#we would celebrate for a whole month

[naamahdarling]

You know what? You know what I think?

I think that if we lived as we were meant to, in larger intimate ("extended family") groups and with more shared labor and time to do it (UBI NOW) people like me would not feel so useless and burdensome because there would be people around to help and to do what neurodivergent people can't while making valuable space for the neurodivergent to do what they ARE good at.

The way we live right now, all right, the way we live right now forces units of two adults to be able to do EVERYTHING or PAY to have someone come do it for them. I have to do the housework. I have to do it! But I am having to do a million different things and most of them I am not good at. I suck at them.

I wouldn't feel like shit, okay, if I had more than one other person around who was not a child and who could do the things I can't, like do the yard and cook and do repairs and basic maintenance; and someone else to split everything else that I like but is too much for me. It would free me to do what I am good at and enjoy. Cleaning, as in the sink and toilet, the windows, the blinds. Taking out trash. Folding, hanging, and sorting laundry.

But because all the shit I can do often relies on other shit being done first, and I can't do or have trouble doing those things, the shit I can do often can't be done. And even the shit I can do, I can't do ALL of it. So I can't keep up, and things get very bad.

We aren't meant to live like this. We are not meant to live like this.

That thought hurts so much because being able to flee the birth family is integral to survival for so many people. I'm so afraid that living in larger family groups would create more opportunities for, say, queer kids to be isolated, rejected, bullied, and abused. But if we gave people enough money to survive, and stopped considering children the property of their parents with no system in place to help them escape bad situations except a system that is often just as bad, just different.

I'm aware that communes and collectives aren't all that successful and are kind of a joke. I don't mean that. I mean a fundamental shift to multigenerational families where taking in "strays" (which my family did) is also normalized so people escaping abuse into existing households was accepted, with these families centered in maybe a couple of different larger residences so not everyone has to buy and maintain their own fucking washing machine and vacuum cleaner, and so people can benefit from large group meals that yield leftovers, and so child and elder care can also be centralized.

Then disabled people and the neurodivergent and sick and injured people, and pregnant people, and grieving people, would not have to either labor through all those stressors or consign themselves to living off an unlivable pittance or being put under legal guardianship.

I'm not saying anything new. People live like this in other parts of the world and maybe it sucks and I am wrong. But I'm just really mad right now because I can either do laundry or clean the sink but not both, and I really think we could improve society somewhat by making it so I did not have to choose one without sacrificing the other.

[froghwon]

hi 👋

[steffyanie]

gods fuckign damnit mark, why.........

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[sonrium]

DP X DC: A Minor Drinking Problem

Phantom is a relatively new member of the JLA, but it's been a few months, and things are settling in well. He's shy and polite but is a master of the snark with villains.

Before a big mission, the all hands on deck kind, everyone is talking about scars and the crazy stories behind them to distract from the coming fight. Danny, finally feeling like he can join in the conversation with all these adult heroes, pulls off his right glove to show a pretty gnarly scar on the back of his wrist. “I got this one when I fought a guy from the Revolutionary War a few weeks ago! Didn't think he'd charge me with a bayonet.” He shares a couple more stories and scars, but only the ones that he can easily show off.

Because of stories like that and some historical depictions of Phantom from different time periods, they think he's this ancient and powerful immortal that just looks like a teenager, it wouldnt be the first time. He's powerful enough to go toe to toe with Superman, so there's no way he's actually a kid. He even sometimes has the haunted, world weary eyes that their most hardened members only get after experiencing too much. Danny, being our lovable, obliviously dense idiot, has not realized that they think he's an ancient being.

After the mission concludes -it was a rough one-, the JLA celebrate their victory with a couple drinks back at the watch tower. Danny is understandably uncomfortable with this whole situation and keeps asking, “Are you sure I should be here?” They reassure him it's fine as they pass around beers, which Danny politely declines several times. Danny eventually sees this as the perfect chance to pad his blackmail folders on his inebriated coworkers.

Anyway, as the night goes on, they have a good time, but Phantom still hasn't gotten a drink like the rest of them, and Green Lantern (or hero of your choice) really wants their shy friend to come out of his shell. So, he slams an open beer bottle on the coffee table in front of Phantom. “Come on Phantom! Let loose a little. Celebrate!”

“Dude! What the hell?! I'm 16! That's illegal!” Phantom squeaks in shock.

“We don't care how old you were when you died. It's how long you've been a ghost that counts.” Flash slings an arm around Danny's shoulders from where he’s sat next to him on the couch. Flash can't get drunk, but he also thinks it would be fun to see their uptight new member drunk.

“That's even worse! You'd be giving alcohol to a two year old!” Phantom is horrified that his coworkers are so casually breaking the law.

“But you said you fought in the Revolutionary War this morning!” Green Lantern said with his eyebrows knit in confusion.

“No, I said I fought someone from the Revolutionary War. As in, the ghost of someone from the revolutionary war!”

“You can't pull that on us. There's murals and stuff of you from thousands of years ago.” The Flash waves off with a laugh.

Phantom’s finger presses painfully hard into Flash’s chest. “I do not need to explain time travel to you of all people. My mentor hates you, and I'm STILL sent on missions constantly to clean up your messes.” Phantom's clear and low. Flash liked it better when he was shouting and not staring him down like a predator with narrowed eyes.

(This random idea popped into my head. It made me laugh, so I thought you might, too. Here you go!)

[fereldancore]

I don’t blog about sports, but early this morning my favourite athlete Johnny ‘Hockey’ Gaudreau was knocked off his bicycle and killed along with his younger brother the night before their sister’s wedding. He had just turned 31 years old, married his next door neighbour and had a toddler daughter and a 6 month old son (who were planned to be flower girl and ring bearer at the wedding).

I adored Johnny because he was a such a small streak of lightning in a game full of huge dudes who were regularly a whole foot taller than him. His skills were just fucking phenomenal and he was so exciting to watch. I screamed with joy and cheered him on so loudly I lost my voice on many occasions. He represented his country for International Competitions and is the highest US point scorer.

I could get technical and talk about my favourite goals of his, his stickhandling, dangles, on ice spatial awareness etc but it is all on film for anyone to see, just too much to choose from. Nobody moved like Johnny Hockey.

As a person he was a sweet, kind guy who was universally liked in the sport and beyond. I do not follow celebrities on social media, but on hockey forums there are endless stories of his voracious love of mac and cheese (so much so Kraft put him in a TV ad) and skittles candies that he had a hockey stick covered in them and auctioned for charity.

In interviews he always talked hockey and his family. Whenever asked about new contracts and paycheques he would just shrug and say ‘yeah I bought my dad a boat so we can go fishing’ or ‘I just got a cool new wheelchair lift installed in my holiday home so my cousin can come and spend time with me’, or change the subject and talk about his dog, his wife and kids or The Birds. He was a real gem of a gentleman, modest and always ready to give credit to his team and dad (legendary NJ coach Guy Gaudreau) who motivated Johnny to skate as a toddler by placing skittles candies on the ice for him to fetch.

I’m am so sad for him, his family. This is just a blurb of feels about someone I counted down the days for until I could see them make magic on ice. I wish I could write a good tribute, dammit. Thank you Johnny Hockey.

[teaboot]

I feel like if you're using a lot of disposable plastic bags in your day to day life, you've gotta do something sustainable to make up for it. Like using bamboo toilet paper or eco friendly cat litter or something, yknow

Honestly I exaggerate for comedic effect, while I DO routinely use ziplock bags to hold spaghetti I cook maybe once a month and the bag itself is usually for freezer storage. I actually throw out maybe one bag a week? I DO hate washing plates and tupperware and junk but that usually just means I eat sandwiches without a plate.

I agree though that needless waste should be avoided, and I do avoid it- biodegradable bags and recyclables, empty butter tubs used to store leftovers, etc.

This said, though, not applicable necessarily for myself but for a lot of others- I feel that it's importat to remember that there are many people who legitimately NEED things like plastic straws, or catheters, or pre-packaged foods

And the idea that that's a moral failing that individuals need to personally make up for when a single billionaire blows out more CO2 in a long weekend than I will in my whole life on a superjet meet-cute in the Bolivian rainforest between humvee drag races funded by the river-polluting textiles plants they planted in a third world country to avoid EPA laws and give an entire village stillbirths and stomach cancer is an idea that those very same bigwigs have spent a LOT of time and money investing in planting in the public psyche.

Like- Glass bottles are infinitely recyclable, so why are so many drinks in plastic now? Loads of drinks manufacturers used to buy them back and clean them for re-use, so why did they stop? If they chose to make something out of a limited and environmentally irresponsible material, why is it my failing to track down a correct process of disposal for them? What if there are none in my area? Do I lobby for more recycling plants in my area? Do I set aside some of my limited time outside the pain factory of my job- which I have more than one of, thanks to rising costs of things just like that drink I just emptied- to properly dispose of this company's waste FOR them?

Say coca-cola just rolled up to your town and started dumping millions of empty plastic bottles in the street, going, "wow, you should really think about building and staffing a recycling depot, it would be really shameful of you to just put these in the trash." When companies purposefully use materials with limited lifespans- because yes, even plastic can only be reused so many times- and tell you it's your own fault if it harms the environment- that's essentially what they're doing, just with more steps.

Yes, its important to be as environmentally concious as we can in our day to day life, but responsible sustainability is not catholicism. We don't get good boy points from our lord and savior Captain Planet every time the average low-income household gathers together to hold hands and repent for a single-use plastic that allows them to access something they need.

Entire families could eat trees and shit dead lithium batteries for years and still not do as much damage to the planet as an average dye plant or braindead celebrity does in a week just for fun, and I'm mad about it

...this went on longer than intended.

TL/DR: DO recycle and minimize waste, but don't beat yourself up over the little waste you can't avoid, and follow the money.

EDIT: Part 2

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[rebelrenee36]

Mark your calendars! DoubleHearted-vember is coming!!

To celebrate the 2 year anniversary of Double-Hearted (DDVAU) on November 4th, a group of us fans have put together a drawing/writing prompt list for the whole month of November!

What is Double-Hearted (DDVAU)?

Double-Hearted is a comic created by Doody (@kitsuneisi) and Maruu (@xmaruu11) based off of Hermitcraft and the Life Series. It follows the adventures and misadventures of Scar and Grian as they navigate their double lives—one as the beloved celebrity hero Hotguy, the other as popular vigilante Cuteguy, both unaware they're coworkers at the same university.

Where can I read it?

Here’s a link to the masterpost!

Who are the awesome people who made this list?

That would be @rebelrenee36 (me!!), @liloinkoink, @kowore, @deedolldrawz, and @anpanbun

Can I start working on it now?

Of course! We wanted to give plenty of time so people can start preparing now to help avoid burnout. Feel free to participate as much or as little as you’d like as well. Late uploads are also a-okay!

What if I'm not an artist?

We tried our best to make most of the prompts writer-friendly as well with the exceptions of Day 22 and Day 30, but feel free to use those as two more free days instead!

What's up with the bonus Day?

At the request of Maruu themself, we've added a bonus day at the very beginning for the first completed arc of Double-Hearted! Since the Mother Spore arc takes place on October 31st, it’s only fitting.

What if I have more questions?

Feel free to send me an ask and I can answer any questions, offer suggestions, or link any other resources!

[babyleostuff]

─ PINK RIBBONS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domesticity, you being jeonghan's whole world (mention of the military) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!jeonghan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 792

natalia's note: idc if this is too dramatic, i don't want jeonghan to go

⦗💌 ⦘your favourite past time? playing with your boyfriend's hair, duh. sadly, it's the last time you get to do it for the next two years.

“here,” jeonghan drops a bunch of… somethings in your lap and sits down on the fluffy rug you bought last month, his back facing you. 

your boyfriend’s randomness is nothing new; even before you began dating, you quickly found out that yoon jeonghan was an unpredictable man. but no matter how much time has passed since you agreed to be his girlfriend, you are still taken aback each and every time he decides to do something out of the blue in his jeonghan fashion. 

you quickly grew to love his randomness, though. it’s like being surprised in the best ways possible.

“what,” you pick up a packet of colourful hair ties and hair pins, “what do you want me to do with those?”.  

jeonghan turns around and looks up to meet your eyes, his own holding nothing but fondness and warmth. “my hair,” he says and shakes his head of messy brown hair he died a couple of days ago. “we haven’t done this in a while, so i thought it’d be nice.” 

your stomach churned. how many times have you sat like this - you on the edge of the sofa and jeonghan in front of you, resting comfortably against a cushion you placed so as not to strain his back. a drama or a cooking show would be playing quietly in the background, neither of you watching it, too busy with basking in the domesticity. 

looking back, it was a no-brainer that you got addicted to your boyfriend’s hair so quickly. playing with it became a little habit of yours - before bed, in the morning, at a game night with the boys, during parties - whenever jeonghan was in your arm’s reach, you’d play with his hair, no matter if they were short or long (though you always mourned his long hair whenever he cut them). it always managed to calm you down and ground you when life got a bit too much. 

you’ve never experienced deja vu before, but if this was how it felt then you’d rather be hit with a sledge hammer. it’d hurt less. 

and now… despite that you could feel your heart breaking, you couldn’t tell him no. it’s probably the last time you’ll be able to do this before the enlistment anyway, so maybe… maybe it’ll be a nice way to celebrate his last days at home? 

“it’s hair. it’s just hair,” your mind seems to scream into the void as you grab a couple of the purple-ish hair bands and slide them on your wrist. but your heart is even louder and it feels like you’re being ripped apart. 

were you being dramatic? definitely. did you care? not at all. your whole life would change in the next day or so and despite preparing for this for such a long time now, it didn’t make it any less painful. with jeonghan leaving you’d be losing a part of yourself.

“hey,” he raises his hand and grabs your chin, “get that scowl off your face.”

“i know,” you sigh. “it’s just that-,”.

“i don’t want to hear any of that. we’re having fun tonight, honey,” jeonghan says and runs his thumb over your cheek. affection and pure love, which are always there whenever he looks at you (coups makes sure to point that out on every possible occasion), seemed to slow your racing heartbeat, because the longer you stared into his brown, gentle eyes the more your mind seemed to quiet down. oh, how you are going to miss that lovesick stare. “no more sad faces, yeah?” 

you swallow and nod, your heart heavy from all the emotions. the pink ribbons and blue pins look like the opposite of what you are feeling, but… you have to be strong. if not for yourself, then for jeonghan. 

“any specific requests?” you ask and comb your fingers gently through his silky hair.

“nope. whatever you do,” he says and turns his back to you, “it’ll look perfect.” you couldn't see jeonghan’s face, but you could hear the smile in his voice. 

placing a peck on your exposed leg, he makes himself comfortable against the cushions and lets out his grandpa-esque sigh. 

what the next days are going to bring - you aren’t sure. you don’t even want to think about it. but for now… for now, you are as content as you can be. enveloped by your love’s affection like a security blanket, his warm hands sliding up and down your calves, as if reminding you that he’s still there, it is enough for you. enough to swallow your tears and put a brave smile on your face for the man sitting in front of you. 

for now it is only you and him and all the pink ribbons.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[rosetta-stoned-bitch]

I feel like shit, too many straws on my back and one of them is def gonna break it

[mv1simp]

inspired by my fav @piastrification thank you for being in my walls 🫶🫶 hope you enjoy!!

Streets ♥️

Max Verstappen x PR Manager!Reader

we play our fantasies out in real life ways, and no final fantasy, can we end these games, though?

6 months ago, F1 champion Max Verstappen traded in his status as "serious cat dad with road rage issues" for "Genius. Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist". Since then you've been fighting absolute demons as his PR manager to keep his reputation clean in the media. After you tell him you've had enough, he proposes a very interactive solution to your problem.

Content includes: Humour, crackfic, fluff, so much sexual tension, 18+ MDNI, smut, playboy!max, exasperated manager! reader, a very well rounded fic for once?! 4.7k WC

If someone asked you where it’d all gone downhill, you’d have to say it started because of that greedy paparrazi rat Henri - photographer at the MonacoDaily, otherwise known as every PR manager’s sleep paralysis demon. Because this particular paparazzo had a nasty knack for capturing celebrities just as they made the most atrocious decisions known to mankind. And he had an even nastier knack for threatening to sell said photos to the highest bidder. Truly, it was a dark day for any media team when they were forced to bargain with such a foul demon, who’d be able to go toe to toe with the likes of Satan himself.

So when your phone dinged at 5am on a peaceful Sunday morning, only to reveal the 7th (7th!!) message this month from the very same greedy little rat, you threw it across the room. Only to then remember you devastatingly had not been born into a Dubai oil family and you needed this job to pay Monaco rent. The text turns out to be a photo of your aggravating client - Max Verstappen, F1 champion driver, loving father to two cats, and more recently, certified manwhoreTM. He’s living upto your nickname for him, pictured in some nightclub with a half naked blonde sitting on his lap. Alright, alright, not as bad as you were expecting, you could even photoshop the girl’s hair colour to match his current girlfriend’s one maybe? Well, except the brunette woman glaring behind him is his current model girlfriend of the month. You hear a ding, another text from Henri - this time with just a 😈 and 💸👀. You throw the phone back against wall.

Three hours later you’ve cleaned up the PR nightmare and are banging on Max’s apartment door. He blearily lets you in, shirtless and still looking half drunk, but you don’t hesitate to yank him by his beltloops and drag him to the dining table (after quickly checking out that broad chest of his, though, cause goddamn. You’re just a girl.)

Ow, ow, what the hell, Max groans as he’s shoved into a chair. Please. As if you could do any real damage in your 5 foot frame to the 6 foot driver. Slamming your hands on the table for some dramatic flourish (you’re never beating the theatre kid allegations) you give the Dutchman a piece of your mind, demanding to know what his problem is, does he know how many people you’ve had to bribe this month to stop #SluttyMaxEra trending on twitter?? And yes, you know he broke up with Kelly 10 months ago but can’t he just process this healthily and go to therapy instead of having a hoe phase and hooking up with every third woman in Monaco?

Max looks insulted at this slight to his honor. He retaliates by accusing you of buying into the patriarchy and slut shaming him (-That’s not how that works but pop off king, is your deadpan response), and telling you he’s very much over Kelly, okay, it was an amicable breakup (-Sure, Verstappen, that’s why you’d only played Lana Del Ray for a whole month afterwards, huh?) and well, what’s the issue, he’s a hot and rich guy in Monaco, it’s not his fault women just want him? Would it not be #misogynistic of him to deny women the opportunity to explore their sexuality?! He smirks, pleased with his defence.

You groan, slumping down on a chair and burying your face in your hands, muffling your groan of wholesome cat dad Max comeback whennn. Max rolls his eyes at your theatrics, asking if you’d finally lost the plot.

You try cleaning up the PR messes you’ve been making, Max Emilian, you hiss furiously, remember Ibiza? Santorini? The goddamn yacht party over summer break when he got with the captain and her deputy?! (Even now, thinking of that leaking online gives you heartburn.)

Which yacht, Max says cockily, the one where he got with them one after another or at the same time?

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t even known about the threesome, so you suppose you should be grateful that wasn’t another mess to clean up. But a deeper, insecure part of you can’t help but wonder why the only woman Max doesn’t seem to want is you.

And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be one of his girls, under his strong body for once instead of on the other side of his hotel wall, having to drown out the very satisfied female moans and headboard bangs with noise cancelling headphones. Like always, you push that thought down quickly.

You, good sir, are for the streets, you announce, standing up and deciding it was time to leave before your delulu, jealous thoughts decided to resurface. Seriously, you mutter under your breath, you didn’t care if his current side quest was to fuck 10 times a week, but could he at least stick to one person for a bit and not make more work for you-

Max’s hand slams the front door back closed as you started to open it. You freeze, turning back to look at him smirking down at you. You hadn’t expected him to follow you down the hallway and you gulp nervously for the safety of your job - you might have taken the roasting a bit too far.

Instead, you get a sly, Oh, so I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, just with one person?

At your awkward nod, because yes, that would significantly ease your workload, he continues, enjoying teasing his uptight, pretty manager - then were you gonna offer yourself up? After all, there’s no PR messes to find out about if it’s you, right?

You blink at Max, completely stunned by the 180 this conversation has taken. Your expression is so adorable that he couldn’t resist a you’re so cute when you’re acting all jealous, you could’ve just asked if you wanted him to fuck you, ya know?

That promptly reminds you you’re dealing with an an absolute manwhore. RIP celibacy era Max, you’ll always be famous.

Um, absolutely fucking not, keep your STDs to yourself, you hiss, flushing head to toe, and furious at the desire in you to give into the devilish proposal. He encourages you to think about it, still smirking, relaxing his grip so you can mercifully flee far away from his intense gaze. Jesus, when did he learn to rizz a girl up like that?!

You don’t take his proposal seriously at all, ignoring his cocky looks at you over meetings all week (also, he’d texted you his clean STD result to assure you he was a #SafeSexKing.) But that weekend, your refusal comes back to haunt you when you’re on a well deserved night out with your girlfriends and your PR manager senses start going off. You narrow your eyes as you spot Max in the dark corner of the nightclub, hands all over a mystery redhead. She’s not going to be a mystery much longer though - if you’d spotted them it was a matter of time before fan’s phones did and then you’d wake up to another goddamn text from your sleep paralysis demon, Henri.

You don’t even have to think about it twice. Saying goodbye to your friends, you’re at Max’s side at a very impressive speed given your 6 inch stilettos and tight sparkly minidress, and once again dragging him off by the beltloops and into an open bathroom.

He lets you yank him away, smirking when he sees you lock the door for good measure. Sweetheart, he greets. So good to see you. Finally realised you couldn’t resist me?

You practically climb him like a tree while telling him to shut the fuck up and pay attention at media training day next time, because what kind of PR crisis did he have unfolding out there? And just this once you’ll help him out, you say breathlessly in between deep kisses, but this isn’t a regular thing -

There’s not much more talking from you because he has you moaning up against the wall next, fingers buried inside your tight little pussy as he talks you through an orgasm, and then another when he splits you in half on his cock. (Once again, manwhore, who carries a condom in their jean pockets?!)

Unfortunately for your self control but very fortunately for your sex life, it is not in fact, a “one time thing”. Your trusty rose vibrator is glad for the break as you’d been taking your year long frustrations at your dry spell out on her. Especially when coming home after staying in hotels where you’d had to book out rooms neighbouring Max’s, so no one else overheard the raunchy vocals of different women every night.

Like Max said, with you, there were no more illicit PR messes to find out about in the middle of the night. You’d redirect him everytime he gave you bedroom eyes (At the pre race debrief. Post race debrief. Weekly team plan meeting. Over zoom calls? Seriously?) - gently taking his large hand and guiding him to a much more hidden, PR crisis-friendly area. To your surprise, Max actually sticks to his word and only hooks up with you - admittedly, multiple times a week (Not that you’re complaining. Turns out he was just as good in bed as he was on the track. Except this time he was definitely not finishing first...)

And for a while, everything is going well. There are no more weekly scandals scattered across trashy celeb magazines about Max. Your boss is gushing with praise, so impressed that you’ve finally managed to talk some sense into Redbull’s problem child (ah, if only she knew, but she never would, because the goddamn CIA couldn’t torture this info out of you) and best of all, you haven’t gotten a text from papparazzi rat Henri in weeks!

So of course, Max Verstappen decides that things are getting just a little bit too quiet for his liking, you had to earn your generous PR manager salary, that he paid for, right? His new, numerous tactics to stir the pot had included:

Going to clubs with no private bathrooms so you’d had to sit on his lap in the VIP lounge as he pulled your panties to the side to slide into you, barely hidden under your flimsy dress. You’d held back your moans and prayed the bass was too loud for anyone to hear

Sitting right next to you at every team dinner or business meeting so that he could sneak a large hand up your thigh and tease your pussy for fucking hours, often just as you were about to speak. And when you’re clenching the table so hard your fingers were white, he’s bending under the table to pick up a pen or something but instead left teasing licks and kisses on your aching core. You'd learnt very quickly not to wear a skirt.

Picking you up in his 2 seater Aston Martin instead of the much more appropriate discreet, spacious, 5 seater Audi he owned - so when he was too pent up after a bad practise session to wait till he got home, he'd get you to go down on him right there in the car, sometimes even as he drove, instead of parking in some hidden backstreet. It was so dirty, that he needed you so desperately that he didn't care about being caught by anyone peeking in through the half tinted windows. Because if they did look, they’d find his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans, his fingers tangled in your curls as he moved your drooling, pink lips up and down his wide cock-

Anyways, you get the picture. And he’d escalated this all the way to the paddock, which was insane because there were always multiple cameras trained on the current F1 champion. It’s the one place you two couldn’t sneak off without a very high risk of being caught, as evidenced by the one and only time he'd managed to get under your skin in the garage. He'd had you pinned up against the wall in some narrow side hallway as he whispered how fucking sexy you’d looked today, wearing his hoodie to cover up the hickies you hadn’t realized you’d woken up with and paired with some tiny denim shorts. Having the 6 foot champion huskily groan that he couldn’t focus on his free practise everytime you bent over to pet a passing dog, or when you innocently sucked on the Redbull flavoured lollipops and then the goddamn ice cream from the truck they’d brought in - was quite the power trip, you admit. So you guided his lips from your neck as he tries to add to the growing bruises on your neck and redirected him to your waiting lips instead, steamily making out as his large hands squeezed your thick ass like he’d been thinking about all day-

Max?!?

You instantly pull back from the driver and turned to see a flabbergasted looking GP - Max’s race engineer. His jaw is wide open as he looked at you two with round eyes. You’re fumbling to explain, trying and failing to push Max back - who looks rather annoyed at the intrusion and semi-glares at GP with narrow eyes. You hiss at the younger man to stop being rude and slip underneath his arms, going over to guiltily apologise to GP only to be met with You too?! How did he get you in his bed, you hated how much of a slut he was! Seriously, does he have a magical dick? Now you stare at GP in shock, unsure of how to respond to his question while Max starts laughing behind you. You make him join you as you promise to GP that he will never have to witness this again, because there will be no unprofessional behaviour of any sort on the paddock after "BootyShorts Gate" as you thereafter dub the incident. Regardless, GP still shoots you both wary glances and begins the habit of announcing his arrival and waiting 10 seconds before turning a corner in the garage, earning him many an odd look. Dramatic, really, was this where Max gets it from?

Max, of course, was very displeased with this new “professionalism” rule you'd set down - on the paddock was when he'd get the most tense, the most horny and desperate to have you underneath him, after all - and he made sure you knew it. You deliberately ignored his heated gaze on you as you interviewed him, or his lingering touches when he helped you hold your microphone up to his much taller frame, large hand wrapped around your small ones clutching the mic. Or his recent favourite, which involved standing next to you to help pick out the insta pics post-race (something he'd notoriously always hated to do) - except now, he conveniently happened to be shirtless, his toned abs and broad shoulders on display, running a hand through his sweaty tousled hair.

This last seduction tactic had sent you fleeing to Checo's garage to seek out the other Redbull driver's PR manager and beg on your knees for a client swap, surely, the sponsor benefits are legendary for whoever Max's PR manager is -

Nope. Nuh uh, no way, Checo is the breeziest driver ever to look after. The other manager pauses. Well, except for the occasional political military coup scandal in Mexico. But still, I'd take that any day over El Manwhore.

You wailed at whatever Gods had decided to curse you and took matters into your own hands, furiously plotting up social media campaign idea after idea that were exactly the kind of thing Max hated with a burning passion - hoping it would get him to back off on his tactics and wave a white flag. From viral TikTok challenges, to making him read all his cringe 2008 tweets, and even making him play fuck, marry, kill with the drivers of the grid. You'd admit, that last one had been rather funny to watch, making you chuckle as you scrolled through the comments, liking "Can't believe we got Max Verstappen saying he would fuck Lewis, kill Pierre and marry Charles before GTA 6" and "does Redbull admin know she posted this on main?!"

But despite your best efforts, it didn't seem to deter Max. If anything, he'd begrudgingly do the task and end up laughing excitedly at you - who was holding the camera - about some joke or the other and make your stupid heart flutter. You knew you definitely should not be catching feelings for your client - who'd made it very clear his interest in you was only physical. But no one needed to know that sometimes you’d log into your fake account to like the "Who got max giggling and kickin his feet and shii?" comments.

Meanwhile, Max had caught wind of your desperation for an escape attempt with Checo’s manager and had upped the ante. He slyly mentioning to Christian Horner than you were doing such a great job as his PR manager, could he pretty please have you promoted to his general manager for his non racing publicity too?

And that's how you found yourself at a Dior Sauvage photoshoot, despite your adamant protests to Horner. You were putting your Masters of Business Adminstration, first class honours, to fantastic use by babysitting a 26 year old child who liked fast cars that went vroom vroom. The only redeeming factor is that you can leave the unflattering Redbull shirt at home since this wasn't for F1 publicity and instead wear a nice outfit for once. Still, you thought it was odd that Max had so easily accepted this campaign, as he wasn't normally one to enjoy doing PR.

A few minutes later you've figured out exactly why your favourite manwhore had agreed to this campaign, because he's grinning at you while posed shirtless, toned abs and broad shoulders all on display as some pretty, busty model is draped over him. The photographer is making this even more painful for you by dragging out the shoot, making Max and the model reposition herself multiple times. You roll your eyes at the scene, because obviously they're two very attractive people who will look good together no matter what, did the photographer really need to be so extra? You stalk off at some point to make yourself a hot chocolate in the hopes it'll sooth the flames of jealousy that are threatening to consume you right now. Max approaches you when a break is called, running a teasing hand along your waist from the back and whispering you looked so fucking hot in this tight maxi dress, making you nervously look around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, all the staff appeared busy and didn’t look in the dim corner you'd settled into to do paperwork. You hiss at him to keep your hands to yourself, Verstappen making him grin and inform you that's not what you’d said last night, in fact, you were practically begging for him to do the exact opposite-

You're glaring up at him, seriously contemplating if it’s worth breaking your contract clause to "act in the client's best interests" and mauling him with your laptop when the photographer comes up to you both with narrowed eyes. You guiltily step back, thinking he overhead Max's suggestive comments, but instead he just looks back and forth between you two contemplatively. Then, just as you were about to ask him what the issue was, he announces that you'd be replacing the model as the female for the shoot. No questions asked! he announces as you try to protest and snaps his fingers at the makeup and wardrobe artists to demand they sort you out (he gestures rather dramatically to your whole figure when he says this, making you scowl).

So that's how you find yourself dressed in a silky gold minidress with a sultry eye look, pressed up against Max's broad chest and trying not to focus on the intimate position you two are in. Max, however, has no such qualms about the position, using it to tease you further. You've been looking extra tense lately, sweetheart, he breathes, those devilish lips brushing past your ear. I know a great way to make you relax? You growl at him to shut the fuck up because oh my god, did he know how many cameras are pointed at you both right now? Besides, you mutter under your breath, it seemed like he was very interested in relaxing with that blonde model earlier.

Fighting to keep the smug look of his face, Max whispers back that there was No need to be jealous, schatje, you were the only one getting access to his magical dick. So caught up in the game you two are playing, you don't even register the photographer excitedly snapping up pictures, proclaiming that he knew it, the chemistry between these two is unbelievable!

Afterwards, as you're walking off the photoshoot, feeling all hot and bothered from Max's hands running across your exposed skin, shamelessly looking you up and down, the blonde Dutchman catches up to you. He teases you that you were going to get wrinkles at 25 if you didn't stop scowling all the time. I'm older than you, you scoff back, by a whole 6 months, in fact, so maybe you should actually listen to me for once instead of pissing me off? No problem, Max agrees, after all, he's always had a thing for MILFs. You can't help snort at his retort and then start laughing when he tries to maintain an innocent look. At least you were away from the cameras in case someone heard this, you mused.

Unfortunately, you both don't notice MonacoDaily's ratbag paparrazo, Henri, hiding in nearby shrubbery with his camera. It had been far too long without a Verstappen news scandal, he thought with a satisfied smirk as he clicked away.

And later than night, after you'd eaten the chicken stir fry he'd cooked and rewatched Cars 2 (a surpassingly more regular occurrence, these days, to unwind with him at the end of the day instead of immediately being mauled the second you stepped foot in his apartment) you made sure he followed your orders for once. Sitting him back, telling him just how bad he'd been today with all his teasing (-well, it worked, didn't it, sweetheart?) you showed him just how good you were at playing the game, too. And soon, he was breathlessly moaning underneath you as you rode him for the first time, gripping his cock like you were going to milk every last drop, teasing him with just enough pace to get him worked up but not enough to send him over the edge. And you only let him cum inside you when he begged you sweetly, making you go fuzzy at the sight of the infamous Redbull playboy being so desperate for you, and only you.

Afterwards, once you've shampooed each other's hair in the shower while gossiping about how catty that makeup artist had been, really, to imply that your pretty curls had been the problem and not her shitty styling? and Max has got you spooned against him, warm in an old hoodie of his, pressing a goodnight kiss to your forehead, you can't control the warmth blossoming in your chest any longer. And as a content sleep takes a hold of you, you can't help but wonder if Max's affections went beyond physical attraction, just like yours’ were now doing.

It turned out the opportunity to find out this answer would come the very next day, when the ding of your phone wakes you up in the early hours of the morning. It’s a very specific sound that you've set for a certain ratbag - and you get war flashbacks, hearing it now after so long. Scrambling off the bed, ignoring Max's muffled groans as you shove his heavy arm of you, you unlock your phone and gasp in horror as your suspicions are confirmed. Henri has arisen from the ashes and this time it's to deliver his sauciest scandal yet. Because a picture tells a 1000 words, sure, but he has the two of you on a goddamn video, flirting and giggling at each other as you exited the studio yesterday. There's no chance of you talking your way out of this one, as Max's large palm wanders to give your thick ass a firm squeeze as he guides you into his passenger seat. Goddamn, you knew you shouldn't have worn that tempting skims maxi dress - Max was an ass (and tits) man who couldn't be trusted to control himself in public. BTW already sold this 🥸 Henri texts. Just a courtesy FYI cuz I brought a boat with the bag from this one ✌️

You contemplate if it would be better to disappear off the face of the planet, or get plastic surgery to become unrecognisable as you chug your morning Redbull while moodily looking over the Monaco sunrise. Max joins you after a few minutes, looking extremely cute as he rubs the sleep out of his baby blue eyes and asks you what's wrong, schatje.

Taking a deep sigh (like you said, #DramaKid), you break the news. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this (- that’s really not necessary, Max interrupts) - but you know celibacy exists, right? As does having sex in a private location without the risk of being arrested for public indecency?

True, Max agrees, but what was the fun in that? Besides, you were just too hot to resist. Ignoring the butterflies at his cheesy flirting, you hold up the incriminating video on your phone as proof that it was not all fun and games, as Henri had already sold this to multiple news outlets this morning, you inform glumly. Max is strangely silent, looking intently at the video and even replaying it a few times, his eyes crinkling as a soft smile appears on his face when he hears the sound of you two laughing. Then - in a truly unbelievable redemption arc plotline from the Monaco playboy - he asks if it would be so terrible, to have this made public, to let the world know that you were together?

Well, I - you stumble over your words, - I dunno, I thought you liked that? Keeping it secret cause you just wanted a convenient hook up?

Max is silent again. Then, looking uncharacteristically nervous, he says that's not what he wants, not really, not anymore - not since he'd fallen in love with you, somewhere along the 3 months of the friends with benefits/PR manager and her problematic client situationship you’d had. And like at the very start, you don’t even need to think about it twice. This time when you shyly smile and kiss him, you make sure he can feel your love through it and know that you wanted more, too.

So you walk into work that morning, holding hands in open defiance, ready for the world to see. You’re rather confused when no one seems to be paying much attention, instead frantically trying to get the set up ready for the pre race testing. Maybe you two had not been as indiscreet as you thought and people already suspected? Or maybe you both had a penchant for drama and thought you were the main characters when you clearly were not?

You look at each other, shrug, and you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll see him for lunch at the kebab shop on the corner, before he wanders off to the garage. Maybe Henri had a change of heart and decided not to exploit innocents for fame and money, you ponder hopefully. Maybe there truly was good in the world, after all.

And then you hear your name being called and turn to see your boss standing behind you menacingly, hands on hips. Care to explain why #MaxLovesMILFS is trending right now?

Somewhere along the Monaco waterfront, a paparazzi rat skulking in the bushes sneezes.

—————————————————————————

A/N: again thank you so much to @piastrification for inspiring this piece!! So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy my attempt at branching out to other fics xx tysm to you all for the requests, I am working them into my upcoming fics!! 💖

[idkwhatever580]

Holy Shit!

Pairings: G!P Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: During the ceremony for Y/n and Natasha’s wedding, all of Y/n’s and Natahsa's bridesmaids/men slip Polaroids of Y/n's boudoir shoots throughout the night which leads to a hard time for Natasha.

Warnings: slight mentions of family trauma I guess (not having a dad), SMUT, P in V (Natasha has a penis), rough sex, boudoir pictures, unusually dominant reader (it mentions that nat is usually top), toys, teasing, swearing, praise, orgasm denial, degradation, wife kink sort of?, mommy kink, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I hope y'all like this one! I've been thinking about how to approach it for a while now and I think I'm ready. Also, this is going to be my first time using my laptop to write so if it is a little weird, I apologize, I'm still figuring out everything from the switch. I'm sorry for the random pov switch. I was all mixed up, but I'm too lazy to fix it. :)

Sidenote: -Y/f/i = your first initial -Y/n/n = your nickname -Detka= baby - Dorogoy= darling

Natasha and I just had the most amazing night of our lives, we got married! but the fun is not over yet.

I have devised a plan that has been in the works for a few months. Honestly, I knew I wanted to do this for Nat even before we proposed to each other. Although I only started truly planning it out after we got engaged.

I went to a boudoir photoshoot. Naturally I needed someone to take pictures. I didn't want Nat to be mad that someone else saw my body, so I asked Wanda, my best friend who has seen my literal everything (one time she literally had to pull my tampon out because I broke both my arms and Nat wasn't home to help), and she helped me get the best pictures ever. Then, I moved onto the second phase of my plan, recruiting.

Natasha and I already had our list of bridesmaids/men in place, so I made sure to use all of them. Natasha had four and I had five.

Natasha's bridesmaids/men are Clint as her Man of Honor, and Yelena, Tony, and Steve.

My bridesmaids/men are Wanda as my Maid of Honor, Kate, Bucky, Carol, and Thor (even though he doesn't quite understand "earthling" weddings yet.)

They all thankfully agreed, even Yelena which was surprising, and I picked out the best photos and put them in order. So, my plan was set and now all I need to do is trust our friends to get the pictures to her. Which I don't even have to worry about that, Wanda has the list and all of the pictures, so she is going to hand them to the set brides' person at the set time and they will deliver it secretly to Nat.

She's gonna be so hard by the end of the night, which is technically my plan. Of course, we've had sex before, and we already plan on fucking later, but she definitely is going to fuck hard tonight.

We are getting to our venue for the celebration after the wedding now and Nat and I have been together the whole car ride, which wasn't that long, but we went for a ride together in the limo so that everyone could get there before our grand entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step out of the limo carefully and walk hand in hand to the building. Even though you have already seen the inside and all the decorations, you are still blown away by the beauty of it all.

You and Nat have a planned entrance where she walks in first and then you walk in and "fall" into her to the song Fallin' for Ya.

Everyone cheers for you all, and you both stand together to talk to people. You lean over to speak in Nat's ear so she can hear over the noise the second you see Wanda slip the first photo to Thor, who remembers exactly what to do, thankfully. "Nat, I'm going to talk to Wands real quick are you okay to stay here for a sec?"

She nods her head and says back, "Of course detka, don't keep me waiting too long now"

You smile and nod your head and leave to Wanda, but not without giving Nat a soft peck on the cheek. Thank God for Lip stain, you think, or else both yours and Nat's lip color would be all over your faces by now, especially from that limo ride.

You walk up to Wanda and say "oh my gosh, I'm so scared! What if something goes wrong?"

She giggles at your stressed face knowing there is nothing to worry about, and says, "Hey! Deep breath. Don't be scared, Thor has practiced many times, he is going to get it right."

You nod and keep talking beside Wanda as you subtly watch your wife engage with her friends.

Thor finally walks up to Natasha and casually slips her the first polaroid, and you can't wait to see the look on her face. All of the people Nat is talking to are part of the plan so they know what is happening.

She furrows her eyebrows when she looks at her hand to see that Thor has given her a polaroid upside down so she can't see it. She looks up to ask him what it was, but he was already long gone, so she flips it over not suspecting a thing. She takes one look at the picture and her eyes go wide. She immediately presses the picture to her chest and looks up to find you smiling at her innocently as if she didn't just get handed this.

You send her a soft wave and go back to "talking" with Wanda, and Natasha checks to make sure nobody is behind her and looks again. She smirks at the picture and slides it into the hidden pocket in her dress that was made for a gun in case she needs to protect you, but now it holds something even more valuable to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been about fifteen minutes since Nat received her first "gift" and even though she asked about it, you acted stupid and didn't tell her anything saying, "What picture? I didn't take any pictures other than the ones after the ceremony with all our brides' people."

You are now about to cut the cake which is when the next picture is going to be given to her. You decided that every time she gets a pic, the next one is going to be even better than the first. It will really rile her up you think. So as you two walk over there, hand in hand, you walk by Tony who hands her the next polaroid as she passes by him. This time she knows not to look until she is at the cake table where nobody is behind her.

She has an arm around your waist and she sneaks a peak at the next photo.

This one makes her huff out a breath, and she looks over at you who is "oblivious" to the thing she just saw. She squeezes your side as she slips the photo, once again, into her pocket, and you smile slyly at her. She leans over to whisper, "You know what you're doing Y/n."

You both pick up the knife and you say, "Doing what? Cutting the cake?"

She rolls her eyes at you and you both cut the cake and feed each other a slice. Then you both go back to the table that only you and her sit at, and you add, "Of course I know what I'm doing, why else would I do it?" Then you go back to eating your slice of cake acting just as innocent as before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You just had your first dance, and it was beautiful, the song you both picked together was a testament of your love and it brought tears to everyone's eyes.

Then, you decided instead of a father daughter dance, to have a Maid/Man of Honor dance. You danced with Wanda and talked and laughed, while Natasha and Clint did the same.

It was beautiful really. You had decided to do this because, even though Natasha has Alexie, you wouldn't have been able to participate since your dad is no longer in your life. The dance with your best friends meant infinitely more than a dance with your fathers would have anyways, and thankfully Alexie wasn't hurt by this. He realized he wasn't a good "dad" in the beginning of her life, and it wasn't his position.

As the dances concluded, Clint smirked at Natasha, and he reached into his suit pocket to pull something into his hand and slipped another polaroid into her hand.

People start joining on the dance floor to have some fun and Nat looks down at the photo and says, "Holy Shit!" maybe just a little too loud making her blush. She shakes her head as Clint laughs and walks off to his wife and kids, but not before Nat punches his shoulder softly, and then she glares at you.

You smile cheekily at her as you walk to her for another dance. You start slow dancing together and say, "Hey baby, whatcha doin?"

She smiles softly at you and says, "Thinking about my beautiful wife and what she and I are doing later tonight."

You make a fake surprise face in the shape of a soft 'o' and say, "Is that right?"

She giggles into your neck, and it is the most beautiful sound you could hear and hums, "mhm"

You smile as you spin her around the dance floor and say, "Well thank you for the compliment baby, but whatever you're thinking is going to have to wait. We promised each other we wouldn't leave earlier than we planned, remember?"

She groans and nods her head in slight defeat mumbling, "I know we did."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are now both talking to Natasha's family about what is next for you both. Melina starts out with, "So, when am I getting some grandbabies?"

You and Nat both exchange glances and look back at them and you say, "Well... I uh-" You freeze not knowing what to say.

Thankfully though, Natasha is there for you and says, "Y/n has decided she does not want to give birth. I obviously can't give birth given my situation, and I won't be disrespecting my wife's wishes, so we are going to take it slow as we weigh our other options."

You smile softly knowing that you picked the right girl to be your wife. She literally always has your back. Finally, having composed yourself you cut in as well and say, "We also have decided that we want to live our lives together before we settle down. We want to have the right parenting mindset you know."

Melina and Alexie nod their heads and smile Melina replies, "Well I don't care how or when it happens, I just want a grandbaby." As she is speaking, Yelena inches closer to Nat and then she 'holds' her hand briefly, but in reality, she is slipping the next picture into her hand. Nat's smile widens at the thought of another picture and Yelena walks off to go find Peter and bother him.

Natasha feels like she needs to look at this picture, but she can't if her parents are standing right in front of you, so she smiles when a song she knows comes on and says, "Mama, Papa listen, it's your song! Go dance!" She ushers them off and then turns to you to look at the photo.

This one makes her giggle, so you quirk an eyebrow and say, "What's the problem? Don't like it?"

She widens her eyes a tiny bit and shakes her head so much that you laugh and say, "Alright calm down, you'll mess up your hair"

She smiles and says, "I love it so much, I was just laughing because you could totally be wearing this under your dress since it's white."

All you do is smirk at her and it takes a second for her to process, but she gets it and her mouth falls agape just a bit. You simply walk off and Wanda comes over to say, "Come on! It's time for the flower toss!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Both you and Natasha agreed on doing a flower toss, only one is for the guys, and one is for the girls. Your reasoning being that the girls can get a little rough and you wouldn't want any of the boys to get hurt or anything like that. The boys can be very sensitive. ;)

So Natasha does the first toss to the boys, which includes Valkyrie as well since they are feeling more masculine today. (Like a king should). Thankfully nobody got into any fights since they're respectable people. After a bit of laughter, Clint comes out victorious and says he and Laura are simply going to renew their vows. Then he hands Laura the bouquet, and she smiles kissing him softly earning an aww from everyone.

Your toss is next and Loki decided to join in on the girls side since they are feeling more feminine. (Queen shit). The girls didn't get in any fights but they were definitely more aggressive than the boys. Scary, but the one who comes out with the bouquet is surprisingly Carol, who looks over at Val and smirks.

While your toss is happening though, Bucky walks up to an unsuspecting Natasha as she watches the girls' chaos enfold and he gives her a sly smile. By now she has caught onto him and says, "You too?"

He nods his head and says, "You never know which one will be the last." and then he slides the polaroid into her hand like a drug dealer and walks off like nothing happened.

The toss ends right around the same time that her exchange with Buck ends, so you're already making a b-line for her to see her reaction to this photo. She shields herself with your body to look and she swiftly turns the photo.

She groans as she slips yet another keepsake in her hidden pocket. You smile as she leans her head on your shoulder, which to anyone else would look like she's just cuddling up to you, but you know better. So you lean really close to her ear and whisper, "Are you hard baby?"

She simply nods her head. Thank God she fell in love with a decently poofy dress that doesn't show the contours of her dick. Especially since most people don't know about her little friend down there, not that it's any of their business, but they don't know because she always tucks it for events and missions. However, most of the main Avengers know, having all walked in on you two at least once. So, you walk to your table and sit down so she can have a break. You giggle at her when she's taking a few breaths and say, "What? You act like you haven't seen me naked before."

She glares at you and says, "No, it's not that. It's the fact that my lovely beautiful wife keeps catching me off guard, and might I also add the fact that she is so incredibly hot that I can barely handle myself?"

This makes you blush softly, and she smiles at you. You two share a sweet moment even through the dirty part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully Nat has had a few minutes for her... stuff to calm down, because Wanda picks up the mic and starts speaking, "I'd like to make some toast please."

You both giggle at the joke she stole from Agnes in Despicable Me 2, one of the movies that brought both you and Wanda childlike comfort during hard nights, while everyone else quiets down for the speeches. Wanda continues, "We are going to start our speeches now, so could Melina and Alexie please come up?"

Both of Natasha's parents stand by you and Melina starts, "I was not in Natasha's life for a very long time, so I don't feel like I am in a position to give a grand speech about yada yada this and that, but I do want to say, from the moment I saw you Natasha, I knew you were good. I knew you would become successful, and I knew you would excel in life. I am so happy that you have found love with Y/n, because you two are the perfect match, and I could not be more honored to be your mother-in-law Y/n."

She passes the mic to Alexie who, up until now, has had a stern face on. "Natasha, Melina already said all of the words I had for you, but she did not speak on this. Y/n, when I first met you I thought that you were never going to marry my daughter. I didn't think you were worthy of such a woman as Natasha, but as you got to know me more, my view on you changed. You kept pushing with her family even when you could have lost hope on us. You proved that you are willing to do anything it takes to get her, and I now see that you are more than worthy of Natasha's love."

He turns into a sobbing mess before he can finish anything else, and their words make you cry, but you try to keep from sobbing since you spent so much on your makeup. Then the speakers continue to go up and give their speech, make you cry, and then move on.

Clint gets the mic eventually and he takes a big breath and then starts, "When I met Natasha, I was on a mission to eliminate her. I was about to take the shot when we made eye contact, and something in me said no. I just could not pull the trigger, because what I was told I was going to be killing was an assassin, a robot, a tool. What I saw that day was anything but those things. I saw a girl who needed out, who was hurting, and that day turned into one of the best days of my life. We hid in vents for so long making sure that she was safe from the people who had her. We did nothing but play tic-tac-toe, rock paper scissors, and plan. We planned on how I was going to tell Fury that I did the exact opposite of what he told me to do. In reality I was actually more scared of Agent Hill, she's very scary, but I digress... All I really need to say is, as an archer, whenever people ask what the best shot I ever took was, I am honored to say it was the one I didn't take."

When Clint hands the mic over, there is not a single dry eye in the whole venue. Clint goes to Nat, and she hugs him so tight you think that he might die from lack of air. When they pull away, she kisses his cheek and whispers something in his ear, while he wipes her tear away and nods his head. He goes back to his seat and Wanda steps up to start her yap session.

"Y/n/n, when we met at the compound, there was something about you that was different than everyone else, you seemed so familiar, and I just could not pin it. We became great friends, but it took me about four months to realize why you seemed so familiar to me. One day when I was hanging out in your room, you opened your jewelry box in front of me and showed me a bracelet. It had little beads on it that said W+(Y/f/i). I burst into tears when it hit me. This girl,"

She points to you before she continues, "Was the girl that saved my life. We were friends from way back when we still lived in Sokovia. We had made these matching bracelets the day that we lost our families. It was also the day I lost her. Or so I thought. We were all hanging out in the living room together when it happened. Y/n felt shaking from the first few bombs and she told me and Piet to hide under the bed while she went to find her parents and make sure they were safe. Then the bombs went off. I thought we lost her. So we mourned both our parents and my best friend that day. It wasn't until I found out it was her all these years later that I knew she was also safe from the bombings but was taken. HYDRA took her from our lives, but the universe brought her back to us, and I could not be more grateful for her. I owe my life to her, and I have made sure she knows how deserving she is of happiness as her best friend, and now it is Natasha's turn, as her wife, to take what I have done and take it a step further."

This time it was you who is bawling; Wanda goes to hug you, and she whispers into your ear, "I'm so, so proud of you." Which only makes you want to cry more, but you pull away and take a labored breath as Wanda cleaned up your face.

All of the main avengers and people in your lives have gone except for Steve, who is finishing up.

Steve hands the mic to Wanda and walks to you and Natasha to "hug" y'all, but in reality he is actually slipping yet another polaroid into Nat's hand.

She rolls her teary eyes at him and you both, and takes a glance at it before having to look away knowing her erection will just come back.

You smirk at her and say, "Ooh that one was fun, but you'll like the next one even more."

She groans and says, "There's more?"

You giggle softly and say, "Why of course there is more my love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda decided to add a little fun into the night and do the who knows them better game. What you do is you sit on a chair and Natasha sits with her back to you and you both have a shoe that represents one or the other, and whoever did the thing first you raise that shoe to see if you know each other.

So, Wanda starts with the first question on the list she made, "Who said 'I love you' first?" Both of you raise your shoe and they all 'aww'

Wanda passes the mic to Tony who asks, "Who is the clingiest."

The crowd is surprised when both of you raise Natasha's shoe. The mic is passed to Yelena who says, "Which of you is the most romantic."

This time, Natasha raises your shoe, and you raise hers, which makes everyone giggle a bit. The game continues to entertain the crowd, and Kate has the last question, "Who loves Halloween more?"

This one is tough since you both love Halloween so much, but you ultimately decide on Natasha, and Natasha puts up both shoes to signify it being a tie.

The game is finished now, and you both tell Kate, that the Halloween one was probably the hardest to choose. Though, you know it is about to be Natasha.

Kate laughs and hugs Nat and pats the next picture into Natasha's chest before walking away casually. Natasha's face heats up at the mere thought of your next image and she secretly takes a look at this one.

This Picture has her jaw on the floor. She loves the scream movies entirely too much, and the image of you in a sexy cosplay is seemingly never going to leave her mind. She can feel her cock spring back to life, and it almost hurts at how hard she is.

Natasha seems to snap and can't take it anymore, so she grabs your hand and starts taking you to the bathroom without trying to raise too much suspicion which is exactly what you knew would happen, so you look over at Carol and nod your head to begin her mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nat pulls you into the hallway and can't even make it to the bathroom before she has her lips on yours. You kiss her back softly but push her away before she can go too far. "Natty baby, what do you think you're doing?"

She tries to kiss you again, but you push her off of you again, "Detka, I don't think I can make it much longer."

You fake pout and say, "But you promised! You pinky promised me we wouldn't leave early."

She stomps her foot throwing a bit of a tantrum and says, "I promised before I knew you were pulling this shit!"

You smirk and say, "Come on baby, only thirty more minutes, you can make it. Just think, if you wait, the reward is going to be so much better, yes?"

She grumbles under her breath and Carol comes in right on queue saying, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything ladies."

Both of you shake your heads and Carol comes by to say, "Y/n, Wanda is looking for you."

You smile at her and thank her before kissing Nat on the cheek and leaving swiftly. Natasha and Carol stay behind and chat a bit. "You knew about this bullshit?"

Carol smirks and says, "What bullshit?"

Natasha groans and then Carol says, "Of course I am in on the bullshit, I hope you like this one." She pats Natasha's shoulder and then says, "Oh, lighten up, at least you have something to look forward to when you leave tonight.

Natasha already has her hand out ready for the next picture of you and Carol carefully puts it into her hand before swiftly exiting the hallway.

After Natasha sees this one, she thinks she might burst. She can't help but stare right into the eyes of the most beautiful person in all the multiverses. But she also stares at your body as well.

A thought pops into her mind and she thinks, the bathroom is right there and I still have a few minutes...

but ultimately she shakes her head knowing that if you found out she jerked off before your honeymoon, you'd surely not let her cum the rest of the time, so she walks back into the reception.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the people have left by now, only a few stragglers, the avengers, and close family are left. You both decided to keep the drinking on the low for this night, not wanting any unplanned things to happen.

Both of you are very big on consent, and the fact that you can't consent when under the influence. You also both know that you want to remember tonight in a good way.

You're having a few slow dances with some of your friends and Wanda is the last one before the last dance with you and Natasha. Wanda spins you around one last time as the song closes out, and Nat is waiting for you to be handed over to her.

Wanda smiles at Natasha and goes to hug her, while they are having a sweet moment together, she smirks and says, "I hope you're ready for this one, I had so much fun taking these pictures."

Nat rolls her eyes and lets Wanda slide the last photo into her hand, but not before saying , "So you're the side hoe?"

Wanda giggles and nods her head, "Did you expect any less?"

Natasha sighs and shakes her head, "I'm glad it was you and not some random person."

Wanda smiles and nods her head saying, "She definitely saved the best for last."

Raising her eyebrows suggestively at Nat while she walks off, you walk up to Nat and hold out your hand saying, "You ready for our last dance?"

"Oh, I'm more than ready, just let me see this last one."

Natasha almost can't tear her eyes away from this one, she is immediately painfully hard, and you have to take the polaroid and put it into her pocket yourself saying, "Natty, people are watching, we have to dance one last song so we can leave."

Nat nods her head and stars slow dancing with you, but you know exactly what to do. You rest your head on her shoulder and make your bodies slightly uneven so that your thigh/hip area is slightly pressing into Natasha's hard on, making her whimper into your ear.

You can't deny it, you're incredibly wet right now, but Natasha has had a much longer night than you, and you're only going to make it seem longer. You lean close to her ear and whisper softly. To everyone left, it looks like you're just saying something cute to her, but you know better. "Baby, when we leave, we are not having sex in the limo. It is our wedding night, and I don't care how hard you are, we are waiting the ten-minute car drive, got it?"

The way you speak is so soft and tender, yet it is firm and leaves no room for complaints. So Nat lets out a soft whine, but she ultimately nods her head and says, "Okay."

You smile and continue to feed words into her mind, "You're so hot, it's hard to not just jerk you off right here baby. I swear when we get home, I'm letting you do whatever you want to me."

Natasha's knees almost give out, but she somehow manages to keep dancing with you, and you both spin each other around. You two have a sweet moment again, temporarily ignoring your hunger for each other, dancing around the floor until the end of the song where you start waving goodbye to everyone and you head off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to the villa you're both staying at before your flight tomorrow to your honeymoon destination is full of teasing and groping. You start massaging Nat's cock through her dress, and she moans softly and whispers at you with pleading eyes, "Detka, I- I thought you said no sex in the limo?"

You smirk and say, "I said no sex. I didn't say I wouldn't touch you, but I guess if that's what you want."

You take your hand off of her with a knowing smirk. She widens her eyes and huffs at you, "I don't know which is worse, you touching me, or not touching me."

You chuckle at her and shrug your shoulders, "You wanted to play by the rules. I don't make them, but I do listen to you... sometimes."

Nat snorts at your quip and you guys laugh a little, being a cute couple. Then, the limo pulls into the beautiful villa where all your things were previously put for your weeklong honeymoon, and you nod your head at Happy, who in turn, smiles and says, "Have fun! Wear protection!!"

Both of you laughing at him, and Nat starts puling you toward the door. You open the door and go to walk in, but Nat's hand pulling you backward makes you fall into her. "Nat what are you doing?"

She smiles and picks you up bridal style, and carries you carefully inside, closing the door softly before setting you down and she abruptly shoves you against the door, her lips immediately on yours. "You don't know how bad I need you right now dorogoy."

You smile into the kiss letting her have a moment of dominance before you take it back. "Come on dear, let's go upstairs and get these damn dresses off."

You both carefully undress with each other's help, soft touches here and there, before hanging up your dresses knowing you'll be too tired to do so later.

All Natasha can do is stare at your body, the white lingerie making the experience even better. You grab her face to make her give you her attention, and you give her a dominating stare and a contrasting soft toned voice, "Be a good girl and lie down on the bed please baby."

She quickly leaves your hold as you go to the closet and grab the things you set out for her. She usually takes charge, but sometimes you like to have your fun. This special occasion has you feeling dominant.

You saunter over to her with a set of ropes and a new toy she has never seen before. She furrows her eyebrows before you shush her, reminding her not to worry, your tone taking a temporary softness. "Alright dear, you know we have safe words. I know they were originally set up for me, but you know that you can use them too right?"

She softly nods her head at you with excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of what you could do to her.

You smile softly, running your fingers softly along her torso. "Can you remind me what they are, so I know you remember?"

She nods her head and recalls your safe word system. "Red is stop completely, yellow is slow down or need a break, and green is go."

You nod at her softly and say, "Good job dear, now can you tell me a color?"

She smiles softly and says, "Green. So, very green."

You chuckle softly tilting your head back and say, "Okay, I'm gonna tie you up now, is that alright?"

She nods her head with quick, "yes" to follow.

You sit just below her hard cock while tying her arms to the bed, knowing she is staring at how close you are. You lean forward a bit and bump it softly on accident, but ignore it otherwise.

Once you're done tying her arms up you move to her legs and start explaining what you're going to do. "I got a new toy just for you tonight, I know you've already seen it, aren't you excited?"

She nods but softly says, "What is it?"

You finish tying her leg and look up at her with a devious look in your eyes. "You're going to find out soon, but first..." You crawl up to her member sticking up so high, and you smirk with your lips so close to it, "I have to get you ready."

You lean down and softly lick her tip, knowing she likes that, and then you slowly take her whole length in your mouth. Gagging at how far back she reaches, which in turn, makes her twitch in your mouth. You bob your head on her for a bit longer before pulling away. A string of saliva and precum goes from your lips to her tip and she whines. You slap her thigh and harshly say, "Quit your bitching, I've barely started and you're all needy for me."

She goes to defend herself, "But you were teasing me all night.'"

You glare at her and say, "oh yeah? If you want me to stop teasing you, then i suggest you listen and stop whining."

She nods her head almost letting a whimper out, but she composes herself while you reach behind you to grab the new toy you mentioned. "Natty, I got you this, it's gonna make you feel so good."

You hold up a fleshlight and she widens her eyes knowing it will feel good. You start to rub her prepared cock onto the opening and say, "Are you okay with this darling? Do you want me to make you feel good?"

She nods her head but quickly corrects herself with a "yes ma'am" when she sees your eyes.

You slide the fake pussy over her shaft and she tightens her fists as she feels the tightness overwhelm her. Moans start pouring out of her when you start sliding it up and down with a slow pace that picks up quickly.

After only three minutes of silent torture, she feels the knot in her about to explode and she says, "Y/n please, can I cum?"

You look at her with an evil smile knowing this is exactly where you wanted her. "Oh baby, is this making you feel good? You need to cum so fast?"

She nods her head aggressively and you almost groan at how submissive she looks right now. "Oh, does this make you feel so good? Better than me?"

She widens her eyes knowing she is in a trap now. Your hand still moving the toy up and down her dick. "N-no! Y-you."

You cut her off mocking her, "y- y- you what? You want to cum so badly because the toy is making you feel better than your wife ever could?"

Her hips jerk when she hears you say 'wife' and she moans out a no, but you're relentless, slowing down the toy to make the pleasure unbearable, knowing this slow pace won't make her cum.

You lean close her her and say, "If you want to cum so bad then do it, but remember, if you cum now, you won't get to cum in my pretty little pussy for the rest of the week."

Tears prick in her eyes at the thought of going a whole week without being able to feel you around her and she says, "No! Please no! I need you!"

You smirk and say, "Then don't cum until I say you can slut."

You pick up the pace again making her moan and jerk her hips, you know she can only last so long without exploding, but you're testing her limits tonight. She suddenly gets another overwhelming urge to cum again so she is trying to do anything to get you to let her or stop. Words start flowing out of her mouth desperate for either a release or a break, "Please! I need to cum so bad! I'm begging you. Please mommy! I've been so good, I just want to cum!"

You frown and slow down a bit while tucking some of her sweaty hair behind her ear, knowing that Natasha only calls you mommy when she is feeling really submissive, so you check on her a bit, her whining at the pace decreasing, "I know darling, I just need you to honestly give me a color."

She quickly blurts out, "Green! Please mommy!"

You smile at her confirmation, and pick up the pace once again, "Oh baby, mommy is just making you feel so good right now, isn't she?"

Natasha nods her head but lets out a yelp when you slap her thigh, "Wring answer. It's this toy making you feel good. You love the thought of fucking this thing. You're just such a dumb little slut because you want to cum so bad into it. It's like you have your big cock in another girl's pussy. You want that? You want your dick in another girl and not your wife?"

She shakes her head again, words spewing out of her at a thousand words per minute "No mommy! please I need you! I need your pussy so bad! I'm so close!"

You glare at her and pump harder slightly squeezing the fleshy toy when you see some precum leak out the hole in the top so that she feels it tighter. "Then you're going to hold it like a good girl. I know you can make it a little longer baby."

She finally lets tears fall from her eyes at the pain of having to hold back to listen to you, but after a little bit you soften up and decide to swiftly pull the toy off of her, which in turn makes her raise her voice at you crying for stimulation, "No mommy! Please not again! I can't take it! I can't!"

You hush her getting into position slightly hovering over her red-hot dick. "Shh shh honey, I know I know, Mommy's right here baby, she just needs to adjust to you really quickly and then we'll keep going alright?"

You sigh as you take her whole length into your pussy, Nat whines and her hips jerk involuntarily, making you moan softly. You lean down to kiss her softly and then start bouncing up and down making a lewd noise come from Natashas throat. You chuckle and say, "You like that baby? Is it better than the toy? Come on don't be shy now, tell me baby."

She nods her head, trying to find the words in her mushy brain, "Yes mommy," she huffs out with an exasperated breath, "I love you so much detka, you're so much better than the toy, I only want to make you happy."

You pout at the fact that even though she's so terribly desperate for you, she still wants the best for you. You also notice the lack of the word 'mommy' and it instead being replaced with 'detka' indicating that she is slightly more in control and less submissive now.

You continue to bounce and thrust you hips into hers which makes moans rip out of the both of you. You can feel Nat twitching inside of you a clear indicator that she wants to come so quickly, her last orgasm having been torn from her grasp. You tilt her head down from it's thrown back position to have her look at you. The look of pure love and need in her eyes making you swoon. "Hey darling, you're doing so good for me, I'm gonna keep going, okay? You can cum inside me at any time."

She pouts at your tone, and says, "Can you please be rough with me? I liked it."

You smirk at her confession, you became tender when you thought she was done with it, but apparently, she still has some in her. So, you nod your head and whisper seductively, "Okay, if you want rough then you're gonna have to beg me to cum."

Excitement reinstalls in her features as you start to almost jump up and down on her cock, and she groans saying, "i can't hold it much longer, please let me cum!"

You moan when she hits a spot in you, honestly, you're quite impressed with how long she's made it. You're already close which means she made it at least double if not triple the time you thought she would. So you smirk down at her and shake your head. "Not good enough baby, you've got to do better than that

Your words being broken up since you've started moaning so much. She goes to beg again but you untie her quickly and keep talking, "Touch my clit baby, be a good girl and help me out please."

She immediately starts rubbing circles on your clit, ignoring her sore wrists, bringing you to the brink, which makes you clench down on Nat. This sensation makes her stutter, but she persists, determined to make you proud. "Please, I- you- ugh... You feel so good squeezing me; I feel like I'm gonna explode."

You nod your head to let her continue, "You're so fucking tight and warm, nothing could compare to you. Nothing, nobody could make me feel as good as my wife can."

This makes you clench extra hard and a guttural moan slips past your lips which sets Natasha off. She empties her seed into you, and this triggers your orgasm. All you hear is a weak, "I'm coming" fall past her lips and you feel her ejaculate into your pussy.

The feeling of euphoria surrounds the both of you as you both ride out your highs. Eventually you slip off of her, falling beside her trying to catch your breath.

Natasha, however, is so blissed out that you come back to earth and untie her before she can even see or think again. The first thing she says is, "Wow, just wow."

You giggle and cuddle up next to her saying, "You did so good for me baby, I'm so proud of you."

She smiles and turns on her side saying, "Thank you baby."

You smile as she leans in to kiss you. After sharing a soft kiss, she tries to deepen it, and moves to get on top of you, but you softly push her away saying, "You don't have to do another round baby, I pushed a lot of your limits today."

She sits up and glares at you saying, "It's our wedding night, not just mine. So, of course I'm going to take care of you baby. You must be crazy to think otherwise. I'm not just going to let you sleep without coming."

You giggle at her and she quirks a brow at you saying, "What's so funny huh?"

You smile and say, "I guess you were so out of it that you didn't even notice."

She frowns and says, "Notice what?"

You smile giving her a soft peck on the cheek, "Natty, I already did cum. In fact, I came so hard that I even squirted a bit onto you."

You point down at her abdomen which does, in fact, have your essence all over it. This realization making her blush, "Oh... I guess I was really out of it huh?"

You laugh at her timidness and say, "I don't know about you, but I can't walk..."

She smiles and gets up to go clean herself before coming back with a washcloth to clean you as well. Her tender hand making sure to not hurt you or make you uncomfortable from being so sensitive. Then she comes back to cuddle with you on her chest, and you whisper into her ear, "You did really impress me tonight, you know?"

She smiles and sighs, "Really? How so?"

You look into her eyes and say, "You lasted way longer than I expected you to, especially after the whole night of teasing."

She smirks and says, "Maybe I've leveled up since I have a wife now..."

This time it is your turn to blush, and say, "I guess that could be true."

She smiles as she settles into an almost sleep state, "Yeah, definitely true. My wife makes me a better person, in every way. I love you."

You smile and whisper an 'I love you too' back to her only to find that she is already asleep. Before you drift off to dream land you smile softly, thinking about her words.

"My wife."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Holy shit indeed. this thing took forever. I actually have no idea how long it is or how many words but I do know that I am done with this finally T-T... College is kicking my butt already, so I'm sorry if I post less. Please tell me what you thought of this! it makes my day to see people liked my work.

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist!!! I hope you had a good time reading :3

[azulpitlane]

vicious I ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader, a little of charles leclerc x reader🫣 summary: lando's fans always attack you yet he does nothing to defend you, inspired by vicious by sabrina carpenter notes: if youre the anon that requested this sorry it took so long lol! but you were so sweet ty masterlist, part two

yourusername

liked by maxfewtrell, charles_leclerc and 1,829,392 others

yourusername lil getaway

view all comments

user wait is she dating lando??

user there's been rumors of them dating for months but neither of them have confirmed user hopefully not lol

user i had no idea she went on this trip

user yeah cause lando never posts her or even likes her posts lmfaoaofda

user am i the only one that finds her annoying...

user nooo everyone else does lol shes always leeching off lando

yourbff ur perfect babe liked by yourusername

user pls dont let this be a hard launch🧎‍♀️lando get UP

user of course she has to post lando🤣she needs him for the likes

maxfewtrell spent more time on the ground than actually skiing

yourusername SHHHH it was my first time

user why are all these comments about lando?? im only looking at her😍

f1gossip

302,837 likes

f1gossip Y/n Y/l/n spotted in Bali celebrating New Years at Martin Garrix's show, possibly with Lando Norris. The two have sparked dating rumors for a few months now but no confirmation has been made from either of them.

view all comments

user we might have to start accepting that theyre dating☹️

user I REFUSE

user wait im new to the fandom, whys everyone hating on y/n i love her music...

user shes always posting lando for attention and he clearly has no interest in her, he doesnt even like her posts user plus his ex >>>>>>> y/n

user she doesnt deserve him, he needs someone lowkey and y/n is such an attention whore

user not surprised shes there, always leeching on him

user right like girl give him space, he aint yours

user im a y/n defender idgaf. everyone in these comments are just jealous liked by yourbff

user yikes... user defending someone who needs a man to stay relevant lol ok

user i miss luisinha😭

user im convinced theyre still dating and shes using lando for pr

y/n hey lan, i safely made it back to the hotel

lando 👍

y/n i still dont understand why you wanted me to leave early though, its not even midnight :(

lando y/n, we talked about this. there was lots of paparazzi there and if they saw us together on midnight they would think we're dating

y/n we ARE dating... why are you acting like we arent?

lando yk what i meant im just trying to protect you from the craziness that comes from dating me baby

y/n im already getting hate, hows hiding me any different?

lando lets just not do this tn. yk how much worse its gonna get it if we confirm anything listen i love you, isnt that enough?

y/n yeah, ily too

lando ill see you later tn❤️

lando baby where are you? come on it was a drunk mistake, yk i only love you it was just martins friend, you know her

y/n oh the girl you told me not to worry about?

lando it didnt mean anything why are you acting like this?

y/n because you fucking cheated. im leaving and im moving out of the apartment

lando please dont, im sorry baby i love you

y/n you say you love me but you can never prove it you hid me away for a whole year, was it so you could hook up with other girls?

lando of course not wth but since there's clearly no trust in this relationship maybe we should end it i wish you the best y/n read

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pietrapilao and 3,295,203 others

yourusername new year same me, wasnt ever the problem

view all comments

yourbff YES WIFEY liked by yourusername

user she unfollowed lando omg.

user WAR IS OVERRRR

pietrapilao out of sight out of mind🧘‍♀️ liked by yourusername

user is this about lando omg...

luisinhaoliveira99 😍😍 liked by yourusername

user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??? user WHEN DID THEY MEET??? user I NEED THE TEA RNNNNNN

charles_leclerc 🖤

user OH?

user what is going on in these comments omg??

user shes finally realized lando will never date a girl like her

user hahaha fr she finally deleted all her posts with him user probably gonna go for piastri now🤣

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 3,294,234 others

yourusername took some time off music but dont worry, im back and ready to prove i dont need anybody to stay successful

vicious is out now💌

view all comments

user OH NOWWW LANDO LIKES HER POST

yourbff sooo back baby

user this has to be about lando...

user the lyrics are heartbreaking omg

user you all owe her a big apology for the way you treated her

charles_leclerc you look good in red this comment has been deleted

charles_leclerc love it! this comment has been deleted

charles_leclerc congrats on the new song!!

taylorswift 💌❤️

user yall better not start switching up!! if you were hating on her, stay away

user are we just going to ignore charles' deleted comments??

user bro was NERVOUS

user we dont know if this is about lando!! they were just friends

user you toxic lando fans need to stay away🙄 she was never seen with anyone else this past year so its clearly about him. hes not some saint you paint him out to be user exactly!! you guys are acting like you know him

user her shirt saying loyal🫣thats gotta be a diss

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, martingarrix and 630,402 others

landonorris pretty vicious life im living rn

view all comments

user the caption??? the hard launch??? oh thats not-

maxfewtrell bro. no.

user his own best friend doesnt approve of his behavior😬

user this winter break drama is something else

user lando i cant keep defending you. why would you caption it this.

user IS THAT NEW YEARS KISS GIRL ON THE THIRD SLIDE???

user yess i found her @ shes martin garrix's friend and she was at that party

user anyone else notice luisa unfollowed him??

user she chose her side HAAHAH user pretty ironic cause so many fans were comparing y/n to her and now theyre friends🤣

user whys everyone mad?? its his private life why do you guys care

user oh so now you guys are giving him privacy?? but when he was rumored to be with y/n you were hating...the hypocrisy

yourbff alexa play obsessed by mariah carey🥱

user OOP user the girls are fightingggg

user not even a y/n fan but this was a bit unnecessary...

user "you dont feel remorse, you dont feel the effects" 🫠

f1gossip

240,520 likes

f1gossip Despite hard launching their relationship just one week ago, Lando's new girlfriend has been spotted getting cozy with a different guy! The leaked pictures have already caused for her to go private on all social medias😬

view all comments

user karma is A GOD

user i know y/n is having a good day today

user omfg poor lando :(

user womp womp

user i bet he is regretting his decisions rn😭

user y/n nation won today, ln4 nation taking L after L

user we cant catch a break😩

user WHAT IS GOING ON WITH LANDO RN

user craziest winter break yet jeez

Instagram Messages

charles_leclerc hey y/n! i know we havent spoken much but ive seen how lando treated you the few times you were at races and i apologize for never speaking on it i just wanted to tell you you're a great person and your music is so amazing if you ever need anything please just shoot me a text!

landonorris y/n you blocked my number? im sorry about everything baby can we please just talk?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxfewtrell and 4,204,214 others

yourusername im soooo sorry for your loss😊

my new single feather is out now!! special thanks to @charles_leclerc for helping me out in the music video, had so much making it <3

view all comments

user this mv was so hot omg

user I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS BUT I LOVE

user i know a certain someone is FUMING

luisinhaoliveira99 on repeat already!!

yourusername 💋💋 user im convinced luisa reached out after she saw all the comparisons with her and y/n and they became besties user wait that makes so much sense

user f1 twitter is going insane rn

user Y/N NATION KEEPS WINNING

pietra.pilao AHH youre so talented bby liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc had the best time on set with you❤️

yourusername ❤️ user i ship it........

user i want them both

user ofc now shes going for another driver🙄

user oh you guys are OBSESSED with her, get a job user y/n still has them mad LOL

user l**** would never agree to anything like this

user im literally never getting over this, ive watched it 5 times in a row already

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell and 940,240 others

landonorris a toast to my real friends

view all comments

user if this is a charles sneak diss i will cry

user we got carlando content....but at what price

user oh he definitely got blocked by y/n😭

user dw we're on your side lando

user who is we?

user just take the L and move on bro

user the way 2 songs got everyone to switch up on lando HAHA

user not just that but his shady posts too

charles_leclerc posted a story

Replies

user the girls are OFFICIALLY fighting oh gosh

user next season is going to be interesting...

user my roman empire

user IS THIS A HARD LAUNCH???

user what is happening.

user PARENTS

[cheriladycl01]

First time - Lando Norris x Innocent! Reader

Plot: Lando finds out his girlfriend is more innocent than he ever thought and that turns him on hard core.

Warnings: SMUT Innocence Knik etc MINORS DNI 18+

When Lando first started dating you he knew you were pretty innocent and oblivious to the world around you.

The first time he noticed it was when he first met you. You were in a club and he sat back watching you the whole night, run around like mother hen after your friends who ... arguably weren't being good friends to you and were using you as their sober ride home.

You were making sure your friends had clean drinks straight from the bartender and handing them tissues or hand gels when they touched anything dirty.

Your friends had left you that night, leaving Lando to take the opportunity to come and introduce himself. He wasn't shocked to find out this was your first time in a club, that you hated it and wanted to go home.

"So, what brings you to Monaco?" he'd asked you and you gave him this big gummy grin that he couldn't help but fall in love with.

"My friends and I are on a girls trip celebrating graduation!" you answered, trying not to yell incase the music went quiet but loud enough so he could hear.

"And that's why they've all abandoned you?" he chuckled walking you over to the bar.

"Yeah, I think they just have different ideas of fun than I do, we saw some really beautiful museums earlier which was my idea!" you smile thinking back to the earlier part of the day which you had favoured.

"Drink?" he asks you and you smile nodding your head.

"I'll have a Coors again and ..." he says naming his beer before looking at you.

"I'll just have a Spite please!" you order in French from the bartender who smiles at you.

"You can order something more expensive like alcohol i don't mind!" he smiles down at you, only for you to shake your head.

"I erm, don't drink! I've never drank alcohol actually!" you smile, pretty proud of you lifestyle.

"Yeah, I used to say I didn't drink and then my friends introduced me to it. Never been the same since!" he frowns in a joking manner making you laugh.

"You're funny!" you giggled.

You guys talked for the rest of the night, until it was the closing hours of the club and you had to part ways.

He'd regretted not getting your number.

The next time he met you was a complete coincidence. He was travelling around and caving in Vietnam. You were there building sustainable housing on your year after graduating. He knew it was you right away and everyone was so confused when he went running of to go say hello to you.

After that he got your number. He had to secure it after a second chance of meeting you which he'd been considering was gods gift to him.

After a few dates and texting back and forth for a while you started dating.

"Y/N, can we talk about something serious?" he'd asked you and you nodded coming to sit next to him on the sofa in his apartment.

"Yeah what's wrong?" you ask him with a frown thinking you'd done something wrong.

"How would you feel, about becoming my girlfriend..." he asks before presenting you with a little gift bag in papaya orange that had chocolates, flowers, a little card and a pair of expensive Cartier earrings. Not that you knew that until you got back to the hotel you were currently staying in and opened them up.

"Oh my! Yes! Please" you replied happily and he was trying so hard not to laugh at your super polite and formal answer to his ... well what now felt like a proposition

You were so happy and getting to spend time with Lando was everything! You came to races and everyone adored you, not just the people in McLaren with Lando but all the TV presenters, the fans and the other teams.

Lando was confused that after having dated for three months you hadn't done anything within a sexual nature. Not that it was an issue for him but he was just used to his girlfriends being bold and upfront compared to you, who was a little shyer and more reserved.

He knew he just needed to be a grown up and talk to you about it but he didn't think he could have this conversation with you. It felt wrong almost.

"Baby, can we talk?" Lando says patting the sofa while you were in the kitchen starting to prep for the lunch you were going to make the both of you.

"Yeah, what's wrong? Did I do something?" you ask looking at him carefully and taking a seat next to you.

"No, no not at all. It's kinda the opposite actually!" he laughs at his own joke not thinking you'd take notice of it.

"I haven't done something? I - did i forget to do my dished? I'm so sorry if i did!" you say looking back to the sink frantically thinking you'd missed your glass of orange juice and bowl of cereal you'd had this morning.

"No no, and don't think of it that way. I was just joking around - erm, I just wanted to say we've been dating for a while now and I was hoping we could start to be more intimate?" he asks holding your hand and your eyes widen and your cheeks redden.

"I- erm" you start to stutter and he rubs his thumb over your hand.

"We don't have too... if you don't want too! But I just wanted to ask!" he rushes out not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"It's just that ... I've never ever done anything like that!" you say looking at him with those innocent doe eyes that made him go crazy.

"Like never ever?" he asks in shock, you were a gorgeous girl and even when he was out with you, guys would always be coming up to you, making conversation and flirting with you.

Now that he thought about it, you never actually could tell when you were being lightly flirted with. You were very oblivious too all moves guys made, unless they were literally asking for you number.

"Mmmm no, I mean ... you know you're like my first boyfriend right?" you ask him, cocking your head to the side.

"Wait, you've never been with anyone else other than me?" he asks, and fights to keep the smirk off his face. There was something so dirty, about the fact that you were so pure and untouched, and that it turned him on that he would be the first, and hopefully last to show you everything he could.

"No" you whisper and he looks at you, before cupping your face and pulling you in for a soft kiss.

"Will you let me show you, everything I want to?" he asks looking at you, brushing some of your hair behind you so he has full view of your collarbone.

"Yes..." you breathe out, feeling flutters in your stomach at both his words and actions.

"Now?" he asks with a little gulp, hoping the answer would be a yes.

"Yes, show me now Lan!" you say, climbing onto his lap getting excited about the actions to come.

"Okay, baby. Lets slow down" he laughs holding you in place. He shifts about so he's comfortable and starts to run his hands over your body. Little goosebumps rise to the surface coating your arms as his fingers roam across your collarbone, down over your clothed boobs and down until he had a firm grip on your hips.

"As much as I like your wearing my shirt baby, I'm going to take it off you now, is that okay?" he asks looking you in the eyes and you nod, looking down a little intimidated by the intense eye-contact.

"Words baby, you gotta tell me" he smiles at you and you smile.

"Yes, you can"

And he does, he fingers brush against you and a groan comes out of his mouth as he see's what he's been missing out on seeing. Your perky tits were currently clad in an orange coloured bra. He didn't know if that was a normal colour for you or if you'd brought it since dating the McLaren driver.

"You are so fucking beautiful" he says looking at you, teasing against the straps of your bra before slowly pulling down each of them, before reaching round the back and unclasping it so it fell off you.

In reflex your hands came up, to cover your exposed chest, it wasn't something you were used too.

"I want to see and touch baby, please let me!" he says softly.

You felt comfortable and confident enough with Lando that you felt like you could show this part of yourself to him, a part that no-one apart from you had seen.

The moment was getting more and more intimate as his hands started to fondle your boobs, pinching squeezing and kneading. Lando learning what you liked from the noises you were making as he continued.

The more intimate it got, the hotter and more impatient you got with the new sensation in you stomach and the slickness and heat building between your legs.

Naturally, your body is craving friction. Your mind is going haywire not really knowing what to do to get the relief its craving. So your body automatically started to grind down on him, and you could feel just how excited he was getting with the large bulge building in his sweatpants.

You could tell it was something he liked too from the little whines and groans that came out overtime pressure was applied.

"I- I want to make you feel good. But I don't know how" you offer and he nods.

"Do you want me to show you?" he asks and you nod. He takes your hand and starts to help you palm him through his joggers, breathy moans coming from him.

"That's it, and when your ready you can take them off" he breathes out softly, not wanting to rush you into anything.

You take him out of his jogger, having a grip on him that was tight and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation.

"That's it baby. Now just run your hand up and down in a fisting motion!" he says, but you make no move to start, his head that was thrown back raises to look at you in question.

"Can you show me?" you ask, wide eyes and he nods, taking your hand that was around him in his as he helps you start to move up and down, showing the pace and grip that he liked. His moans were constantly flowing out now as he let go to grip the edges of the sofa and lean back. You started to go a little faster, before slowly right down and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I heard... from friends that you really like when we use our mouths?" you ask and look at him.

"You dont have to if you don't want to" he groans.

"I- will you enjoy it?" you ask.

"I think i'd enjoy anything you did to me"

"Then i want to do it" you nod and he sits up a little more.

"Okay, get on your knees baby..." he directs and you get to the floor in between his legs.

"You want my help?" he asks and you nod, he takes your hair into a ponytail to keep it out your face.

"Okay, open baby. Remember no teeth baby, it hurts!" he smiles and you start by what you thinks right and go straight in. You gag a little and he pulls you head back from the grip.

"No need to rush hunny. Just start with the head, and then you'll feel a vein on the underside that always feels good, okay? But don't rush to fill your mouth up okay?" he chuckles a little bit as he watches you listen to him.

You start with small movements around his tip, moving your tongue over his slit where pre-cum is leaking out. It was a strange taste that the first few times had your eyes screwing but you slowly got used to it.

You run your tongue along the underside feeling the throbbing vein he was talking about and he went crazy, moaning above you and desperately trying not to thrust up.

You slowly take more and more in your mouth and what you cant fit you decide to use your hands to cover the rest and use the movements you were doing earlier.

"Holy fuck! Are you sure you havent done this before baby?" he asks in shock of how good it feels. Maybe it was just because he was so in love with you that it felt 10x better than he ever had, or maybe you were just a quick learner and good at observing what he liked.

A minute later and he was coming into your mouth, you were quick to swallow all of him and leave his dick with a string of saliva attaching you together.

"Fucking hell baby" he smiles pulling you up onto his lap resting you on top of him, your knees either side of him.

"Was that good?" you ask, shyly. He can only nod as he catches his breathing.

"Your turn!" he smirks, one had on your hip the other one inching up your inner thigh under the skirt you were in. His hands starts to rub your clit through your underwear, and he smiles as your head falls into the crook of his neck and he can feel your breathing pick up against him.

His fingers curl round the edge of your panties pulling them to one side rubbing his fingers through your wet folds.

"Is this all for me baby!" he asks using his free hand to run through your hair as you keep your head in the crook of his neck rocking against his movements. His fingers eventually find there way in, the stretch a little painful at first.

"It's okay, it'll start to feel good in a minute" he says rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Tell me if i should stop yeah?" he asks and you just nod before quickly shaking your head, realising that may have come across as you want him to stop when you really don't now that a coil is building in your stomach and his fingers are feeling incredible inside you.

"Lando!" you whine starting to kiss along his neck and jaw, needing to occupy yourself with something to focus on the growing feeling inside you.

"Fuck baby, the things you do to me!" he exclaims feeling himself get hard again from the whole intimate situation occurring.

In seconds you're letting that coil go, not being able to hold it in any longer and gushing over his fingers. He pulls them out, taking them into his mouth, licking them clean groaning at the taste of you, his gorgeous girlfriend.

"I gotta have a taste of you baby!" he practically whimpers out, before laying you on the sofa and spreading your legs open. You shyly try to shut them but he just tuts.

"Lemme baby please!" he says softly and he stop resisting against his hands. He dives in, nipping and licking at the parts he knows are most sensitive, before devouring you as if your a five course meal. It felt incredible, better than his hands and you legs were shaking the whole time.

Your mind was fuzzy and you could only let out little swear words and his name to let him know just how good he was making you feel.

And only minutes later and you were releasing into his awaiting mouth where he fully cleaned you up. He draw back, a small sheen on his nose and corners of his mouth from your release that had you blushing.

"Lets finish this in the bedroom yeah?" he asks and you nod eagerly as he picks you up tossing your over his shoulder, giving your arse a light tap on the way out that had you giggling and squealing.

He places you gently on the bed hovering over you. He starts to take the rest of the clothing that was left on you off and chucking it to the floor before he starts to take his own off. He reaches into the bedside draw, grabbing a condom and opening it with his teeth before rolling it on.

"You are so beautiful baby! Are you ready?" he smiles, now lining himself up with your entrance. You hesitate for a split second, before remembering its your incredibly kind and beautiful and caring boyfriend Lando above you right now who wouldn't dream of hurting you.

"Yes" you nod, and he slowly starts to push himself into your warm, wet caverns. He moans at the tight feeling of you, kissing across your neck and collarbone trying to help you un-tense a little.

"Baby, you gotta relax" he guides you, starting to play with your boobs to get you feeling good. He pushes in a little more when he feels that you arent tensing as much and you sigh.

"Woah, your so big!" you exclaim, thinking he'd bottomed out from the stretch as you try regain your breath.

"Baby... hate to break it to you but I'm only halfway inside you" he laughs with a chuckle, nearly loosing his balance on his forearms that he is using to hold himself steady above you.

"What?" you ask opening your eyes too look at your laughing boyfriend.

"Thank you for the compliment though baby, that makes me feel really good about myself" he says honesty before he pushes the full way in, finally bottoming out. You wiggle a little trying to get comfortable before giving him a nod where he starts to move in and out of you.

It starts to progressively feel better and better to the point where you can start meeting his thrusts to make it a little quicker. The sounds in the room are anything but innocent, both of your breathy moans and your high pitched whines when he reaches in between you to rub circles on your clit and the sound of slapping skin.

"Lando fuck! I love you" you cry as the pressure builds up and up.

"I fucking love you too" he breathes out, his thrusts coming a little sloppier.

And soon your both releasing at the same time as he pulls you in closer to him, almost laying all his weight on you.

"I'm like so glad we had that talk!" Lando laughs pulling himself up to look at you.

"Me too, I cant wait for you to show me more!" you grin pulling him into a kiss making him groan and grab the pillow to put over his face. He was exhausted but ... round 2 sounded like a shout.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.” 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist