#she cries and calls him a jerk
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kiara after jj told her to scram and go live with her real family
#got a whole backstory in my head planned out#jj got beat up pretty bad by line and usually he would be able to handle it but luke threatened kiara#blamed her for larissa leaving and talked about how he wasnât gonna take care of another manâs child#jj didnât like it but thought it was his usual drunken rant until he threatened to kill her#jjâs frozen on the ground making himself smaller to not seem like a threat as he listens to luke talk about how heâs going to kill her#says itâs one less mouth to feed and he wonât have to hear her bitching anymore how sheâs so ungrateful#he falls asleep eventually like he always does after 10 beers#jj cleans up and nurses his wounds when she comes in#she fusses over him and sheâs being too loud#he tells her heâs fine itâs nothing and that she needs to go she doesnât listen too distracted by him and how awful he looks#he screams at her#tells her no one wants her around how annoying she is and how she killed their mom#she cries and calls him a jerk#he tells her to go cry to her daddy (mike)#she runs out the house and cries all the way to the carreras#jj bursts into tears and punches a wall upset with himself but glad that sheâll be safe even if she hates him for the rest of her life#bailey bass as kiara carrera#thinking thoughtsđ#courtney chatsđ«§
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Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!
And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.
ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. itâs silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.
you mustâve passed out. one second johnnyâ a man youâd known for yearsâwas slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, youâre staring into an empty room.
your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.
you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.
one of the cuts looks like itâs getting infected. you swear you can see bone.
youâd taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men youâd bled with. cried with. laughed with.
one youâd even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.
the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know itâs simon.
he doesnât bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint youâd helped him apply a time or two.
âback for more?â you say, and itâs meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.
the first rule theyâd taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know itâs working. never let them know that theyâre hurting youâ that theyâre slowly wearing down your defenses.
well, youâd just broken that rule, and you hadnât even meant to.
you didnât know how long youâd been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.
apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering heâd done more damage to you than the rest of them.
simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but thatâs not reassuring. thereâs a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.
âready to talk yet?â he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. heâs speaking to you the same way heâd spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.
âfuck you, simon,â you spit out.
the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simonâs betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.
youâd stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you werenât beaten to all hell, youâd find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.
the man you loved. youâd thought you meant something to him, but apparently notâ because who tortures someone they love?
âif you talk,â he ignores your outburst. âitâll be easier. quick.â
âfuck. you.â you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. âim not the fucking rat.â
âall the evidence,â he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know heâs going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.
âpoints to you.â
âtake that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,â you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.
heâs back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.
âyouâre only making it harder on yourself, love,â he tuts, and then heâs swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.
you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but youâll be damned if you let yourself cry.
âfeel like talking now?â he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.
âor should we take off another?â
you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. âyou could take the fucking hand off and Iâd still have nothing to tell you.â
âletâs see how true that is then, eh?â he replies, and raises the knife again. heâs about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.
âghost!â
itâs johnny. heâs obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.
âwhat, mactavish? im busy.â
âtheyâreââ he gasps. âtheyâre notâ theâ rat.â he says between breaths.
the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the menâs heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).
âyou sure?â simonâs voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.
âitâs fucking shepard.â
itâs not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you canât stop.
youâre laughing so hard youâre crying, and theyâre just standing there.
âare you alrighâ?â johnnyâs asking as he moves towards you. heâs fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.
you donât answerâ you canât. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.
you pass out.
when you wake up again, youâre in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.
âeasy, love,â a voice to your right drawls.
your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.
the person sitting next to you clears his throat. thatâs when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.
your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. heâd started the damn witch hunt.
âhow dâyou feel?â he asks, his words soft, like heâs trying not to scare off a timid animal.
you stare at him for a beat. then two. then youâre moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.
âget the fuck off me!â you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.
âyou really shouldnâtââ he begins after heâs regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but youâre able to stand. barely.
âshut up,â you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. heâs moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze thatâs sharper than a knife. âand leave me the fuck alone.â
he halts again. he seems almost scared of youâ but that canât be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.
heâs not scared of your threats or your frail body. heâs scared of what heâs done to you.
just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.
âcap, yâalright? we heard yellinâââ johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.
youâre heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.
âletâs get you back into bed,â gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.
âdonât come any fucking closer. any of you.â
âbonnie,â johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you donât care. donât give a fuck about how any of them feel.
âdonât. im leaving,â you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. youâd be damned if you fell in front of them.
âyou canât, love. youâre in no shape to be walking.â john says, and you snarl.
âand whose fault is that?â
the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. youâre bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.
âget back in bed,â his tone is blunt. you ignore him.
you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.
simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and youâre screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. youâre in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.
your palms slap against simonâs upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesnât say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.
âget off me!â you screech, landing a slap to simonâs cheek. âlet meâ let me go! let me go!â youâre gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. youâre panicking. your heart feels like itâs going to beat out of your chest.
âput me down! getâ getâ off me! stopââ you sob.
the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you canât make out what sheâs saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you canât breathe.
âput them down, now!â the doctor yells at simon. âtheyâre having a panic attackâ I thought I told you four to stay away from them? theyâre too vulnerable right nowââ the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.
spots are dancing in your vision. you donât even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. itâs like youâre underwater.
johnâs face comes into view, then johnnyâs, then gazâs. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you donât see again is simonâs.
when you wake up again, itâs been two weeks.
the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire timeâ minus simon. he hadnât come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.
thereâs fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.
it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.
your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didnât believe you.
when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.
âhowâre you feeling?â
you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.
âdonât,â you begin. your mouth feels like itâs full of cotton. âdonât let themâŠin here. donâtâŠwanna see them.â
the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesnât say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.
the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.
âthey donât want to see you.â she tells them, and their expressions drop. they donât protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.
no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.
youâre in and out of consciousnessâ canât tell whatâs real and whatâs a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips andâ
you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly itâs almost imperceptible.
thatâs when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.
your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.
ââââââââââââââââ
authors note:
I hope this alright! itâs one in the morning (and Iâm half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.
thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. đ«¶
#angst#simon riley x gn reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley angst#cod mw2 fic#cod x reader#task force 141#tf 141#141 x reader#141!reader#ghost x gn reader#gn!reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#ghost cod#johnny soap mactavish#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#john price#kyle garrick#john mactavish#mw2 141#captain price
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Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while sheâs at work - and while heâs brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal đ
Phone cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.
Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.
âYou can keep quiet, canât you, Schatz?â
âNo no- please-!â
His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your motherâs voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.
âIâm sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,â she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.
âItâs okay,â König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. âWhatâs wrong?â
âIâll be home later than usually,â she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. âIâm going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?â
Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.
âCould you ask (Name) about supper?â
âGive me a second, ja?â
He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.
âDear?â
âH-hi mom-â you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.
âYou remember that Italian place we went last week?â
âYe-ah-yeah.â
She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.
âAre you okay?â You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.
âYes-!â It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.
Königâs manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.
âOkay⊠Do you want anything for tonight?â
âRo-rosĂ©, please.â
âAll right, Iâll see you tonight then.â
Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.
âYou heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.â
Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973
#tw: stepcest#tw: dubcon#tw: dubious consent#tw: cheating#tw: noncon#stepdad!konig#Stepdad!könig#cod mw2#x reader#cod mw2 x reader#yandere#konig x reader#konig x reader smut#konig mw2#konig smut#könig smut#könig x reader#könig mw2#könig x reader smut#mw2 smut#cod mw2 smut
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be still my heart â jjk [one]
the one in which you get a sex dream about the grouchy hockey player you work for.
genre : childhood best friends to frenemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst
word count : 5.2k
chapter warnings : strong language, mature, slight smut (because im a tease), readerâs name is Destiny, jungkook is a bit grumpy towards her (she makes him nervous leave my boy alone), fat shaming (not by any of the main characters), oc had daddy issues, mentions of allergy. thatâs about it, please let me know if i missed something.
a/n : here it isssssss drumrolls please because im so excited for this. jungkook as a hockey player??? *deep breaths* enjoy my lovely people. youâre so so loved. asks, reblogs and likes are much appreciated. kisses <3
read part two here
Ëàšà§âïœĄË
âBabe, you know you're not going to win right? Don't be wasting your breath.â Bella challenges.
Youâre sitting on the chair in your office going through the personnel file of the players. Verifying their names with their contact numbers and photographs which, youâre not going to lie, look like mugshots. Jeez, does smiling a little bit cost them? Anyways, once youâre done you close the file and look up at your assistant bickering with her boyfriend. Phone pressed against her ear.Â
You mime hanging up the call and she lifts her index finger, indicating for you to wait. She throws in words like hmmm, yeah, you donât know what youâre saying, yeah i love you too. Once sheâs done, she drops the phone on the glass table in front of you and leans back in her chair.Â
âHe thinks I will let him get away with anything just because I love himâ Â
You chuckle, âWhatâs going on?âÂ
âYou know, Iâve been wanting a cat for so long I even made a pinterest board for that. Last Sunday he surprised me with one and when I told him that I lowkey manifested it, he was not having it. I even showed him the mood board and I NEVER show it to anyone. Evil eye is real.â she all but cries out.Â
Thatâs Bella for you. Highly spiritual and a firm believer of the universe. She claims that everything happens for a reason. Sheâs like a little ball of sunshine. Ever since you joined the Ice Dominatorsâ hockey team as a physical therapist, sheâs been assisting you and you couldnât be more thankful seeing the lack of female workers here. Seriously, there's no other female worker here except yourself and Bella which is so diabolical to you.
And itâs not like the men on the hockey team are a bunch of misogynist jerks. On the contrary, they act like theyâve known you for years. It didn't take you long to feel like home here. They are obedient, friendly and pretty nice. Few of them are married with kids while the rest of them remain single. Theyâre not like a bunch of teenagers, they know what theyâre doing.
Except one, whatâs his name? Jeon Jungkook. You would describe that man as crude and closed off to a pathological degree. You still remember when you asked him to come to your office so you can look at any possible previous injuries, he lied to your fucking face. Claiming he doesnât have any when you could clearly see him hobbling sometimes just a tiny bit when he walked away. Years and years of dedication towards your studies have made you capable enough to catch that it is an old injury.
Despite your better judgment, you blamed it on the fact that his team lost the game that day. Poor guy was having a bad day and took it out on you. Big deal.Â
âEarth to Destinyâ Bella waves a hand close to your face and you shake your head as you look at her.
âLeave the poor man aloneâ You plead and then ask, âAny details about the new player? Iâll have to add it in the fileâÂ
âNot yet, as far as I know theyâre still contemplating the guy named Park Jimin or somethingâ
That gets you real quick. Park Jimin. The name feels like acid on your tongue .The last game being unsatisfactorily resulted in the federation trading one of the players. It was cruel but was done for the better. Bound to happen sooner or later. You had expected it but what you had not expected was you both sharing a same room, sharing the same air.
âAlright then. Weâll cross that bridge when itâsââ
Knock, knock
âMiss Kim, sorry to interrupt but the manager is asking for youâ Taehyungâs head pokes through the door.
You stand, picking up the file and sliding it into the tableside drawer, running a free hand over your scrubs. Bella does the same as she plucks her phone from the table and puts it inside her back pocket.
You look at him. âSure Tae, thank you for informingâ
He flashes you a quick, pretty smile before leaving. Bella turns to you with a worried look on her face.
âWhat do you think it is for?â
You bite your lip. âI have no idea. I wanna say it's about the new player but who knows?â
You hope it is and as unfortunate as it is for you to discuss him, you will have to hold your own. You know better than to be invited into the managerâs office. Though, judging by the temperament of him you would not predict anything. Last time when he called you, it was about Jeon Jerk, asking you to be more serious about your job as if it was your fault the man spared you the necessary details.
The asshole asked YOU to do your job better by virtue of HIS player not being sweet enough to listen. Maybe, there is indeed a misogynistic asshole going around and itâs the manager. No wonder women donât volunteer to work for him.
Since, You love your job âgod knows you wanna keep doing itâ you kept quiet and took every jab he threw at you.
âWait, Do I have time to pray? Should I pray?â sheâs clearly panicking and you pat her on the shoulder.
âJust hope my job is still intactâ you say, warily reaching for your purse. You both head out.
Ëàšà§âïœĄË
âMiss Kim, have a seatâ James nods at the chair before him.
Once youâre settled, he continues, âI asked for you to join me here regarding the upcoming game. Care to fill in about the status of injury assessment?"
You clear your throat, âAbsolutely, I was planning on getting on that todayâÂ
âWell, I would love for you to do it soon as you know we have a new player in the team with us nowâ
You jerk, leaning forward. âWe do?â
âYes, and if you can please hurry with the assessment I would be grateful. You can do that right? Not too much of a work for you, eh?âÂ
Someone give him a medal from the way he's trying to hide the venom in his voice.
âSure I canâ you give him a firm nod.Â
James Adams is an entitled, self centered asshole who thinks heâs above everyone else just because of his position. You reckon he does anything for the team besides talking bullshit. He kind of reminds you of your dad who also has the nasty habit of thinking the world of himself.
Youâre all about self love but when that self love turns into chronically demeaning everybody in their close proximity, it boils your blood. This man in front of you is no better than your father. What's that saying? Out of the frying pan into the fire.
So you say nothing further and excuse yourself. You would have barfed in his face if you stayed there a second longer. Actually that's not a very bad idea. Bella is standing outside waiting for you as you close the door behind yourself.
âWhat did he say?âÂ
You bark, âBunch of horseshitâÂ
âTypicalâÂ
Ëàšà§âïœĄË
JungkookÂ
There is a buzzing noise somewhere around Jungkook. Fuck, his head hurts. He frantically searches for his phone, still not opening his eyes. When he finds it, he slides his thumb on the screen and picks up the call.Â
âDude, how big do you want your coffin to be?â He loves his best friend but right now he would rather be sleeping than listen to him bark in his own ear.Â
He finally squints his eyes open, âWhat the fuck are you talking about?âÂ
âHave you looked at the time?â says Taehyung.
âWhat time- FUCK!!!â he shrieks as he looks at the clock.
Somebody kill him right now. No wait, heâs gonna die either way so why bother. If he didnât scream loud enough before, he does now. He all but jumps off the bed when he sees the blondie on the other side sleeping like she fucking owns it, wearing nothing but a thong. She must have heard him malfunctioning because soon she stirs, groaning as she slowly wakes up like a Disney princess. Who the heck is she and how did she get in here? Then it comes to him.
âPlease Jungkook just take me to your room and fuck me. Show me what those hockey hands are capable of.âÂ
He wants to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Speaking straight from his shoulders, he has made plenty of bad decisions throughout his career and this is not his first time bringing a puck bunny up to his room but it has never come to this. Missing his hockey practice because he was too exhausted to get his sweet ass up and run to the academy.Â
Taehyung screams from the other side of the line, âAre you there? Hello?âÂ
Shit, he forgot he was on a call.Â
âIâll be there soon. Cover for me until then.â With that he presses the red circular button and ends the call with him muttering some curses.
He glances back at the blondie, âWhy are you not gone yet?âÂ
Sheâs looking at him with those fuck me eyes she had last night but right now when heâs well aware of the fact that heâs in hot water, they donât do shit to him. Coach will have his head on a platter today for sure. Honestly, they wouldnât have done shit to him if it was not for the great deal of alcohol last night.
âI thought of you as a morning sex personâ she twirls a strand of hair with her finger, sitting up now. Her tits hang free and he can see his hickeys decorating her chest.
He wants to laugh. Sheâs not even close to his type. His type is the woman in blue scrubs with her brunette hair slicked back in a ponytail. His type is the woman who looks like she could be watching grass grow rather than to look at him. His type is the woman who walks into a room and lights it up. His type is the woman who is too bright for him and his mundane personality, who has a face worth millions. His type is Kim Destiny.Â
âNo need to waste your precious time thinking about me. You can goâÂ
He places his phone back on the table and saunters over to the bathroom, not bothering looking back at her. He has boundaries and he intends to keep it that way.
He quickly goes through his routine of taking a shower, making a cup of coffee, sliding into a pair of sweatpants and the Ice Dominatorâs jersey with his name on the back. Not in that order, of course.
The girl is thankfully gone by the time he finishes. Once heâs done with his coffee he picks up the car keys and a protein bar from the kitchen counter and heads to the academy hoping his limbs remain intact by the time heâs home.
The Academy is bustling as usual with players keeping themselves busy with hockey and their gym sessions. He heads straight for the rink not even bothering to change into the uniform. He needs to see for himself that everybody is still on the ice. Everything comes after that.
Surprisingly, he sees not a single guy when he reaches there. His heartbeat stops.
âHey Pixie, where are the boys? Did they already leave?â he asks the brunette kid who looks like he just saw a ghost. Or itâs just Jungkook who he saw.
He shakes his head, âTheyâre all in the gym. The doc called them earlier, said she had something important to get done with themâÂ
Jungkook gives him a quick thanks and walks towards the gym. What could be so important that she had to call the boys mid practice? Is someone hurt? Is she hurt? His heart leaps in hid throat as he runs. Fuck, please let him be wrong.
The first thing that he sees as he enters the room full of equipment are his teammates. Taehyung and Yoongi are in the corner lifting weights, Namjoon is using the treadmill as he runs on it. The rest of the boys are all scattered around doing their own thing. He still canât find Destiny anywhere but her assistant, Bella, is talking to Namjoon while holding a file so he lets out a sigh, relieved that nobody is in fact hurt and in need of help.Â
âDo you wanna get a tattoo on the peniâ oh look whoâs here. Jeon Jungkook as I live and breathe.â
Taehyung drops the weight on the ground before walking up to him. Heâs dressed in a black tee and sports shorts. The man looks good in everything. Bet heâd look in a sack too.Â
âWhoa!! Why do you look like you wanna kill somebody or wanna get killed? Is everything okay?âÂ
Jungkook lets his face relax, focusing more on the eyebrows which had gone tensed due to his unnecessary anxiety. âYeah, allâs good. The practice ended early?âÂ
âThe practice ended just on time. Itâs you whoâs lateâ he pats my shoulder.Â
He runs his fingers through his hair and walks towards the bench, dropping his bag on it. Taehyung follows him ignoring Yoongi whoâs calling him back for the weightlifting.Â
âDoc wanted to assess our injuries for the last time before our game if youâre curious which, I know you are. Youâre always curious about herâÂ
He winks at Jungkook and he punches him on the chest. Taehyung laughs as he rubs the spot.
âKeep your voice down, will you?âÂ
Bellaâs voice echoes across the room, âJeon, youâre up nextâÂ
He takes out his water bottle, takes a swig and stands. A wince leaves him as he gets a flashback of the last time he had to face her. It didnât go very well and heâs sure she hates him now. He would too. After all, he not only talked to her rudely but also lied through his teeth about his injury. Itâs pretty old so he had not felt the need to mention it.Â
He sees a guy coming out of the office just before heâs about to enter. He has brown hair long enough to reach the nape of his neck. Even from where Jungkookâs standing, he can say the man doesnât reach above his shoulders. Who the fuck is he? Oh wait, he must be the new player that got traded down here. The guy must have sensed him making a hole through his head by the way heâs staring because heâs begins walking towards him with a bright grin.
âHey man, you must be Jeon Jungkook? Heard a lot about you. Iâm Park Jiminâ He holds out his hand, asking Jungkook to shake it and he gives it a firm handshake. Word to the wise : never give someone a weak handshake. His grandfather has been asking him to do that ever since he was 15, said it doesnât leave a strong impression and heâs be lying if he says he was wrong.
He offers Jimin a nod, âNice to meet you. Excited to get on the rink with you.âÂ
He takes his hand back. âOh the feeling is mutual butââ
âJungkook, please join me insideâÂ
Destinyâs voice cuts him off as she looks over to both of them with an eerie expression on her face. Her eyes bounce between them, resting a second longer on Jimin. Does she know him? Do they have a history? Wait, are they a thing? Even if they are, why does it bother him? Jungkook couldnât care less about the pretty physical therapist who wears her blue scrubs like armor and white crocs with strawberries on them.
He gives Jimin another nod and follows her into the office. Although, heâs not sure if a massage table and a stool resting beside it counts as an office. The room which she works in is much better. This one is just for examinations and massage therapy so he guesses it doesnât need that much of an upgrade.
She gestures towards the table, âPlease sitâ
He says nothing and settles himself up, clearing his throat.
âLook I know we got off on the wrong foot last time and it could have gone so much better, but we can still start over right?â
Destiny takes a deep breath, filling her chest with air. Sheâs wearing her hair in a bun today. It sits at the top of her head and some strands are set loose cascading down her face. God, sheâs pretty.
He looks down and back up at her. âSureâ
Her face shows her annoyance with the one word response. He doesn't blame her. He'd be pissed too.
Sheâs quiet for a moment, âWhy donât you tell me about your knee injury to start with?â
âWhat are you talking about?â
She sighs, âYou know what Iâm talking about Jungkook. Please donât make me work for it. Itâs my job to know about your past and present injuries, if any. The manager has already given me crap about itâ
He freezes. His hackles rising and his relaxed face long gone.
âWhat did he say?â
âNothingâ
He levels her with a stern face, âWhat.did.he.say?â
Sheâs not obligated to answer him. Hell, she could just slap him in the face and leave but he needs to know what went down with that son of a bitch. When and if she decides to let him in the details and it turns out something wicked, heâs gonna hunt that man down and make his life miserable.
Much to his surprise, she takes a step back and starts talking. "He called me in his office today and," she halts,
"Well let's just say there were some words thrown around which clearly meant he thinks of me as a feather brained bitch"
He might look unbothered from outside but the indignation inside him could just about burn the whole city down. He tries to keep calm and pries some more.
His jaw clenches. "What else?"
Destiny shakes her head, shuffling on her feet. âJungkook itâs really not that seriouââ
âIt is serious. You work for us, you tolerate our asses and in return if we fail to give you the respect which, you deserve by the way cause itâs the bare minimum, we might as well save everyoneâs time and money by giving all of this up.â
âWhy do you care?â she shakes her head.
He takes a step forward, âBecause youâ Because you work for us, Destiny. You look out for our bodies, our injuries, our fuckups. Is that not enough?â
She barely reaches his shoulders. Itâs cute how she has to crane her neck up in order to look him in the eye. She keeps looking at him for a long minute, searching his face.
âYou think I donât know that? Do you really think I donât have what it takes to ask for my own dignity?â
He takes a long step back. This conversation was as unforeseen as they come. The room gets filled with heavy silence and he can hear Destinyâs heavy breath. He can tell sheâs trying to calm herself as if his words have blindsided her.
Needless to say sheâs a tad bit taken aback. Jungkook would be too if someone who never bothered to speak a word to him and when he did, there was nothing pleasant about his tone suddenly started to care.
But thatâs where sheâs wrong, nothing about his care or concern for her is sudden. He still remembers the day she accidentally drank the almond smoothie Bella brought not knowing the fact that sheâs allergic to it. Sheâd started choking the second it went down her throat. He also remembers how Yoongi injected the epipen against her thigh as she came back to life.
Meanwhile, he stood behind shaking in his goddamn boots. Too scared to let her out of his sight and too pathetic to hold her close. Yeah, heâs not proud of that.
He sighs, âYou know thatâs not what I meantââ
Namjoon walks inside with a hand towel around his neck âDoc, you about done? The boys are being incorrigible over there. If you donât hurry, one of them is gonna call a tattoo artist and get their dick tattooed. Right hereâ
The room falls silent.
âJesusâ she looks over to where the guys are bickering about something, propping her hands on her hips. âYeah, give me a minute.â
âSureâ and with that he walks away.
She picks up a blue file from the stool, not looking at him. Why is she not looking at him?
âIf you donât want to tell me about your injury right now, thatâs fine. Since, I know itâs pretty old and Itâs unlikely that youâre gonna get affected by it in the upcoming games, thereâs no need to worry. However, I would still suggest you be careful. Anything can happen out there and your knee is in a vulnerable position. Donât pick unnecessary fights, donât let the opponent know your weak link.â
She glances at him, dropping the file back to where it was.
âYou can goâ
Without a preamble, he heads outside, passing Taehyung. He hears him cracking a joke about penis tattoos and piercings with his girlfriendâs name on it. Destiny cracks up and Jungkook wonders if she would have done the same, had he been the one cracking the joke. Only, he doesnât crack jokes. Not around her at least. Itâs not like he's some grumpy bastard who wants nothing to do with anybody around him and thinks of him as omniscient.
Thereâs just something about Destiny which puts him at loss of words. Knotting his tongue it in such a way where he canât get an expression out. Only look at her and god, does he look at her. He's not stupid. He knows itâs a crush but sheâs like a mirage to him. Sheâs unreachable, forbidden and so fucking beautiful.
Does he want to make her his? Yes, Is he going to risk his career and hers over it? Absolutely not. So, he makes use of the only right nobody can take away from him. Not even her. Admire her from afar. Fantasize more about tasting her, licking her slender neck and worshipping the ground that she walks on and one day if she lets him, Jungkook will do anything to turn all of that into reality.
He finds Yoongi seated on of the benches, scrolling on his phone.
Facing him, Jungkook speaks in a low voice. "Do you have any idea where James is?"
Ëàšà§âïœĄË
Destiny
Never have you ever wanted to run away as much as you did when you saw Jimin in front of yourself, standing all tall and proud. You had wished it to be a dream, wished you just had a nightmare about him joining the same team you happen to work with but reality is a goddamn bitch and it bites hard when it does. He had grown out his hair longer but he still has the same smile, same eyes and the same charm he used on you back then. Park Jimin is a man people donât ever forget once they see him. He has an aura which traps everyone so hard they can never escape. How do you know? You have been a victim yourself.
You meticulously go through the consequences and eventualities of being in the same room as him again. You seeing him everyday and him reminding you of every single detail you have tried so hard forgetting about, the boys finding out about you both and putting you through the wringer or worse, him. The possibilities are endless and you feel the sudden urge to square everything with him.
Contrary to what you had thought, he reacted pretty normally when he saw you as if somebody had already told him about you. You had expected him to get shocked or at the very least pretend to be shocked.
Having said that, he just gave you a single nod as if you're someone he passes by every morning at the park. Are you this forgettable? Are you someone people just brush aside like that? Your fatherâs words echo in your ears like loud drums,
âYou know, nobody will love you if you keep looking like this. Eat lessâ
âGirl, do you ever stop eating? Every time I see you, you're stuffing something in that mouth of yours!!â
âDonât come running back at me when no guy gives a shit about youâ
You were 10 and he was an asshole. He still is.
Thanks to him, you now have a tendency to cook when you're stressed over anything. It brings you comfort and diverts your mind from the excessive overthinking. You would go bald if it puts the voices into silent mode.
After already wasting half of your life speculating what to eat, counting calories and whatnot, you came to the terms that you canât actually operate that way and began eating whatever the fuck you wanted. Yet still, you need to go a long way in order to fully love yourself and your body. It's a journey and you're moving ahead step by step. One day at a time.
One would even say you're hot. You have received compliments from several people over the course of time except you donât have a thigh gap, your arms jiggle and you also happen to have a love handle. You would have adored them if it wasnât for your dad making you feel shitty about having them.
A knock on your door stops you midway as you're kneading the dough. Biscuit runs over to you, jumping on the counter.
âComingâ
The knock comes back again, this time slightly louder.
âOh my god wait Iâm comingâ
The door swings open and you gasp. âMina?â
She passes by you, dragging her suitcase along with her.
âHey bestieâ
You close the door and follow her further into the hall. âWhatâs going on? Whatâs with the suitcase?â
Your best friendâs sudden arrival must have caught you by slight surprise but your cat is rather pleased to see her. Traitor. She starts clawing at her feet excitedly.
âWhat a good girl you are? Yes, you areâ Mina coos at her and then glances up at you from where she has biscuit nestled in her lap,
âI need a place to live for a few days because my shitty boss kept rejecting all my articles and I really wanna bring her something worth the front page. Apparently, writing about the famous coffee shop around the corner and their secret ingredient being maple syrup wasnât good enough.â
You round the counter and continue kneading the dough for your strawberry pie. Itâs not unlikely for Mina to show up unannounced. In fact, she has done that plenty of times but the suitcase was never involved. This one is new.
âSo you decided to barge in here without even asking?â You tease.
She flashes you a dramatic look. âLook at us, Destiny. Arenât we the same girls who giggled about living together after college? With matching slippers and movie marathons?â
âOkay okay you dramatic bitch. How long are you here for?â
Biscuit runs to do her business and she gets up, setting her suitcase to the side.
She sighs, âNot sure. As long as it takes me to come up with a new topic to write aboutâHEYâ why donât I just write on the hockey team you work with? What are they called? IceâŠiceâ
âIce Dominatorsâ you fill in for her.
She slaps her thigh. âThatâs the oneâ
You shrug, âI mean you can, but youâll have to call in on the coach first. He operates everything inside and outside the teamâ
Coach Ian is too nice to turn her request down. Heâs one of the most genuine people in the federation. Maybe this is why the team is so strong and united. He respects every single boy and receives it tenfold. It's a mutual thing.
âShit, How come I didnât think about thatâ she bites her lip, her enthusiasm replaced by nervousness.
âDonât worry. He wonât make you work for it. Ian is as nice as they comeâ you assure.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. As you watch, she opens your fridge, taking out the box of frozen blueberries and pops one into her mouth.
âDo you want me to give you a hand?â she mumbles while chewing.
You point towards the bathroom, âGo and take a shower, right now. You stinkyâ
You duck the blueberry she throws your way, laughing as you do. Giving your cheek one last kiss, she excuses herself.
Ëàšà§âïœĄË
Warm hands roam over your thigh, squeezing them. You muffle your moan with your palm and take every thrust.Â
âYeah, you like that? You like how Iâm pounding into this ass right now?âÂ
You gasp.Â
âSuch a good girlâ he praises.
The man behind you presses a kiss to your naked shoulder as he rasps in your ears, âWere you walking around all day dripping for me?âÂ
He pulls his cock out and thrusts again. You meet him with equal passion and hunger.Â
âTell meâÂ
You nod.Â
âI need your words, DestinyâÂ
You cry out, âYes Oh god, Yes. I wanted you in me so badâÂ
He cups your pussy and rubs your clit with his palm until you're rolling your eyes to the back of your head and squirming. Thrust after thrust he brings you to your sweet release while talking dirty things in your ear. You're about to melt into a puddle of goo. Heâs got you totally at his mercy.Â
âSo beautiful like this. Taking my cock so well huh?âÂ
âAhh it feels so good, right there. Just right there, donât stopâÂ
He bites down your shoulder, âCome for me and let everyone outside hear the name youâre screaming, you dirty whoreâÂ
Your heartbeat picks up as you squeeze him with the tight ring of muscle, orgasm crashing over.Â
âFUCK. Oh my god Jungkook!!â
Your eyes fling open and you sit up so fast your head starts spinning. Everything around you is pitch black. Wait, where am you?Â
Mina is at your side in an instant, âDestiny, are you okay babe?â
You look around and release a sigh of relief. You run your fingers through your hair, ruffling them.Â
âYeah um⊠Iâm fine. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.âÂ
Except it wasnât. It was one hell of a dream where you were getting fucked into oblivion by your player. You're not even going to lie and say that you didnât like it. Câmon you're a woman of needs, itâs just that, him fulfilling those needs was not on the cards for you even if it wasn't real.
You check the time on your phone and wince at the bright light flashing up at you. Itâs 2:45 am and you just had a back breaking sex dream about a man who you want nothing to do with. Who, as beautiful as he is, annoys the hell out of you with those one word replies and grumpy face. An edgy feeling threatens to rise.
Oh god itâs going to be awkward now. Itâs only normal to walk on eggshells around someone people have these sort of dreams about. You have read your fair share of books where the female character gets a sex dream about a man and then they donât talk to each other for the rest of their lives. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch but it might as well not be.
Yeah, you admit you guys donât talk to each other a lot as it is, or are longtime best friends tiptoeing around their feelings, but you're afraid you're gonna have to ignore him forever for the sake of your own sanity.Â
Iâm so fucked. You think.
tags - @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw
#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#bts#jungkook scenario#jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#jungkook x you#bts x reader#jungkook imagine#bts scenario#bts fanfic#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook drabble#jungkook series#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook oneshot#fluff
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â đđ đđđđđđđđ â . . . nicholas chavez
BESTFRIEND!reader x BESTFRIEND!nicholas đđ
SUMMARY, nicholas canât keep his hands off his best-friend.
WARNINGS, smuttyyyy
A/N, have fun reading, angels. đ
He sits up between her spread legs and runs his two fingers up her slit. She jumped when he passed by the collection of nerves at the top.
"Youâre so wet for someone you call your best-friend" He whispered, peering up at my eyes.
He proceeded to very gently move his two fingers up and down, and she responded with a deep gasp. Every light touch made her thighs tremble, and it was driving her insane. He was practically torturing himself by running his fingers over her.
She complained and thrust her hips upward, but he quickly pushed them back down to the mattress and used his firm grip to pin them there. "I know my princess we're getting there." He mocked her desire for him to give her a more intense touch. "I need you to be good and stay still for me."
She tried to remain motionless as he requested, but her chest rose and fell with each deep breath. He drags her two fingers down again and then abruptly slides them all the way inside her. She lets out a gasp, taken aback by how quickly it happened. His two long fingers were shoved all the way within her, and she gripped around them.
She expected him to begin pumping them in and out, but instead he removed them entirely and brought his now-wet fingertips up to her clit. He began carefully circling the bundle of nerves right away. She opened her mouth, taking a strong breath in instead of out. His locks dangled over his forehead as his eyes shot up to her to see her reaction.
Her legs collided with his heated breath before her mind could register what was about to happen. She realized it would leave a mark as his hands abruptly curled around her thighs and pried them even farther apart, the points of his fingers jabbing into her flesh.
Her gut jerked and her entire body arched as his tongue went up her center. He pressed his mouth against her tightly and rolled his tongue straight to the collection of nerves before she could even begin to register the strange sensation of his sharp tongue traveling up her slit.
"Fu-" her breathing interrupted the delicate action before she could even finish her swearing as her back arched off the bed. Without holding back, he went straight into her clit with a wonderful rhythmic roll of his tongue. Her wrists shook in the cuffs over my head, and her eyelids pinched shut.
He placed her legs over his shoulders, reaching lower and squeezing a firm grasp around her outer thighs and hip bones. With a deep inhale through his nostrils, he caressed her with his tongue, sending a surge of ecstasy up her neck and into her veins. Her legs are spread across his long back as she chokes on her groan and tosses her head back into the cushion.
She felt a jolt in her stomach as he moans at her center. She quickly exhaled and stretched, but his firm hold held her body motionless. His grasp would only get firmer and his clutch would bury her deeper into the bedding every time she moved her hips automatically.
"Nick fuck-" she cried out while her legs shook.
"Does that feel good, pretty girl ?" He rasps into the blazing air, massaging her clit and fingering her at the same time. she nods
Her entire body was tense; she couldn't continue in this state for very long. She yelled his muffled name, "Cum for your best-friend, give it to me," and then it abruptly stopped her in her tracks. The whole trembling, hunching over, breathing stopped.
Her head tossed back, suddenly realizing that the brief three-second stop was the climactic release between her legs. It was amazing how overwhelming it was. At the height of her climax, her body remained flexed, but everything else in her stopped.
âFuck we have to do this more often, babyâ
#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez#smut#nicholas chavez imagine#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas chavez fic
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To sleep at your back
Author's Note: Just a lil oneshot. Lots of fluff â both IC and Azriel x Reader. Sleepy Azriel is the best Azriel! No warnings.
Y/nâs back was beginning to ache, like an uncomfortably hot stone had knotted itself into the base of her spine. She twisted this way and that in her seat, neck craning over the textbook like a slim tree in the wind. Her family members bustled around her. Cassian kneeled on the ground, palms outstretched as striking practice for Nyx. The little boy beat at him with tiny fists, every thump, thump, thump punctuated by a fake grimace from his favorite uncle.Â
âYouâre becoming too strong for me, little one,â Cassian cried out, cowering to the floor before sprawling out in a dying heap. Nyx leapt onto his chest, declaring his victory for the whole house to hear.Â
Nesta smirked from over her book, with Gwyn and Emerie similarly arranged around the coffee table.Â
Elain dragged Lucien out by one flour coated arm to watch for a few moments, a sugar-dusted smile on her rosy cheeks as she wiped sweat from her brow. âDinnerâs running late,â she called out before slipping back into the warm kitchen with her mate in tow.Â
Everyone hummed their acknowledgement.Â
Soon the boy grew tired from their games, but he was too proud to admit it. âWhatâs taking them so long?â He asked instead, taking the welcome break to lean his damp head of curls under Cassianâs chin.Â
âIâm sure theyâll be done anytime now.â Debriefs with Azriel always took long â the male was too thorough for his own good. Nyx made a point to glance at Y/n. His aunt always had a habit of disappearing into her work whenever Azriel was away. It kept her mind off the distance where it might have driven Cassian and Nesta, or Rhysand and Feyre mad.Â
Mated couples didnât like to be separated, especially not for this long. But at least Y/n could hear Azriel in her mind now. The bond had been stretched thin â his voice faint and difficult to hear â during his long months on the Continent.Â
Her head jerked up suddenly and no sooner had she stood up from her seat before Azriel was by her side in a burst of darkness. Tendrils of shadow snaked out from his feet, drinking up the sunlight like it was wine until the temperature stuttered with a cool whisper. He sank back into the seat, dragging her with him so she was sitting in between his sprawled out legs. He wrapped his arms firmly around her middle, pressing her back against his chest and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Whispers were exchanged between presses of lips against skin. She smoothed the rough calluses of his hands, murmuring âWelcome home.â
And he answered in her mind, Gods I love you.Â
He rested his chin against her back, watching over her shoulder as she eventually went back to her reading, comforted by his presence so close to her. It was thrilling how much she loved him. Azriel could scarcely believe it most days.Â
I canât believe I get to love you. He thought sleepily. He hadnât intended to let the thought slip through the bond, but she warmed immediately, cheeks touched with heat.Â
Youâre a hopeless romantic. She teased.Â
He sighed happily, eyelids fluttering shut despite his best efforts. He hadnât slept well while he was away. He never did. His head grew heavy on her shoulder, but she appreciated the weight of him at her back.Â
When dinner was finally ready, and their family members carefully streamed through the kitchen, they marveled at the sight of Azriel fast asleep against Y/n, one hand of hers carded through his black hair.
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a/n: mdni. saw this post and knew i had to write a fanfic about needy bully!rafe. all credits go to @shawtycoreee and the post that inspired it all!
you never expected to find yourself back hereâat rafe cameronâs house, ready to apologize. you had turned him down brutally in front of everyone, and it shouldâve felt good to put him in his place. after all, he was a bullyâarrogant, cold, and always making life hard for you. but when you saw the look in his eyes after you rejected him, something shifted. it wasnât just anger or frustration; it was something that looked... broken.
the guilt had gnawed at you, leaving you feeling uneasy, so you found yourself standing at his door. it was already open, like he had left it for you. stepping inside, you called softly, ârafe?â no response.
you moved deeper into the house, making your way up the stairs until you stood in front of his slightly open bedroom door. then you heard itâa soft, choked sound, like someone trying to cry quietly. you hesitated, then slowly pushed the door open.
your breath caught at the sight in front of you. rafe, sitting on his bed, shirtless, his broad shoulders shaking as he whimpered softly. his hand was under the covers, gripping himself as his body trembled, and with each movement, a desperate sob escaped his lips.
âfuck... why... why doesnât she want me?â he whispered, his voice raw. âi just wanted her...â
you froze. the rafe you knew was always so composed, so ruthless, and now he was crumbling. the sight of him in this stateâcrying, trembling, aching for youâdid something to you. you were supposed to be here to apologize, to make things right. but this... this was unexpected.
you stepped into the room without thinking, your voice quiet. ârafe?â
his head snapped up, panic flashing in his tear-filled eyes. his whole body jerked as he tried to cover himself, yanking the blankets up, but his hand was still wrapped around his cock, red and leaking from the intensity of his frustration.
âfuckâgo away!â he rasped, his voice thick with tears. âdonât... donât look at me like this.â but his voice broke at the end, and another sob shook his body, despite his attempts to control it.
ârafe,â you whispered, stepping closer. you didnât know what to say. he looked so fragile, so completely unlike the boy who had tormented you. his face was streaked with tears, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes glassy and desperate. âi... iâm sorry.â
his breath hitched, and he wiped at his face roughly with the back of his hand, trying to hide how much he was falling apart. âyou donât get it,â he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. âyou fucking destroyed me. you didnât even care.â
the words hit you hard, and you sat down beside him on the bed, feeling the tension in the air between you. âi didnât know,â you said softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. he flinched but didnât pull away. âi didnât mean to hurt you.â
âbut you did,â he cried, his voice breaking as another sob tore through him. âiâve... iâve wanted you for so long. i couldnât fucking breathe when you said no.â
your heart clenched at the raw pain in his voice. rafe cameron, the boy who always seemed so untouchable, was sobbing because of you. your fingers moved to brush away the tears on his face, and his eyes fluttered closed at the soft touch, his whole body trembling under your fingertips.
âplease, i didnât mean it,â you whispered, leaning in closer, your lips brushing his ear. âiâm so sorry.â
his breath hitched again, and he let out a soft, broken whimper. âyou... you donât understand,â he whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. âiâve needed you... iâve needed you for so fucking long. it hurts. everything fucking hurts.â
your hand moved down his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. âi didnât know,â you murmured, your voice low and soothing, your fingers trailing lower until you found himâhard, throbbing, and leaking with need. âlet me make it better.â
rafe gasped, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as your hand wrapped around his cock. âfuck,â he whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks again. âplease, donât... donât stop...â
you kissed his cheek gently, tasting the salt of his tears. âiâm here,â you whispered against his skin, your hand moving slowly, deliberately. âi didnât mean to make you feel like this.â
âi... i thought you hated me,â he cried, his voice trembling as his hips bucked into your hand. his hands were gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles were white, his body shaking as more tears slipped from his eyes. âi couldnât... i didnât know what to do. i need you, please...â
you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your thumb gently swiping over the tip of his cock, making him moan. âi donât hate you, rafe,â you murmured, your lips brushing against his. âi just didnât know you felt this way.â
he let out a broken sob, his head falling back against the headboard as he tried to stifle the cries that kept slipping from his lips. âiâve wanted you for so long... iâve needed you for so fucking long...â
âshh,â you whispered, kissing his jawline, his neck, his tear-streaked face. âiâm here now. iâm not going anywhere.â
his breath came in uneven gasps, his whole body trembling as you quickened your pace, your hand sliding up and down his length. âi... i donât deserve this,â he whimpered, his voice thick with tears. âbut i... i need you so bad...â
âitâs okay,â you murmured softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. âlet go, rafe. iâm here.â
his breath hitched again, his entire body tensing as he teetered on the edge of release. âplease,â he sobbed, his voice cracking. âdonât stop... iâm so close...â
you smiled against his skin, your hand working him faster, harder, until his hips jerked up and he let out a choked cry, tears streaming down his face as he came hard, his body shuddering with the intensity of it. âfuck!â he sobbed, his chest heaving, his cock pulsing in your hand as he spilled over your fingers.
you kissed him gently, brushing your lips against his trembling mouth as he came down from his high. âyouâre okay,â you whispered, wiping away the tears still streaming down his face. âiâve got you.â
rafe let out a broken, shuddering breath, his arms wrapping around you as he buried his face in your neck, sobbing softly into your skin. âthank you,â he whimpered, his voice raw and hoarse. âthank you...â
and in that moment, as he cried softly against you, you realized that this was a side of rafe cameron that no one had ever seenâa side that only you had the power to break... and the power to fix.
taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0
#rafe obx#rafe imagine#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe x you#outerbanks rafe#rafe fic#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe
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imagine youâre using arts phone cause urs died or wtv and you stumble on him and patricks convo and cause ur hella nosy you go through it and itâs then saying the FILTHIEST things about you sending each other shitty yet lewd pictures of their dicks mid strike⊠like kat zimmerman all over again đ«đ«đ«
Yes âŠâŠ and art is a little out of it just not thinking because heâs hanging out with you, and youâre asking him for help!!!
So of course he gives you his phone to use and heâs just kinda standing there with his hands in his pockets not knowing what to do while youâre trying to call an Uber, muttering how youâll pay him back.
And Patrick is sending him tons of texts, just spamming the fuck outta art.
Yo are you with her?
What is she wearing
Donât leave me hanging
they canât be talking about you, surely not. You barely know Patrick or Art. Art you know more due to the fact that you had a class with him last semester. You had met Patrick a few times when you went over to their shared apartment to study a couple times.
But nothing notable happened. Just studying, awkward small talkâthatâs it.
Youâre curious, and open their messages, scrolling to the beginning of the day.
Patrick complains about not being invited out.
Sorry itâs a Stanford thing, Art responded.
I canât wait to see her
The messages start out sweet.
Canât wait for you to tell me exactly what sheâs wearing , patrick said.
Another one from Patrick underneath.
What Iâd give to cum all over those tits
It doesnât surprise you to see Patrickâs texts; you donât know him as much. But you know Art. Heâs sweet. Cute. Nervous and antsy.
Me too
Innocent enough.
Art sends another text.
Iâd fuck her face until she cried
Your face grows hot. Art is looking at his watch, tapping his foot.
Bet her little pussy is so tight, what if we shared it
And then a video. You make sure the volume is down; youâre sure it would be pornographic had it been turned on even slightly. Patrick bucks his hips up, fucking his hand. His mouth hangs open, veins in his cock pulsing. His phone , propped up on a book, falls over from the force of his thrusting. His cock is huge. Itâs almost scary.
Art sends one back; he sends it along with a text: Iâd love to fuck her with you. he spits in his hand slowly. It drips into his palm. He coats his shaft, the pink head, even his balls. Spit drips onto the chair beneath him. Heâs slower, more deliberate. You accidentally turn the volume up a bit. Artâs moans are soft, they grow into desperate groans. He moans your nameâand then he moans Patrickâs.
Artâs face is white. You realize you outed yourself. No, you shouldnât be looking through his phoneâbut is he really going to be mad at you after what you found.
âOh fuck. Um-â he doesnât even know what to say. Nothing about this is redeemable. Thereâs no excuse, no way out. Youâre the girl he has daydreamed about marrying and you just saw perverted homoerotic texts, and he and Patrick jerking off. Together.
You find it cute, how embarrassed he is. And the sick part of youâwhich takes up more of your brain than youâd like to admitâis flattered that they long for you like this. Want to fuck you this bad. You turn his phone off and hand it to him.
âTell you what. Iâll just sleep over at your place tonight. That shouldnât be a problem right?â
Art shakes his head. âNo, not at allâyouâre more than welcome.â
âI really didnât know you and Patrick were so close.â
Art wants to fucking die.
#ask#challengers#patrick zweig#challengers smut#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader
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SPONTANEOUS.
Art Donaldson x Reader
oops. itâs gonna be a series. iâm developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.
warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.
LINK TO SORRY SERIES
Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet werenât meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.
Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?
Capitalism at its finest.
[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now canât remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasnât just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.
What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didnât have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: âyouâre really loud, you know that?â And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.
Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-sheâs-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.
[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.
Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadnât spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.
Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.
Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.
Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes maâam, Iâm well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?
[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.
Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasnât fair.
Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didnât know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.
[Y/N] couldnât remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigsâ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.
To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.
Now, she was the only one around to drink it.
Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrickâs room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.
According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. Theyâd dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.
âWhoa, save some for the rest of us.â A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]âs head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.
[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. âThat was a really long one sec,â She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. âWhatâd you guys do anyway? Whereâs Patrick?â
Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. âBeing Patrick,â He didnât answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. âItâs getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for youââ
âIâm alright here, but thanks,â she slurred slightly. âYou head in. Iâm not here to ruin your fun.â It had sounded bitter. She hadnât meant for it to.
Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. âIâm not here to ruin yours either, yâknow.â
âYou donât have to make this into a thing. Itâs fine.â
âWell, too late. Patrickâs being an ass. I donât want you out here feeling like Iâm some homewrecker. Iâve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. Heâs not trying to be nasty to you, âpromise. Come on, Iâm not gonna let you freeze out here.â Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.
âItâs spring, Itâll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrickâs waiting for you.â
âYouâre being impossible.â
[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. âNuh-uh.â
âJesus⊠if youâre gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.â Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.
âOh, Art, pleaseââ
âNo, no! You made your choice. Donât let me spoil your fun with you and the⊠the vodka,â Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. âAll hunky dory now,â He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Artâs brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didnât know what that expression was meant to mean. âBe careful, okay? For what itâs worth, youâyou look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. âNight [Y/N].â
[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didnât even like her.
Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: âArt, wait!â
She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. âYes?â He asked, trying not to smile.
âListen, youâre rightââ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Artâs jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. âShit!â She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friendâs backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.
Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. âWhere do they keep the pool net?â Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.
âThe shed.â [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.
âFuck,â he said under his breath. âItâs locked,â He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. âCome back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we canâŠâ
But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Artâs jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasnât not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.
âJust do what I would do,â Patrick said. âItâll be fine, man. Sheâs already into you, I can tell.â
âWell, if sheâs into me, why would I do what you would do? Thatâs an awful suggestion, Patrick.â Art protested.
Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. âIâve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. Thatâs what I mean. Spontaneous. Sheâs into that because sheâs like that too. And sheâs⊠wicked mean, so donât start shit. Sheâll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,â Patrick paused to laugh. âBe in the moment. Donât get in your head about it. Which youâre doing right nowâ I can tell, ArthurâŠâ Patrick drew out Artâs full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.
Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. âIâm going down there. Poor girlâs been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.â
âSpontaneous!â Patrick called after him with a grin.
Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasnât sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]âs expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Artâs sacrifice.
âArt! Thank you so much!â She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.
âItâs no trouble. Repaymentâs in order, though.â
âRepaymentâŠ? What do youââ
Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.
âWait, fuck, you can swim, right?â
Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and thatâs the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.
â
âHoney, you have to get up so you can get readyâŠâ Artâs mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]âs left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.
A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]âs soft snores while Art held her. He couldnât sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldnât be bothered to give a damn. âNo.â She mumbled.
âPleaseâŠâ Artâs hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.
âNo,â she sighed. Artâs hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didnât particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.
âItâs one night. One party. We donât have to stay all night⊠Heâs not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVPâd.â
They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.
âDonât talk about him, or his fucking mom when youâre touching me like that,â [Y/N] all but moaned as Artâs left thumb circled her nipple. ââThought we had to get upâŠâ
Art smirked. âWe do. At least youâre awake now.â He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.
âArt!â
She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. âMotivation to leave the party early.â Art said and popped off into the shower.
Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadnât spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadnât expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasnât there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.
Still, they were invited to the Zweig familyâs charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.
[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?
[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.
The dress was green. Sheâd worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasnât fair. It never was with Art.
She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.
Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.
As she started to put her face on, she could see Artâs face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. âYou look nice.â He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.
This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.
âStaring.â [Y/N] said simply. She didnât even look away from her own face in the mirror.
âYeah. And?â Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. âI, of all people, am allowed.â
âIdiot.â [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.
Artâs hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. âI was thinkingââ Art was always gentle in his own way.
âOoh, dangerous.â
âShut up. Yâknow, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on itâŠâ
[Y/N] nodded softly. âHuh. Yeah. Thatâs true.â She said, smiling a bit.
âIâm really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, weâre the Donaldsons. Isnât that so crazyâŠ?â Art whispered into her plush skin. âPlural. Two of us.â
Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. âYouâre being such a girl about it.â
Art didnât let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]âs ear and collarbone. âAm I? Hadnât noticed.â
âWeâre going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you donât stop.â [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.
âWould that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk andâŠâ Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.
[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. âYou drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You donât make any s-sense, babe.â
He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]âs hair away from her face. âYouâre right⊠Iâm sorry. Please let me make it up to you?â
âHow?â
Then, Artâs mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.
âPlease.â Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. âGive me ten minutes.â
âYou can do better than ten.â
âOh yeah?â
âClockâs ticking.â When she said it, she heard Artâs knees hit the tile in front of her.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson#challengers movie#challengers#patrick zweig#tashi duncan
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đąđĄđđŹ đȘđđ§đ đŹđąđš â how your boyfriend is and how he acts with you, only you bring out a new him!
note: I saw this format on a couple of posts and wanted to try it out! I would tag people but there is so many people that use this format, so, sorry!
Content warnings: nsfw (17+), swearing, masturbation,(Kagami), overstimulation, bondage (Kise), pussy eating (Teppei),dacryphilia, degradation if you squint (Aomine), riding (Midorima), stand fuck? (Murasakibara), and anything else I forgot!
â
â đđđđđ đ
Kagami is a big baby when it comes to you. He always misses you! Even though with his teammates and friends he seems stable and intense, he falls to his knees for you, he cries for you at night, wanting to feel you in every place imaginable. Canât hold it against him, youâre literally perfect!
You had arrived home from work with Riko, and the apartment you and Kagami share, you only part-time, was weirdly quiet. You dropped off your stuff, and called out to Kagami. You walked slowly to the bedroom, and muffled noises were becoming more and more clear.
Kagami whined and groaned as he worked his cock with his hand. Frustration pinning a furious red on his face and his shirt was in between his teeth. His abs defined from him tending his abdomen and you couldnât help but get weak in the knees hearing him cry out, not only crying out profanities, but crying out your name.
âHah, w-wish you were here baby!â He moaned again, trying his hardest to relieve the burn of the blood flowing his dick. He pinched his nipple, and groaned out to that. You pushed open the door, and Kagami flinched, but didnât stop. Your face was in complete shock and awe and he couldnât help but nearly come right then and there from simply seeing your face.
You approach the bed, and crawl towards him. âMove your hand.â You command to the red haired man.
âB-but-â you smacked his thigh, and he removed his hand.
âI wanna help!â Your dominant demeanor no longer evident. You smile, and he nodded aggressively, jerking his hips up when you firmly grabbed his dick.
âT-thank you!â He moaned as you You kiss his heated lips. âLove you so-so much-much!â
â
â đđđŠđ
Kise, kise, kise. A kind man at first appearance, a strict man at heart. Donât get me wrong, kise is a great guy, thoughtful, loving, respectful, but he also wants to be in control. He wants to do things his way, that being where you both go to for a date, or where you lay while he fucks the last brain cells out of your headâs.
Kise sat on the sofa in your shared home. His jaw clenched and legs crossed. His arms draped over the back of the sofa and he watched the show in the screen.
You on the other hand were upstairs, on the king sized bed, hands and legs tied and a vibrator in and on your cunt. You cry as your cunt was overworked and pain was starting to course through your cunt. You could t fee anything but the uncomfortable pain from the vibrations, yet orgasms after orgasms instinctively rip from you.
âK-kise! P-please!â You scream out again, his teeth clenching harder against each other. âI-Iâm sorry!â You cried when another orgasm scraped its way out of you.
Kise sighed and stood up. He walked upstairs and into the master bedroom. Your body was limp against the bindings, and your face was completely wet from the tears in your face. You did this to yourself. Even though you couldnât stand this punishment, you never used your safe word. Kise wanted to pity you, but again you did this to yourself.
He got on the bed, and turned off the vibrators. As he did so, your body convulsed, and then he felt a little bad.
âHave you learned your lesson?â He grabbed your cheeks and moved your head towards him.
âY-yes.â Your weak voice spoke out. She smiled, and kissed your lipâs softly.
âLetâs get you cleaned up, hm?â Kise took off the cuffs, he cleaned your hypersensitive cunt as gently as he could. He rubbed ointment on your wrists and ankles, and he stripped himself of his shirt and pants, and laid with you.
âDonât fuck with me again, y/n.â He help you tighter in his arms. You nodded, and he smiled.
â
â đ§đđŁđŁđđ
Can Teppei ever just not be himself? Teppei is the sweetest man known to mankind. Whenever you both hang out, it never feels awkward or unnatural to be around him, he is just so easy to love!
Teppei prepared a warm bath with bath soaps and candles, no rose petals though, heâs allergic, but he did put in rubber duckies, just to be funny! You were exhausted from doing your afterschool job, and he knew exactly what you needed. So when you entered the bath, him behind you, his heart fluttered seeing the face he wanted to see, satisfaction.
He washed your back, and hair. He laid with you, hummed a song that put your mind at ease. He even helped dry you off and carried you back into your shared room.
âJust let me help you relax, baby.â His comforting tone made you follow his command. He spread your pussy lips and began to suck on your clit. His tongue circling it at the same time. You grabbed the pillows as you felt even more amazing with how he was eating you out.
âMhm, feel good?â He looked up, still eating you out.
âMhm, very good!â You moan out making him chuckle.
He continued to eat you out until you quickly grabbed his head and pushed him farther into your cunt.
âSo close! Please donât stop!â Teppei pushed your thighs even farther apart, enhancing the pleasure, and also to stop you from crushing his head.
You came while pulling his hair. He groaned at the feeling, and rutted his dick into the mattress from the feeling.
Once you came down from your orgasm, Teppei climbed up to you and hovered over you. you looked up at the brunette who was smiling. You chuckle and said,
âGuess you like hair pulling more than I do!â He laughed and kissed you.
âI guess so!â
â
â đđąđ đđĄđ
Aomine is a bitch. He knows it, I know it, now you know it. And, when I say bitch, I mean he is meeeean! But youâre into that, so who is really complaining? Aomine does everything in his power to make you upset, not like genuinely upset, but more so a âstop being so mean!â Upset. He doesnât hurt you, call you names or pick at insecurities, he says things like âyou can do way better.â In a blunt tone.
Aomine also is distant in a trashy boyfriend way. He is a good boyfriend most times, but a lot of times he just ghosts you, ignores you, and he also sometimes has the audacity to talk to other girls! He doesnât indulge in any physical contact, but he wants to see you upset or crying.
Aomine is a dacryphiliac. He strives to see you cry. But, it isnât hard to get you too, because your a baby. A big cry baby while weâre at it. Your dress is too short, you cry. Your shoes arenât tying right, you cry. If you canât fall asleep when you want to, you cry! But Aomine loves it.
âPlease put it in!â Tears stream down your face as Aomine rubs his tip anywhere and thrusts it everywhere but your cunt. You just wanted to indulge in an intimate session with your boyfriend but he isnât doing very much.
âQuit your crying, I do what I fucking want.â He slips inside but quickly pulls out. Aomine has good stamina and self control when he wants to, and this is the time where his self control is at its peak. He can just tease and tease until heâs ready.
You ball up your fists and hit the mattress. Your forehead also hirs it as if you were throwing a tantrum.
âFine.â He said annoyed, and he started to pound into you.
âY-you- aha! You b-bitch!â You moan out as he rolled his eyes.
âWhat else is new?â His voice sounded so controlled despite the rapid and aggressive thrusting he was doing.
âWouldnât say that shit if I wasnât fucking my pussy. Iâd be grateful if I were you, not many girls get this opportunity.â He said straight into your ear.
âI- aha! Iâm gonna c-â
âShut the fuck up- shit.â He interrupted as he repositioned himself, and pulled you onto him as if you were some sex doll or fleshlight.
âAominichi!â You squeal as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.
âFuck!â He slowed down his thrusts and pulled out of you.
âWhat are you-â
He flipped you on top of him, and laid back.
âIf you want my cum, work for it.â
â
â đ đđđąđ„đđ đ
A literal Aomine opposite. He comes off cold and a know it all, but he is really a great listener and man of advice. You kind of find his whole lucky item thing a bit weird, and how he revolves his whole day around his zodiac and lucky item, but heâs still cute!
He always gets a duplicate of his lucky item, knowing it might not matter to you or have as much luck as for him, but he wants to share as much of his luck with you as he can. He always wants you to be where he is, that being games, school, and even work.
He treats you like his own lucky item, accept he doesnât need a website or paper to tell him that. He also likes when you take control. He loves when you use him. Heâs always so tired of having to worry about this and that, and doesnât like always being the leader of something since heâs apart of the GOM.
âMmm, ShintarĆ!â You moan as you rode him. His large hands gripped your his tightly, and his usually neat green hair was messy and half wet from the multiple rounds youâve put him through.
âHa- wha-whatâs got you so worked up today?â He was out of breath, and all you could do was smile.
âHaving a hot boyfriend comes wit-with perks.â You continued to hop on his long dick, despite the burn of your thighs.
âI see.â He smirked. And he felt another orgasm approach. You rolled your hips, trying to cum one more time.
âIâm so close! Please, Shin, h-help me!â Your legs got the best of you, and you needed his help.
âAlright, but beware, Iâm not holding back.â He flipped you both over, and he grabbed your waist. He quickly fucked you both, his hot moans and your pitchy ones filled the room, as this was going to be the last round of many.
âIâm gonna cum! Iâm gonna cum! Iâm gonna cum!â You repeated over and over, and Midorima leaned down and kissed you.
âCum for me.â His voice was deeper and that done it for you.
You screamed, and he continued to rut into you until he groaned and came inside of you. He laid on top of you, and you both laid there and caught your breaths.
âKnew that damn coin was going to give me extra fortune today.â
You hit his back, and he chuckled.
â
â đ đšđ„đđŠđđđđđđ„đ
This man is LAZY! And Iâm not just saying that either. He literally doesnât want to do anything around the house, he doesnât want to help with groceries, he just wants to eat and maybe, just maybe, play a small game of basketball, but unlikely.
He usually prefers to sit around the house and watch tv, but when youâve made it very clear that in order for yâall to fuck, he has to do the work, he was basically a man who worked his whole life.
Since he was a big man, he couldnât get away with doing nothing. If you need him to get a bug on the ceiling, heâs getting that bug. If you need him to get a kitten out of a tree, heâs getting the kitten, or he wonât get your sweet, delicious cunt.
âNo.â You said, even more pissed of than before.
âWhy not!â The big ass man whined. His dick laying on his lower abdomen as you sat rught next to him with your arms crossed.
âAt your grown age, if you want something done, youâd work to get it done.â
He frowned, and you stood your ground.
âFine, whatever.â He crossed his arms and looked away. After maybe 5 seconds, he got up and put you over his shoulders.
After many fake attempts of being mad and asking him to put you down, you lost your clothes and was now being moved on his dick like a sex doll. His tall stature and your much shorter one almost made you seem like a doll.
You wrapped your arms and legs around him as he bounced you up and down his dick.
âIs this enough work for ya?â The spite in his voice thick like honey.
âM-m-hm!â The broken noises from the bouncing were the only things you could muster as his dick reached the deepest parts of your body.
âAlways whining about how lazy I am, sorry I like to rest!â He is talking to himself more at this point.
You quietly came in his cock, he didnât even notice from all the yapping he was doing.
âJust tryna make you happy, but no, always gotta be mad at so-â his words froze, and you were gone.
âAlready dumb on my dick? Had so much shit left to say.â He brought you over to the bed, and just continued to fuck you there
âLazy!â He laughed to himself. âIâll show you lazy.â This, my friend, is going to be a long night for you!
#kagami taiga#kagami smut#kagami taiga x reader#kise ryouta#Kise smut#kise ryota x reader#kiyoshi teppei#Teppei smut#kiyoshi teppei x reader#daiki aomine#aomine smut#aomine x reader#midorima shintarou#midorima x reader#midorima shintaro x reader#murasakibara atsushi#atsushi murasakibara smut#murasakibara x reader#knb#knb smut#knb x reader
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Stress Relief
summary: Armin gives the best head
Armin x Black Reader SMUT
you were beyond frustrated at this point, work pissed you off today. it was originally your day off and you were gonna spend it with your boyfriend Armin, but your boss called you in last minute because someone couldnât make their shift. then they spent the whole day up your ass complaining about the littlest things and even getting you for being late? you almost put your two weeks in when your coworker spilt your much-needed iced coffee, she didnât even offer to buy you a new one! you got home with tears in your eyes when your lovely boyfriend offered to help you relieve some stress.
âArminnnâ you whined out. you were at the point of tears. you and Armin have been at it for almost an hour and you havenât had the mind-blowing orgasm you craved. you were bouncy so desperately on Arminâs dick, like a rabbit in heat.Â
you shouldâve been embarrassed at the state you were in: your edges were long sweated off after a long day at work, your makeup was running from your sweat and tears, your blowout was starting to frizz up, you didnât even have time fully take off your clothes so your jeans were caught on one leg, your panty was pulled to the size and your tits were suffering from the constraints of your bra.
âc-calm down babeâ Armin placed his hands on your hips to slow you down. Armin was struggling underneath you, what was once pleasure was becoming torture. unlike you, Armin had already came 2 times and was nearing his third. he was overstimulated and he was trying to hold out to help you but he was nearing his limits.
your eyes were squeezed trying to focus on building the growing feel inside your stomach missing out on the pornographic image in front of you. Armin was flushed a deep shade of pink, his lips a deep shade of red as he bit down on them trying to slow the growing feeling of his climax. his pants were around his ankles and his shirt was pulled up past his chest in your haste to get him inside you as soon as possible.Â
âfuck Armin, right there!â you moaned out as you finally got him to reach the deepest part you so desperately craved. the sight of you so bouncy so desperately on his cock brought Armin to his climax faster than he wanted.
âwait babe, p-please⊠i canât, i canâtâ Armin whined out as you grinded into him. you finally opened your eyes to see the mess underneath you. Armin hips were jerking into you deeply despite his pleas and you knew he was close, his voice always rose an octave higher during his orgasms.
ânot yet,â you were so close you could almost taste it. Armin however, couldnât take it anymore. he was growing weak underneath you, becoming a mess of babbles and whines.
âc-cumming!â Armin went cross-eyed at how intense his orgasm took over his body, spasming on the couch. beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. you however, were still going at it, chasing your climax. you looked so beautiful above him but it was starting to hurt. Armin could barely feel his dick anymore.
âIâm close ârin, s-so close, fuck-â you orgasmed was denied when a strong grip picked you off of your boyfriend's flushed cock. âArmin!â you cried out frustrated. that was the closest you got to an orgasm during the whole day and your boyfriend just denied you.
âyouâre so fuck-â ârelax, Iâll take care of you angel,â Armin said as he put a finger to your lips stopping your rant. Armin sat you back on the couch and took his place on the floor in front of you. after taking off his own shirt he finally took off your jeans and underwear before taking off your top and releasing your tits.
he took you in a slow deep kiss while he played with your nipples, twisting and pulling at them. âArmin,â you moaned out.
âi know, i know, iâll make it better. i promise,â Armin said as he kissed down your neck leaving hickeys in his path. he slowly made his way down to your clit drawing out whines that were like music to his ears. you were already squirming underneath him and he barely did anything. âmy poor baby needs this badly?â he mockingly questioned, already knowing the answer.
you could only nod afraid your voice would give out. you held on to Arminâs hair for dear life, âoh god! please donât stop Armin, please!â
âmhm,â Armin groaned from in between your legs. one of his hands was used to hold up your leg and the other was playing with your tits. âyough tath ahmahzinâ Armin didnât bother to remove his mouth from your clit to speak. his lips latched onto your clit licking and sucking on it before he started to get messy.
you would think Armin received the most pleasure when he ate you ate the way he was moaning into you. he was spitting and slobbering into your soaking wet heat. he removed his hands from your tit and inserted them into your cunt when you lost it.
âmin! f-fuck minnie, âm closeâ you could barely form a sentence Armin was fingering the sense out of you. you held his head in between your legs as you started to grind into him hard. you whined when you felt the growing feeling begin to disappear as you tensed up.
ârelax.â Armin gave your thigh a quick slap before holding it up. the sight beneath you wouldâve been enough to make you cum any other day. Armin looked up at you with glazed-over eyes, his bangs were stuck to his forehead and his fingers going in and out of you as he ate you out with haste.
âgive it to my baby,â Arminâs other hand rubbed your thigh trying to coax your orgasm out of you. you started to squeeze around his fingers, biting your lips to stop yourself from bucking into his mouth. Armin knew you were close so he kept up his ministrations.
âmin, âmin, âmin!â you chanted out in a trance. your vision turned white as your climax finally hit. no noise left your mouth as it was stuck in an O shape. your body was trembling now and the only thing you could feel was Armin's wet tongue going in and out of you.Â
âmin?â you moaned out as you came back to your senses. you tried closing your legs but his hands had a firm grip on them to stop them from closing. he kept nipping at your overstimulated clit holding you in place as you tried pulling away.
âmy pretty girl, i think you can give me a couple more.â
Safe to say you totally forgot about your day at workđ€
#aot x black reader#x black reader#black reader smut#armin arlert#armin x reader#armin x y/n#armin x black reader#anime smut#aot smut#black y/n#armin x you#snk x reader#snk x black reader
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Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden
Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content
âOw! fuck!â
Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss.Â
âWhat is it?â He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. âAre you alright?â His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until itâs spilling free and running rampant through his body.Â
âThereâs a piece of glass in here.â In the garden bed? âSome of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.â The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again.Â
Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth.Â
âItâs okay, little pea. Just give me a second.â She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and itâs like youâve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know itâs hard, but you donât have to do it on your own anymore.Â
Iâm here now.Â
âCan I?â He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief.Â
âYes, please.â You point to the bottle thatâs tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you.Â
You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently.Â
Youâre not his. Not yet. He canât be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you donât even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows youâll learn. Youâre a smart girl. His smart girl.Â
Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesnât flow too fast into her belly.Â
âYouâve done this before.â You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. Youâre studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze.Â
âHad a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.â He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family.Â
Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that heâs sure she means as âfeed meâ and âmoreâ. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like heâs been buried alive.Â
You donât.
Instead, you simply say,Â
âEmmaline had a dad once, too.âÂ
Itâs nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another.Â
âHey. You busy?â His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. âJust went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.â Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours.Â
âI canât, Iâm about to head out.â Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out.Â
âRight. Okay.âÂ
âI want to.â He hurries the words. âBut I travel⊠for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.â Youâre already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go.Â
âSure, yeah.âÂ
âWait, sweetheart,â You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. âwhen I get back, letâs⊠have a drink.â You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile heâs been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him.Â
âAlright, sounds good then.â Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own.Â
âYou girls be good.â He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth.Â
âWe will.â
#light on#peaches asks#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#peaches writes
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TWO PRETTY BEST FRIENDS! ~ JUJUTSU KAISEN
synopsis: what happens when two pretty best friends get you in their grasp?
cover pic credit: k1tty_4ndy on pinterest |border credit: @/cafekitsune
lovers <3: gojo satoru x afab!reader x geto suguru
byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!)
cw: nsfw, pwp, fingering, oral (f. receiving), manhandling, threesome (mfm), dirty talk (suguruâs a slut with his words), squirting, pet names
an: hope yâall enjoy! Iâm considering making this a series with different jjk!best friend pairings!âŠlmk if you guys would be interested in smthn like that <3
âOhh, do that againâshe likes that,â Suguru groans, enchanted by the way your pretty eyes cross in a haze of lust-filled bliss. Heâs got you in between his legs, a fistful of your hair in his grasp, making you angle your head up towards him so he can gaze upon your innocent face and watch it slowly morph into the fucked out cumslut he knows his good girl is.
âHah, âcourse she does,â Gojo snickers, reveling at how your sweet pussy drips oh so deliciously for him.
âItâs âcause of me isnât it, princess? You like when your âtoru touches you rightâŠâ he trails off, creating an even deeper ache in your already pulsing cunt. He slowly weaves his index and middle finger through your folds to find your dripping core and finishes off his remark with a thrust of his fingers,ââŠhere.â
âNgghhhâfuuuck!!â you cry, overtaken by the intrusion of Satoruâs fingers that were, yet again, making their way into your gummy walls. His fingers move with purpose and certainty, hooking them toward your plush womb with the sole intention of abusing that spongy spot that makes you weep for him.
You felt like you were suffocating. Getoâs firm grip on your hair and neck leaves you squirming in his hold, but heâs quick to put you back in your place, âbe good for us sweetheart, Iâd hate to have to punish you so soon,â he chides, secretly hoping that youâd start to lose your rationality and step out of line. The shiver that rides along your spine doesnât go unnoticed by Suguru, and he takes pride in knowing how his words sway you towards submission.
It seems like Satoru was able to read his best friend's intentions and wanted nothing more than to aid him in your descent, noting how Suguruâs clenched jaw and bulging arm veins hold him hostage from his true desires. He could see the sheer restraint that his best friend was holding onto, and Gojo would be lying if he said he wasnât holding himself back as well.
Because fuckâlook at ya.
Your head was thrown back, sheer ecstasy written on your face as Satoru quickened his pace, effectively fingering you into an early orgasm that had you squirting all over the two. The moans and cries you let out have both men grunting like animals, humping up into the air to gain some sort of friction on their sensitive cocks. Your hips sway in tandem with Satoruâs fingers, making both men become hypnotized by the very essence of your being. Both men drooling like fucking dogs, waiting to sink their teeth into you, waiting for your beck nâ call. The glistening sheen that radiates from your body resembles an innocent-like aura, just begging to be corruptedâand corrupt they shall.
Satoruâs already conjured up his own sick and twisted plans, wanting to get you an all fours to fuck you from behind while watching his pretty best friend fuck his lover's mouth.
And of course, Suguru had his own salacious desires, aching to see you split on top of his dick as he watches his pretty best friend jerk off at the sight of him fucking you.
And you? Well, youâd be happy if either of them would hurry up and fuck you alreadyâthe endless teasing starting to weave between the lines of pleasure and pain. Satoru continues to overstimulate your poor cunt and Suguruâs grip on you makes you yearn for something harderâsomething rougher.
Satoruâs ability of forethought seemed to have played in your favor as well, seeing as he canât help but gaze at your sweet cunt thatâs just begging to be filled. You can see his cock strain against his boxer briefs, an occasional twitch or two catching your attention and making you droolâwanting to taste his heavy tip.
Your gaze is hyper-fixated on Satoruâs cock now, your body moving forwardâlike a magnet being drawn to its force. But before you could even reach him, you feel yourself get pulled back into Suguruâs chest, âAhâahâah, where do you think youâre going, pretty girl? Did you forget about me?â
You look up towards Suguru again, puppy dog eyes on full display to convey your innocence, ân-no!! Iâd never forget you Sugu~â you cry, reaching up to place a warm hand on his cheek. You look over to Satoru whoâs watching the two of you intently and beckon him over, wanting to please both your lovers equally, âJust wanna feel youâboth of you.â
And who were they to deny their precious baby? The one and only person that could make them drop to their knees and beg for just a simple taste of you. The single most important person in the world to them. And most importantly, the only person that they are willing to share and love, together.
âMmmmâfuckinâ love hearinâ you cry for us, such a desperate little thing. Isnât that right, Satoru?â Suguru says, a cocky smirk adorning his face as he sees your blush darken over your cheeks. He squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, loving the way your plump limps perk together for him to kiss and suck on.
âMhm~, poor babyâs just drippinâ for us,â Satoru responds, lowering his head down towards your cunt. Before you can protest, before you can even beg for their cocks, Suguru covers your mouth and pins your body on top of his. His forearm holding you down as Satoru spreads your thighs open again but this time, to suckle at your pink bud, and the whimper that you let out is like fucking music to their ears.
âI know you want our cocks sweetheart, but we gotta prep you more. Just relax, let us make you feel good,â Suguru charms, lulling you into a state of naivety to get you to blindly trust them. With the multiple orgasms that Satoru has been pulling from you coupled with Suguruâs debauched speech, you were more than ready to take both of them at this point.
But this? This was pure greed, from both men.
Suguru, wanting to see just how much you can handle before youâre a fucked out crying mess, begging to be stuffed with their cocks. And Satoru, reveling in your taste and secretly hoping to get you to squirt on his face.
Both men had their filthy little plans of watching you come undone, and both were intrigued by what the otherâs plans were to get you to come undone.
And you? Well, all you could do was take it. Take the pleasurable torment. Take what they give you and then some.
After all, who knows what these two pretty best friends have in store for you in the long run?
an: what did you guys think?? I love hearing your feedback and what you enjoyed!! Should I make this a series? <33
As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators
#jjk#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#geto smut#gojo smut#jjk gojo satoru#jjk gojo satoru smut#jjk satoru smut#satosugu#satosugu smut#satosugu x reader#satosugu x reader smut#jjk suguru smut#jjk geto suguru#jjk suguru#suguru geto smut#geto suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#gojo satoru x you smut#satoru x reader smut#gojo satoru x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru x suguru#satoru x suguru x reader#satoru x suguru x reader smut#jjk satoru#jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru#gojo satoru
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the woobification of the lords is something ill never be able to wrap my head around đ its insane to me how people can have such a horrible interpretation of events and characters based off of what we have in the actual game
let me start off by saying that ALL FOUR LORDS DID HORRIBLE THINGS (INCLUDING THE DIMITRESCU DAUGHTERS) !
lady dimitrescu isnt some gentle giant who only hates men and loves women and treats them like queens and she just loves living a quiet life with her daughters, she kills and tortures people đđ she like actively killed her maids and drank their blood đ they have a basement that has so much blood in it that it goes up to ethans THIGHS
they are muderous and SADISTIC, including the daughters
the woobfication of the dimitrescu daughters is always the most confusing to me. their faces are literally covered in BLOOD đđ they chase ethan around and stab him will laughing and giggling, cassandra literally calls it a HUNT, it is fun to them and they enjoy it
people always try to frame it as ethan breaking into their homes while they are scared and afraid đ i can assure you that nobody is afraid of him at first đ they dont think hes an actual threat, thats why they toy with him. and dont act like they were unaware of what he wanted. they were all present at the family meeting with miranda, they were all present when they JARRED rosemary đ they know what ethan wants, they know who ethan is, to frame them as "minding their own business" is the most absurd interpreation you could make of them
they were all involved, they all knew what he wanted, and they all HAD what he wanted
you can feel sympathy for lady D, when she cries for her daughters with tears in her eyes, she loved them, they were her family, but you cannot deny the hypocrisy. "how can you kill my daughters for your own!" you have his daughters head in a pickle jar! her daughters werent innocent defenless babies who were scared of big ol ethan stomping around in their house, they have weapons! they wanted to hurt him, and they did, and when he fought back he won
i cannot stress enough that in every single fight, ethan is not the first to strike. he is either backed into a corner where its either his life or theirs, or he is literally being tortured/ chased around, what do you want him to do? these people have pieces of his baby, should he have lied down and died?? đ
whenever ethan is in a situation where the other person isnt stabbing him in the abdomen 100 times he tries to HELP them đ he tries to help absoulute strangers of a village he doesnt even know while he knows his own daughter is missing, even when the stranger is also a jerk to him đ he wants allies, he isnt actively trying to make enemys, and before you cry "karl heisenberg!" im getting there...
the thing that bothers me with how people treat donna is that although she isnt the WORST she gets woobfied the MOST imo, like she is the ONLY lord (other than karl but hes a outlier because he wanted ethan to come over so they could make out on his bed) who actively lures ethan in, miss dimitrescus, yeah sure u could say that he trespassed, same with moreau, but donna literally LURES HIM IN with hallucinations of his DEAD WIFE, then OPENS THE DOOR for him and TAKES HIM DOWN THE ELEVATOR
she is literally one of the people who ACTIVELY leads him to where she is
she also uses psychological puzzles , like making ethan perform surgery on a wooden doll of his wife and making him run away from a monster that cries like a baby and calls him "dada" đ she did not need to do any of that... like at all đ she did it because she wanted to đ she is by no means innocent at all
she toyed with him for literally no reason other than her own desire and then ethan doesnt even intentionally kill her. he is in a situation where is his trapped in the house and has to find angie, the doll, to avoid being attacked by dolls with like 100 knives stapled onto them
its only when he defeats angie its revealed that he had actually stabbed DONNA. he didnt even intentionally kill her đ
then moreau... poor moreau... đ
moreau in my opinion is one of the more sympathetic lords. whoever he was in his life pre cadou has no influence or impact on his life post cadou, the cadou just wrecked his brain functions
all he is is just mirandas minion at this point, he only wants to please her and doesnt really think about anything else for himself đ
i dont have much to say about moreau because theres not really many people who woobfiy him or pay him any attention really đ though i will say he was very unabashedly evil đ he did horrible things, such as eating the fishermen and his experiments with the cadou on the villagers, he did it for mirandas approval but its not a excuse for it, hes still a villian đ now we are onto karl.... this guy... the woobification of him is insane đ first of all, something i dont see people acknowledge is that he actually HAS killed villagers! no he doesnt just use dead bodies (which btw isnt really a step up đ some of u set the bar too low man) the lycan gauntlet that he made ethan run through? yeah, he used that before! he has an entire PA system set up in it! he has lights and huge spikey metal death traps! he did not make all of that just for ethan just to "play appearances" for miranda. there were other people who went through that. and they DIED!
their deceased bodies are still in there! karl is messed up and eccentric đ it makes him fun, let him be messed up and evil đ and yes, karl used DEAD bodies instead of killing people who were alive, so surely that makes him far less evil right?
WRONG! đ
HE CONSIDERED USING LIVE BODIES FOR THE SOLDATS đ
karl really isnt a good person, he has reasons for the things he does, he wants to take down miranda and i dont think hed be creating undead zombies in the first place if it werent for her ruining his life but that isnt justification, its just an explanation for why he does what he does. he has a sympathetic back story and motives but you cant erase what he did, hes a villain! he tries to use a baby as a weapon!!! all 4 of the lords are villains, and instead of making other characters worse to uplift your favorite character that did something bad, you can just accept that the character you like did bad things đ they are all fictional, if i like moreau it does not mean i endorse eating fishermen đ you can like a character that is flawed, or evil, or did insanely messed up things because its RESIDENT EVIL. they are EVIL! they do bad things! like im sorry! but if your fave has a villains wiki it probably means they did some bad things! đ
i wish people would be able to enjoy a character without entirely dismissing the bad things they did. its okay to like a character that does bad things, its ok to find them interesting and fun! but you cant deny what actually happens in games to try and make them appear as innocent. you dont have to justify every little thing that they do, just accept them as a whole!
of course this doesnt apply to AUs or just posting for fun. you can change media to be what you want to make it more fun. im going to draw lady dimitrescu treating ethan like a unwanted family pet. does that mean that i think she would really do that in canon? no! she would bite him and then tie him up like a pinata and give her daughters blindfolds and bats!
but people need to be able to recognize that fanon is NOT canon.
this post is about canon interpretations,
this is just addressing people who genuinely believe that those kinds of portrayals of the character is an ACCURATE portrayal, because its not.
#ethan winters#donna beneviento#alcina dimitrescu#dimitrescu daughters#karl heisenberg#salvatore moreau#resident evil#resident evil village#resident evil 8#re8
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Classmate
PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE
Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader
Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldnât understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasnât for the mid-year seat change, he wouldnât have even acknowledged your existence.
MASTERLIST
Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles
Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think thatâs it enjoy!
word count: 5k
Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3
Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade
It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.
Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didnât like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.
The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.
âŠ
Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, âAmanda and Johnâ. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. â And Finally Y/n and Miles.â
You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.
You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you donât think youâve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.
There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.
What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasnât much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.
There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.
You had seen it once, a girl you hadnât really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.
She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.
You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. âHi Iâm y/nâ you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. âI know.â
You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.
You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.
You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.
Mei: He so fine tho đ ask em if he needs a dog
You: Mei đ
You: heâs so rude n for what? Like he couldâve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole âbad boyâ thing goin but ainât have to do allat
Mei: Ion know gl tho đŻ
You: Ur no help đ Ima ask for a seat change
Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty đ© I know I would be
Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know
You: đ
You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.
You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. âIs your worksheet finished?â âI wouldnât be raisinâ my hand if it wasnât.â âWatch it Morales, wouldnât want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?â He sighed before mockingly smiling âsorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?â He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.
_
You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.
âŠ
âAlright Mei Iâll see you on Mondayâ you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. âBye baby mamaâ you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.
You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- âoh sorry baby girl, didnât see you there.â You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadnât fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. âDonât call me that John.â You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. âYou know you like itâ he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. âI really donât, I already told you I want nothinâ to do with you.â You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. âCmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.â You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, âIâm not playing hard to get, this is me playing I donât want youâ âso you admit you're playing about not wanting me?â He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. âFor the final time John, I am not interested.â You walked again, this time he didnât follow because his friends were walking up to him. âIâll see you on Monday baby!â He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.
Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didnât know when to quit. Also didnât know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasnât like that was his roommate Ganke.
He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.
Monday rolled around quicker than you couldâve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didnât want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.
Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about âthe prowler striking againâ over the weekend. You swiped it away.
You didnât hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.
The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.
âStop tapping, its annoyinâ a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadnât realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, âmy fault, ain need all that attitude thoughâ you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. âWhatchaâ sketching?â You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. âQuĂ© coño estĂĄs haciendo?â He said sternly, but you didnât budge. âYou didnt wanna respondâ you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. âThat ainâ answer my questionâ he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. âAnswer me next time and I wonât have to do thatâ you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.
One word, Regret.
You really wish you hadnât decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasnât anything that you couldnât fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didnât mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.
Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you shouldâve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.
You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didnât just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to âwatch where youâre going mamiâ, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of âhe pulled you into himâ, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a Ă©l. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.
His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didnât ask for your number, didnât do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasnât even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasnât because of him.
Miles wasnât going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldnât get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasnât out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, tambiĂ©n pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, couldâve had him killed mid fight.
He didnât actually care for you, at least thatâs what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldnât see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.
It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.
âŠ
Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.
It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadnât, a few months since youâve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.
âIf you would finish your work then we could be done alreadyâ you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadnât even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, âdo you ever just, I donât know, close your mouth?â. You rolled your eyes âIf you, I donât know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.â He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you âdonât say anything elseâ. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. âWell if you just did that earlierâ you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.
As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didnât stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. âSo the party is tonight, you can come-â he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. âAnd we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.â You blinked a few times, âyea noâ was all you said before looking at your phone. You didnât fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. âCmonâ baby, promise Iâll show you a good time.â âAinâ I tell you not to call me that?â You said, annoyed that John just couldnât leave you alone. âYou know we locked in, you keep playin.â âJohn-â âaight hear me out, you come to the party, if you donât have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- Iâll leave you alone, how does that sound?â âYouâll leave me alone?â You said, intrigued by the offer. âIf you come.â You sighed, âlemme ask my momma.â He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.
A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. âI need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?â He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.
Sure enough.
You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.
Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what wouldâve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldnât have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party
Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. âHey there pretty ladyâ you heard, you couldnât catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. âYou ainât hear us talkin to you?â Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it mustâve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.
âWhatâs a little momma like you doing out here all alone, donât you know thereâs bad guys out here?â
âDonât worry baby, weâll keep you safeâ, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldnât alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you couldâve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. âTonto puta, all you had to do was cooperateâ the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.
Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.
You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.
The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordanâs they sported. You didnât have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasnât necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. âPleaseâ you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.
As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a âthank youâ. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.
Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldnât blame them, not many people saw what had happened.
âŠ
It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.
You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.
âY/n please it was an accident-â
You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.
âY/n please just listen I was drunk and I didnât know what I was doing you gotta believe meâ he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily âyou think being drunk excuses anything?â Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, âNo it doesnât but you gotta see it from my perspective-â âwhat perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I wonât hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?â Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.
You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. âWhat happened at the party?â You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadnât expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. âNothinâ.â You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. âYou ainâ gettinâ it back til you tell me what happened.â âWhy do you care so much?â âYour wrinkles nâ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.â âCould say the same for youâ he looked at you blankly. You sighed, âJohn got a lilâ too handsy is all, donât worry âbout it. Can I have my phone back-â âmami, how handsy?â His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you couldâve sworn youâd seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, âhe tried to take me upstairs nâ I wasnât feelinâ it, so he tried to make meâ you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. âLeft before he could do anythingâ you finished, âcan I get my phone back now?â You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.
âŠ
The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed âFIGHTâ. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldnât hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.
John had to be sent to the hospital.
Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Milesâs mother sat next to him upset. âMy child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?â John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of âwatch your mouth before I watch it for you.â He just looked down at his hands in his lap.
Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldnât get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didnât know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.
As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.
Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened werenât the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.
Sure enough.
He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.
He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how ây/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-â. He paused in his tracks. Ainâ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensĂł que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about âhow much you loved itâ. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,âYou ainâ needed here Miles-â John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didnât stop though. Miles didnât even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de Ă©l.
âWhat you won't even speak huh?â John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. âYou wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-â âYou think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earthâMiles scoffed, cutting her off. âCause he is, my kid wouldnât hurt a fly and you-ââyour oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappinâ boutâ how much she enjoyed it.â The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, âUh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-â âwell hold on,â Rio spoke for the first time, âMy son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?â âWell Mrs.Morales we didnât know that happened-â âso you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?â âWell he did start-â âuhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why arenât they being scolded for this?â
The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.
Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. âSo.. whoâs the girl?â His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, âclassmate.â She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldnât damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.
âElla tiene un nombre?â He sighed lightly, âY/n.â Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. âAt some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.â âI donât even have her number, how is she supposed to knowâ Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,
âEncontrarĂĄs una maneraâ.
©axeoverblade
#42 miles morales x reader#earth 42#miles morales#spiderman#spiderman into the spiderverse#prowler miles#prowler x reader#miles morales x reader#across the spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#miles 42#42 miles morales#miles x reader#miles x y/n#miles x you#kyoutani x reader#miles morales x y/n#cute#drama
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four seven eight, phase 3 (3)
pairing: jungkook x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: jungkook wants to fight with, for, and beside you.
alternatively, nothing will ever be the same again, and you and jungkook couldnât be any happier.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale â complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]
[ fluff, angst, the moral dilemma of keeping someone (read: yoongi) who was almost ur first, last, and everything in ur life despite having another person (read: jungkook) to be exactly that, yearning, full circle moments, The Vagueness n different kind of angst now that 478's a family n not jus a couple anymore, redemption :) ]
notes: thank you for locking in!!!! the og 478 fic aka phase 1 was released two years ago n now we're here can u believe . hee-hee thank u for all the love you've given and continue to have for them!! TRUSTTT that this won't be the last you'll see of them :-)
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!
In a nightmare that Jungkookâs experiencing in real time, Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi as her dad.
Jungkook knows fully that thereâs a knee-jerk reaction available for practically everything. He knows it well, because the impulse that occupies him kicks in during the most important events of his life.
Your husbandâs impulse, which he often confuses for instinct, is too driven to the point that even for the briefest second, all that Jungkook could feel is himself.Â
He tasted blood in the roof of his mouth when you left him the first time all those years ago. He had clenched his fists so hard, he almost drew blood over the realization that you had given up on him, even if it was for the time-being.
He felt his heartbeat in his eardrums when Hwayoungâs cries first pierced into the world (and straight to his ears), all to the point that the people surrounding you thought that he suddenly fell ill.
Jungkook could and should be able to feel himself right now; right now when his only child glazes past him and calls Yoongi as her dad, and right now when he hears his name called out for someone it doesnât and should never belong to â except Jungkook canât even feel his fingers.
He canât taste blood in the roof of his mouth and he canât feel his heartbeat in his eardrums. Jungkook canât even claw himself out of a nightmare thatâs built around him yet staged by his karma alone.
âThatâs not appa, Hwayoung,â you cut into the thick air, your lips set in a straight line as it takes everything in you not to scoop up Jungkook into your arms because he looks like heâs about to collapse in shock. âYoongiâs not your dad.â
Hwayoung understands, of course. She understands it like how she always does whenever her little mistakes get rectified. The concentrated pout on her face tells you that sheâs listening, hearing you loud and clear as you reiterate a fact that she seems to have forgotten.
Jungkook genuinely tweaks within his own hold, the knot in his throat unbearable as he canât even figure out how heâs standing beside you on his own to feet. He stands beside his wife and he stands before his daughter, yet he doesnât even know if the weight he holds in between is enough for him to stay rooted.
Jungkook is as still as a rock while he watches you correct Hwayoung on the spot. Heâs immoveable as he sees his daughterâs eyes flit to him in curiosity before finally coming to realization. Heâs frozen, not by his own choosing, but because neither of his impulses nor instincts kick in.
Hwayoung nods easily, and Jungkook thinks that heâs about to lose his mind if it hadnât already been muddled three seconds prior.
In a dream Jungkook doesnât tell anyone, heâs not as easily interchangeable with Yoongi in the same way that Hwayoung thinks apples are pears sometimes, and that blue is somehow violet.
The mornings without Hwayoung have been too long for Jungkook.
Theyâve been too long since her impromptu vacation from the both of you started, dragging out endlessly to the point that he had to ask you to hold his phone so he could withhold himself from hovering above Hwayoung by asking Yoongi for updates by the minute. Mornings were too bright; too normal to be spent by you and him without a playful toddler who tries to slip her finger in whenever someone yawns.Â
Jungkookâs missed his mornings with Hwayoung in between the two of you.
He missed the mornings where itâs still dark out and heâs been asleep enough for long that he could make out Hwayoung twitching in the dark as she searches for a cold pillow, before later ending up next to your stomach or next to his head.Â
He longed (read: still longs perpetually) for the mornings wherein he gets to sleep in and itâs you and Hwayoung who wake him up from dreams heâs always willing to part with, because he knows that he has something infinitely better to wake up to.
âHiii, appa,â Hwayoung drawls out, hugging his leg as Jungkook automatically pats her head with a gentle hand, the smile on his face more or less forced as he chokes out a greeting. He gets snapped out of his trance immediately, even if he isnât sure that the sight he woke up to this morning is even worth living alongside with.
âHi, Young-ie,â he whispers, his eyes strikingly neutral even when Hwayoung grabs his hand and swings it around lightly.
Jungkook make the mistake of looking up and he doesnât know which is worse; your husband, for once, canât definitively tell if you looking at him empathically should placate him or unsettle him deep into his core.
What Jungkook can tell however, is that seeing Yoongiâs sly gaze on him with the ghost of a smirk on his lips plays into the rage that he can barely hold onto, if not for the little hand thatâs already silently apologized to him.
Hwayoung may not know any better at the moment, but she knows well not to ask questions when Jungkook suddenly stands up out of nowhere when heâs just agreed to play on the floor with her two seconds ago, and she knows better not to stare when you immediately agree and not interrogate him at all.
âIâm gonna step out. Need to blow off steam because otherwise, Iâll take it out on him,â Jungkook whispers to your ear, hands grimly shoved into his pockets. âI know we both saw him do the same thing, Y/N,â he laughs humorlessly, clenching his jaw tightly before he leans down to speak again, enough for Yoongi to both see and hear just how angry he is. âGo put your friend on a leash.â
.
.
.
Yoongi likes to think that itâs spite that keeps him running.
The notion of doing things out of spite is not new at all to him; as a matter of fact, he actually thinks heâs the foundation of it.
Yoongi canât keep track of the many times that it was spite that put food on the table and pushed him to his limits to arrive at the state that heâs in now. Yoongi yearns unlike no other to the point that it ails him because longing, without any bitterness in it at all, feels pointless.
Longing with only the ambition to surrender in the end is pointless; it doesnât push Yoongi at all to be the best in anything. It doesnât make him feel any better because without the regret in his stomach and the resentment in his chest, he wouldnât be reminded of his dream.Â
In a dream Yoongi wants to tell everyone, he doesnât fall short to Jungkook.
Itâs a ridiculous gag dream that feels like a poorly-made skit to him. Yoongi, with all his spite, canât believe that he only comes second to the likes of Jungkook, who hadnât worked as hard as he did nor attempted to fight tooth and nail to be even recognized (even under your light) in the first place.
In a well-rehearsed yet trite skit that appears in Yoongiâs mind whenever he goes to sleep after drinking a little too much or waking up with the sheets a little colder than usual, he doesnât acknowledge Jungkook to be in the same orbit as him; in his dream thatâs equivalent to Jungkookâs nightmare, you and Hwayoung are within armâs reach.
It had been spite that made Yoongi smirk at Jungkook, right after the latterâs whole worldview shattered in front of him when Hwayoung mistook him for a stranger.
Itâs everything but spite that makes Yoongi keep his head up high at you, refusing to bow even just a little out of shame. Youâve dragged him to the nearest empty room and while he wouldâve teased you about it for any other context, he canât seem to do it now when you look at him in disgust, even before he gets to open his mouth.
âWhat was that, Yoongi?!â you fume, standing by the door as you keep your voice hushed.
Itâs almost poetic for Yoongi to see because even when youâre bound to curse him out, even when the both of you are at a turning point (or whatever is left of it to change before it perishes completely), you still put Hwayoung first above all else.
âWhat was what?â he smiles cheekily, even if itâs apparent that itâs just for show because if anything, itâs Yoongi who knows the most about his own fallacy.
âDonât bullshit me.â
âI was playing around?â he offers weakly, shrugging his shoulders to make it seem that he doesnât care at all about the anger youâve reserved specifically for him; as if heâs not trying to buy time to prolong what could be the last time heâll ever see you outside of work.
âThat was nothing, Yoongi. What Hwayoung said meant nothing,â you grit, your fists balled to your sides as you try not to let your mind drift to the fact that you had confronted Yoongi first before comforting your own husband. âSheâs a kid and she just got confused.â
Thereâs only silence between the two of you, and Yoongi wants to stay in it.
Yoongi wants to consume the dead air if it means that he wonât be backed into a corner and forced to take all the hits that Jungkookâs reality â which are his dreamsâ could throw to his face.
âYou donât have to tell me what I already know,â he murmurs lowly yet for some odd reason, Yoongi still refuses to bend his head.
The thing is, Yoongi doesnât feel regret at all. Out of all the times he could ever feel it, he doesnât feel it now, even when the supposed love of his life wants to banish him out forever.
âThen why do you look happy about it?â you seethe. âWhy the hell did you look happy when Hwayoung called you her dad?â
âBecause I was,â Yoongi smiles so tightly, his skin buckles under the pressure â come to think of it, his eyes almost feel like theyâre stinging. âDo you want me to lie?â
âIt would be better if you do,â you retort without even thinking, the tremble of your bottom lip only goading Yoongi further.
Yoongi stands before you, proud yet unwilling, as he serves as the largest and longest milestone of how far youâve come in your career with his unrequited love for you as the barometer.
âOh,â he reacts, his face falling before his throat tightens impossibly. Yoongi keeps nodding his head madly, the pricking of tears in his eyes making him frustrated even more. âOkay. Sure. Y-you know what, let me just lie andsay that I donât constantly think about how it couldâve been me, o-or how I donât usually hope that Jungkook completely fucks it up because I could show you that Iâll never do you wrong in the first place!â
âFriends donât fucking do that, Yoongi!â you clench your teeth, the devastation on your face apparent yet never equivalent to that of Yoongi whoâs already nearing his limit.
âI donât want to be just your friend!â he whispers at you, because while he thinks about Hwayoung in the living room whoâs just a few steps away, he also thinks of how scared he is to admit the fact to your face no matter how high he holds his head.
âI donât think we canât be friends either,â you sigh breathlessly, the finality to your tone making Yoongi freeze.
Finally, he lowers his head.
âI didnât mean it like that.â
âI know.â
In an overdone skit that plays in Yoongiâs head, somebody pulls out a slate and yells for the scene to be over, because not only did the whole thing play out in just his head, it was also just a silly dream that a married man with a kid could only have.
In a well-rehearsed, trite, and critically acclaimed skit that Yoongi writes himself but could never act in, you never have to be put in a position wherein you have to put a pause to your friendship with Yoongi.Â
The dependency and entanglement the both of you have with each other, no matter in what degree, only proves to be a double-edged sword that hurts you more than it could ever hurt him, and Yoongi knows he canât ever live with that.
There needs to be distance between you and Yoongi, and heâs never hated that fact more than now, no matter how much he knows itâs needed.
Yoongi knows heâs an intruder.
Heâs an intruder who frequently gets to see you at work, heâs an intruder who always gets to loathe Jungkook no matter from what angle, and heâs an intruder who occasionally gets to hold Hwayoung who isnât his.
( ⥠)Â
The truth is, Jungkook didnât even really think of having kids until you came along. It had been a long withstanding truth in himself, even with Sora before you, that the thought of having someone of his own flesh and blood was too heavy for him â too much.
Jungkook didnât entertain the thought of having children until you came into his life and he had decided then and there that thereâd never be too much of you for him.Â
You werenât too much for Jungkook when you were still a new couple and had asked him if heâd be open to marrying you one day, even if you were barely a year into your relationship (and your first one at that) that he was yet to have a full grasp of.Â
You werenât too much for him when you had talked his ear off when you were still a rookie, promising him sincerely that youâll make it big and that soon enough, the both of you would live a comfortable life â provided that you were still in each otherâs by that time.
You werenât too much for the Jungkook of then, your wide-eyed boyfriend whoâs a man of few words, and youâre not too much for the Jungkook of now, your husband who feels like he has far too many feelings.
The truth is, Jungkook didnât even really think that his heart could exist outside of his chest until Hwayoung came along.
Thereâs this dull, agonizing pain that always squeezes on Jungkookâs chest like clockwork whenever he feels heâs letting his daughter down. Thereâs bitterness in failure and thereâs failure, even when Hwayoungâs tiny hands donât seek his when theyâre walking side by side, or when sheâs not as enthusiastic about her meals like how he had been when preparing themâ
Or even when Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi for her dad.
âThis shirt?â Hwayoung asks, interrupting his inner turmoil as she points to a shirt of his from high school. She has a whole drawer filled with yours and Jungkookâs old clothes for sleep shirts, the giddy smile on her face as she awaits for approval making Jungkook almost forget everything. (Read: almost)
âYou can choose any shirt you want, Young-ie,â he answers, his eyes only half-lidded and just a whisper close to stinging with tears. The exhaustion in his voice is practically inseparable from the gutting feeling of his full-time work as a dad for a little more than two years, being mistaken for Yoongiâs part-time favor as a godfather for barely two weeks and then some.
Jungkookâs hands immediately twitch at his sides when Hwayoung walks towards him and stumbles for the slightest second, the brief hiccup on his heart reminding him that heâll be attuned to her no matter what â even if his daughter mistakes him for a stranger.
He knows the shit that the elders say about letting children fall. He has the script memorized by now and he knows the annoyance that blooms in him routinely when he gets unsolicited advice.Â
Jungkook knows it all, and he knows that eventually, Hwayoung would get hurt and he wonât be able to do anything about it. Just like how she can hurt him, someway and somehow along the line (maybe sheâll call Yoongi appa again), and how he wonât know what to do with himself should that time come.
Tonight isnât the time.
âHelp, appa.â
âOkay,â he obliges. âIâm here,â Jungkook utters, ironically refusing to call himself the title that he wants Hwayoung to keep only for him; not for Yoongi, not for your manager, and not for the men that constantly pine after you even when they know fully that Jungkookâs in the picture.
Your husband knows greed and he hates it, because it had been in the form of Yoongi briefly smirking when Hwayoung called him appa that time.
Jungkook knows greed and is well-acquainted, because his fist is scuffed and Yoongiâs number is blocked.Â
He knows greed and whatever indomitable power that puts a brake to his rage right when itâs about to pour over, because he had punched the brick wall in the patio instead of Yoongi to blow off steam, and because he has the mind to not taunt Yoongi with a complete family picture right after you distanced yourself away from him.
âIâm sorry, Young-ie. Mama and I are sorry to put you through that, okay?â he murmurs to her ear like itâs only their little secret for them to hear, the unbridled wonder that lingers in his daughterâs eyes enough to placate him that everythingâs okay between them tonight.
( ⥠)Â
To wake up in the same bed as Jungkook and Hwayoung after so long makes your heart swell.
Your heart swells, not just with pride, but with a feeling you canât ever put a name to. Youâre more than content enough to see Hwayoung cuddled up to Jungkook and the mess of their hair tangled in between, but even more, youâre filled with a strange yearning that you donât want them to stay that way.
You want more of them in a way that youâre overwhelmed, just by thinking that theyâre the closest you could ever have to feeling immortal in this life. Not everything is completely back into place like they once were, but oddly enough, neither you and Jungkook are actively trying to replicate the old times.Â
âYou sure youâll do the groceries alone this time?â you ask Jungkook for the third time, also receiving his third consecutive playful eye roll as he packs Hwayoungâs bag for you.
âYes, maâam. Just go with the princess and look at playschools,â he hums, ruffling your daughterâs hair that you spent a good ten minutes on. âIf I come with, I fear Iâll already cry just by thinking Young-ieâs growing up.â
âShe is growing-âŠâ
âCanât hear you!â he hollers as he backs out from the driveway, the smile on his face incomparable because he woke up with the thought that you did.
Jungkook wants more of you and Hwayoung, not because he just wants to return your unspoken sentiment, but because he figures that no amount of time or space will ever be enough if itâs the both of you that hold it.
Itâs nice to be back to a somewhat normal routine. With your work finished (and all that is left is for the publicity to ramp up) after having spent so much time on it, you immediately resign yourself to the fixed routine youâve been dying to get back on.
Youâve almost forgotten just how chaotic a supposedly mundane breakfast could be for a family of three, seeing to it that Jungkookâs packed lunches had grown on you to the point that even having your own plate on the dining table felt weird.
Youâve almost forgotten just how liberating it felt to walk outside with Hwayoung (despite having to put on masks and caps on for animosity) without having to worry how much time you have left before shooting starts again, considering that your daughter doesnât even regard you for the actress that you are.
Hwayoung pulls your hand and walks ahead of you, and you let her. Sheâs small and unyielding, even if she pulls you with the equivalent of a mini Jungkookâs strength.
Your daughter walks ahead of you and you donât mind because you rarely ever get to see her in the sunlight wearing the dresses that Jungkook buys even if there arenât any sales going on (youâre trying to get him to curb his shopping addiction), as opposed to her being bundled up in pajamas, sitting on your lap in your trailer under studio lights.
Hwayoung has the strength that only a child of yours and Jungkookâs could ever possess, because while you freeze in your tracks upon seeing a familiar face as soon as you open the glass doors to the playschool you were about to scope out, Hwayoung only looks at you and the woman in front with a smile.
âY/N, is that you?â
âSora,â you exhale, the surprise probably evident on your face because it takes a solid second for you to register her presence. âHi.â
Soraâs even prettier in person (not that she was ever ugly in the first place) than the beauty she was on the picture youâve seen of her and Jungkook, her genuine smile unmistakeable because she looks like light itself.
You get why Jungkook had fallen for her, and while thereâs nothing about now to blame him for, you canât understand either why Soraâs absolutely ecstatic to see her ex-boyfriendâs wife.
âSheâs my daughter,â you belatedly add after finally moving on from being starstruck, putting a reassuring hand on Hwayoungâs back (who doesnât need it anyway because sheâs more at ease right now than you are) as you smile. âSay hi, baby.â
Sora gasps in awe, and while you appreciate her politeness in not assuming anything about Hwayoung before you introduced her yourself, the curious, baser part of you wonders if she thinks about you and what she couldâve beenâ
If Sora thinks about you as much as you do with her whenever she fights with her partner, or if she ever thinks about the lingering insecurity that comes with being a lover in general.Â
âSheâs an absolute sweetheart! She looks so much like you.â
âShe does?â you beam, completely surprised at her words. Youâre already surprised about Sora in general along with her unexpected enthusiasm, but youâre even more shocked at her sincere interest. âA lot of family and friends say that she looks like Jungkook more.â
âI mean they do say that soulmates will look alike at one point,â she shrugs playfully, head tilting as she waves to Hwayoung while you digest her words.
You didnât think Jungkookâs past would be this kind no matter how much it had hurt you before.
You feel guilty for having expected a confrontation of some sort, the slight paranoia that had creeped on you before completely dissipating the longer that you look at Sora. She looks at ease and itâs contagious, the soft smile on her face extending up to her eyes when she sees your gaze lingering at the hand on her belly.
âOh, yeah. Iâm expecting,â she announces excitedly, cheerfully, as if youâre childhood friends and go to brunch every Sunday â as if youâre close enough for her to spread her joy with.
âCongrats, Sora,â you grin, extending your hand to gently hold her arm in celebration.
You had insisted again and again to yourself that Soraâs no one to you; that sheâs a blip in Jungkookâs radar that lasted for years and came before you. You had let the idea of her consume you fully to the point that her kindness takes you aback.
You canât blame Sora, and she canât blame you either. Somewhere along Jungkookâs mosaic heâs made for himself, she lingers in there as a stray piece that fits no matter the pattern. Itâs irrevocable and only natural for your husband to be an accumulation of everything and everyone heâs ever loved, and while you know that you and your daughter occupy most of it, you canât ever erase Sora from existence.
You want to ask whoâs the dad with the most inconspicuous tone you could ever possess.Â
You want to ask her how sheâs been and how things went with her partner during the last time that she and Jungkook had celebrated their anniversary as exes.Â
You want to ask Sora about her cousin and maybe even joke about how chaos must probably run in her bloodline.
You want to ask Sora about hundreds of things and hold her accountable for the sleepless nights sheâs costed you and your family, but you hold yourself back â not only because itâs the right thing to do, but because everything had already worked out in the end. Soraâs already in the past and you want her to stay there, even if you have the opportunity to get the answers youâve only used to pray for.
âFor what itâs worth, Y/N, Iâm sorry. I know itâs a little too late to say it, but I really am,â she murmurs after some time of only you and her silently watching Hwayoung talk to another kid, the sincerity in her eyes evident even if she holds her head low before you.
The closure you could only ever ask for whenever your heart hurt the most, comes to you when you feel that youâre at your lightest.
( ⥠)Â
True to your word, you donât let Jungkook attend your press conference.
Thereâs no point in denying that you do need Jungkook here with you, but thereâs no denying either that needing him and wanting him to be here are two different things.
Youâre oddly reminiscent of the time that you had been in this position, and even if the memoryâs bittersweet, the rational and realistic part of your brain could only think that itâs reasonable to miss Jungkook despite barring him from here. This is your highest peak after all, and itâs only normal for you to be nervous.
Itâs normal for you to be nervous despite telling the staff that youâre going to keep the wedding ring on your finger throughout the entire thing. Itâs entirely reasonable for you to be jittery at the possibility of being asked about your family, no matter how far-fetched the queries could be from the actual movie at hand.
Itâs only okay for you to feel that trepidation in your stomach even if everything in your life, at the moment, is at your favor.
The roomâs quiet with only you and Jimin in it, and without the buffer of Hwayoung that laughs through everything that he says, the one-on-one that you have with your manager reminds you of the talk you had to have when the rumors about you and Yoongi broke out.
Jimin has more years and experiences under his belt now, but with the way he talks to you, it feels as if itâs neither of you are experienced; that the both of you are complete beginners whoâd like to think that the only way to go is up, and that a tiny irregularity could instantly make everything youâve built to collapse.
The talk about Eunsu has been a long time coming, and Jimin wants to let you know now when thereâs nobody else â when youâre reminded that you have everything to both gain and lose.
âIâve managed to put a lid on it for the meantime,â he clears his throat, looking at your reflection in the mirror as he puts on your microphone delicately. âI donât know for how long though.â
Your gaze looks blank, almost unreadable to the untrained eye, yet Jimin knows that thereâs a weight to it. Unlike all the brush-ins youâve ever had with issues before, this is the first time that it had ever hit home and everything that ever mattered to you.
He could only imagine the weight of what it must feel like to be you; of how heavy it must be to be the one to take everything in stride.
âItâs okay, Jimin. Thank you,â you murmur, looking down on your lap as you try to fight the frown that comes with the realization that youâve been used to having Hwayoung on it.
âY/N,â he tuts, his tone stern yet familiar.
âHmm?â you ask while youâre in a daze, letting yourself stare at a spot on the wall that could only hold your attention for so long. You canât erase it as much as you canât avoid this conversation with Jimin, and even more, you canât avoid the eventual turbulence youâll be subjecting your family to once everything goes public.
Thereâs an innate guilt that comes with being a wife and a mother, you figure. Itâs your first time being both and with it comes the sense of doom; itâs not the morbid type of ruination, but rather, itâs the anxiousness that comes with knowing you donât only have yourself to look after.
âWhat Eunsu did to Jungkookâ to your family, even-âŠâ
âI know,â you interrupt, nodding fervently to cut the conversation short, except Jimin doesnât fold.
âI know youâre protecting them. I know youâre thinking about Hwayoung the most,â Jimin sighs. âBut you wanting to protect them also means that youâre protecting Eunsu even if it isnât your intention,â he murmurs, squeezing your shoulder gently. âThe news coming out about her wonât be the worst thing in the world.â
The same two people that youâre protecting, one of them more innocent and clueless than the other yet just as loving, give you complacency amidst your unease.
( ⥠)
You always insisted on having a big bed.
Jungkook remembers your insistence on having a big bed when the two of you moved in together and slowly started furnishing your home before your wedding. Your preferences didnât exactly clash his because while you mostly took care of the budget and he took care of the aesthetics, there would almost always be common ground. Almost.
Additionally, you also remember Jungkookâs gratefulness for your stubbornness towards having a big bed because realistically, he canât ever picture himself lying down on a deluxe standard bed with a toddler between the two of you.
The maintenance for the third-biggest variation of a king-sized bed that you had pleaded him for (and even made a whole presentation about defending your case) with Hwayoung in the picture now is even more troublesome. The quest for bedsheets that are hypoallergenic, extremely soft and comfortable, have a neutral, classic, yet easily-maintainable design, and toddler-proof simultaneously seems to be never-ending.
Jungkook canât sleep at all sometimes. Even when the airconditioning in the room is at a perfect temperature, his comforter is on his person and not on the other side of the bed by your doing, his daughterâs hair isnât in his mouth, and his catâs humongous built isnât blocking his passage of air, thereâs days wherein Jungkook canât put himself to sleep.
In one way or another, itâs always the ache and worry that manifests in his chest for the next day. He keeps wondering about tomorrowâs meals and the probability of Hwayoung throwing a tantrum. He keeps wondering if thereâs going to be a wild curveball that somebody will throw at you tomorrow, and how fast he can get to you should that happen.
Jungkookâs no stranger to sleepless nights. Heâs used to analyzing one unfavorable context after another to scare himself into being awake so he canât get nightmares when he eventually goes to sleep.
To wake your husband up just because you couldnât sleep yourself is a menial task that you finally talk yourself into doing, the little shake that you give Jungkook on his shoulders enough to make him jolt awake.
âKook, wake up.â
âWhat, what-âŠ? What is it?â he darts up groggily, eyes barely adjusted to the dim light youâve set the room to. Jungkookâs lost to why you even woke him up when Hwayoungâs out like a log, but he doesnât question you on it â instead, he gently carries his daughter to occupy his warm spot on the bed, just so he could crawl his way to the middle to listen to you.
âJungkook.â
âHmm,â he hums again, sleepily propping himself up with a pillow as he tries to blink the sleep away from his eyes. Jungkook doesnât even dare to take a peek at the alarm clock because all he knows is that youâre awake and you also want him to be, so he doesnât complain.
Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.
Seven seconds. Hold it.
Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.
âLetâs fight,â you whisper, leaning your head on Jungkookâs shoulder.
Your husband could only rub his eyes tiredly, the yawn that escapes him making his entire body shake. âHuh? Right now?â he clarifies, the sleepy pout on his lips only highlighting how wide and docile his eyes are for you at the moment.
âCome on. Letâs fight,â you half-heartedly offer, bumping your head to his.
Your husband only stays silent, putting a hand up to your forehead to check for a fever.Â
Jungkook only yawns once again, his sluggishness being infectious to the point that you suppress your own by burying your face to his neck.
âCan we like, fight in the morning or something?â he tries to compromise, fully serious about a half-baked joke you woke him up for.
Jungkookâs come a long way. Heâs no longer your husband who didnât want to fight you on things for the sake of self-preservation. Heâs no longer the one who avoided confrontation in fear of setting you apart from him. Heâs this now, so willing to go with your every whim that if you want to have a fight with him at two in the morning, heâll rub the sleep out of his eyes and let you rest on his shoulder if ever you were being serious.
You kiss your husband on the lips, the love-drunk smile that he gives you afterward making you snort.
Your king-sized bed is a mess. Somewhere by the end of your foot, thereâs Hwayoungâs pink crayon that she insists on holding to sleep. Somewhere by the tips of Jungkookâs hair, thereâs Misoâs fur kept together with his daughterâs hair clip because she didnât want to go to sleep without putting it on him.
Jungkook, your husband whoâs clad in a shirt of yours with too many holes on it because of his daughterâs safety scissors and his catâs claws, hugs you to his chest in silence.
You think about how you canât tell when the news about Eunsu is going to release, while Jungkook sneakily tries to uncover your sock-covered foot with his own because he lost one of his socks while sleeping and wanted to be even.
You think about how the Academy nominees are going to be revealed in a week, while your husband says out loud his grocery list for the week while randomly staring off into space every ten seconds.
You think about Hwayoung attending playschool in a matter of months, while your husband internally plays rock, paper, scissors with himself as he waits for you to gather your thoughts.
You think about you and Jungkook and whatever comes with, for, and between you while he hugs you under the dim lights.
Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.
Seven seconds. Hold it.
Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.
âWhat if it only gets brutal from here on out, Jungkook? What do I do?â you murmur, looking up at him.
âWho says it has to be brutal?â Jungkook laughs, his voice bouncing out into the space as if youâre in a newly-built house with barely any furniture.Â
Jungkookâs laughter is still joyous and loud, because even if Jungkookâs heart is a newly-built house, his happiness still reverberates the more it settles into the ground and comes closer to its roots; closer to you.
âWeâll keep up.â
#DUNNNNN :O n to get ahead of questions.. yes there WILLLL be a phase 4!!!#jungkook imagine#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook series#jungkook angst#jungkook angst imagine#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook au#jungkook scenario#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x you#bts jungkook imagine#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook x reader
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