnophilia and a lil bit of fluff. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 9.6k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. the long awaited end! i hope you guys like it. i really worked hard on this to make it good <3 special shout outs to my betas @littlemochabunni for literally always talking me off the ledge when i want to ctrl + a+ del everything and @buttercupblu for all the grammar edits my adhd brain struggles with and inspiring me to write the last scene.

Plug!Choso who ultimately will forgive you but it will be on his terms. He just needed to show you first why the only person you should worry about pleasing was him.

Menacing chuckles rumble deep from Choso’s chest, bewildering you in your crossfaded state. Seizing you with a firm hold, he forces you to meet his gaze. Choso holds you so tightly against him that your feet barely touch the ground.

Any attempts of wriggling out of his hold are in vain.

“You’re such a fucking slut.”

His matter-of-fact statement makes you frown. You’re taken aback by the twisted amusement on his face.

“You don’t love me… You love my cock.”

“N-No I—”

Your already short skirt now bunches above your hips and Choso brings a heavy hand down onto your exposed bottom. The sting brings fresh tears to your eyes as the gems on your fishnets leave distinct impressions on your soft, malleable skin.

“You’ll have to learn to be quiet while daddy’s talking, princess.”

If you were going to act like a childish brat, Choso would treat you like one.

Another harsh spank startles you into hiccups as you sniff away fallen tears. 

You’d never been spanked before—not by previous lovers or boyfriends—hell not even your parents growing up. 

The last person you’d expect it from was Choso.

And yet each swift lick Choso deals you is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. 

Who knew you would be such a glutton for punishment? 

You fidget, biting your lip in anticipation of another. 

“Been thinkin’ princess—I’ve been too good to you. But you don’t want that, eh?”

A third smack has you whimpering. Your pelvic muscles clench hard, releasing more of the desperation that had already saturated your thighs.

“You want one of those assholes outside, is that right? They’re good enough for you, huh princess?”

You can only mewl in response from the delightful pain that pierces your senses as he delivers another and another.

“S’why every time I fuckin’ come round y’er being a lil’cocktease for some preppy ass frat fuck.”

Choso wasn’t wrong. 

You knew what those boys wanted from you.

Even though you had never really entertained any of them. That was the allure in itself—to be something unattainable. 

Yet more selfishly, you liked the attention. Not like you’d even got the same thrill from it anymore since you were with Choso—but old habits die hard.

Choso was making damn sure of that now.

“Tryna get one of them to fuck you tonight—”

Choso’s cock twitches in sync with your trembles from every spank.

“—or were you hoping I was finally gonna put that pretty princess pussy of yours in her place?” 

You’re smart enough to know Choso’s question is rhetorical and how could it not be given all your actions tonight? 

It was clear you wanted him and his deliciously fat cock back—badly. 

Your tongue cautiously peeks out as you try to quiet your shuddering breaths, afraid that any small movement might provoke his anger. At this point you know better than to beg too, almost certain that any attempts would only fuel the unexpected mean streak Choso had developed.

Yet despite any initial apprehension you were quickly becoming puddy in his hands.

“Poor baby, working so hard having to appease everyone—” 

SMACK!

“—well you ain’t gotta worry that bratty head of yours no more—seeing as you won’t be doing none of that shit from now on.” 

His threats which should have you cussing him out only make you wetter as your heart pounds in your ears from the thrill of being dominated. You’d do anything right now to get a little relief for your aching cunt that had gone a whole goddamn month without Choso’s thick cock plugging her up. 

Restless in arousal, your entire being just begs to be fucked. 

Releasing your hair Choso parts your legs with his knee and you collapse onto him, your plump pussy colliding with his thigh. You whimper, tightly gripping his broad shoulders for leverage to rock yourself against his thigh. 

Choso could feel the intensity of the moist heat radiating from your core dampening his jeans.

“Shit, I can feel you dripping… pussy drooling just from getting that ass spanked a lil’—are you a masochist, princess?”

Choso breathes the question into your ear, his words bringing a chill over your skin fanning goosebumps all the way down to the nape of your neck.

You’re losing yourself all the more in the hypnotic state of lust swirling from alcohol, weed, pain and arousal clashing within you. 

You nearly choke on the deep guttural moans that had been held in by his hand still around your throat when he grabs your hips forcibly rocking you harder against him. Your paper-thin thong does nothing to protect you  from the rough threadbare material of his jeans grinding against your sensitive lil nub. 

“Wearing these slutty tights with an ass like yours…” 

You almost forget to breathe, the sting this time accompanied by him sliding his fingers between the gaps in the material and grabbing the fat of your ass for emphasis.

“...coulda got me in so much shit tonight if I made ol’boy who was touchin’ up on you swallow teeth.”

The baritone in his voice lowers to a deadly note, tuning every nerve in your body to the exact pitch of his voice.

“P-Please C-Cho I—”

—in an instant the hand on your hip coils around your neck. 

Thumbing your collarbone, Choso slowly applies just enough pressure to activate the euphoric sensation of suffocation, sending tingles down your spine.

“Look at me princess, you better stay quiet—m’not gonna say it again.”

You choke back a cry as the elastic on your fishnets snaps against your tender skin when Choso removes his hand from them.

“But then your lil’card got pulled when you saw me with that whore, hmm?”

You wince preemptively expecting another hard spanking but Choso loosens his grip around your throat. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

A sniffly frown complements the pitifulness of your runny makeup as you cling to him possessively. 

“Y-Yeah… I-I hated seeing that d-dumb bitch all over you. Wanted to fuck her up.”

Choso is satisfied with your answer but the warmth behind his smile didn’t match the heated glint in his eyes.

“There it is. See? Bratty princesses who are honest get rewarded—”

Any relief you feel is short lived as your despair returns with the words that follow.

“—eventually.”

Plug!Choso who has you so close to release just from rutting against his brawny thigh. Yet just as you feel the hot coil about to snap in your stomach he pulls away from you. 

Wobbling for stability, your panic that he would leave again subsides when he returns to sit on your bed.

Choso leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees to pack another bowl. The process is second nature to him and his hands move with an instinctual precision, allowing his oppressively dark gaze to remain fixed to you.

“Strip.”

It’s a rather simple command but it causes a small malfunction in your brain nonetheless. 

Your intuition is simultaneously screaming at you to be a ‘good girl’ and listen to Choso so he’d finally fuck you—but also to get the hell away from the menacing man before you were actually fucked.

Choso’s shift in his nature was setting off every internal alarm—although at the same time, you couldn’t say this still didn’t feel like Choso.

Was it really new? 

Or was this side just new to you? 

You’d only ever really known the gentle boyish side of Choso. The side who would blush easily and that was so willing to do anything to please you—the side that was a dutiful and loving brother.

But this other side? 

Well, he was a dealer.

You’d never heard of Choso getting caught out or punked in the streets—not even once. 

You also never knew how he conducted his business, as he always stepped out of the car or left the room. When he took a call while you were with him, all you could hear were faint murmurs of conversation over the rumbling bass of music or through a well-insulated door.

You knew he did his best to keep that side away from you and Yuji, as it wasn’t always pretty. 

Instantly you recalled how once when you had slept over he reluctantly left in the middle of the night late saying he had ‘business’ to take care of. When he came home hours later he looked worn down and even more tired than usual. His knuckles were swollen and there was a rip with small dots of blood on his collar which you would have thought was his own if not for there not being a single scratch on him.

He didn’t speak of what happened and you couldn’t fuss over his appearance for too long—your mind being far from inquisitive while blubbering from his cock drilling your body deep into the mattress. You blissfully became a fleshlight of relief for all his frustrations that night until long after sunrise. 

In fact, Choso had dicked you down so thoroughly when you finally made it out of bed that day it was mid-afternoon. You didn’t even question him about the bruises lingering on his knuckles or whose blood he had on him—still in a daze off his cock.

So this must be how he is in the streets. 

“Go on now, princess.”

The deep silky dominance in his tone commanded your attention, jarring you from your thoughts. You’re pouting, but your body, in spite of your more rational mind, wins as it compels you to obey him, convincing you that anything he has planned for you would be well worth the pleasure that follows. 

Slowly, you begin to lift up your tiny pink top when Choso’s eyes narrow in disapproval, stopping you.

“Nuh-uh see—that shit right there won't cut it.”

You’re puzzled. You did exactly as he asked.

“You didn’t think I saw my lil’ slut playing beer pong and teasing those shitheads with my tiddies? Now do it for me—the same fuckin’ way.”

You’re nodding but your delicate hands are nevertheless shaking under his intense smolder.

Swallowing your anxiety and mimicking your earlier actions, you bent towards him. Your chest is lightly heaving by the time your nails begin to slowly drag the hem of the sparkly top down over your breasts. Choso is blatantly palming his cock when you give the final tug that has your tits bouncing forth from their confines, fully exposed to him.

Choso hums in approval, satisfied with your performance. He motions with a finger for you to come to him and you can’t close the distance fast enough to stand between his legs. 

Molding your hips in his large hands, Choso brings you even closer. Parting his lips the smoke tendrils fan over your stomach while his mouth hovers over your skin. 

Choso looks back up at you and your belly dips, quivering at his dangerously seductive eyes and mischievous grin. 

You were nervous—good.

“Knees.”

Plug!Choso who has you shamelessly panting on your knees before him. Not caring for any decorum at this point you’re openly salivating as hearts practically dance in your eyes over his engorged cock throbbing inside his jeans.

Choso releases a whiny hiss when the air hits his swollen glands. His length sways weighted down as an embarrassing amount of pre drips off his reddened shaft, his boxers already soiled. 

In your right state of mind you might have used this to shift back the power dynamics—yet alas, you are far too gone now. The need for him to give you his praise and approval winning out over any inklings of sass or disobedience. 

Your attention is all but zeroed in on how those milky pearls dribbled over his albert piercing and down the thick vein on the underside of his length.

Seeing how your mouth watered just from the sight of his cock, it’s Choso who proves to be the more impatient one as he grips the back of your head with one hand forcing you closer. In his haste, his dick misses your mouth and skids across your cheek, prompting a low growl of curses from Choso. 

Unconcerned with his impatience, you’re still in your own world—and that world in question was currently being filled with the carnal smell of Choso’s scent marking your skin. A long stain of pre smearing across your face mind shuts down now solely driven by your needy cunt.

“I’ll forgive you when you show me how sorry you are—”

“—anything!” 

Quickly snapping out of your dickmatized daze you look up at him with doe eyes, begging for the go-ahead.

“Yeah? Then do it nasty for me, princess.” 

The words have scarcely left Choso’s lips before you’re already parting your own, releasing a viscous well of drool to pour languidly on his dick.

Your saliva mixing with his spilled essence coats his cock and fills the room with vulgar squelches as you obediently pump his hot length. You rotate your grip with a sinful precision while your other hand thumbs his gooch as you’re cupping his balls, kneading them in a manner that had Choso’s toes curling. 

Giving thanks for the meal you are about to consume, you never break eye contact as you deliver pillowy kisses to his tip and strum your tongue under his frenulum. Choso’s abs twitch feverishly when the sultry hollow of your mouth lewdly hums over his piercing. The sounding effect alone is nearly enough to make him bust right then. 

You aren’t holding up well yourself either as your thighs squeeze together soaking your fishnets which had long been sticky with your overflowing arousal. Manifesting that it soon would be the moist suction of your vacant cunt and not of your spit glossed lips that would take him whole as you continue to moan wantonly around his girth.

The memory alone didn’t do your mouth justice to Choso, not that he still didn’t cum plenty from thinking of your lips slobbering around him in the last month.

Fuck if you didn’t always give some crazy ass head though.

However, he knows he has to keep control lest he loses all the progress he made training that lil’ attitude of yours tonight. 

Weaving his muscular hands through your hair, in one swift motion Choso thrusts his hips forward. He groans loudly from your warm gummy throat now stuffed full with his cock. Gargling his girth you choke when Choso’s piercing scrapes the back of your throat as he forcibly bobs your head up and down.

Thick tears burn your vision with your running mascara flowing right down your full cheeks. But it's nothing compared to the fiery burn in your cunt that’s even more jealous than before of your throat getting the treatment it needs so desperately.

“You’re gonna be my good girl from now on? Yeah baby, I know—I know ya are. Now open that throatpussy a lil wider for me, got sum’ for it.”

Heart fluttering at his filthy praises, you easily let him coerce your face flush to his pubic bone to take him to the very hilt. Your nose is buried in his dark pubic hair and his balls slap your chin at every thrust. The harsh treatment has your tears mingling with his fluids to coat your face and stain his jeans. 

This is how you should be. 

Obedient and pretty while your sobs vibrate around his cock destroying your throat. All you had to do was worry about taking care of him—in turn he would take care of you and the rest.

Shit though, going so long without your bratty little mouth around his dick Choso wasn’t about to last too much longer. 

His blunted nails dig into your scalp as he hunches, curling over your body from the sloppy way he plows even deeper into you. 

“You’re gonna take all of it princess. Every last bit, understood?”

Choso takes your unintelligible gurgles and the hands shoving against his thighs as confirmation. A needy grunt is followed by jets of his creamy load spurting down your esophagus.

Teeming with adrenaline, you gasp for air. Your lungs are on fire from sputtering up his tangy spunk that somehow even trickled into your windpipes. Choso’s fluids dribble down your chin, a show of proof from you having milked his cock so thoroughly. 

But you're not angry with him for the rough treatment—on the contrary. 

Once your coughs subside you’re gazing up at Choso like an innocent lamb and not the nasty throat goat you just proved yourself to be. Praying you have been enough of a good girl for him to finally fuck your lil’ cunt as hard as you needed.

Plug!Choso who rewards you with gentle strokes that smooth your hair back and caress your flushed cheeks stained with his spunk.

Keeping true to his promise of every last bit, Choso thumbs the remaining salty fluids soiling your face back into your mouth, dumping the excess onto your tongue that greedily slurps it down.

Satisfied, Choso straightens and beckons you onto his lap with a pat to his thigh. Smirking at your enthusiasm as you clumsily settle in. 

“Now doesn’t it feel nice…being a good girl for once?”

Choso affectionately twirls your hair in his fingers and you bob your head eagerly. 

Your lips are mere centimeters apart.

You want to kiss him but Choso doesn’t feel like you earned that just yet, balling his fist to tug your locks taunt when you lean in.

“Not yet, baby.”

You stick your lip out, fussing in aroused frustration. 

“Tsk—now, now none of that shit, brats don’t get kisses—and they certainly don’t get this dick.”

If the look in his eyes were any indication you knew Choso meant business. The searing eye contact had long incinerated all the walls you’d built to keep him out, exposing the very essence of you laid bare in the ashes. 

You have no more defenses against him, becoming more obedient to his every word.

Seconds pass that seem like achingly brutal hours until he breaks the staredown. His sights now follow his hands as they splay out trailing from your collarbone to your breasts, letting them weigh heavy in his palms.

His lecherous scrutiny has you shivering.

“You let anyone touch these?”

The question startles you as does the sensation of Choso rolling your stiffened peaks between his knuckles before giving them a cruel tug. 

You sniffle as you shake your head ‘no’, trying not to whine and still unable to speak from him pounding your vocal cords raw. 

Choso grins knowingly as his hands fondle your plush mounds, kneading the supple flesh and pushing them together before the steamy cavern of Choso’s mouth consumes both at once. The bar of his pierced tongue swirled between your hardened buds, lapping, slurping and nibbling. Squirming you arch back deeper into his mouth and grind your soaked lil cunny on his rapidly stiffening length. Your hands cling to his pigtails for any semblance of an anchor keeping you from tumbling backwards. 

Spurred on by your shuddering cries Choso withdraws from your swollen peaks with a pop and licks up the string of spit that cobwebs between them. His tongue flattens licking each one dutifully as he watches as your jaw slacks from pleasure.

You’ve been so deprived of his touch. You could cum from just a bit more of this.

Yet Choso’s lips don’t stop traveling your body, even higher this time to adorn your decolletage with searing hickies. 

Uncaring if they actually showed up to brand your skin or not.

Choso only needs you to feel them bruise beneath your flesh.

That way you wouldn’t so soon forget exactly who you belonged to.

“And what about my bratty lil’ pussy, princess? I know how needy she is. You let one of those frat fuckers inside her?”

His hot heady breaths puff out to curl around your earlobe, leaving the severely neglected spot in between your thighs throbbing at her mention. 

You think you might actually die if he ignores your cunt for much longer. 

Your thong is utterly drenched. More arousal trickles onto his lap as his muscular hands settle back on your hips. 

“N-no!”

Sounding more like a croaked plea, your voice is barely above a whisper from the hoarseness that settled in your throat.

“W-Waited f-for you Cho.” 

“Then show me.”

Plug!Choso who has you even more intoxicated off the thought of him giving you a pussy inspection. 

He has nearly succeeded in domesticating you and your arms wrap around him submissively as you moan unabashedly into his neck. 

Choso muses he should have handled your snobby ass like this sooner and saved himself some trouble. 

Lifting you, Choso rises from the bed. 

You haven’t realized you’ve moved at all until you crash into the edge of your vanity, shaking the table with a thud. Rattled, you look back, giving Choso the leverage he needs to spin you around. Dizzy from the sudden movement, your arms fly out—scattering bottles of makeup and perfume as you grasp at the wooden tabletop. 

The items roll on the floor in tandem with Choso rolling his hips up against you. You release a loud mewl from his hard erection teasingly poking into your ass.

Thinking only with your pussy, your impatient pleas are met with another slap to the ass. The increased weight behind his hand this time leaves your nerve endings sizzling. 

You were gonna be such a sweet girl by the time he was done with you.

However, he wouldn’t torture you for too much longer. 

Despite his cold authoritarian demeanor, the image of shoveling his cock deep into your creamy cunny after so long of only jerking to the memory has him about to lose it. Grasping the front of your hips, Choso jerks you flush against his pelvis. You fall forward until your cheekbone is smooshed into the vanity’s mirror and his thick bulge molding itself in-between your cheeks

“Stay just like that for me, yeah baby? Hands on the mirror, they better not fuckin’ leave either.”

You position your hands obediently and Choso, as if praising you, tenderly gifts lustful kisses down your spine while he pampers your reddening bottom with gentle caresses. 

“Good fuckin’ girl, princess.”

The more feral his nature, the more like his prey you became. Choso licentiously inspects your body—gripping, sniffing, and nipping at your heated skin until he is level with your ass. 

You whimper as Choso rips your fishnets ripping them open, admiring the indents on your skin from the jeweled tights before burying his face between your squishy cheeks. 

His nose salaciously nuzzles against the soaked material stuck to your barely covered hole and he releases a hot guttural sigh, purring into your pussy. 

Always a fiend for dining on your cunt, Choso is brimming with contentment from your juices leaking onto his face. This may have been your punishment but it was also his reward as the taste of your filthy lil plum never failed to drive him wild—often opting to spend most of the night with his face between your hips, he’d still cum plenty times from just thrusting into the air as he let you ride his face.

Licking his lips, Choso’s tongues traces the pattern of your thong and sucks your juices from the saturated fabric. You’re both loudly moaning now—Choso from the saccharine flavor of your cunt and you from the sweet relief of the hot languid strokes of his skillful tongue.

Choso might have lost himself in that moment of finally getting to taste you again. His eyes roll back at how you lewdly leak through your soaked thong.

All for him. 

You were still his even after all this time.

However, it's your own hastiness that reminds him your penance is worth more than his own pleasure when your ass wiggles impatiently lowering onto his face when Choso’s tongue piercing starts drawing lazy circles around your sensitive lil pearl.

“C-Cho, n-need you…puh-lease s’not fair—”

Determined to control every sensation he gives to you and holding you in place, Choso scolds you.

“Fair? Nah, know what’s not fair, princess?”

His lips move closer to ghost over your ass causing goosebumps to rise over the warm tender skin.

“You actin like a bitch for a whole fuckin’ month and keeping all this good pussy away from me.”

You shudder when his teeth sink into your jiggly flesh causing you to yelp and rock against the vanity.

You’d get more pleasure when he wanted you to. 

Choso would screw that lesson into you soon enough. 

“Fuck—the only thing sweet about you is this lil’ pussy. You’re such a brat but she's so honest. Then again—maybe it's your slutty lil’ pussy that’s actually the brat, thinking she runs shit because of how good she is at milking cock, yeah?”

Choso confirms his suspicions upon peeling your soaked thong to the side. Strings of your arousal practically glue the material to your cunt. Not hesitating to make more of a mess of you, he illicitly hawks globes of his spit into your already dripping lil’ hole eagerly winking at him.

“Let’s see what this slutty cunt has to say for herself, hm?”

Choso places a chaste kiss over your entrance before driving two fingers straight in. Your hands leave streaks down the mirror as you perspire, fogging up the glass with your breathy cries.

Speeding up his pace he digs the pads of his fingers into your walls, searching until they run over a spongy hard spot and he has to fight to keep a hand on your lower back to hold you in place.

God you were virgin-tight again. 

Before ignoring you, Choso had only ever gone three days without fucking you and even then you’d been crying from his tip just stretching the entrance of your taut lil pussy. 

In the past, Choso would have taken his time with you. He knew he needed to work you open more so you wouldn’t be sore tomorrow, and yet his cock throbbed to life again so urgently he couldn't restrain himself for much longer.

That’d be something you’d just have to fucking deal with. 

This was all your fault after all. 

Plug!Choso who wouldn’t let you deprive him of his pussy for any longer—however, he was still going to make you beg for it.

“Tell me what you want, princess.”

Choso rips the thong clean off your ass cheeks. 

Leaving you exposed bare in your fishnets he rises up to lean over you. His moist breath trickles electricity down your spine as his bricked length roughly pipes between your cheeks. 

“Nghh…w-want your c-cock…”

“Whose cock—so you know me now, princess?—Choso is that it?” 

Choso mocks your voice with the hurtful words you hurled at him during the garden brunch. Gliding his girth to prod over your entrance and miss its mark intentionally. 

“Pleeaseee—C-Choso-C-Choso-C-Choso.” 

The pleas of his name slur together as your attention solely focuses on how his leaky shaft lathers your already dripping folds in his pre. 

“That’s right princess…now tell me who am I to you?”

Choso reaches around to swat at your swollen clit. 

You cry out as your body slick with sweat jolts up violently. Choso has to throw more of his weight onto you to keep you from slipping off the vanity entirely.

You could have actually fallen to the floor without noticing as the fuzzy feeling in your brain intensifies, too much is happening all at once. Your intoxicated thoughts swirl in its attempt to work out the finer details of your relationship with Choso—details you likely wouldn't have been able to answer even while completely sober.

Who was Choso to you?  

Well, frankly, right now he was technically nothing. You had never previously defined your relationship and hadn’t had any communication at all over the last month until just a few days ago.

Your dealer? Friend? Casual hookup? Situationship? 

By and large, it had been your fault that you’d never discussed it. You actively ran from any complicated conversations or pulled away whenever Choso proposed something that would be too close to affirming your status. 

You also knew how much Choso liked you, especially from how he’d blush when other parents in Yuji’s class would mistake the two of you for a couple. 

You weren’t a couple though—even if you acted like you were behind closed doors. 

Even so, you knew how he made you feel when you were with him and knew what you wanted him to be to you now. 

That was enough.

Goddamnit.

Your body threatens to explode from the vulnerability of your exposed emotions pricking at your every nerve while you work up the courage to say it. 

This admission was somehow even harder than confessing you loved him—which had honestly been relatively easy in comparison as you were so upset you would have done anything at that moment to make him stay. 

Face on fire, you clasp your eyes shut—as if not looking at Choso in the mirror means he somehow can’t hear the words that stumble out of you.

“M-My boyfriend!”

Silent tears fall as you fear his reaction, you’ve never been the one to lay your feelings on the line first.

Had you really missed your chance to be with him?

Would he just fuck you and leave after?

Choso remains silent as his hands glide up your sides, feeling you tremble under his touch. He lifts your torso, pulling you to his chest possessively. Choso’s arms encircle you as they weave between your breasts and he licks a stray tear away. 

Now you have the most lewd, yet perfectly unhindered, view of his hefty mushroom tip as it quickly slots through your puffed folds to ram into your clit.

The wide grin on his features is evident as your face crumples and pleasurable sobs rupture from you. Choso rests the side of his face against your neck as he takes in your smell, giving you a chaste kiss and savoring how much his body is scenting yours.

“Oh? You asking me out, princess? Well, I’m flattered you finally asked, but that's not exactly the answer I was looking for—”

A feverish chill spreads across your skin and you’re shivering as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“—as it’s certainly not what you will be calling me when I’m pushing your kidneys back.”

Choso’s hands lazily roam your body while he continues to sneak his length through your thighs. You unconsciously arch back to rest your nape on his shoulder, allowing him better access to touch you.

So he wasn’t talking about your relationship status after all?! 

Still the devious smile on Choso’s face tells you he intentionally misled you with his phrasing nonetheless. 

“So—who am I?”

The cocky tone in his voice makes it clear exactly what he wants you to call him—and you’d say it—you just need to work up the nerve first.

Unfortunately for you Choso’s patience for your bratty ass had long since depleted.

“Tch, yo we can stop then if—”

You snapped the moment you felt his hands leave you.

“NO, DADDY!” 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy…s’good. I-I promise puh-leaseee put it in—please—need you, Daddy!”

There was no way in hell Choso would have left without sticking his dick in you but he knew that you were too hard up right now to even dream of calling his bluff.

“That’s right princess. I’m your Daddy. Now show Daddy that arch baby.”

Plug!Choso who smirks into your skin as he tastes you. The sting from a tiny love bite blossoming as he manhandles you back down onto the table’s surface when your already cockdrunk mind doesn’t have you moving fast enough.

“But you’re still actin’ up a lil baby—so you gonna have to put this dick in yourself, got it?”

Choso hums at your dizzy babbles of confirmation, slipping his thumbs over your chubby pussy lips to spread you open. Choso is in awe of how slutty your cunt looked, clenching around nothing but the webs of your own arousal and practically screaming to be busted open wider by his cock.

Catching his tip on your entrance, Choso stalls as he has to chew the inside of his own cheek to resist not thrusting into you completely—you’d do the rest from here. 

Choso was just glad you weren't looking in the mirror to see how hard his abs were trembling. 

Exhaling shaky breaths, you ease back onto him, gingerly sinking down his length. Your kitten nails fitfully scratch at the table just from the stretch of just getting his wide mushroom tip inside. 

SHIIIIT-SHIIIT-SHIIIT—Too much! 

You grit your teeth, he’s so big stretching the walls of your cunt to the degree that your walls actually try to push him out when you flex. However, Choso’s hands are digging into your hips to secure you in place. He’s not helping nor hindering you—but he isn’t letting you run any either.

Your knees knock against the vanity, trembling this much and he's only halfway in. 

“Come on, princess…”

Choso coos gently as he rubs circles into the small of your back with his thumbs, coaxing you to relax. 

The dichotomy between Choso’s treatment erratically switching in severity leaves you reeling. You're on edge with heightened arousal, never sure if his next words or touch would be rough or soothing yet either way it leaves you wanting more of him—anything he’d give, you’d take. 

But right now you need him to have a lil mercy on you. 

Tears brim your wide eyes as you pout and look at him through the mirror, pleading with him.

“Puh-leaseeee Cho—m’daddy…help me?”

Your pitiful submission has Choso cracking. His need to ruin you after so long winning over his want to delay your pleasure along with everything else.

Sighing, Choso relents.

“You know, I spoil you too much, princess…s’why you’re so rotten now.”

No sooner had he finished speaking did he hastily slam into you. Your wet warmth completely sucks him in whole and wraps around him so sinfully he has to dig his blunted nails deeper into your hips to keep from immediately painting your walls white.

God, he really was so incredibly weak for your perfect lil’ pussy.

Grunting, Choso sets an unrelenting tempo as he continues to rail into your cervix, each bruising thrust was him reminding you of every time you ignored him—pretended you didn’t know him—told people you were just friends—and for making him even love someone as mean and bratty as you in the first place.

Grabbing onto the clothing bunched at your waist for leverage, Choso pistoning his hard length in and out of you felt like he was ripping your guts out along with it. 

Gathering together a coherent thought right now was impossible. It’s so good but so intense your body reflexively reaches a hand back, frantically pressing against his abs to slow him.

Choso growls, stilling your hand behind your back while his other springs out to pin your head on the table. 

You were blocking his view of how your ass rippled every time he pounds his cock deeper into your cunt.

He just needed you to be good and take it. 

And take it you did.

Choso fucks you so hard your vanity table creaks and repeatedly slams into your wall causing the entire room to shake. Your mind goes blank as if his cock controls the very flow of blood in your body. Surging tingling sensations electrifying your veins when the curve of his length knocks his albert piercing so aggressively against your cervix. 

Your gooey walls build up so much pressure around his thickness that white spots edge your vision so very close to your nirvana.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so my slutty lil’ princess—hold that shit for daddy.”

But there was no way you couldn’t and just as you are at the very edge of your bliss Choso rips it away from you, halting once again to still inside of you.

“Mmmm no please-please-puhleeease let me cum Choso! Please fuck me right Daddy!” 

Plug!Choso, who as much as he wants to edge you past your limits, really pulled out because he also needs to calm down. Choso removes his shirt overhead as the heat in the room has skyrocketed to near sweltering. 

Even unmoving inside you, your pussy still flexes around him like crazy. You weren’t on birth control so he never came inside you, not even once before. Pulling out normally to release over your stomach, ass or tits and wearing a condom on days it wasn't as safe. 

Although he desperately wants to cum inside you, to really mark you as his, could he risk it? 

It would be so stupid and so irresponsible, going far beyond any punishment. 

You still had a year of school left.

He couldn't knock you up. 

Then again you didn't need to go to classes physically—you could take them online. 

Pushing his more debased and wicked thoughts aside, ultimately Choso reigns himself in. He didn’t even want to put you in that position. He’d support you regardless, but he’d admittedly die inside if you decided not to have his child. 

“S-Shit! C-Cho the door!” 

Seeing the sliver of hallway light cast into your dimly lit room, you realize now that you must have forgotten to lock it. This was an old house and your door had the habit of coming open easily from just some minor movement in your room if left unlocked. 

Choso fucking you like he hated you was surely enough to knock it loose.  

Unfortunately for you though, Choso didn’t give a fuck. 

Abruptly snapped out of his perverse breeding fantasies, Choso’s feral eyes, tinged red from his high meet your frantic ones in the mirror.

“No.”

The renewed vigor of his cock plowing through you again strangles any protests, gagging you on them as you feel him back in your throat from the intensity. 

“Nah princess, let them all hear how hard you sob on this loser’s cock while he fucks some manners into you.”

And sob you did. It was difficult to do anything else really as him moving inside you again had your body buzzing more than from your actual high. 

“It doesn’t matter, cause I am about to fuck you so hard even the walls downstairs start shaking—”

Choso’s heavy balls slap against your clit when he kicks his thrusts up a notch and hitches your leg up on the vanity. 

“—n’when they discover us there’s no way they will even want a cockdrunk brat who lets her ‘weirdo burnout stalker’ get her high and fuck her stupid as a president.”

Your mind, clearly ruined by his dick thinks that might not actually be so bad. 

“Shit, you tightened up baby, you actually want someone to find us? See how good I slut you out, yeah?”

Honestly, the harder he thrusted inside you the less you cared—about anything.

School. 

The sorority. 

Your presidency. 

None of it made you feel anywhere near as fulfilled as you were right now with Choso’s thick girth ripping through you. 

The walls quake even more violently. 

The soggy clicking sounds from your soaked cunt almost reach the volume of your crazed screams for him to fuck you even harder. 

Choso was so fucking close again, he was beginning to lose reason.

“F-Fuck it—should I cum in you, princess? I’ll even let you cum too this time.”

Your brain on a mission to cum, fucked so smooth by his fat cock, could care less as long as you got to cum too. 

Oh fuck, just a lil more and you would—

“—PREZ! Did you get the goods or not? We wanna start roll—”

On her phone texting, Brianna—who is pretty fucked up herself—did not even register that the sex noises came from your room. Thinking Choso had left already and sure you were up here salty about her ‘stealing him away’. 

All the color drains from Brianna’s face as she drops her phone as well as her red solo cup filled with spiked seltzer, splashing on her outfit as well as the floor. 

Through the mirror's reflection, she can see the pleasurable agony painted all over your face from getting your cheeks clapped into oblivion by the obvious third leg Choso was packing. Your eyes to the ceiling, heaving out wails as your tongue hangs out of your mouth waging with every thrust Choso carves into your guts. The clicking sound of his cock stirring up your tight lil’ pussy echoes throughout your room. 

“OH MY GAWD! So it was true? You’re actually fucking him??? OHMYGAWDOGMYGAWD they aren’t going to believe this!”

Cockdrunk and stupified you couldn’t give even a piece of a fuck. Honestly, you wouldn't have even noticed her if Choso didn’t stop again. 

No, No, No. You were so sick of being edged! Not after he finally was going to let you cum. 

This can’t be happening right now.

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You needed to cum so bad. 

Your vision is blurry with moisture caught in your lashes as you push yourself up. Grasping onto the edge of the tabletop you used it as leverage to weakly fuck yourself back onto him, doing the work this time if he wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t let Brianna’s ass of all people prevent you from having the orgasm you’ve been fiending over a fucking month for.  

“I jushh w-wanna cum! Pleasssh, wanna-cum-wanna-cum…”

You chant out shamelessly. Your desperate whines stunning both Choso and Brianna. 

Candidly, both thought you'd be horrified enough to stop. 

Choso especially, as even after everything tonight wouldn’t have been shocked if the mortification of actually being caught had you kicking him out.

“Heh.”

Are you actually choosing him for once?

Choso wasn’t going to let the moment pass without finding out—that’s for fuckin’ sure.

The smack he delivers to your cheeks grab your attention as you bellow out more cries. You’re still pathetically trying to get off with your weakened thrusts back. It wasn’t nearly enough to get you off—but better than the burning that threatens to incinerate you whole if you stopped.

“Hey Princess, I’ll let you cum just lemme know something first, yeah?”

You nod your head longingly, dizzy with need.

“Tell this bitch whose dick is this?”

For the first time that night, you answered without missing a beat.

“M-Mine m’daddy, its m-mine!”

You pant breathlessly, still trying to rock yourself back on him but you aren't quite hitting the spot. 

Your eyes lock with Brianna’s through the mirror’s reflection yet you are looking straight through her—your eyes vacant as you could only think of Choso’s cock. 

Your cock.

“Nah don’t look at that bitch, look at me princess.”

Not hesitating, your eyes snap over to him.

“Good fucking girl—and whose pussy is this?” 

“You–YOU CHOSO! Please Daddy—please it's s’good, I need it! Please fuck me Daddy!”

Choso turns to Briana who is frozen in place—her eyes are wider than saucers—as she realizes she’s lost.

Reaching over you he grabs an ounce bag and tosses it near her hitting the floor by her feet. Brianna hesitates though, causing Choso to growl impatiently. 

He’d proved his point, now he wanted this bitch gone.

“Yo Gouda—you a voyeur or somethin’?”

Brianna jumps when Choso addresses her quickly shaking her head ‘no’. 

“Then get the fuck up outta here bitch—MOVE!”

In her haste, Brianna slips on the spilled alcohol as she scrambles to quickly snatch up the weed and her alcohol-soaked phone. The door slams shut as she scurries out the door.

Plug!Choso who has lost all desire to punish you. He only wants to be able to see your face twist in pleasure when he finally lets you have your sweet euphoric release.

In a flash, he’s moving you again. Choso swoops you up and tosses you onto the bed, hurriedly making sure the door is locked this time before kicking off his pants and crawling on top of you. 

“Shhhh princess, you did so good baby, m’gonna let you cum. Gonna have you creaming so hard on this cock, s’your cock baby—you earned it.”

Choso is slurring his words as he peppers your body with blood buzzing kisses to hush your anguished whimpers while he peels the remaining clothes off your body. Not being sheathed inside you is killing him just as much, yet he longs to touch your silky skin unimpeded against his own.

“Been taking me s’gud baby, c’mere…”

The both of you now bare, Choso wastes no time plunging back into your heated core, your heels digging into his back at the intensity. 

Damn—you’re so perfect.  

Allowing himself to let go, his mind shatters as Choso melts into your gooey lil’ cunny. 

His lips are desperate to find yours and Choso is no longer able to withhold himself from sinking into a pussydrunk state. Uncaring for any more displays of dominance, the kiss you share is hurried and sloppy causing your thoughts to splinter. 

Your mind fragments into increasingly smaller pieces of incoherency the more frantic Choso’s kiss becomes. His teeth clash with yours and graze over your swollen lips, unable to control himself as he fitfully bruises your clit from the blunt thrusts of his pelvic bone.

Tears glaze your eyes blinding you from the creamy stickiness at Choso’s hilt that splash between your bodies. The musky fluids flow all over your puffed lil’ pussy to drizzle past his aching balls to puddle on your sheets.

“L-Live with me—with me n’ Yuji—FUHHCKKpussysogood—y-you ain’t gotta be here anymore, princess.”

Choso’s forehead rests against yours and his dick twitches inside of you like crazy from the ridges of his thick engorged cock scraping against every nerve in your cunt.

“Be with us, baby. Be our family. I-I–SHIIIIIT—I love you so-much-so-much.”

All of his bravado strips away and there’s just the soft Choso you knew once again. The one who would do anything for you, the one who made your stomach flip and your heart stop—you didn’t want to go through life anymore without him in yours.

“Y-Yes! I wanna—ah fuhhhh—s’gud l-love you D-Daddy!”

Overwhelmed with emotion for you and knowing he would come soon, Choso reaches a shaky hand between you to roughly smash his palm into your sensitive lil’ bud. The soaked slick from your bodies causes his movements to jerk erratically and your hips involuntarily thrash against him.

Choso screws his eyes shut, your bodies so wet he nearly slips off of you in his single-minded focus to make you cum. He has to be ready to pull out of you as soon as you do or he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from shooting all of his cum in you—yet that’s exactly what your fucked out lil’ pussy wants. 

“C-Cum—cum in me Daddy…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you almost fade out of consciousness from the sublime shockwaves that erupt over your body as you are nearly at the peak of your climax.

Choso’s hips falter, almost in a more fucked out condition than you. He nearly dumped his entire load into you then but his last sliver of sanity held out.

“SHIIIIIT—P-Princess—Do ya even know what y’er s-saying to me right now?” 

Time slows, your hand cups his face staring with conviction as best you could into his dark aubergine eyes as your other weakly directs the palm pressing on your clit to rest on your belly.  

“Cum in me Choso—I-I wouldn’t mind having a baby if it's yours.” 

Oh fuck… 

And with that your knees were by your ears and your ankles dangle off his shoulders. 

Sure, you were intoxicated on many substances—his dick included and as much as you may have just been talking shit at this moment Choso doesn’t care anymore.

You’d told him you’d have his baby and it’s all his pussydrunk mind can process.

Like a puppy Choso whimpers his groans keen sharply out of him as his tongue dangles to drip slobber down your neck. He’s reverting back to the sloppy whiny mess you know him to be when hes fucked himself out from treating your drooling hole like a well-loved pocket pussy.

“MHMMM FUCK!”

The knot inside you twists impossibly tighter, straining your nerves until it finally snaps sending shockwaves through you. You lose yourself in nonsensical cries as your worn battered body convulses uncontrollably, creaming around his cock. 

If your brain hadn’t shut down at this very moment—only filled with the white noise of your searing orgasm—you might be worried Choso just broke your bed. The creaking fills the room as the sound of metal bending is apparent although neither of you are concerned.

“—s’gonna be OK, mmm-FUCK—m’gonna take care of you, love you—we’ll be a real family then, you, me, yuji—n’our baby!”

You don’t even hear him as you’re on autopilot now. The red streaks your kitten nails scratch across his muscular shoulders urge him on like the squelching sounds of your squirt gushing out of you and wet smacks of his balls colliding with your ass.

Overstimulating your senses, Choso sweeps you up into another all consuming kiss. The mind-numbing aftershocks of your blissful tremors leaves your tongue limp as his mouth hungrily devours yours. When Choso finally releases, his hot seed pumps into your tummy as his body writhes on top of yours. 

The mind numbing aftershock of your euphoric release continues as Choso proceed to fuck more and more of his thick ropes of his cum into you. He doesn’t show signs of slowing down but your body on the other hand fades, giving into the comforting gratification of sleep after having your guts rearranged. 

“O-one more time, p-princess—pleaseeee.”

Your thankful at that moment you’ve previously told Choso you didn’t mind somnophilia and gave him the free use pass to fuck you while you slept. You rarely actually could even stay asleep with how hard he would end up railing you but there was a first time for everything with your cunt finally content and full after so long your exhaustion drags you into a deep slumber. 

Plug!Choso who tightly cuddles you to him as you both sleep. The two of you twisted up like a pretzel in a mess of limbs with you practically smashed between Choso and the wall. 

Your XL twin bed clearly wasn't meant to comfortably fit two people like this. 

You’re still mostly asleep though, softly groaning as the cheery morning sun pierces through your thin curtains. You move to throw a pillow over your face only to discover you cannot budge. 

However, you can't say you weren’t used to waking up like this. Choso was always a hardcore cuddler. You missed the mornings you’d wake overheated and skin to skin. Your legs would find themselves intertwined just like this. 

Somehow, Choso would always find a way to fuse the both of your bodies together where every part of him was touching some piece of you.

Typical…

The sleepy thought drifts through your brain, sensing it's still far too early for you to wake up. Wanting to drift back to sleep you burrow your face deeper into his chest, stiffening when your mind does the very opposite and wakes up enough to recall the events of the previous night.

Sobering quickly in the daylight, a sinking feeling begins to suffocate your heart. The now familiar guilt you’ve accumulated over the past month amplifies the hangover etching itself behind your eyes. 

You can’t help but panic as the memories from the night before come rushing back. 

There was still so much uncertainty. 

Having been utterly humbled for the first time in your life you can’t stop the self doubt that questions if he’d even meant everything he said last night—you were both lit as hell. 

You’d meant it though.

Your heart seizes at the thought that this might be the last time you’d wake up in his arms. Before you know it you are crying again trembling as you try not to wake Choso up with your silent tears.

You are quiet enough but Choso is also a light sleeper and stirs awake at the small fit you’re having.

“H-Hey, morning princess *yawns*—wait, what's wrong?”

His tired eyes are full of loving concern as Choso cups your face wiping away your tears before bringing you into his chest, tightening his hand on your head.

“Shit, was I too rough on you last night princess? Fuck, I know how much all this shit means to you I—”

You interrupt Choso, you can’t let him beat himself up over you any longer.

“N-No, Cho—”

Sniffling, you break away from his hold just enough to maneuver yourself to meet his tired eyes. 

You mentally kick yourself—you hated being such a crybaby now but you couldn't help it. You were left feeling so vulnerable after being stripped of all pretenses the night before—it all just started pouring out of you— 

“—d-did you mean it? W-What you said? Cause I—I meant what I said. I-I wanna be with you and Yuji. C-Cook breakfast and f-fall asleep watching movies and go to all his games with you—I’ll never miss another game and—and—”

“Bet.”

Wait…huh?

Even after last night you half-still expect him to be upset with you, you’d still expected you’d have to beg. 

You’re left speechless.

“Bet. Let’s pack up your shit then, princess.”

Choso’s bright grin is near blinding to your weary gaze. 

“I meant everything I said, I could never lie to you.”

Giving you a tender kiss on your forehead, he forces you to look him in the eyes. Choso takes in all your looks of uncertainty before melting them away, softly cooing affirmations with his lips fluttering over yours. You’re so needy for his touch as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him even closer.

Not being able to resist your body’s calls for him, you soon find yourself underneath Choso who rubs his morning wood against your core still soaked with his essence from the night before.

Choso smirks down at you, the cockiness back in his voice.

“What I say before? You’re my family—Fuck those bitches and fuck your parents—I got you.”

Plug!Choso, who doesn’t know what time it is but knows he has to go pick up Yuji from his friends soon. He also doesn’t know if he should expect your nosy ass sorority sisters to barge in again. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sinking into your sopping heat once more, never taking his lips off of you. 

Unlike the fervor of last night, his strokes are slow. The anger and intensity are gone, but the passion still remains simmering under your skin. Choso is savoring every bit of you as he devours your mewls, drinking them down along with any lingering unsureties. 

But, fuck—he doesn't feel like he’ll be able to keep himself from cumming inside you from now on. Not when you’d be living with him and Yuji, acting all domestic like. 

Images of a would-be future with you swirl in his mind—you pregnant, giggling at Yuji when he jumps in surprise from feeling the baby kick—your belly growing so large you had to cradle a hand underneath when you adorably waddled from room-to-room—the day of delivery when you both finally get to meet the child you cr—

—MUTHRFUUUUH!

Choso’s eyes roll towards the ceiling as he whines loudly, his whole body is shivering along with his premature release. Buckets of his viscous seed slosh in your womb with every sloppy stutter of his hips, pushing the mass overflow of his cum out of your swollen hole and down the crack of your ass.

Fucking you through his overstimulation, your cries only fuel his intent to impregnate you. The want for the sensual intimacy that slow fucking brings after a reconciliation being overtaken by the intense primal urge to put a baby in your belly.

There was no need for any additional vocalizations of affection when Choso is so adamantly reciprocating your feelings, his creamy cum filling you with promises of his devotion which he fucks even deeper into your womb. 

You aren’t able to recall the last time you felt this satisfied. Working so hard to meet everyone else’s standards was exhausting and you didn’t regret your choice.

You had no plans now other than being with Choso. 

And contrary to the dread of what you had previously thought deviating off course would be like—it frees you. You love and trust Choso enough to let go of all of it and just let life take you where it would.

You’d be content as long as you have him and Yuji. 

Choso knows this yet even so, he is still on a mission to add a fourth to your new little family sooner rather than later. 

He knew you were speaking of the future when you said you’d have his kid the night before but—why delay the inevitable? 

Choso needed to fill you up at least 2 more times before he’d let you leave this bed—no matter how many of your sorority sisters would walk in—they could watch for all he cares.

Yeah at this rate you’d definitely be pregnant by the start of school next year.

Shit, he’d have to go buy a ring soon.

⋙ how was that? holy hell i think this is the longest fic i've written lol. i wanted to take my time with this because although brat taming isn't hard i still wanted to capture the essence of choso. he can be mean enough to do it he's definitely going to internally struggle a bit and be our whiny feral lil baby gworl at the end lol.

taglist will be in a reblog in the morning. needed to get this out and then go to bed. i might also edit it a bit as well. as some of it wasn't proofed.

reblogs and comments so appreciated, i wanna know what u think, send me asks too!

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[angrycloudcrown]

~ PINNED POST ~

yeah idk how pinned posts work go easy on me

here's my pronouns page

Fandoms

★ The Music Freaks (All time fav!!)

★ The Disastrous Life of Saiki K (2nd Fav)

(Please talk about TMF or TDLOSK to me. Or honestly just talk about them in general. I'M BEGGING AAAAHHHH)

★ Heathers: The Musical (songs are all BANGERS)

★ Ride The Cyclone (sugar cloud solos!! <3)

★ Sanders Sides (virgil kinnie...)

★ Doki Doki Literature Club (just monika.)

★ Amanda the Adventurer (horror enjoyer at times)

★ Mia's World (webcomic by Mogry331)

★ Cuphead (both game and show)

★ Andy's Apple Farm (horror enjoyer at times part 2)

★ Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (there's 3 of us—)

★ Undertale (sans and papyrus best duo)

★ Be More Chill (do i really have to explain this one?)

★ The Amazing Digital Circus

★ I'm In Love With The Villianess

★ Five Nights At Freddy's (ive been a fan for years how have i never put this in my fandom section. anyway horror enjoyer at times part 3)

★ Kindergarten 1 and 2 Games (DanTDM'S playthroughs got me, great game)

★ Riddle School

★ Baldi's Basics In Education And Learning

★ Nerdy Prudes Must Die

★ My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic (not in the weird way. just. just the normal pony show way)

★ Pokémon (more specifically the anime, but I am in love with the games too)

★ Hazbin Hotel (im a bit disappointed for caving and watching the show, but oh well)

★ Steven Universe (the 2018 fandoms never leave, they simply linger)

★ Avatar: The Last Airbender

★ Parappa the Rapper

★ Stardew Valley

★ Ramshackle (ily all, indie animated series)

★ There Is No Game: Wrong Dimension

★ Friday Night Funkin' (getting freaky on a friday night yeah 💥)

★ The Amazing World of Gumball

★ Bistro Huddy

★ Night At The Museum

★ Ouran High School Host Club (HARUHI!!!!! <3)

★ The Outsiders (book only, havent seen movie nor musical)

★ Shadow Children Book Series

★ The Henry Stickmin Collection (genuinely. love the games so much oh my god)

Goddamn my fandom section is getting long

(more to be added can't remember them all off the top of my head but these are the main ones I like and interact with)

Basic Info

you can just call me "ash"

use she/her may change, idk???

im aroace and i dont know what gender i am (i mainly identify myself queer)

if you interact/follow and i see anything on your blog relating to you being racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, pedophilic, proship/comship, or literally just anything related to being a bigot, im not arguing with you, i will block you without hesitation

(blogs with excessive genuine kink/sexual content will also be blocked, not cause theyre problematic tho, its just one of things im personally uncomfy with)

i don't mind being tagged in posts, but i might not respond immediately :')

i stand in favor of palestine. 🇵🇸

(please do NOT be weird in my askbox.)

Sideblogs

@speedydestinydream - my sideblog for the gacha series "The Music Freaks" by Rosyclozy

@tdlosk-confessions - my sideblog for confessions about the fandom or series of "The Disasterous Life of Saiki K" (both manga and anime obv lol. only one moderator and it is me)

uhm

that's it!!!

I'll add more later lollllll

[meiieiri]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: in which toji notices how you color-code your outfit every time you see each other…and promptly makes a game out of it in hopes it will cure his gambling addiction.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: colors | outfit inspos | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: 18+, suggestive themes at the end (explicit sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation), but otherwise, just a fluffy/semi-angst/semi-crack scenario of a lovestruck toji trying to cure his gambling addiction~~

Chewing on his pen, Toji’s fangs were beginning to hurt as he stares at the blank face of a random receipt he found in his mostly empty wallet. He seems to be deep in thought, he almost looks like he’s trying his best to crack a mathematical mystery except…he doesn’t give a shit about math and the only mystery he seems to be interested in cracking is…

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Fuck.”

There you were in all your radiant magnificence eagerly waving to him from the university gates with your signature gummy smile he’s grown to love so much. You looked so beautiful and happy today…and you were wearing purple. A purple floral wrap dress. He was so sure you were gonna be wearing pink today Toji crosses out today’s date and the word: pink next to it with a frustrated “X”.

And in case anyone was wondering, this little guess-the-color-his-girlfriend-is-wearing-today game is something he came up with on a whim one day while waiting to pick you up after class. Of all the misfortune that has befallen him in his life, he has to thank the Zenin clan for one thing: sparing him the trouble of having to sit through an entire day of brain-frying university lectures about Kant’s second law of physics.

He hurriedly buries the receipt in his back pocket as he crosses the street, closing the twenty-five meter gap between the two of you. Pressing his lips against yours, Toji hums appreciatively when he tastes his favorite strawberry-flavored lip tint on your Cupid’s bow. You giggle as you nuzzle his nose when he pulls away, your hot breaths against one another’s lips providing a sense of comfort to you both. “What were you saying a while ago?”

“Ah, nothing.” Toji places a protective hand around your waist as the two of you walk to the nearby park for your and his usual after class/work stroll. “Just the usual profanity.”

Your lips curl into a soft pout at the thought of your boyfriend being upset about something. “Why?”

“Nothing babe,” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. “Just lost at the boat races again,” he easily comes up with a white lie — a white lie that is bound to make you sad. He knows how upset you get when he relapses into his gambling addiction which, in his defense, he really is trying to quit for his and your — mostly your — sake. “Ah, I’ll do better, squirt. ‘m sorry.”

“Please?” you plead with him softly to which he nods, softly pinching your cheek in a silent promise to try to limit his gambling to…

…Getting tomorrow’s color right.

The next day, Toji spends about fifteen minutes in the shower trying to figure out what color you’d be wearing today. He’s already ruled out the possibility of you wearing black since it’s thirty degrees outside today, but with your extensive wardrobe, crossing out one color from the list is hardly enough to narrow it down. He’s never felt like this with boat races before since he has this natural tendency to just pick the boat with the most stable engine.

Ah, who was he kidding? He’ll just have to guess…and hope for the best, he steps out of the shower a few minutes of deliberation later.

After putting on a black shirt, he looks at his makeshift gambling ticket on the kitchenette counter with an angry look on his face. “Red. It has to be red.” He jots it down next to today’s date in red ink as if to manifest you’ll wear your off-shoulder red top today and those black trousers you bought from that thrift store in Harajuku last week.

Suddenly, a knock rips through the silence of his apartment and he goes to immediately answer the door. Toji clasps his hand around the doorknob for a bit, somehow still intent on delaying the inevitable. “Toji? The bags are getting kinda heavy,” you sheepishly called from the other side of the door and your boyfriend instantly snaps out of it. He swings the door open a little too aggressively that it makes you jump a bit when you hear the ear-splitting screech of the hinges nearly coming off the door. “Ah…hi, babe?”

You don’t know what to make of Toji’s face.

It’s like he’s feeling an odd mix of emotions all piled into one that they somehow cancelled each other out and now, he’s…staring at you…blankly. You have to admit, it looks a little funny. It’s not his usual stoic expression, it’s just pure…nothingness…like he caught a glimpse of the void or something and he can’t peel his eyes away from it.

“Can I come in—?”

“—Hi.”

“Eh?”

You burst out laughing at his delayed response. It’s like your boyfriend buffered for a full minute there which is so unlike him, considering he’s always so smoothly unbothered and suave in his demeanor. Toji scowls when you place a hand over his forehead. “You feeling okay?”

Toji gently shrugs your hand away, nodding absentmindedly. “Fine.” That sounded awfully peachy but you didn’t mind, Toji’s normally so awkward anyway, unbeknownst to most. In the eyes of those who don’t know him, Toji’s image is nothing short of a big, bad delinquent, but in your eyes, you mostly associate him with a typical house cat — quiet and snooty in every regard but actually genuinely affectionate. “Oh, let me help you with those.” He crouches down to help you with the groceries, sneakily stealing a kiss from you as you remove your shoes at the genkan before stepping into the living room.

Toji watches as you bound over to his apartment’s balcony, searching for the stray cat that normally drops by in the afternoon, with a grimace on his face.

“Of course she’s wearing beige,” he grumbles under his breath. Again, he crosses out today’s entry a little more forcefully this time.

At the balcony, you find Toji’s pet emeritus lounging away at the foot of the laundry rack. “Oh, there you are!” You crouch down and pet the white cat whom Toji affectionately refers to as ‘Yuki’ when he thinks you aren’t listening in whenever he feeds it after dinner. “You look like you could use a warm bath, come on!” You gently pick up the little creature and bring her inside. “Toji, I found Yuki~!”

You stop in your tracks when you see Toji with his forehead pressed to the cold marble counter causing you to instinctively place a comfort hand on his upper back to placate him while Yuki climbs atop the counter. At the familiarness of your touch, Toji, who looks like he’s still upset over some unknown thing he won’t tell you, rights his posture. What’s a man gotta do to get a winning streak around here?

“Hey, maybe you should lie down…”

“…I’m okay,” Toji half-whimpers, defeated, gaping at Yuki as she licks her paw contentedly. “Huh. You brought the fleabag in here?”

Somehow offended by that, Yuki violently hisses at him.

Okay, something is seriously wrong with Toji.

You just came out from using the washroom to see Toji on the kotatsu agitatedly scribbling on a piece of paper that doesn’t exactly look like a betting stub. You surmised it would have been something like that since Toji doesn’t normally get angry over anything except losing money on bets, but you are thoroughly surprised and comforted to see that wasn’t the case this time around. You sit down next to him, pulling your big baby into an embrace.

“My poor baby,” you teased amid Toji’s obvious misery. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you smiled softly when he playfully pushes you down onto the tatami mats, all his weight pinning you down, his hand easily overwhelming yours as he pins them above your head. You try to squirm away from him, laughing when his other hand secures your hip to the floor, rendering you unable to struggle against him. Then, he lowers his lips close to your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps to appear all over your skin, he sighs, falling slack at the crook of your neck.

Toji hates this, he probably looks like a kicked dog right now.

Today’s bet was yellow but when you opened the door to your apartment, you were wearing a mint green sweater over your cream relaxed fit ankle pants.

“Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I just win for once?” Toji’s voice is muffled as he buries his face in your shoulder. Instantly, you feel a pit form in your stomach. You’ve heard this before. You slowly push him off of you, your disappointment palpable in the way you utter your next words.

“Toji, you’ve been…gambling again, haven’t you? Baby, we talked about this.”

Your lover steadies the movements of his chest, feeling the need to defend himself. He wasn’t gambling, quite the contrary really, the thought of wandering over to the horse races hasn’t crossed his mind since he started this harmless little game. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and every so often, he relapses into these undertones of his gambling addiction particularly the crippling desire to win at least once, to guess just one daily color scheme right.

And he’ll let it go. He swears he’ll let it go.

“I know, but really, babe, I’m not—“

“—Really? Then, what’s this?” You shakily point to the folded up piece of paper on the kotatsu. He has to pinch himself to hold in his laughter when he sees just how cutely distressed you are over an unassuming crepe stall receipt. “Don’t you start laughing now!” You swat his arm.

“I’m not laughing, you brat!” Toji purses his lips together, thoroughly enamored by you right now. “You’re worrying over nothing, Y/N. Trust me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you. You cheeky little brat. “But you’re acting so weird though…” You poke him relentlessly on the cheek to get him to come clean, and you dodge whenever he tries to playfully catch your index finger with his teeth. “Just tell me.”

“Nope.”

You climb onto his lap, hugging him.

“Please.”

A kiss is a good bribe right?

“Uh-uh.”

He returns the kiss with a loud smooch!

“I’ll break up with you.”

You whine when he flicks your forehead, leaving an obvious red mark on it.

“You won’t.”

Your little back and forth is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sighing, you finally let go of him. Looks like he isn’t going to budge. Toji gets up to answer the door, setting you down on the cushioned seat. Feeling a little bad when he glances back to see you still sulking about the issue, he subtly and intentionally allows the receipt to fall from his pocket knowing you’ll almost certainly go straight for it. He’ll just have to deal with your constant teasing for the next two weeks once you read the contents of the slip of paper. But he’d rather hear you laughing your heart out (even if it’s at his expense) than see you getting all anxious about him slipping back into his old destructive hobbies.

When you see the piece of paper falling like a leaf dancing in the wind, your eyes light up, and you crawl over to the spot where it’s fallen near the small bookshelf you have in the corner.

“Rakuten delivery.” Toji signs the courier’s clipboard, receiving your package. Just as he’s about to walk back into the living room to hand you your parcel, he stops in his tracks when he hears your cute chortles which you’re pathetically trying to subdue and a smirk appears on the corner of Toji’s lips.

Looks like the crisis has been averted for now.

“Wait, Toji…”

Toji pretends to not hear you, his fingers still buried in your sopping cunt, lusciously pushing in and out, your arousal coating his fingertips as he devours your lips in wanton need. You moan out his name again and he scowls when you reluctantly remove his fingers from your heat. “What? What is it?” What could possibly be so important?

You flush when he sensually licks his fingers clean, and you sit up, pulling down your skater skirt. “What’s an anniversary without a little surprise?” You kissed him on the lips, lingering for a bit, your eyes fluttering close as you taste your arousal on his tongue. “Mmh…”

“Just forget it.” Toji bucks his hips against yours, his clothed erection rubbing against your bare slit.

“No way. Just…wait here,” you kiss him again, boldly running your tongue over his bottom lip before pulling away and heading to the bathroom to get your surprise ready.

Toji groans in frustration, his head hitting the pillows he set down on the futon. After a few restless moments of him resisting the urge to fuck his hardened cock into his hand to finish himself off, he hears your melodious voice calling for him from down the hall.

A satisfied lopsided smirk appears on Toji’s lips, his eyes dark as he gazes at the most beautiful being in the world right now, shyly making her way towards him wearing nothing but an emerald silk robe. He licks his lips when he sees the outline of your nipples through the fabric, smirking as you sit down on the foot of the futon.

“All that for a silly little robe? What a letdown,” Toji smirks as he moves to untie the knot of your robe, only for you to slap his hand away.

“Uh-uh…you have to guess first.”

Toji gulps when you pull out the one thing he’s been agonizing over for the last few weeks from your robe’s hidden pocket. You grab a pen from the nearby bookshelf which he expertly catches when you throw it in his direction alongside the crumpled up piece of paper he’d been meaning to destroy for a while now.

“If you guess right, we could ditch the condom tonight. So do well,” you innocently bat your eyelashes at him.

Toji looks like he wants to jump off a ditch, the obvious tent in his sweatpants indicating just how hard he is right now. “No, don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this, Y/N…”

“…What color am I wearing tonight?”

[pinkygirliee]

FIC RECS

⋆𐙚₊˚��♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hey so it took a while for me to post another fic recommendations but I’m back!!

ABBY ANDERSON

my wait is you by @dollaches

abby x fem reader

content: pillow princess reader!, closeted abby, face sitting, porn with plot (my favorite), kinda eager abby. It was so good, honestly I haven’t enjoyed a fic this much in months.

not just anyone’s by @aouiaa

content: mean! abby, fingering (reader! receiving), oral (reader receiving), jealous abby, angst, doctor abby (love this trope), kinda dark content. 10/10 I read it every once in a while.

good luck babe! by @studioghibelli

content: reader’s boyfriend cheats on her with abby (abby didn’t know and was in the closet back then but now she’s a lesbian), cheating (but it’s on a man so it doesn’t count lol), strap on.

bad communication with rich! abby by @beforeimdeceased

content: angst, miscommunication (obviously lol), fake dating, femme! reader, it’s a concept but it’s so good I loved it, wish the writer made it a series.

abby so needy to fuck you by @k1ngpin42

content: THIS FIC made me realize that I have a thing for dominant women being needy lmao, needy abby (obviously), pillow princess! reader.

passionate sex with abby by @mystellenia

content: this is smut but honestly it’s so sweet and wholesome lmao I’m obsessed, pillow princess reader!

ELLIE WILLIAMS

baby no attachment by @anchoeritic

content: angst, friends with benefits, fuckgirl! ellie, pillow princess! reader.

welcome to the party by @lovelettersfromluna

content: toxic! ellie, kinda dark content, top! ellie, bottom! reader, it has two parts, ANGST, brother’s best friend! ellie, enemies to lovers (but it’s just ellie hating the reader lol), jealous! ellie, dry humping, fingering and oral (reader receiving).

selfish by @lonelyfooryouonly

content: ellie doesn’t like you but after she makes you a favor you both get closer, dealer! ellie, mean! ellie, you’re friends with ellie’s friends, this is a series and is so good, smut, top! ellie, bottom! reader, angst.

candy crush by @s-4pphics

content: grumpy x sunshine, mean! ellie, angst, reader is a baker.

romance is dead by @diddiqueen

content: PLEASE read this series, it’s so good. angst, mean! ellie, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage (reader is forced to be engaged to ellie’s brother).

like I want you by @loaksky

content: one sided pining, not actually unrequited love, reader is in love with ellie and ellie is oblivious, friends to lovers, angst.

the infinite space between you and I by @loaksky

content: mean! ellie, grumpy x sunshine, not actually unrequited love, angst.

unwanted attention by @les4elliewilliams

content: enemies to lovers, angst, coworkers, ellie doesn’t know she’s in love with reader so she’s mean lol.

already over by @elliesbelle

content: trying to get over ex! ellie but ending up being fucked by her, pillow princess! reader, angst.

ellie shows you who you belong to by @bonewreath

content: jealous! ellie, roommates to lovers, femme! reader, friends with benefits, pillow princess! reader, smut, reader tries to go on a date and ellie gets possessive lol.

campus escapades by @leiswxrld

content: strangers to lovers, top ellie, bottom reader, college au, piercer! ellie (as a dyslexic girlie who’s english is not her first language, you have no idea how hard it was for me to learn how to write the word piercer lol)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

you have no idea how much I exposed myself with this recommendations lmao, it’s so obvious I don’t do anything other than read fanfiction omg now im embarrassed.

follow me for more fic recs

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out. 

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall. 

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear. 

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed. 

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat. 

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly. 

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows. 

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space. 

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough. 

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second. 

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning. 

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath. 

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.” 

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke. 

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched.  Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it. 

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?” 

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him. 

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling. 

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control. 

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate. 

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red. 

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

 “Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased. 

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[astonmartinii]

girl, so confusing | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem norris!reader

will "norstappen" will work it out on the remix?

note: obvs everything here is hearsay and all a big fat joke i am just venting my frustrations with whatever the fuck lando just said after that race

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR |

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 783,049 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: we don't just let people by because we have a big lead in the championship (that's actually how you end up with a big lead) btw.

view all comments

user5: WELCOME BACK OUTWARDLY BITCHY Y/N I'VE MISSED YOU

user6: the atmosphere shifted, my skin has cleared and the birds are singing

user7: i didn't think it would be against her own brother BUT WE'LL TAKE WHAT WE CAN GET

maxverstappen1: can you do all my media for me - you give a lot better sound bites than i ever could

yourusername: all my sound bites would be completely unusable

yourusername: cause if they thought you had a potty mouth oh boy they have another thing coming

danielricciardo: it's true i was around her when she stubbed her toe once, it was like shakespeare but concerning

alexalbon: or that one referee against chelsea, i've never heard so many creative insults

maxverstappen1: okay but my thoughts exactly

yourusername: twitter would cancel me baby

maxverstappen1: everyone wants cunty f1 back until i make contact and you ... open your mouth?

user8: not like all of lando's friends either being in the likes or the comments

user9: bro is fighting for his life in the GC after that press run

user10: i think y/n got all the sass cause lando that was not the diva statement you thought it was

landonorris: before you delete i already sent it to mum

yourusername: i'm not deleting it you big baby you gotta stand on your words bro

landonorris: nuh uh

yourusername: i can feel you pouting YOUR 24 YEARS OLD

landonorris: but i'm still your baby brother

yourusername: not with this PR strategy

landonorris: MAX WAS IN THE WRONG

yourusername: 1. i watched the ten laps before lando i'm not dumb 2. i support his rights and wrongs 3. you still won driver of the day and i thought that's what meant the most to you

user11: oh she gagged him

user12: can we get a rupaul's drag race reading challenge in f1 but it's just y/n reading the drivers PLEASE

charles_leclerc: literally all you have to do is spend 10 minutes with her in the paddock

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 1,304,599

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: still got my favourite norris on side and that's all that matters

view all comments

user13: someone check on lando cause DIVA IS DOWN

user14: diva is dead and buried at this point

user15: they're dancing on diva's grave

landonorris: DO YOU PEOPLE MIND ???

maxverstappen1: who is this random fan in my comments?

landonorris: i'm definitely not a fan of yours after this weekend

maxverstappen1: oh then let me add you to my block list

charles_leclerc: i thought unfollowing each other after a race in austria was our thing max :(

maxverstappen1: yes that's why i'm going to block him not just unfollow

charles_leclerc: oh good 😊

yourusername: and that's why i'm ready to get rid of the name altogether

maxverstappen1: i think you suit verstappen so much more anyway

yourusername: i'm ready when you are

landonorris: really? ENGAGEMENT TALK ON A POST THAT DISSES ME

yourusername: a diss? you don't want your sister to be happy? or am i not your sister anymore since max isn't your friend anymore?

landonorris: IT WAS ONE QUOTE LIKE TEN MINUTES AFTER BEING CRASHED OUT OF THE LEAD

yourusername: * second-place

landonorris: STOP IT

yourusername: don't dish it if you can't take it buddy

user16: not this brocedes era for max and lando

yourusername: @lewishamilton @nicorosberg i am so sorry they're minimising your trauma like this

user17: so real of you

yourusername

liked by alexalbon, maxverstappen1 and 934,098 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & landonorris

yourusername: when you forgot that you invited your boyfriend to stay at the family home before the british grand prix and arranged a big family dinner and the flight back to england and your boyfriend and brother decide to try and kill each other in the race and have now 'ended' their friendship.... relatable!

view all comments

user21: the footage... GIVE IT TO ME, SHOW IT TO ME RACHEL

yourusername: most excruiting three hours of my life boys are so dramatic

user22: shock horror mad max and norrif are holding grudges

yourusername: IF i didn't have the patience of a saint i would've gone mad max on their asses and mclaren would've been down a driver

user23: out here threatening the victim and not the aggressor

yourusername: now why would i attack my trophy husband?

landonorris: i didn't make the plane ride awkward HE MADE THE PLANE RIDE AWKWARD

yourusername: we tried to nap but the heat from your death glare kept us up

landonorris: THAT'S NOT MY FAULT

yourusername: it's kind of expressly your fault, you could've taken your anger out on a pillow or a 12 piece wing meal like a normal person

landonorris: max's jet doesn't offer wings

maxverstappen1: get your own jet then

yourusername: @ryanair we have a new customer for you

landonorris: NO I'M SORRY

maxverstappen1: finally

landonorris: just for your jet not having wings, you're still the one in the wrong overall

user24: i fear lando may not see his sister back in the mclaren garage for the rest of the season

user25: i mean she looks better in blue anyway

liked by maxverstappen1

oscarpiastri: can we please move on lando your attitude is stinking up the gaff

landonorris: 1. wtf osc you're meant to be on my side 2. where the fuck did you learn that

oscarpiastri: while you've been sulking in your childhood bedroom i've been taking in the normal norris hospitality

yourusername: he'll get over it he did this all the time when we were younger - he'll come back and join when dinner is finished

landonorris: TELL MAX TO APOLOGISE

yourusername: i guess you don't want any of these profiteroles then ...

maxverstappen1: i'm eating them all lol

landonorris: FINE GOD DAMN

landonorris

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 1,674,099 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & yourusername

landonorris: i think i just got gentle parented (brought matching jellycats) into forgiving max

view all comments

user28: about fucking time

user29: baby had his first real dose of wheel to wheel racing for a win and wanted to throw away a friendship

user30: good thing his sister never knows when to shut the fuck up and humbled these men cause lord knows without her lando would still be chatting shit in the media

yourusername: someones got to make sure lando doesn't embarrass himself (idk where his PR department went but mclaren need to run me my money)

maxverstappen1: girl, so confusing when you literally forget all about it as soon as we got you the jellycat you wanted

landonorris: i am a little brother first and foremost

yourusername: hard on the little you've been acting like a whole ass five year old

landonorris: have you ever thought that maybe i'm acting out because i miss you now you've moved in with max and wanted matching jellycats so we always have a part of each other??

yourusername: awww really???

maxverstappen1: that's actually kind of cute

maxverstappen1: and a hunk of BULLSHIT

landonorris: FINE I'M PETTY BUT I WANTED TO WIN SUE ME

maxverstappen1: well i also wanted to win so that's not the serve you think it is

yourusername: you only 'forgave' him because you saw that max was playing padel with charles

landonorris: umm yes obviously, i can't let lestappen be a real thing

yourusername: why not that's literally my dream threesome

yourusername: WHAT WHO SAID THAT

yourusername: lando i think your comment section is haunted

charles_leclerc: well i'm ... flattered

landonorris: you can have lestappen you weirdo

maxverstappen1: @charles_leclerc stop being flattered i don't share

yourusername: heheheheh

landonorris: that much is obvious... you couldn't let me win once?

maxverstappen1: no!

yourusername: no!

fin: here's a lil quick one today cause i had some free time! i am working on guilty as sin p4 but i'm so so so busy and i do be going to silverstone on wednesday xx hope you enjoyed !!!

[ambrosiagoldfish]

I've never sent a request before, but I'm fiending for more adam, like anything, anything at all

Benefit of the doubt

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Angst(?), Not exactly fluff at the end but it gets better, typical Adam TW’s, reader low-key high-key has a complex about being loved, this is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader. (Also Y/n isn’t used, which also surprised me, the author, LMAO)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1760

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the request! I haven’t had a chance to write something that was originally my own idea in a while, so this was very refreshing! I’ve had this idea since I’ve watched the show so I hope you enjoy it!

I’m entirely up for making a small series from this oneshot, but I would need to know y’all’s opinion on it! (So don’t feel scared to let me know if you want some more of this idea in my Request box/the replies on this post!!)

Also Adam may be slightly OOC but please just chalk it up to him not yet getting his ego’s dick sucked 24/7

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you do!

Proofread but of course could have left mistakes!

You’ve existed for almost all of human existence, Almost.

You were the 4th being to be created during the time of Eden. But unlike the other 3, you weren’t human. In fact, you technically never lived before. An honestly hopeless existence, yet it was so beautiful in every way. But for what purpose? Well…

You were created shortly after Eve ate the apple, before she and eventually Adam committed the first act of sin that caused evil to latch onto humanity like a leech.

The reason for your existence was simple. To be Adam’s new spouse, except for when after he died. From the very moment Eve bit the fruit of temptation, it was already decided she would hold no place in heaven. Adam was given mercy due to him not possessing any knowledge of the fruit Eve had shared with him, he trusted her wholeheartedly. Which is exactly why heaven gave him mercy… no, pity would be a better choice of words.

Upon your creation you learned immediately of the happenings before your existence. About Lilith and Eve, and about Lucifer

And so, after Adam and Eve were casted away from the Garden, they continued to live their lives, fostering the existence of mankind for the rest of time. And when they eventually died, Adam was given pity while Eve was thrown to the wayside, the vast unknown.

You thought it was finally your time to experience existence with the one you loved, the one you were made for. Of course you never would know life as he did but surely your life never-after life could be just as meaningful as his.

How excited you were, how completely enamored by the thought of it. But there was a problem with that, Adam had grown into a new person, he was meant to of course, he was human. But he had grown selfish, abhorrent… insecure.

You understood why, to be betrayed by not one but two of his wives for the same person. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be feeling. Before you were to meet your future husband, Sera informed you that he had asked for a mask, and once on, he has refused to take it off.

That didn’t bother you, it’s irrelevant to your love for him. You've only heard descriptions of his features. Short Brown hair, gold eyes, bushy eyebrows, some scruff on his chin. All in all, he sounded perfectly fine, ordinary even. But even then it’s his choice to wear the mask, so you’ll respect it.

Finally, the time he arrived in heaven, and when Sera finally introduced you, his new spouse, the one to whom would be by his side for the rest of forever.

He rejected you outright.

“What?” Your breath hitched as you stuttered over the word, the sharp inhale of your lungs through your mouth flicked through the air.

Sera looked just as shocked as you but she quickly regained her composure “What is the meaning of this Adam?”

“If you think I’m going to let my life get fucked over by another one of your “gifts” well, you’ve got another thing coming!” He crossed his arms and shook his head defyingly. “I’ve already learned my lesson with those last 2 bitches.”

“Adam I’m sorry that happened to you but I would never-“ almost like lightning his finger shot to your mouth, shushing you.

“Save it, Sweetcheeks, I really don’t care what you have to say, so just stay there and look pretty, k?” His hand fell and grabbed the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together, his LED mask flashing a sharp smile.

You saddeningly looked down at the clouds below you.

“Adam!” Sera’s voice sounded through the air, still soft but firm, she continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Divine judgment allowed you to be the first human soul in heaven, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to give your new spouse that same grace.”

Slowly your eyes looked up at Sera with a soft smile. Adam only groaned “Ugh, Fine but don’t be fuxking annoying, capiche?” You nod your head quickly.

“Very good, glad we have it settled.” Sera gives a quick smile, “now, I have some business to take care of so I’ll leave you two alone to get to know one another” With that, Sera flew away leaving the both of you alone.

The silence was thick in the air, the only sound being the occasional wind breeze blowing past. The sunlight creeps in through the clouds painting an orange sky above you both. In every sense of the word, it was perfect.

It was almost funny. You had waited so long to finally meet him, your true love, the one you were made for. All the things you dreamed about, the laughs you’d have together, the warm embrace of the person who you loved. But now… you didn’t know what to say…

“I’m… happy to finally meet you.” Your voice is quiet, almost non-audible. “I’ve been waiting for you since… well, forever…”

He doesn’t respond. He seems to be transfixed on something below you both. You train your eyes on whatever he’s watching only to see the dark cavernous abyss below you. Finally he breaks his silence.

“The fuck is that?” He asked pointing down, a sound of genuine intrigue hidden behind his abrasive voice

“That’s hell?” You stated confused “where would-be sinners will go to be punished, didnt you k-“ you suddenly realized that perhaps Adam really didn’t know what hell was. It was only created relatively recently, after Eve and Him ate the apple, of course he wouldn’t know. “it’s also where Lucifer-“

“Don’t fucking say his name.” Adam spoke, his voice rough in his speech. LED mask putting a harsh frown on his face. “Let’s get one thing straight M”Kay babe, if you’re my “new spouse” that’s something you should remember.” The “new spouse” was said with a tone clearly meant to mock you.

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He groaned before a wicked smile crept onto his mask “Sooo, that means he’s going to be stuck with all the wasteful beings of existence, HA fuxkin’ hilarious. Guess that makes them the losers and us the Winners!”

His laugh filled the air, the sound was like music to your ears, sure maybe it wasn’t really what you’d hoped he’d fine funny, but you loved it all the same but eventually his laugh died down

Silence again… in admits of all of it you suddenly was sparked with a thought “oh!” Adam looked confused at the random exclamation. “I had almost forgotten… I brought you something, as a welcome gift or was it a nice to meet you gift? Both? Eh, it doesn’t matter but the point is-“ you suddenly snap your fingers.

Golden light began shining, the light seemed like liquid hot magma as it moved and molded slowly into a shape. Light seemed to be overlapping and churning into itself, forming your desired outcome. With one final snap of your fingers, the gleaming gold liquid took hold, and quickly hardened to a solid.

The object that had formed quickly fell down, landing in your arms with a light thud.

“I’m still learning this creation stuff, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect but-“ you hold out the object in your arms as an invitation to grab it “I learned from Sera that you liked to play guitar when you were alive, so I thought you might like to have one here…”

Adam looked at the instrument in your hands. The base color was gold, the neck was pearly white with gold strings. To be honest it looked more like a harp then anything, like if a guitar and a harp had a baby.

Silence again. Did he not like it? Did he hate it? You go to pull it back to you and apologize when suddenly it’s ripped out from your hands.

“Holyshit, this is sick as Fuck!” Adam immediately started playing some rifts on the new guitar. The sound wasn’t what you were expecting but you guess Sera was right about his talent with the instrument. The whole time his mask had a wide and sharp smile as he mimicked guitar sounds with his voice, the occasional laugh leaving his mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it” you say, a sigh of relief leaving your body.

Adam looked at you, one you missed. He saw how relieved you were, how nice you were being. No person who supposedly loved him ever gifted him something, well, one other did. Someone he trusted and loved more than everyone, anyone. But look how that ended, with them being removed from the garden, away from an eternity of happiness until he died. All from someone giving him what he thought was nothing but love, a gift.

But he could see that this was different, you were different. When Eve gave him the apple, she didn’t explain what it was or why she wanted him to eat it, even when he asked her she didn’t explain. But with you, you had not only given him something you knew he liked but also expressed the reason behind it. Yes, you were different, even Adam could see it.

“Anyways, thanks for the axe, I guess…” Adam for the first time was stunned, but quickly he continued “What was the thing that Sera chick said about me and “divine judgment” or whatever the fuck? That she gave me the “benefit of the doubt…”

You were a bit confused but continued listening, “I guess I should at least try to give you a chance, since you got me this sick ass guitar an’ shit.” Your face lit up, you about began to speak before you were, once again, shushed “B-B-But-” his finger tapped your lips with each repeated syllable ”-only a chance. If you betray me like those last 2 bitches then you’re done, got it?”

To say you were overjoyed would be an understatement, a smile quickly plastered across your face as you quickly nodded your head

“Alright good, so uh, what do ya say about showing me the best places to get a bite to eat around here, I could really go for some ribs right about now.”

“ I’d… love to, thank you Adam”

“Yeah don’t mention it Sweetcheeks” Adam quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you two began walking.

Maybe you will get your eternity of happiness.you can only pray you do.

[rafesfavgirl]

the palm of your freezing hand — r. cameron

part 1. part 2. this could technically be part 2 or 3, depending on how much of this little series you've read (or if you’re not into reading smut). either way, thank you for coming along for the ride. i hope you like it :)

❝ oh, goddamn my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand ❞

pairing: friend!rafe x pogue!reader

context: it's been three weeks since you found out jj cheated on you, and a week since you hooked up with rafe.

words: 1.4k+

warnings: fwb situationship, mean!jj (just for the sake of the story, we all know he’s BABY), bitchy!kie (again, just for the story—i adore her), jealous!jj, slut shaming, a little bit of angst, a little bit of blood and violence, fluff. rafe being a menace too, lowkey

you sat on a log at a party in the boneyard—one that you let john b and pope convince you to go to (you felt bad for icing them out for almost three weeks now when they weren't the ones who screwed you over)—staring out towards the ocean in a red bikini top and a pair of jean shorts, sipping on some beer that john b had brought over to you in a red cup.

he was now occupied talking to some blonde touron, sitting up in a tree, while pope talked to some other girl by the keg, and jj and kie chilled with a few other pogues, his arm slung around her shoulder.

so much for claiming to love you—he was just on his knees begging you to forgive him last week. and now, he was here with your best friend—former best friend, anyway. the two of them really had no shame.

pulling your phone out of your pocket, you begin to text rafe.

you: please tell me you're on your way.

rafe: miss me already?

you roll your eyes at his response. last weekend, after your break up with jj, you made the somewhat idiotic decision to hook up with rafe at a kook party on figure eight. you're still not exactly sure how it happened, but the sex was good, so you've kinda formed a sort of friendship with him in a way—with benefits, of course.

the three dots appear again, signaling that he was typing something else, and you wait for the message to come through.

rafe: turn around.

you furrow your brow at the text, but do as you're told and turn around, only to find a smiling rafe standing over you—dressed in a ralph lauren, short-sleeve, white collared shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

"hey pretty girl," he greets you as you stand.

little did you know, jj was watching from afar, his eyes focused on the way you throw your arms around rafe's neck in a hug, while his hands trailed around your waist to press your body against him.

"what the fuck?" jj mutters beside kie, who snaps her head towards him.

"what's up?" she asked.

"what is he doing here?" jj felt heat rise in his chest, his eyes narrowing at you and rafe.

kie furrowed her brows at him in confusion before following his line of sight to you and rafe a good distance away, you playfully pushing against his chest with a giggle.

"shit," kie says. "i didn't see that coming."

"yeah that makes two of us," jj slams his empty cup down on the ground and stands up without another word, beelining straight for you and rafe.

"so this is why you wanted to break up," you hear jj's familiar voice fill your ears, but it wasn't sweet and sarcastic as usual—it was bitter.

you shift your eyes towards him, causing rafe to turn too, to see what or who had just pulled your attention from him.

"excuse me?" you asked.

"rafe cameron, y/n?" he snarled. "seriously? i thought you knew better than that."

"clearly i don't, considering i trusted you," you spat, causing a scowl to fall over his sharp features. "and by the way, we didn't break up because i wanted to be with rafe. we broke up because you cheated on me."

that makes rafe snap his head towards you—he knew that your relationship didn’t end on good terms, but you never really told him why. "he cheated on you?" 

"with kiara."

a scoff mixed with a snicker leaves rafe's mouth as he looks at jj. "you're an even bigger idiot than i thought."

"look, shut the fuck up, man, a'ight?" jj motions a hand at him. "this isn't about you. this is about you." he turns to you again. "you're really slutting yourself up for this asshole?"

"better than slutting myself up for a cheater," you retort. "and in case you haven't noticed jj, we're broken up. what's it to you if i'm hooking up with someone else?"

"and she is, by the way," rafe throws jj a wink and smirk. "you really fucked up. i mean, really fucked up. the way she feels bro? i don’t know how you coul—"

"shut up, man," jj was getting riled up now, a hand coming up to push rafe back, a deep chuckle falling from rafe's lips as he used both his hands to push jj back.

that's enough to push your ex-boyfriend to the edge as he comes at rafe, causing him to trip over a skinny log as both of them tumble onto the sand. the noise from the tussling only pulls attention from everyone else, john b and pope immediately running over to break the two hot-headed blonds apart.

you really had a type, huh?

"what did you do?" kie comes up beside you, along with a few pogues, kooks, and tourons—who had now formed a makeshift half-circle around the scene.

you look at her, more pissed off at her accusation than rafe and jj fighting. "what makes you think i did anything?"

"you usually always do," she says.

you cross your arms and scoff. "you're one to talk."

"and what's that suppose to mean?"

"it means you were supposed to be my best friend, kiara," you tell her. “and not only did you screw our friendship over, but you did it by fucking my boyfriend. no wonder sarah cameron dropped your ass.”

she purses her lips at you, upset by your mentioning of sarah’s name. “don’t act as if this is just all on me,” she argued. “you were the one who weaseled your way in, and stole him from me.”

“stole him?” you asked, taken aback. she was the one who set you up with him in the first place. “you’ve clearly reached different levels of delusional.”

“you think i'm delusional?" she spat, crossing her arms. "you're hooking up with rafe cameron. do you really think you'll get him to fall for a pogue like you?"

before you could even answer, rafe separates the two of you, bumping into you both as jj pushes him back, and you reach out to steady him.

"you think i'm scared of you, man?" jj shouts at him, john b holding him back.

rafe chuckles and wipes at the little bit of blood beside his now busted lip with his thumb. "i think you should be."

"get your fucking boyfriend, y/n!" jj yells, his eyes shifting from rafe to you.

"you got it," you nod at him with a smile, just to piss him off more—rafe wasn't your boyfriend, but he didn't have to know that. "you wanna get out of here?" you tilt your head up at rafe, who turns his head towards you and smiles. 

"lead the way, doll."

you do as he says, giving kie a small smirk as you walk past her and the makeshift crowd that had formed, everyone's eyes on the two of you.

"so… your boyfriend, huh?" rafe swings an arm around you and squeezes you to his side.

"chill, cameron," you laugh, pushing him away from you playfully. "i only said that to piss him off."

"so i'm just a toy to you then, is that what this is?" he asked, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as you both stop by his truck.

"that depends…" you trail off and turn to face him, your back resting against the passenger door of his truck. "am i just a toy to you?"

"i'm not sure yet," he shrugs, honestly. "i wouldn't have just taken a bloody lip and sand stains on my polo for anyone though."

you giggle and bring your thumb up to swipe at the beige-colored stain on his white shirt. "yeah, sorry 'bout that."

"no worries," he shakes his head, his eyes locking with yours. "i can think of one or two ways you could make it up to me."

"oh, is that so?" you kink a brow at him. "because i can tell you right now i don't have a hundred dollars to spare for a brand new ralph lauren polo shirt."

he leans a hand against his truck, beside your head, and closes the distance between you. "and who said that's what i wanted?"

you tilt your head to the side, an amused smile on your face. "then what did you have in mind?"

"let me take you out on date," he says. "a real one."

part 4.

writing rafe being soft for the reader is literally my favorite thing ever.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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tags: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @immyowndefender @chiaraanatra

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour: Day 1

You and Jungkook are together for the whole weekend. All he truly wanted from you was to admit you were his girl - but like always, he had to fuck it out of you. @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx

Series Masterlist

word count: 3.675

warning: dirty talk, nipple sucking, slight kissing, neck biting, edging, face-slapping, cocky/jealous/possessive/dominant jungkook, bitchy/shit-talking but submissive reader, creampie, crying, begging,

“You cooked this?” your mother is first to ask once she bites into the meat, eyes growing slightly wide. “It tastes amazing.”

Jungkook gives a toothy grin and nods. “I added a secret sauce that my father has taught me.” 

You want to roll your eyes at Jungkook.

Dinner was going by smoothly. Around 20 minutes ago, your parents arrived. Your father appeared much the same, nonchalant and just ready to eat. Your mother did most of the talking. Her eyes roamed the apartment with prying eyes. She asked Jungkook and you questions after questions, all of which Jungkook responded to quickly and without hesitation. 

“How did you two really meet?” your mother asks after a moment. “I assume it couldn’t have been tweeter.”

You scoff. “No. It was not twitter.”

Jungkook places a hand atop yours and laughs. He wraps his fingers into your own and eyes you. He then brings your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “We met at the University.” Jungkook nods. “She was so cold to me at first.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Typical of her.”

“I must’ve asked her out a million times. I was shut down each and every time. Right, baby?”

You want to snatch that smirk off of his lips, but you only roll your eyes. 

“I think she got tired of my begging and agreed to a date.” Jungkook turns to your mother. “Ever since then, I’ve been attached to her like a lost puppy.”

Your father listens, not interested in speaking, but interested enough to appear apart of the conversation. “I’m glad.” your mother speaks. She takes a sip of her water. “Y/N can be a little mean.”

You knit your brows, but before you can speak Jungkook cackles. “She can!” he agrees.

Oh wow, you think. 

“But that’s what I love about her. She’s feisty and stubborn.” Jungkook looks your way, his eyes burning into you. You glance away from them and grunt, feeling hot. “And she always speaks up for me at restaurants when they get my order wrong.”

“That was once.” you quip. “You asked for extra sauce…”

“I did.” Jungkook nods. “I thought she was going to rip someone’s head off.” he tells your mother jokingly. “At least I know she cares.”

Jungkook was right - he had won over your mother.

That was expected, however. Your mother was easy to please. Jungkook was the equivalent of tall, dark and handsome. He’s easy to speak with and was such a smooth talker that it even had her swooning. He was affectionate, often kissing your hand or your head - more than usual, but you told yourself he was milking this to the very end. 

Now, your father was a different story. He was able to engage the man into conversation and actually hold it, having your fathers full and undivided attention. That is when you realized that Jungkook meant what he said - that even if this fake dating didn’t end with the both of you actually dating, that Jungkook would be there regardless. Your mother was already inviting him to dinner the following week and even hugged him before leaving - before she hugged you. 

“I’ll see you two next week?” your mother asks as she’s strolling out the door.

Jungkook wraps you in a tight embrace, his head resting on your shoulder. “You will!” he responds to her, waving curtly. “Y/N tells me about your cooking all the time. I can’t wait!”

You grumble - it was all the time, but you weren’t aware Jungkook was actually listening to your random ramblings. He was slowly winning your mother over that you were sure she would have him for dinner even without you there.

“You think you’re cute?” you push Jungkook off of you once the door is shut. 

“Is that the thanks I get for making a good impression?”

You cross your arms. “You know what you were doing complimenting her the entire night.”

Jungkook smirks. “Like mother, like daughter. You both like my praises.” Jungkook’s hands are on you again, bringing you closer to him. “I have to keep myself on top if I’m going to be competing against these boyfriends.”

Your hands are against his chest to push him away. “Ugh, take me home.”

“You aren’t staying the weekend?” Jungkook pouts his lips slightly. “We have to finish binge watching Law & Order.”

“You’re right.” you sigh for a moment. “And here I thought I had a chance to get rid of you.”

“You never can.” Jungkook’s right hand slaps your ass. You yelp, but it was only a gesture to bring you closer to him. He pecks your lips. “Let’s get going. We have the entire weekend ahead of us.”

The night shouldn’t have ended like this. You told yourself that you and Jungkook wouldn’t be entangled together - especially since you were watching Law & Order - there was no way Jungkook could ignore such an amazing series to get his cock wet.

But Jungkook had. 

It started with light touching. Jungkook’s bed is soft and it’s easy to be comfortable. He had gave you a shirt to wear - even if you had a weekend's worth of clothes - he insisted it would be best. You were certain he just wanted you in his shirt to appear more domesticated. 

Your first mistake was not wearing anything but the shirt and panties. Jungkook’s hands wandered upon your skin, his body dangerously close to yours. His hips would rut against your ass, prying hand going beneath the oversized shirt. “Just one kiss, Y/N. Don’t be like that.” was what he said - and you caved.

Of course it could never be one kiss. One peck led to him begging for more - and more. It led to him flipping you to face him, his hand squeezing the flesh of your ass to bring you closer to him. It continued with you being on top of him, tongues fighting against one another. His hands stayed upon your ass, rubbing gently as you and he kissed.

“We’re missing the show.” you protest, breaking free of the heated kiss. 

“We can always go back.” Jungkook eyes you with hooded eyes. “You look so pretty in my shirt.” he murmurs.

“Shut up, simp.” you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I can never compliment my girl without getting called a simp.” Jungkook tsks. His hands rub up your rib back down to your waist to your thighs. “It’s true, though. I wanna wake up with you like this every day.”

“I would have to actually be your girl for that to happen.” you retort. You gently grind against him, lips flashing him a mischievous grin. 

“You are my girl.” Jungkook hisses low, hands squeezing your hips to keep you firmly against him. “I got you in my shirt, don’t I?”

Jungkook and his logical comebacks. Damn him.

“I got you to stay with me this weekend, right?” Jungkook continues, his tongue coating his lips with moisture. 

“So?”

Jungkook manages to lift himself up without disrupting you. You and he are face to face now, your thighs caging him in between you. 

“So that makes you my girl.” Jungkook pecks your lips. “I know you like being called my girl, Y/N. Each time I say it you grind against me a little harder.”

Truly, fuck Jeon Jungkook because damn was he right.

“Exactly.” Jungkook murmurs, and for a second you believe he’s going to say something else - a comment that would indicate just how “down bad” you were for him. But no, Jungkook continues to stare at you.

You shift in his lap and with that, Jungkook blinks. “You’re really pretty.” 

You frown, knitting your brows together in an attempt to be annoyed - even if your heart did jolt. 

“My pretty girl.” Jungkook continues, his arms embracing you. “Far too stubborn to admit.”

“Is this how you ask out all your girls?” you snort, but feel yourself melting in his warm embrace. “Just demand for them to be with you?”

“There you go, Y/N.” Jungkook chuckles. “You go in that head of yours and start being delusional and fantasize me being with other girls.”

“Excuse me?” Delusional?

“Why are you adamant on me having multiple girls?” Jungkook gently kisses your forehead just because he knows it annoys you - his random acts of affection or kindness in a situation that is deemed “serious”.

You shrug your shoulders. “You fit the fuck boy aesthetic.” was all you say.

Jungkook snorts. “You think I have girls lining up to suck my dick in exchange for streaming services?”

You gasp. “We said we wouldn’t bring that up!” you hiss. 

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” Jungkook smiles. “I just don’t see how you think I’m a fuck boy even now. I barked in order to meet your parents. I’m still getting laughed at in the groupchat.”

You suppress your own laughter, only giving Jungkook a grin.

“I basically fund your whole lifestyle. I think that’s far beyond a fuck boy.” Jungkook adds - but not in a way to throw it in your face or to appear as though you need him to. 

“A sugar daddy at best.” you shrug, but even you can’t help but laugh at the bewildered look on Jungkook’s face. “You do know you aren’t obligated to buy me things.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes - it was the same song and dance as before. He’d get you something he heard you speak about once a few days prior - you would insist it wasn’t a need, but the sparkle in your eyes was enough for him to keep doing it. 

“As my girl…” Jungkook places a kiss at the nape of your neck. “...it’s required of me to.”

“Until you get bored and throw me to the side.” you feel Jungkook’s teeth bite down on your neck. 

“You do everything but admit you like me, baby.” Jungkook presses you firmly against him. “I’m beginning to think that’s what you want me to do so you can remain in denial.”

Jungkook’s hands go beneath the large shirt of his you wore. Your skin is so soft and smooth - the both of you shudder. 

“You’re okay.” you murmur, biting your lip when you feel both of his hands engulf your breasts. 

“Just okay?” Jungkook’s tongue twirls on the spot he bit. “I can have you on your back begging for me in seconds, baby. Nothing about me is ‘just okay’.”

Your play hard to get was not going to last - especially not now. The cocky Jungkook was creeping in, and he knew that your words were nothing but bluffs.

“I’m sure I would be the same way with someone else.”

You couldn’t help it. It was a game for you at times to rile up Jungkook. He was the jealousy and competitive type - he had to prove that he was the best at any and everything he did. 

“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Jungkook chuckles, but you can hear the slight irritation in his voice - deep and raspy; ready to prove you wrong. You shudder slightly as goosebumps ride across your skin.

You really did. You were already wet enough, his hands and mouth adding to it. There was nothing like Jungkook fucking your petty words right out of you.

“You do this every time, Y/N.” Jungkook bites your neck harshly and you yelp, squirming. “You love messing with me. It must turn you on seeing me fuck the submission into you.”

You swallow thickly to suppress a moan. “I just give you what you want.” you shrug slightly. 

“What do I want?”

“Someone to moan for you no matter if it feels good or not.”

You were playing a dangerous game with Jungkook, but it just brings nothing but excitement through you. 

You yelp once more when you feel your hair being yanked. “You’re being a bitch again, baby.” Jungkook murmurs, but even he is amused by your attempts. You can never just tell him that you want him - never tell him that you want him to dominate. Instead, you deny or insinuate the opposite just to give him a reason to prove you wrong.

But Jungkook said it once before, he loved your ‘play hard to get’ game you played with him; when he had you it was much more satisfying. 

“Isn’t that what you like about me?” you tease, and even in the dim room - law and order playing ignored in the background - you are beautiful to him, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Love it.” Jungkook presses his lips firmly onto yours, his tongue sliding past your mouth. It’s quick and he’s rough, but you cannot protest. His hands are gripping your flesh so hard that you feel as though they’d leave a mark.

Jungkook yanks the shirt off of you, tongue instantly finding both of your breasts. Your legs are wrapped around him, his clothed cock pressing firmly against you.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Jungkook’s lips pops from your nipples, his tongue licking it furiously. “A normal girl would just tell me she wants me to be a little rough and not provoke it out of me.”

Jungkook grips both of your breasts into the palm of his hands and brings both of your nipples into his mouth.Your back arches at the warm sensation pooling through you. 

“I-I have to tell you how to fuck like a man?”

There was a new sensation when the words left your mouth and hit Jungkook’s ears. It’s a sensation that shoots straight to your core and leaves your cheek stinging.

The room is silent, Jungkook’s eyes wide watching your reaction for a moment. He’s ready to apologize for not thinking before he slaps you, but it’s your moan that draws him back to reality.

“You liked that?” Jungkook murmurs and you nod, biting your lip. Jungkook grunts, his mind wandering just how far you’d let him go.

Jungkook unwraps your legs from around him and removes himself from the bed. He drags you to the edge of it, you yelping at the sudden movement. Jungkook removes your panties and widens your legs. He’s cocky - through the flashing television light, he see’s how wet you are for him.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Jungkook demands.

You swallow, finding it difficult underneath his intense gaze. Jungkook lowers himself, burying his tongue deep within your folds. He forces your legs open each time you threaten to close them. His eyes are locked onto your fluttering ones, watching as you moan and cry for him. You were so beautiful for him - if only you’d allow him to admire your beauty. Oftentimes when he looked your way, you were quick to respond with a witty remark.

“Fuck…” you groan, breaking eye-contact just as he enters his fingers inside of you. You lay your head back and continue to pant. 

“You never allow me to treat you nicely.” Jungkook removes his tongue from your clit to spit on it, continuing his pumping. “If you’d let me, I would take good care of you.” Jungkook licks his lips, the wet sounds of your pussy like a melody to his ears. “But instead, you want to be a bitch. I don’t get it.”

“K-Kookie…” you draw out a moan, a hand cupping your breast. You can feel the familiar churning in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum-”

“No you aren’t.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you, hand slapping your clit. 

Your eyes shoot open, your pussy clenching around nothing. “W-What-”

Your mouth is stuffed with Jungkook’s fingers, your tongue twirling around them. 

“See how good you taste?” Jungkook questions, removing his fingers to grip your chin tightly. “I would let you cum but…I’m sure you can always find someone else to do it. Since you enjoy faking so much.”

Your heart is pumping and you flush hot with embarrassment. You aren’t sure what to say - Jungkook had you beat. 

“Aw,” Jungkook chuckles. “You look so sad, baby. I can let you cum.”

You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook. 

“Is that what you want?”

You nod your head, but Jungkook wants to hear you. 

You yelp when your clit is slapped once more. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y-Yes!” you try not to moan and sound too desperate, but it’s inevitable. 

“Yes what, baby?” Jungkook’s already tugging his bottom half off, his underwear going along with it. His shirt is next, chisel abs in your line of vision that you groan at just the sight. “Tell me what you want, Y/N. You have a mouth any other time.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. 

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his cocky attitude.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his amazing dick that has you following along with him. “Please fuck me.” you sigh in defeat. “Please make me cum, Kook.”

“With pleasure.” Jungkook is delighted. He slaps the top of his cock against your clit, licking his lips. “So wet. To think you said someone else can have you like this.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to let that go - you can only imagine how hard he was going to fuck-

“J-Jungkook…!” you shout in surprise at how hard he enters you, his thrusting increasing by the second. Your back slams against the bed with each thrust, and it only bounces back just as hard. 

“You can handle it, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses, fingernails digging into your flesh. “You don’t want me to be nice, you don’t want to be my girl…”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting heavily. Jungkook’s tone appears serious - you’d have to ask later on if your words really got to him like they appeared to have. 

“I let you…fuck…” Jungkook’s head hangs, eyes unsure where to focus. Your breast bounced furiously in rhythm with his pounding. Your face is scrunched with pleasure, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth. “...I let you sit on my face. I let you spend as much of my money as you’d like with no limit. I…”

Jungkook grips your chin once more, forcing you to focus on him. It’s difficult - Jungkook doesn’t allow you a second to breathe, but you don’t want him to. 

“And all I really ask you to be is my girl.”

It pains for him to remove himself from you - all he wants is to cum deep inside of you like you’d allow him before. But - his pride and ego got the best of him. If you were going to front as if you didn’t need him to cum, then you weren’t.

“Kook…” you cry in defeat, pussy once more clenching around nothing. 

Jungkook laughs, a dark glee in the tone. “And like I said before, Y/N…” your eyes flutter a bit looking at his face - dark lust filled eyes staring right into yours. “...I can have you on your back begging for me, can’t I?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

Your chest heaves. “Fuck you.” you curse at how meek your voice appeared.

“I bet you’d like that baby.” Jungkook plays with your clit slightly. “You’re my girl, right?”

You lick your lips, thighs quivering. 

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” Jungkook centers his tip at your entrance, thumb circling against your wet bud. “That’s all I want from you, baby. You can have anything you want from me…”

Jungkook enters you slowly this time. Your groan is long and deep, your hands reaching out to grab Jungkook’s bicep. 

“J-Jungkook.” you trail off - the pleasure now getting to you. You just wanted to cum by him - his hands, mouth, cock, whatever it took.

“Yes, baby?” Jungkook breathes - he’s unsure himself if he’d be able to last long like this and then his ego would be hurt (but then again, he wouldn’t have blueballs).

“Please make me cum, Kookie.” you wail, hot tears falling down your face. You had to look utterly pathetic weeping for dick. Jungkook’s ego was now going to skyrocket and this moment is something he would forever hold over your head - no jokes from you could ever be taken now. “I had you on your back crying for me, baby” - you can hear it now.

But - you were desperate. Jungkook was hot, his dick was amazing and you’d allow him to have this over you. 

“I’m your girl, Kookie.”

Jungkook shudders - and now he’s truly satisfied. He pounds into you sloppily, certain that neither of you were going to last long. You’re clenching around him so heavenly, moaning and crying his names that he cannot help but want to cum inside of you each and every time. 

“I know you’re close, baby.” you hear Jungkook say, his forehead - moist with sweat - pressed onto yours. “We can come together, okay?”

“Y-Yea…” you nod, but you wrap your arms around Jungkook and press your lips against his. You’re groaning against the kiss, already cumming on his cock.

Jungkook feels the electric shock go through him and he shudders. With a few more thrusts, Jungkook cums inside of you, trembling at the sensation.

Ten minutes it’s what it took for you and Jungkook to come back to reality. You’re sweaty and you haven’t even done anything.

“You wanna shower?” Jungkook’s voice pipes in. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too overboard, right?”

You nod your head. “I’m okay.” you murmur. 

Jungkook nods. He kisses your temple. “I can start the shower for you-”

“You aren’t coming?” you ask once you feel Jungkook shuffle on the bed.

“I-I..” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and doe like. He appears completely surprised that you offered such a thing. “You’d like me to?”

You laugh at his expression. How you manage to remove yourself from the bed is beyond you - your legs are shaking with pain that you’re not upset about. 

Jungkook feels your hands against his bare chest and he tilts his head, awaiting your response. “I said I was your girl, wasn’t I?” you murmur, sending a kiss to his chest.

In seconds, Jungkook is erect again at just the admission. 

Series Masterlist

[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 🤍