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oneirataxia-girl · 1 year ago

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⇝ STORY/ART EXCHANGE -- First "I Love You"

my part of the story/art exchange with the talented and gorgeous @ariparri!! she requested the first "i love you" between her oc Veruca McQuaid and a character from the video game hogwarts mystery Diego Caplan and she gave the green light for me to share this with y'all!! thank you again for doing this trade with me ari!! if you ever need another fic for dieruca just hmu, i'll do it free of charge <33

It was another one of their usual dates -- not that anything with Diego Caplan could be considered usual, but sometimes, Veruca McQuaid appreciated the familiarity of a red carnation and the stunning smile of her charming handsome man more than any surprise said handsome man could cook up in his clever head.

By sometimes, she meant all the time. Just like how her head rested on Diego’s shoulder, tilted up to watch the stars in their never-ending dance, and how in her hair tucked a carnation the color of her cheeks when a certain someone’s charm got too much to handle.

There was a quietness to the couple, a quietness that didn’t need to be interrupted with awkward chuckles and attempts at conversation. Even without sneaking a peek, some part of Veruca knew that Diego was more interested in the light in her eyes than that of the skies, but she kept her gaze on the night sky still, green eyes trained on the cold white glow above, waiting for him to open his mouth.

“Veruca?” Softly uttered, a barely-there ask of her name.

Green eyes left the skies and onto the brown-haired boy beside her.

Coughing, Diego’s fingers tucked a lock of raven-black hair behind Veruca’s ear. An odd expression was etched on his face, a mix of adoration (that was something she saw in her own face when Diego was around), happiness (that too, was often mirrored by her), worry (wait, what?), and something else she wasn’t sure of.

His hand hadn’t left her face yet, Veruca felt her head lean into his warm palm like a reflex, something she knew to do without having to even think about it; and met brown eyes with her green.

That mix of emotions was still there on his face, unguarded and wide-eyed and smiling softly. Diego’s palm squeezed her cheek for a second more, then left her face at the same time as the odd look faded from his face.

She finally found her voice, “Did you want something?”

Her question must’ve been a knife, slicing through the quietness blanketing them, because Diego huffed out a small “heh” of amusement and shook his head quickly.

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

The second time that the look struck was when Veruca sat across from him in a tight-packed cafe, sipping coffee in painted floral china and watching another couple a few tables away from them showing off their abilities of not needing to breathe.

“How long do you think they’ll last?” she smiled at that, placing her cup on its glod-framed plate.

Tapping her cheek in thought, Veruca’s eyes flitted away from the kissing couple, “Five minutes,” her smile widened at the boy whose face held a cheshire cat grin that echoed her own, “what’s your guess?”

Light bounced off Diego’s brown hair as he shook it, “Why would I think about that when you’re here with me?”

Warmth bloomed over her cheeks, heat creeping up her forehead and down her neck. Veruca sipped her tea in reply, hoping that the teacup could hide the lower part of her face -- judging by the smirk that spread over Diego’s face though, it didn’t work.

They were back in Hogsmeade for a date of sorts -- more accurately, Veruca was just back to drop off something for Dumbledore, and her boyfriend, ever the charming suiter, pulled out his puppy eyes and asked for a pre-duel date.

He then linked their arms together and Apparated the both of them to the little town outside Hogwarts before Veruca could even ask what was on his agenda for this little date.

With a smiling sigh, Veruca finished her tea and pressed the heel of her other hand to her cheek, hoping that her hand would chase away the warmth from her face. The crampedness of the little shop didn’t do her any favors; being a weekend, the day brought couples from the school down to Madame Puddifoot’s for a heated cup of tea (and a heated makeout session, but that was neither here nor there). She wasn’t particularly enamored by the frilly pink-washed shop, but since this was a “stroll down the memory lane”, as Diego called the way he held her hand while they tracked down old haunts and memories, she’d agreed to stop in the cafe; after all, they did come here for one of their first -- Veruca wasn’t sure what to call that time when Diego successfully discovered her favorite flower then took her for a walk in the woods and a cup of tea in Madame Puddifoot’s.

A clink of china tugged her back to the lacy tablecloth in front of her. Green eyes glanced up just in time to see that same odd look from their picnic date night reappear in Diego’s chocolate-colored eyes: the mix of happiness, adoration, and worry (she still had no idea why that would show up; was Diego planning a surprise for her and didn’t want her to find out?), and the something she couldn’t read.

Veruca brought her teacup down silently; reaching for Diego’s hand, she wrapped her fingers around his with no problem. The action seemed to tug the boy from his thoughts back to the bustling reality, and he swapped his smirk for a softer, gentler smile.

“Did you know you look really pretty in that outfit?” Came the question before Veruca could ask one of her own.

She glanced down at her clothes: it was her usual attire of a purple top and a floral dress, with the addition of the coat and gloves she would don while doing her job; hardly anything unusual about it, not to mention “really pretty”.

Looking back up, Diego held a red carnation in his hand. Sqeezing hers in the hand that was still interlaced with her fingers, he leaned over to tuck it behind her ear.

“But now you look fantastic.”

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Veruca circled Diego, noting how his body pulled taut in anticipation for her to make a move; she knew her posture mirrored his, her heartbeat crescendoing as she went over the spells she aimed to use in her head once more.

He struck first -- she dodged the bolt of red light, casting her own charm in retaliation.

Multicolored flashes lit the room as she blocked, dodged, and fired spells. A strand of her hair came loose from her messy bun and blocked her vision; she moved to bat it away.

That second of carelessness was all it took.

“Flipendo!”

A grunt escaped her lips as Veruca was knocked off her feet.

A wand barely scraped the skin of her throat.

Silence.

“And that, my dear, is why you should tie your hair tighter.”

Diego stood above her, ready to help her up.

She grabbed his hand readily, pushing the rogue strands of her dark hair back, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

That got a chuckle out of her boyfriend, and he tugged her to the bench outside of the dueling ring.

Sitting down and popping open the cap to her bottle, Veruca gave Diego a quick once-over: it wasn’t obvious, but he was just a little bit nervous. The dueling season had arrived once more, and another match for him was coming soon; she had no doubts about Diego’s capabilities as a duelist -- in fact, Veruca felt sorry for the poor person who was about to get their pride demolished and their ego bruised -- but she knew that apprehension went hand-in-hand with anticipation, and she also knew that the best thing to do when Diego was nervous was to --

“Hey!” His voice held no real malice as Veruca nudged the crook of his neck with the top of her head, “What’s this for?”

Mouth twitching upwards at the smile in his voice, she replied, “It’s bad to think so hard, Caplan; you might die of overheating.”

“Ah,” he laughed, “but that’d require me to not overheat at the sight of you.”

Veruca hid her rapidly heating face by poking Diego’s middle with a soft finger.

At this rate, she would be the one to die of overheating.

He only laughed louder and moved Veruca away from his neck; eyes twinkling, he pressed a chaste kiss on her burning forehead and leaned back on the drab green of the bench. Veruca’s forehead creased lightly as she watched his eyes fixate themselves on something that wasn’t there, the furrows deepening when he showed no sign of pulling himself from the bubble of his presumably-uneasy thoughts.

It wasn’t out of the blue for Diego to be nervous, but it never got easier for Veruca to watch him go into these anxiety-induced bubbles; it was like they were separated by an invisible barrier, one that not even reducto could bring down.

The only thing she could do to help when he got stuck like this was to be here, at his side with his hand in hers, pushing his shoulder-length hair back when it dropped in front of his eyes, to just be a presence that he could lean into, for him to know that he wasn’t alone and that someone just knew that he was going to do well no matter the opponent he was to face.

So, she stayed like that, a quiet pillar of support that Diego could lean on. Veruca was never good with words, but she didn’t need them to let him know that she was there, that she was the shoulder he could lay his head on without eyes to judge him.

After a while, a weight lifted himself from her shoulder.

Veruca turned to meet the eyes of Diego Caplan, eyes the color of coffee and chocolate and the soil that they planted the carnation seeds they’d gotten in, eyes that swirled with a quiet adoration that she was sure he could see in hers as well.

There were some other emotions in those brown eyes too; Veruca wasn’t in the mood to decipher them though.

Veruca was never one for lovey-dovey “It was like the sun came out of the clouds when he smiled”s or “his smile was like an angel actually came down from the heavens”s, but watching Diego’s face slowly grow more animated was actually as if the rain stopped and the gray clouds were chased off by marshmallow-white clouds, and she emotions could only brighten as he did.

And she only beamed brighter when Diego offered her a carnation transfigured from a stray pleat from the rug in the dueling circle, his own grin cheerier than before.

Standing up, Veruca offered her hand to him, “Think you’re ready for another match?”

His hand wrapped itself around hers.

“I’d like nothing more, my dear.”

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Pushing yet another stray lock of her behind her ear, Veruca wondered if she should take up Diego’s advice and ditch the messy bun look -- it was getting irritating to have to brush her hair away every time she made a sudden movement or two.

She probably won’t be changing her hairstyle anytime soon, but it never hurt to browse through some possible options.

But, that was something for another time; right now, Veruca needed to complete the scene she’d set out to create before Diego found her. So she placed the plate of grapes and cherries down on the checkered tablecloth and moved the pair of wine glasses to make sure that they wouldn’t fall and potentially smash into myriads of tiny little pieces.

Pulling out the wine from the basket she brought, Veruca smiled at the label wrapped around the bottle: a bottle from Limmiani wine products, just like the rose wine they drank when they had --

Was it foolish to blush when one was thinking of their first kiss? Veruca was pretty sure it was at least some degree of lame while she fanned herself with her free hand to cool herself down, setting the bottle of wine down and moving on to the loaves of bread and cheeses she stowed in the wicker basket.

The occasion? A celebration, one to celebrate Diego’s win against his opponent in the dueling match. She’d already started preparing this morning when Diego pressed a quick kiss to her cheek for luck and hurried off to do some last-minute preparation, but when Tonks gave her the go-ahead to set out the picnic, she let out a breath of relief that her boyfriend had won yet again and hurried to Westside Park to set up everything.

With a sigh, Veruca sat back on her heels, darting eyes making sure that not a single thing was out of place. It would never do to have spilled wine or food or anything just as disastrous, and she aimed to do everything in her power to prevent it.

A wave of her wand and yellow flickers danced on the walls and floors of the pavilion as orbs of light floated up obediently and settled in various places, illuminating a little circle around the picnic.

“Just like stars,” A voice remarked, one that Veruca turned around immediately at, “Is this the reason you were busy, my dear?”

Diego must’ve changed before he came here, exchanging his dueling outfit for a sleeker, more elegant look that brought out all his best features more than his usual clothes. Veruca threw a hasty glance up at the glowing spheres, sighed a soundless sigh of relief when none of the shining globes seemed to be one second from implosion, then nodded at her boyfriend.

“Do you like it?”

Laughs escaped Diego as he tried to touch one of the orbs with the bouquet of carnations he had in hand, only for it to float even higher, spinning in place as if jeering at his inability to fly like it could, “Like it?” He asked, crossing the gazebo to scoop Veruca in his arms, much to her surprised laughs, “I love it! Just as much as I love you --”

Green eyes widened.

Brown eyes did too, after a second that was crawled for more like a year.

Slowly, Veruca was set down on her feet, Diego’s face now showing that mix of emotions once more, Veruca wasn’t sure if the world suddenly got its noise turned off or if was it just her ears blocking everything but Diego’s words.

And the worry in that look made sense -- Diego didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or feel pressured to say it back.

“-- And you don’t have to say it back, just so you know; take as much time as you need to --”

“Yeah,” Veruca found herself interrupting, nodding her head (her face was probably the same color as the red cherries on the picnic blanket), “Should we continue?”

“Yeah,”

Green eyes met brown, “Yeah.”

They sat on the checkered blanket and Veruca opened the bottle of wine, pouring out a generous portion for both of them. Meanwhile, Diego popped a few cherries into his mouth.

He took his glass with a quiet “thank you” and a small flash of his white teeth. She responded with her own little smile, reaching for a grape herself.

There was a quietness to them, not a completely comfortable one, but it wasn’t completely uncomfortable either. It felt less like a serene bubble and more like a hamster ball, like the stillness between them was a snowball on the top of a mountain, ready to start rolling at the smallest movement.

“Look!”

Veruca peered in the direction Diego pointed.

It was a butterfly, blue wings the color of a sunny sky, weaving through the spheres of light Veruca made, up and up towards the star-speckled sky.

Stars.

Millions of them were scattered throughout the blackness, twinkling like tiny jewels on a ballgown; Veruca didn’t think she remembered another time when the skies were like this.

It was beautiful.

“--, right?”

Green eyes turned to meet brown once more, but the brown of Diego’s eyes was fixed on the tango of the stars; the corners of Veruca’s mouth turned up a little bit.

“Yeah,” She leaned her head on his shoulder, “it is beautiful.”

The snowball melted, leaving only a sphere of peace around her and Diego.

Her head shifted as Diego moved, “I meant it, you know.”

Veruca’s head moved to look up at him with questioning eyes.

He smiled at her inquiring gaze, moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders, “About you taking your time. You don’t have to say it right now, or tomorrow, or even ever; just say it when you’re ready, Veruca.”

She couldn’t help it -- surging up to press a kiss on Diego’s lips, then pressing her forehead to his.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

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Morning rays seeped through the woven threads of the kitchen curtains, soft rays creeping across the room as Veruca took a sip of her coffee, hair still down and mussed from sleep.

The smell of pancakes filled the room, Diego must’ve finished making a batch of them.

“Berries on your pancakes?” He asked, already adding them to a plate.

“Yes please,” Murmured Veruca, frowning at the empty mug in her hand.

Standing up, she moved towards the coffee pot, grabbing another mug from the little mug tree on the counter. Hands gently moving Diego so that she could get to the machine, Veruca found herself smiling at seven am when her boyfriend pressed a quick peck on her forehead.

And she would’ve gotten assaulted by a flurry of even more kisses too, had she not nudged his head away from her and back to the two plates of pancakes on the kitchen counter, “Just trying to get some coffee here.”

“Actually, it’s over there,” Diego chuckled as that quip earn him a soft punch to the arm, “But thanks for getting some for me, my dear.”

“Who says anything about you getting some coffee?”

“I’m pretty sure that Gambat doesn’t need coffee to be cheeky, unlike someone else I know.”

Veruca huffed in mock anger, then finally found her way to the savior of mornings, the coffee machine.

Pouring the drink and adding the creamers and sugars were second nature to her at this point, she didn’t need to think as she stirred the coffee and made her way back to the kitchen table -- so no, she didn’t need to think about the coffees, but rather, Veruca was thinking about something else.

Some part of her thought that the blue butterfly from the night when Diego actually said those three words out loud -- it was an improvement that she could think of that without her face betraying her beating heart -- should’ve been one that she recognized, that she should’ve known what that butterfly meant.

She had no idea what that butterfly meant.

Veruca’s hands placed her mug in front of herself, the other in front of Diego, who said a quick word of thanks as he put down the pancakes on the dining table.

But she did have an idea about something else.

Those three little words -- so much meaning in so simple a sentence -- even the very marrow of Veruca’s magic knew that she felt the same way; her new leopard patronus, the silvery animal that gave her so much surprise when it appeared, could definitely attest to that. But to say that out loud --

“Are you okay, my dear?”

A vase of carnations decorated the kitchen, a vase of flowers that she didn’t even know were her favorite until Diego showed it to her; flowers that he always took the time to get for her because he knew it would make her happy.

“Yeah,” She heard herself say, “I’m just hungry.”

She was here with Diego, he was Veruca’s pillar, and she was his, all because he didn’t stop pursuing her even when she was a complete douche to him.

Three little words.

“Hey, Diego?”

“Hm?”

One huge meaning.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Another beat.

Was it just the blood rushing through her ears or was everything holding its breath, too?

“You love me?”

She thinks she feels the table exhale like she did.

Veruca glanced up into Diego’s eyes, brown meeting green, and nodded.

Outside the window, the sun completely rid itself of its sleepiness as Diego grinned a smile so wide that it stretched ear-to-ear like he was a kid on Christmas day, “Say it again?”

And Veruca knew she was the same, “I love you.”

“Again?”

She laughed, a merry sound that gave even the berries on her pancakes more color than ever, “I love you!”

Somehow somewhere sometime between the giggles and “I love you”s, Veruca found herself trapped in Diego’s arms again.

Brown and green eyes met each other halfway through, and she touched her forehead on his.

“I love you,” It was a whisper this time, a breath that blew the bubble of serenity around them.

Diego’s eyes held no worry as he combed a flyaway strand of raven-black hair from Veruca’s face, “I love you too.”

#writing for dieruca will probably be the only hp crumbs from me adakas #and maybe cardverse hphm but thats it #alvita's writing #ari my beloved

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kinobasel · 21 days ago

Video

vimeo

KHRUANGBIN: A Love International (Official Music Video) from scotty_fingers on Vimeo.

A story of romance, rivalry and, mango.

Writer/Director: Scott Dungate @scotty_fingers Executive Producer: Kerli Teo @kerliteo Producer: Stéphane Février @snomado Director of Photography: Diego Garcia @dieguesz

The Girl: Elizaveta Bunina The Boy: Wayupak Bangkhran The Rival: Nuttawat Sunploy

The Gang: Chananticha Chaipa Laponpaul Ra-in Model Saiboonchuen Nattatapon Ratanaporn Parnpush Saktayawanich Pimpichaya Kaewket Pathomthat Threenork

PRODUCTION COMPANY TAPROD @taprodbangkok CEO: Serge Thimbre Partner & Executive Producer: Louis Ditapichai Producer: Arthur Morel Line Producer: Jade Maciag Partner: Chloe Wisaiket Production Manager: Woruesoln Khongsangchai Production Assistant: Sabaithip Suethong Account Manager: Achana Account Assistant: Lilly 1st AD: Livt Pokinlarpat Set PA: Sorakrit Wattanamongkolsri Art Director: Pongsan Thawatwichian Props Master: Thanawat Sukkanun Bestboy: Nuttapol Yookrua Set: Sarawut Ruprasong Set: Wisrut Attawised Set: Kaiwit Arpronpinyo Driver: Suwat Jaidee Driver: Chaydan Mongkol Casting Director: Thayatorn Pantusintu Casting Assistant: Waraporn Jailee Casting Assistant: Jarintorn Montonpalin Wardrobe Stylist: Tipporn Thammasan Wardrobe Assistant#1: Songphon Phengphetr Make Up Artist: Pathsaran Kanjanwong Make Up Artist Assistant: Bangon Khongjarean Hair Stylist: Rapeepat Ruanthsm Hair Stylist Assistant: Panuphak Duanjaroensri Location Manager: Kitisak Trithanyasap Location Asst: Parcha Masom Drone Operate: Pongphat Pongsanon Drone Assistant: Tawut Komonvatin Drone Assistant: Jakravut Meengam 1st AC for Camera A: Nattapong Phamon 2nd AC: Nuttakit Tanadnangsue VDO Man: Rujiratham Yuttitam RONIN TECH: Issara Kongsuk DIT: Chattawut Supthong Camera Service: Lifeboat Best boy Gaffer: Prasong Kabklangdon Lighting Service: DOP House Key-Grip: Ritchai Phimphalai Grip Service: DOP House Catering: Box meal Craft Service: TUK TEAM - Nittaya Suknuam Medic On Set: Pornphan Tansathit Unit Manager: Sabmahasarn Service: Nuthawut Siriwan Director Van: Noppadol Kumkan TAPROD VAN#1L: Mooyong Casting VAN#1: Petch HMU VAN#1: Kij

EDITORIAL Editorial Company: TRIM @trimediting Editor: Paul Hardcastle @paulhardcastle Assistant Editor: Josh Mannox @joshmannox

VFX VFX Company Selected Works @selectedworks.tv Creative Director: Francois Roisin 2D artists: Wes and Richard Roberts Matte Painting: Amber Frisenda and Kirsty Cutler Online Artist: Dave Wishart Executive Producer: Sean Costelloe Producer: Libby Gandhi Production Assistant: Noa Vuagniaux

COLOR Company: RAREMEDIUM.TV @raremedium.tv Colorist: Mikey Rossiter @mikolour

SOUND DESIGN/MIX Company: FACTORY @factorystudiosuk Sound Design & Mix: Jon Clarke and Andy Isaias Audio Producer: Ciara Wakley

RECORD COMPANY Dead Oceans Management: Dawn White and Leona Chan P&C 2024 Dead Oceans in association with Night Time Stories

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illumiiiz · 2 months ago

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opinions I have about various music-related things. if you wanna discuss/dispute any of these please hmu (I need music friends)

skillet is not bad. their discography as a collective might not be that good, but they’re definitely not bad. go listen to psycho in my head, monster, rise, sick of it, cycle down, victorious, and save me and I dare you to come back and tell me with complete sincerity and a straight face that they suck

whoever says skillet is bad even after doing this is just a fundamentally unhappy person. and I will pray for you

nickelback is also not that bad. in fact I would venture to say nickelback kind of fucks

same for maroon 5

as a follow up to the last point, you could get white girl wasted to moves like jagger, maps, one more night, or wake up call but some people are just cowards

if you’re wearing a band shirt you SHOULD be able to name at least three songs or one album by that band

if you see someone wearing a shirt for a band you also like you should not ever ask them to name any number of songs to prove their allegiance to the band or whatever. if you’re gonna talk to them at all, you should ask what their favorite song by that band is, and then share your own. you have now made an acquaintance and opened the floor for friendly conversation. otherwise leave them alone

my chemical romance should do a cover of two songs: sister golden hair by america and unbelievable by emf. after that they should drop mcr5

when mcr covers unbelievable, they should make a music video parody of the after credit scene from barbie & the three musketeers. this is exponentially more important than the sister golden hair cover

if you say you dislike a genre (country, rap, edm, etc) you should be required to name every song and artist you’ve listened to from that genre that you disliked, and should magically be given an equal number of recommendations of songs or artists from that same genre with a different vibe that you might like better by your personal genie.

if you always skip the intro and outro songs of the shows/animes you watch no matter what, I diagnose you with unfun show watcher disease. and I will pray for you

you should at LEAST watch through the intro and outro songs of a show once per season or whenever there is a new intro/outro song. this is like “seasoning” your meal exclusively with salt and pepper and is the absolute bare minimum

people who make good character playlists are the backbone of our society

if you don’t like an artist as a person you can still like what they create. you can also like something without knowing anything about the creator as a human being, even if you avoid this knowledge on purpose. go on, be free

if you exclusively listen to soundtrack/music without any lyrics at all, I am a little bit afraid of you. do you even have voices in your head? or do you just have so many you can’t stand to listen to any more even in music?

there is no such thing as having “basic” taste in music

everyone has heard a fall out boy song

I once told a coworker from my old job I was going to their concert and she was like “oh I’ve never heard of them, have fun tho!!” and this other (older) coworker and I were both like whaaat everyone’s heard a fall out boy song before, you probably just don’t know them by name. and she was like “mmm no I’m pretty sure I haven’t tho, sorry.” miss ma’am. you’re 27, you’ve heard of fall out boy. not an opinion just something I thought was funny

songs about love and sex and murder are cool but people need to start making songs about weird little dudes they made up in their heads named things like grimpus nimbbee that live in acorn houses and do things like take all your doors off their hinges and take random seams out of your clothes while you’re asleep

— to be continued indefinitely as I think of more

#I was gonna make this an ask game thing but I decided I wanted to just say it instead lol #eve's thoughts #trying not to be too deep w these but some of them just are sorry lol

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modernchemical · 3 years ago

Photo

drawing I did for a powerpoint slideshow i made on white haired anime boys

#white haired anime boys #Nagito komaeda #danganronpa #sdr2 #ryo asuka #satan #satan devilman #devilman #dmcb #nge #evangelion #neon genesis evangelion #kaworu nagisa #gay #love is love <3 #thesis was that white haired anime men are metaphors for homosexuality and divinitytherein #hmu if you want a video of it ^_^

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ameliasbitvh · 3 years ago

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look at this mess you made ; j.p.

a/n : i’m sorry i keep changing my format 😭 i’m indecisive and can’t stick to one, i have to try all 🤞 anyways enjoy this blurb i made in 10 mins !!

[ navigate ] [ j.p. masterlist ] [ masterlist ]

library account : @ameliasbitvhlibrary !!

summary : james eats you out but gets needy and starts humping the bed. — nsfw rule

wc : .3k (341)

warning(s) : oral sex (fem receiving), james humping the bed ?? and not proofread !!

!! ˗ˏˋ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED ´ˎ˗

“jamie, please!” you whined as your baby ate your sweet pussy like there was no tomorrow. “so good, mommy. tastes just like candy.” he groaned against your cunt.

“and all yours, baby.” you smiled.

looking up from your sex a glint of happiness sparkled in his eyes. “mine?”

“yes, pretty boy. all yours.” a giggle rippled through you and he smiled, so damn bright.

he immediately returned to his meal, lapping you up like a starved man, his tongue twirling, twisting, getting in every crevice of you. not one spot was undiscovered by the brunette.

as he continued you felt the bed begin to rock. that’s when you realized, your baby was fucking the bed. “needy, jamie? so fucking needy that you’re humping the bed? pathetic.”

“mhm, your pretty noises make me tingly, mommy!” he whined against you, his hips crashing against the mattress repeatedly. the vibrations from his voice spiraling throughout your body like a wave crashing down on you. “baby, you keep doing that mommy’s gonna cum.” you chastised him.

“want y’to! want mommy to feel so good!” his cock rubbed against the bed even faster, his tongue worked on your clit, swiping back and forth; your back arched, your hands pulled at his hair, pulling him closer to your sex.

“just like that, jamesie.” you smiled drunkenly, your hips bucking up into his face.

“‘m gonna cum, mommy! please can i cum?” he cried.

“yes, baby. cum for me — cum with me.” you replied, granting him permission.

together the both of you came. your body shook from the overwhelming pleasure, pretty moans leaving your lips; tipping james over the edge. his cock twitched, the pleasure spamming in his stomach releasing from the tip of his cock. white ribbons released onto the bed, making a mess of it.

pulling yourself up from your orgasm, you relaxed on your elbows looking up and saw james. his lips covered in your juices, eyes showing how subby he was.

“look at this mess you made, baby? now you gotta clean it up.”

🎀👛 — @elysian-i @o-rion-sta-r @orphixc @dracoscum @marrymetheonott @l0vely-lupin @kpostedsum @malfoysmainb @drac0spersonalslut @youreso-golden @yiamalfoy @just-a-smol-spoon @dr4cking @dlmmdl @hotgirlwhoreadsff @littlemissnoname13 @f4iryluvy @itsmentalillness @pansyspet @thatsluttybitch-blog @teenwolfbitches28 @mvdbldd @squishytomatoes @sophiesmovingcastles5 @marimorena06 (hmu to be added and pls check ur settings if I can't tag u !!)

#james potter #james potter smut #james potter fluff #james potter x y/n #james potter x fem!reader #james x reader #james potter x you #marauders era #smut

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puppyeared · 2 years ago

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Also uhhh. Stuff about the sillies

Harvest moon

#I just realized I never made anything pointing out Vincent’s traits I just kept it in my head lmao #This is just comparing him to Augusta tho. His eyes are supposed to be shaded under his hair the same way Anton wears glasses #He does have eyes but they’re like pure white against the shadow. Which somehow covers half his face even if you lift up his bangs #In some doodles I also gave him a shadow form since Anton is sort of a shadow creature that taught himself to be human tk blend in with the #Scientists but since he’s been doing it for such a long time compared to Vinny vinny is less experienced and changes forms easily #Although I wonder if he’d naturally have a shadow compared to Anton whose shadow is a part of his body? Could he manipulate it?#Would be cool if he could change his body parts into other things like claws and wings but they’re made of shadow and they look less solid #I wanted to give vin more pointy features tho because I feel like Anton has pointy things in his design. Like his smile and just the way he #Dresses. His tail is not as fluffy and his ears are pointy but he is still a Certified Good Boy #I did way too much thinking about this and I’m getting ahead of myself can you tell. But it’s oc brainrot time baby #I also originally made Augusta fox/cat because she’s supposed to be a revamp of a super old oc I’ve had who was a fox. But honestly I’m #Open to the idea of her being cat/dog she reminds me more of a dog at this point lol. It’s just the markings that are fox #Ohhh ahhh and I always draw Vinny with sweater paws so I never really draw his hands but I like imagining him having star pawpads #Like Augusta ehehehe ^^#I wonder i what other traits Vinny would get from Anton besides physical traits lol. Food for thought and for the oc memo on my phone #Bow hmu if you ever think of something even if it’s something like favourite snack they are living in my mind rent free #Doodles #oc #ocs #vincent #augusta #starshadow #sillies family

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kepamount · 2 years ago

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part thirty-seven - dream come true

blue moon 🌙 - MM19xreader, smau, crack comedy, fluff, angst and smut

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a/n: and here is the thirty-seventh part of blue moon!! it's been months omg, i really hope this is worth the wait!! lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

taglist 🤍: @masesangel @moneymasnn @rmvb24 @sad-fridge2323 @shannon-jade-99 @lazysportsfanfornhl @user8292 @japanesekel @ofxinnocence @heli991113 @audreyhereee @ithinkimokeei @blue-k-98 @sugarwatermelon @chxrryrose @untitled92260 @silverlightprincess

‘y/n! Hurry!’ Isla calls from across the beach, and I roll my eyes amusedly, rising up from my seat and lifting up my lehenga skirt so I don’t trip over the hem. Steph picked my lehenga out and even though it’s absolutely beautiful– a blue so light it almost looks white – I’m wishing I’d worn something else because it’s a bit heavy. My arms begin to ache as I walk to where all of the unmarried women stand in an excited little gaggle, waiting for the bride to throw her bouquet.

I glance over at Steph as I walk across the sand, my heart melting as it has done every time I’ve looked at her throughout the day. The smile hasn’t left her face for single moment. She looks absolutely radiant, the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and I don’t think I could possibly be happier for her and Ben.

Ben’s been almost as excitable as Steph all day, laughing and joking with his bride and his groomsmen at every possible opportunity. His cheeks must hurt from the way he’s been grinning nonstop. Though I suppose all of us are just as happy as him. It’s been the perfect day.

Our flight landed yesterday morning, giving us enough time to spend a few hours sunbathing on the beach, and the boys’ flight landed in the evening, so we made sure to have Steph hidden away in the villa before Ben could see her. We’ve kept them separated for a week, knowing their reunion today was gonna be much sweeter after the distance.

The ceremony didn’t start until late afternoon so we had almost all day to get ready, all of us swanning around the villa in our matching dressing gowns with glasses of wine in our hands, taking plenty of time with our hair and makeup and outfits. As the maid of honour, I had to equally split my time between getting myself ready and getting Steph ready, but I didn’t mind too much – she’s been so relaxed all day so I didn’t feel any stress at all.

The ceremony went so smoothly – no-one tripped down the aisle, no-one lost the rings, there were no interruptions or hiccups, and neither of them fucked up their vows. In fact, their vows were beautiful – there wasn’t a single dry eye in the wedding party.

As soon as the ceremony was over, we went back to our own villas to change into different outfits for the reception, coming back down to the beach at sunset. We gave our speeches – the bride and groom’s parents, and the maid of honour and the best man. Me and Mason worked on our speeches together, perfecting them, and we’d spent so long on them that we’d managed to memorise each other’s as well as our own – I was reciting his in my head as he read it out loud, smiling to myself about how good the final product was.

Then we toasted to the bride and groom, and the food was brought out. As soon as we were finished eating, we all got up to dance, having spent the last few hours singing and dancing along with the music, having the time of our lives.

Most of the guests, including my family, have gone back to the hotel that we hired out for the wedding party, leaving just Ben and Steph’s close family and friends, and a few of the drunker people who would stay out here partying until sunrise if they could. The wedding planner’s staff have taken all our things up from the villa to the hotel for us – I would have been happy to stay in the villa tonight but the other girls all said they wanted to share rooms with their boyfriends, so we’re moving up to the hotel instead.

But now it’s time for the bouquet toss. Steph wanted to preserve her actual bouquet, so she had two smaller versions made – one to throw, and one for Isla and Cal’s baby, when the little angel is born. Isla’s holding it now, the petals of it resting against her massive baby bump, and she’s leaning against Callum with a tired smile.

She’s 8 months along now, though her stomach is round enough that I keep wondering if the baby might decide to make an appearance any second. We were all worried about her flying, Steph even suggesting we postpone the wedding until after Isla’s given birth or just move the wedding domestically, but Isla insisted that they didn’t make any changes, having a full medical team on board the flight to make sure she and the baby would be okay.

She was nervous for Steph’s reaction at the start, but there was nothing to worry about because Steph was ecstatic. The pregnancy affecting the wedding didn’t even cross her mind, and we’ve all been trying our best to make sure both the wedding and the pregnancy have had equal attention and haven’t been interfering with each other.

To make life simpler, Isla and Steph decided that I would have to be the only maid of honour because we all knew that Isla wouldn’t be able to do all of the duties so far into her pregnancy. She’s still been very involved though, and partied it up with the rest of us at Steph’s hen-do. I’m sure she’d be spending the entire night on the dancefloor tonight if she could, but she’s barely been able to stand up for longer than ten minutes at a time with her swollen feet.

She’d also be in the middle of this group, fighting to the death to get her hands on the bouquet, but Cal would probably shackle her to himself if she tried now – he’s been so protective over her these past few months. It’s been so nice to watch the way he dotes on her, so loving and caring and excited to start a family with her.

And Ben and Steph have been so cute to watch too, with their pre-marital bliss. They’re already so domestic, on the exact same wavelength – they laugh at each other’s jokes without even having to hear the punchline, and they haven’t argued once over wedding planning. Both couples are perfect together.

Mason and I are a slightly different story. Our relationship is still very much platonic, despite how we’ve spent the last 10 months glued together by the hip. We’ve leant into romance every now and then – his hand resting too low on my back, our fingers brushing together too lingeringly, our eyes locking together for just a moment too long – but he’s been respecting my wishes, which I appreciate.

When we got back home from rehab, I told him I wanted to take life a lot slower. Enjoy the journey, let things happen naturally, not spend my entire life rushing. And I told him that included us, which he agreed with. To be fair, I didn’t think it’d be this slow. I was expecting it to take a few months, half a year max. But it’s not long ‘til we get to a year since I left rehab, and we’re still just friends.

But it’s been fun regardless. Spending so much time with him, without any expectations. I go to all his matches and he comes to all my shows. We’ve been on a few short holidays together, and we spend every single one of his days off together, usually on some sort of daytrip to the beach or to a theme park. And we’ve spent so much time helping with wedding planning, and helping get things ready for the baby.

Some days, we’d be at a cake tasting in the morning and then a furniture shop to order a crib in the afternoon. At the hospital for a scan in the morning and at a florist to choose flowers for a bouquet in the afternoon. Meeting the wedding planner to discuss venues and colour schemes followed by shopping for baby clothes. Painting the nursery followed by a dress fitting in the afternoon (yes, Mason somehow managed to worm himself into coming to the dress fittings and got to see Steph’s wedding dresses before anyone else other than me, Isla and Steph’s mum, which he gloated about at every opportunity).

Every minute of every day with Mason is fun, but my favourite days are the days when he comes over early in the morning, when I’m still fast asleep. He climbs into bed with me, pulling me into his arms and burying his head in my neck.

We get up a couple hours later and cook breakfast together, covering the kitchen surfaces (and each other) with the ingredients, before collapsing down onto the sofa and putting on an episode of the Netflix series we’re watching at the time.

We either spend the entire day lazing around the house, napping and eating and watching TV, or he drives me to the recording studio or the dance studio or an interview or whatever I’ve got in my schedule for the day. And he sits there, watching me write music or sing or dance or talk to the camera about whichever stupid topic the interviewer’s asked me about. He always has this look on his face, a mixture of pride and awe and affection and something else, something so strong and raw that it would make my heart stop momentarily.

I look over at him now, stood only a few feet away, dressed in a very flattering black suit, laughing with Trev. He used to lift a hand to run through his hair when he was laughing but he lost that habit when he had his buzzcut.

When Mason sent a message into the groupchat saying that he was at the barber’s, I facetimed him straight away, insisting he kept me on facetime whilst he got his haircut. My heart sunk lower and lower as his barber cut more and more of his hair off, and I couldn’t hide my hatred of the buzzcut at the start (I may or may not have shed some tears as I watched his hair fall to the floor). Mason didn’t really like it either but he did it to shut the haters up on twitter, which I couldn’t really fault him for.

He’s let it grow out now, not as long as it used to be but much better than the buzzcut. He used to have those boyish good looks with his longer hair, but this shorter hair makes him look much manlier, and the change in his physique only adds to that effect. He’s really bulked up – his shoulders are broader, his chest is stronger, his arms are bigger, and don’t even get me started on his thighs.

But my favourite features on him are the same at they always have been – those big brown eyes with their mischievous sparkle, and the happy grin he wears so often. It’s on his face now, my stomach filling with butterflies as I watch him.

My feelings for him go well past friendship, that’s for sure. All I can do is hope that his feelings match mine, though I can’t help but doubt it more and more with each day that goes past without him making a move.

‘Hoping to catch the bouquet, y/n?’ Soph teases, noticing where my eyes are focused and nudging me. ‘Definitely not,’ I say drily, Soph and Sasha both raising their eyebrows at me. ‘Why? Don’t act like you’re not completely obsessed with him, y/n, because it’s clear that you are,’ Sasha says pointedly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Whether or not I’m obsessed with him is beside the point. I don’t want him to feel rushed into a relationship with me if that’s not what he wants,’ I say mildly, and both of their mouths fall open. ‘Are you being serious? You think he doesn’t want a relationship with you?’ Soph demands, and I let out a soft laugh.

Before I can respond, the girls around me all gasp, and the three of us quickly turn to see the bouquet flying through the air. Right towards me. Before I can react, the stems of the flowers whack off my forehead, and I let out a little yelp of pain, stumbling backwards a couple steps with my hand pressed to my head.

The heel of my shoe catches on my lehenga skirt and I almost go flying, losing my footing and feeling myself falling back towards the floor. Before I hit the sand, a pair of arms come around me, keeping me upright, and I look up to see Mason. He helps steady me, only letting go when I’m firm on my feet, everyone watching with a mixture of concern and amusement, and I let out an embarrassed laugh.

‘I’m fine. Just clumsy. And in pain after Steph’s murder attempt,’ I say pointedly, the girl rushing over to see if I’m okay. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says through giggles, pulling me into a hug, and I roll my eyes, hugging her back. ‘That was intentional. You literally chucked it at me,’ I murmur so only she can hear, and I can feel her laughing against me as she says, ‘you’ll thank me later.’

She lets go of me, handing me the bouquet from where it’s been abandoned on the floor, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Does it count as mine if it hits off my forehead?’ I say drily, everyone laughing. ‘Of course. It chose you,’ Steph grins, and I just shake my head amusedly at her.

The DJ starts the music up again, everyone falling into their own conversations, and Steph heads over to her husband who’s waiting for her on the dancefloor, leaving me stood with Mason. ‘How’s your head?’ he chuckles, and I shoot him a look.

‘Great attempt at sympathy.’ ‘I’m sorry. It was funny though. Here, let me kiss it better,’ he murmurs, leaning to press a kiss to my forehead, sending a shiver through me. He puts an arm around my waist, the two of us stood side-by-side as we watch the others dancing.

‘Looks like you’ll be getting married next then,’ he says after a few long moments of silence between us, and I laugh, looking down at the white bouquet in my hand. ‘I don’t know about that. Kai and Soph will probably be next,’ I say, watching the two of them together, Soph forcing Kai to dance even though he’s terrible at it.

‘We’ll have to beat them to it,’ he jokes, my heart skipping a beat. ‘We?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he grins easily. ‘Of course. We’re the best man and the maid of honour – it’d be tradition for us to be together. And anyway… no other idiot is gonna tie himself down to you, is he? It’ll have to be me. I’ll take one for the team,’ he sighs, as though it’s the worst task in the world, and I gasp offendedly, hitting him on the shoulder as he laughs.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking, y/n!’ he exclaims, pulling me into his arms so I stand with my back pressed against his front, his chin resting on my shoulder. He feels so big like this, his hard chest and big arms enveloping me in a warm and safe embrace.

‘It would be an honour to… tie myself down to you,’ he says amusedly, and I roll my eyes. ‘Tie yourself down? You make it sound like it’s a sacrifice. Like you’re committing yourself to a life of handcuffs,’ I point out, and he chuckles softly, warm breath fanning down across my bare chest.

‘A life of handcuffs? Kinky, but I’m down. As long as you unlock them on match days. I don’t think I’d be able to play very well with the bedpost hanging off one arm,’ he jokes, making me laugh despite myself, ignoring the dirty part of what he just said. ‘Can’t be any worse than how you normally play,’ I tease, the boy laughing, and I can feel the vibrations through his chest, making me feel warm.

‘Excuse me, y/n. I’ll have you know that I’m Chelsea’s Player of the Season, two years in a row,’ he murmurs amusedly, and I let out a soft laugh. ‘Maybe this season, you should focus more on getting past the Champions League quarter final instead of Player of the Season awards,’ I giggle, and he lets out an offended noise. ‘Ouch. That was low,’ he says, pretending to look hurt when he turns me around to face him, keeping one of my hands in his.

‘Don’t worry. The trophy’s coming back to London this season,’ he says confidently, and I bite my lip to hold giggles before I speak. ‘You really think Spurs can win it?’ I ask, both of us laughing after that. ‘Absolutely not. We’ll be the ones bringing it back. It’ll have dark blue ribbons on it,’ he says assuredly, and I just raise an eyebrow at him.

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ I tease, and he just shakes his head, pulling me into his arms. ‘You don’t have enough faith in me.’ ‘Because I’m, like, 99% sure it’s not gonna happen,’ I say, both of us well aware how much of a lie that is (I’m Chelsea’s biggest fan – if anyone believes we can win it all, it’s me), and he just chuckles.

‘I’ll prove you wrong. And then I’ll make you eat your words,’ he grins, and I tilt my head questioningly, heart fluttering. ‘Yeah? How, exactly?’ ‘When we win, I’ll get my medal, and then I’ll bring you down onto the pitch, and you can put the medal on. And when you’re posting selfies on your Instagram, wearing my Champions League Winners medal, you’ll realise you were wrong,’ he says, tone sounding like there’s more he wants to say, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows again.

‘That doesn’t sound much like making my eat my words. That’s more of a reward, don’t you think? Not really a punishment,’ I reply, and his eyes darken very slightly. ‘Oh, so it’s punishment you’re after? Don’t worry, babe, I’ve got plenty of ideas on how to punish you. Most of them involving-’ ‘y/n! Mason! Come and dance! It’s the last song!’ Steph calls, both of us snapping out of our little bubble, and Mason instantly leads me over to the dancefloor with a little grin on his face.

I put it out of my mind, trying not to think about what he just said, and instead I enjoy the last song at my best friends’ wedding, my heart full as I dance with the people I love more than anything else. We sing the lyrics out at top volume, my voice sure to be hoarse in the morning, but I don’t even care. The smile on Steph’s face is giving me enough happiness to last the rest of my life – I can deal with a sore throat, even if Lisa won’t be happy about it.

When the DJ ends the music and bids us goodnight, we chant for another song but he’s already packing away, so Ben starts playing Blue Is The Colour from his phone. The boys erupt into loud cheers as Steph exchanges an exasperated glance with me, making me hold back laughter. ‘What you got this rubbish on for? Play Blue Moon,’ Jack grins, Ben pretending to swing for him.

The boys belt out the lyrics, somehow managing to pull me and Steph into their huddle, and we cling onto each other to keep ourselves upright, giggling uncontrollably as the boys jump up and down, knocking us around. When the chorus ends, we push our way out of the huddle, the other girls dying of laughter, and I feel the most contented feeling in my heart at seeing the smiles on everyone’s faces.

We begin to make our way up to the hotel slowly, getting distracted every few seconds with the boys’ stupid drunken behaviour. My feet are killing me in my heels and I link my arm through Mason’s, leaning on him for support. ‘Want my shoes?’ he offers, and I shake my head, laughing. ‘I’m okay. Thank you, though.’ ‘Are you sure? I’ll carry you if you want,’ he grins, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘I don’t think you’re strong enough to carry me and this lehenga together. This skirt is heavy as hell,’ I say, and he looks sceptical. ‘It can’t be that heavy if you’re managing to wear it.’ ‘Excuse me, Mr Mount. Are you calling me a weakling?’ I ask confrontationally, and he gives me a look. ‘Yes. Because you are a weakling.’

‘Says you. Your knees nearly buckled last time you lifted me,’ I remind him, and he rolls his eyes. ‘y/n, I’d played 90 minutes and you jumped into my arms as soon as I walked through the door. I was tired and surprised. In other circumstances, I could lift you a lot easier and for a lot longer,’ he says reasonably.

‘Excuses of a weakling,’ I tease. ‘No weakling has arms like this,’ he says proudly, flexing an arm, and his bicep strains against his suit jacket. Now I’m the one whose knees are buckling. ‘Those arms are deceptive. They can barely lift one of my holiday suitcases, let alone me.’ ‘It’s because you overpack. Your holiday suitcases are ridiculously heavy. I could lift you easily. For… 12 minutes at least,’ he smirks, the random number making my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

‘That’s an oddly specific amount of time.’ ‘It’s the amount of time I’d need to get you there a couple times,’ he grins, my stomach turning, and I roll my eyes. ‘You wouldn’t last that long.’ ‘I wouldn’t? Says the one who started crying three minutes in,’ he taunts, and I nudge him to shut him up, looking around to make sure no one’s listening. Good thing they’re all too busy pulling Dec out of a bush.

‘You’re saying that like there wasn’t a build-up. I almost spent ten minutes cutting up the bloody pizza while you were teasing me, so you can’t try and use that against me,’ I say defensively, and he just chuckles. ‘Ten minutes is nothing. I could do worse.’ ‘You wouldn’t be able to resist that long,’ I grin, and he raises an eyebrow.

‘I’ve been resisting for a year and a quarter,’ he says pointedly, my heart skipping a beat. ‘You’ve been resisting me for a year and a quarter. There were probably plenty of other girls you didn’t resist,’ I say offhandedly, and he just looks at me in mild shock.

‘You don’t seriously think I’ve been sleeping around that whole time, do you?’ ‘Not sleeping around, as such. But sleeping with other girls? Yeah, of course,’ I say, and he lets out a harsh laugh, like he’s not at all amused. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone since you in Greece,’ he says shortly, the air around us quickly turning cold. Unease fills my chest at how tense he is now, though I can still feel the way my heart leaps at hearing that he hasn’t slept with anyone since me.

‘Mase…’ I begin quietly, but he waves me off instantly. ‘It’s alright. You don’t have to apologise or anything. It was a valid thing to think. But I was being serious when I said I would wait a lifetime for you, and that hasn’t changed. You still mean just as much to me now as you did then,’ he says softly as we near the hotel entrance, the others slightly behind us.

Before I can reply, Ben joins us, clapping his hands down on our shoulders with a massive grin on his face. ‘Best man. Maid of honour. You know you two have to fuck tonight?’ he says bluntly. All those celebratory drinks must have worn down his filter. Mason starts choking in shock, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Ben, that’s the newlyweds. We’re not the ones consummating a marriage,’ I say slowly, like I’m having to teach something to a toddler, and he rolls his eyes.

‘We’ll be fucking, don’t worry about that. But it’s tradition for the best man and the maid of honour to do it too. Usually in a broom cupboard during the reception or something, but I don’t think the two of you disappeared at any point, so you’ll have to make do with the suite I booked for you,’ he says cheerfully, Mason letting out a fed-up sigh.

‘The last time you interfered, she ended up in rehab,’ he says drily, Ben choking this time as I burst into laughter. ‘It’s not gonna happen again. And, anyway, it’s not interfering. Everyone else has got suites as well,’ he says mildly, Mason raising an eyebrow. ‘Everyone else is in relationships.’

‘When are you two gonna stop lying to yourselves? You’re in just as much of a relationship as the rest of us are,’ he says, Mason and I silent. What am I supposed to say? Yeah, I’d love to stop lying and be with him, but he won’t make a fucking move. ‘God, don’t both of you speak at once,’ Ben says sarcastically, Mason and I laughing.

‘There’s two rooms in your suite. Two separate beds,’ Ben says lightly as we walk into the hotel lobby, leaving us stood alone as he goes to get all our keycards from the reception desk. ‘Bagsy the bigger room,’ Mason jokes, and I roll my eyes. ‘We never sleep in separate beds,’ I say, and it’s the truth. Every holiday, every trip, even when we stay the night at each other’s houses, we always share one bed. ‘Maybe we should,’ he says cryptically, my heart dropping.

Callum’s appearance stops me from replying this time, and I find myself cursing both of my best friends’ other halves. ‘Mason, can you come to mine and Isla’s room for a couple minutes?’ he asks, Mason’s eyes widening slightly. ‘Um… I love you, bro, and I love Isla too, but not like that-’ ‘Bro, shut up,’ Callum laughs, shaking his head.

‘Isla’s got this pregnancy bed thing that she’s been using and she needs me to set it up but I don’t know what I’m doing.’ ‘Doesn’t Isla know how to do it?’ Mason asks, Callum raising an eyebrow as he glances over at her. She’s leaning back in an armchair, her eyes fluttering shut every few seconds, and my heart aches for her. She must have been so tired, but she’s been putting on a brave face and staying chirpy for Steph.

‘Calm, bro, don’t worry. I’ll help,’ Mason says straight away as Ben comes over with our keycards. We all head up in the lift together, Jack and Declan jumping to make the lift jolt before Isla whacks them over the head with her bouquet. Our suites are all on the same floor, and we bid each other goodnight as we split off through our own doors. ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Mason says before following Cal and Isla, leaving me to enter our room alone.

I shut the door behind me and head into one of the bedrooms, the silence making me feel on edge. The first thing I do is turn on the TV and put MTV on, playing some music to fill the deathly quiet. I unpack my bag quickly before getting out of my lehenga, my body relieved at no longer being weighed down by the layers and layers of material.

I let myself lie on the bed in just my underwear for a minute or two, enjoying the cold air from the aircon on my skin and thinking about Mason. Maybe it sounds crazy but I really had started to doubt whether he still felt the same about me. But now, in the space of two minutes, he’s reiterated that he’d wait a lifetime for me and then said that maybe we should sleep in different beds. The mixed messages are really not it.

I let out a sigh, getting up off the bed and grabbing my Mount shirt. It’s the one he gave me before I went to LA, and it’s all soft and practically threadbare at this point because of how much I’ve worn it. Mason keeps telling me to throw this one away and wear one of the other trillion Mount shirts I own, but none of them mean as much to me as this one does. Getting rid of this would be like throwing away a piece of my heart.

I wash off my makeup and finish my skincare routine with my legs crossed on the bed, scrolling through tiktok and having to watch every video multiple times because I keep getting distracted with thoughts of Mason. I feel like my body’s crackling with electricity as I wait for him, desperate to just speak to him and finally sort things out. I’m tired of this back and forth – my commitment issues are hating me right now but I need to define our relationship.

I hear the door open as I’m spraying on some rose water, and I have to take a deep breath to try and slow my heartbeat, embarrassed at myself for getting so excited at him literally walking into our hotel suite. ‘y/n!’ he calls and I practically leap out of the bed, feeling even more embarrassed at myself. ‘I’m in the bedroom!’ I call back, listening out for footsteps. Instead, I hear cupboards opening and closing, and I know he’s looking for a snack in the kitchen.

‘Which one?’ he calls back amusedly, and I roll my eyes to myself, walking across the room to the door and sticking my head out. I know him too well, the sight of him rooting around in the snack drawer making me smile. ‘This one,’ I say, the boy looking up with his beautiful grin, white shirt tight on his body and eyes sparkling in the warm kitchen lights, and the realisation hits me like a ton of bricks.

I’m completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Mason Mount.

It feels like my heart’s exploding in my chest as he tilts his head, motioning for me to join him. I walk across the room slowly and he watches me as I do so, looking at me like I’m a vision of beauty even though I probably look a mess with my natural face, even more so wearing just the worn Mount shirt. I take his outstretched hand and let him pull me into his arms. He holds me against his chest with a hand splayed on my back, and the other strokes my hair softly, light tingles dancing across my scalp.

I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and the warmth of his body seeps through his skin to mine, thawing me out. He pulls away from me after a few moments, and I ache for him, the inches between us feeling like so much more.

‘What’s up? You seem… off,’ he says, leaning against the counter, and I don’t speak for a moment, just looking at him. He’s discarded his suit jacket, his muscles straining against his shirt, the black ink of his tattoos visible through the thin white cotton. He’s also taken off his tie, the top couple buttons open to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck.

‘We need to talk,’ I blurt out, meeting his eyes to stop myself from ogling his handsome figure, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘Do we? What about?’ ‘Us,’ I reply, and he lets out a soft sigh, turning away from me and leaning on the counter with his forearms pressed against the marble. His side profile is so pretty, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw strong and nose prominent. God, I love his nose. I wanna si-

‘I disagree. I don’t think we need to talk about it,’ he says heavily, pushing the thirsty thoughts out of my head and replacing them with nerves. ‘Why not?’ ‘You already know how I feel about you, and it’s torture for me to keep telling you in a trillion different ways only to be brushed off or rejected again,’ he says, my mouth dropping open.

‘Rejected?’ I echo, and he looks at me with just as much disbelief in his face as what I’m feeling. ‘Yes, y/n. You’ve rejected me more times than I can count.’ ‘When have I ever rejected you?’ I demand, and he lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Every single time I flirt with you or talk about us as a couple, you get all quiet and awkward like you feel uncomfortable. And that’s fine – you don’t have to like me back. But stop stringing me along. Say it as it is,’ he says tiredly, and I’m lost for words. He thinks I don’t like him?

‘Mason, you can’t be serious,’ I say, voice soft with shock, and he just looks at me for a few seconds. ‘Yeah, I am being serious. You make me think I have a chance, when you reciprocate my affection and intimacy and flirting, but then you shut me down when you completely ignore my feelings. It’s like… you give me the green light so I put my foot down, but then you turn back to amber. You’re clearly not interested. So if you wanna have this conversation to get me to back off, I understand, and I’ll stop,’ he says, defeat tinging his voice, and I feel my heart ache more with each word.

How can two people who spend so much time together be on such different pages? How can he not know what he means to me? ‘We need to work on our communication,’ I say after a momentary silence, and he raises an eyebrow, looking like he’s holding back laughter. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I can’t believe that you think I want you to back off,’ I reply quietly, and he just stares at me expressionlessly. ‘So… you don’t want me to change the way I treat you?’ he asks slowly, like he’s confused, and I let out an irritated noise.

‘Of course I don’t want that, Mason! I don’t want you to stop with the flirting or the intimacy or the affection, the dirty jokes or the compliments, the way you look at me or the way you hold my hand. There’s only one thing I want you to change,’ I say all in one breath, my heart hammering in the chest at the thought of what I’m about to say. He looks taken aback, surprised at my sudden outburst, and he remains silent, waiting for me to finish speaking.

‘I want you to change… what our relationship is. I need you to make a move. A proper move, not cracking a joke about us getting married or telling everyone I’m off limits. How can you spend all this time showing me so much love but you still haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend? The reason I get quiet when you talk about us as a couple is because I’m confused, Mase. You make me think you want me but you haven’t asked me to be yours yet! I know I said I need time, but I didn’t mean nearly a whole year!’ I exclaim, the two of us just staring at each other, the only noise the music floating faintly from the bedroom and my deep breaths.

After a long few seconds, he holds a hand out again and I take it, letting him pull me into another hug. I slide my arms around him, feeling the contours of his body, the curves of his muscles beneath my fingers, and I let my hands travel up his back, letting my nails run through the short and soft hairs at the nape of his neck. He presses his hands into my back to hold me close, impossibly close, like he’s trying to intertwine our two bodies into one, and I can hear his heartbeat through his chest, a slow and steady rhythm that makes me feel safe. He feels like home to me, and he always will.

‘We’ve spent more time together in the past few months than we’ve spent with anyone else. Maybe we should have spent some of that time talking about our feelings for each other,’ he says lightly, making me laugh into his shirt. ‘You think? It would’ve saved us a lot of stress,’ I say drily, and he chuckles, the vibrations reverberating around his chest and making him skin hum against mine.

‘Listen, y/n,’ he says seriously, moving apart slightly so we can look at each other, his hands still resting on my back and my arms still looped around him. ‘If at any point since Santorini, even for a second, I made you think that I don’t want you to be mine, I’m so sorry. Because it’s what I want more than anything else. You mean everything to me. You’re the most amazing girl in the world. You’re funny and compassionate, and so talented, and you’re far too clever for me to keep up with you, but I’d happily spend my whole life trying anyway. You’re so beautiful that I literally feel my heart stop every time I look at you, and your smile makes me melt. You’re strong and you don’t take my shit and you always help me to stay humble. You can be a bitch but I love it because it makes your sweet moments even sweeter. You’re a legend and a star and a queen and an angel and an absolute dream come true. It’d be the honour of a lifetime if you were mine,’ he says softly with the most handsome smile on his face and so much love in his eyes.

By the time he’s finished speaking, tears are running down my face, and I can’t stop myself from beaming, heart overflowing with love for him, love so strong I can feel it thrumming through my veins with the rhythm of my pulse. How could I be so lucky to fall in love with someone so perfect, and even luckier to have his love in return?

‘I love you, y/n, but it’s more than that. It’s so strong. I feel it with every part of my body, every piece of my heart. I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I met you, and I will be for the rest of my life. Even longer than that, actually,’ he adds on, making me let out a watery laugh. ‘Even when you’re dead?’ I ask, and he nods with a content smile on his face. ‘Forever, babe.’ ‘I’m in love with you too,’ I smile, hands on the back of his neck to pull him down towards me.

When our lips press together, it feels like it’s the first time, a piece of my heart slotting into place, making me feel whole. There’s none of the fire and passion, the lust and desperation of all our previous kisses. This one is steady and slow, like he knows he has the rest of his life to kiss me to his heart’s content. There are no wandering hands or clashing tongues. His fingers press into my back with a soft pressure, and his lips move against mine with nothing but love. He doesn’t taste like tequila or saltwater. He tastes like warmth and home.

When we break apart, we’re both smiling like lovestruck idiots, and I keep my eyes locked with his, trying to brand this moment into my mind for eternity. ‘Aren’t you gonna ask me then?’ I ask with a smile, and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow questioningly though he knows exactly what I mean. ‘Ask you what?’ ‘To be your girlfriend,’ I say with a roll of my eyes, the boy contemplating the question for a moment.

‘I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, though,’ he says, confusion filling me. ‘What?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘I don’t want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my wife,’ he says casually, my heart stopping momentarily. ‘…Your wife?’ I echo, and he laughs at my shock. I feel like I can’t breathe as I watch him let go of me and reach into his back pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box. A ring box. I gasp, hand covering my mouth as he gets down onto one knee, looking up at me with big brown eyes full of hope.

‘I know you want a big fancy proposal with a huge diamond on an engagement ring, so consider this a… pre-proposal. Like a verbal agreement before signing the contract,’ he explains, the football reference making my roll my eyes, and I nod to get him to carry on, the boy laughing at my impatience. ‘And I know you don’t want to get married for a while yet, so that’s also something we can come back to in a few years. But I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and how much I want you to be mine,’ he says softly, before holding up the ring box and opening it, prompting another gasp.

It’s the Van Cleef and Arpels butterfly ring, but this one’s customised, silver with sapphires set into it. It perfectly matches the blue butterfly pendant on the bracelet he bought me in Santorini, the one that’s on my wrist right now and has been every day since he took me to rehab. It’s so beautiful that it brings tears to my eyes. He had this made for me.

‘I’m in love with you, y/n, and that feeling grows more and more every single day. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, every waking moment and every sleeping moment too. I want to have a family with you and grow old with you and go through photo albums with our grandchildren to show them how beautiful their nani or dadi was. So… would you do me the honour of being my wife? y/n… will you marry me?’ he asks, eyes bright with tears, and I nod, steadily crying with the biggest smile on my face, heart full.

‘Yes, Mason. I’ll marry you,’ I whisper, wonder on his face, as though he can’t believe his luck. I grab his hands, pulling him up from the floor and throwing myself at him in a hug, his disbelieving laughter making my skin warm. ‘I’m so in love with you, Mason Mount,’ I say as I pull him into a kiss, his lips curving up into a smile against mine, butterflies filling my stomach.

He breaks away after a few seconds, eager to put the ring on me, and he slides it onto my left ring finger. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn a ring there, having spent my life saving it for an engagement ring, and it fits perfectly, my heart melting at the sight of it on my hand. I hold it up to the light, admiring it, and he pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘I love it.’ ‘I love you,’ he says instantly, the words making me warm, and I laugh, kissing him again.

‘We’re not gonna tell the others, are we?’ I ask, and he shakes his head. ‘We’ll keep it a secret for a bit. To everyone else, we’re just boyfriend and girlfriend. We can’t tell them all that we’re engaged on Steph and Ben’s wedding day, and I’ll save the proper proposal until after the baby’s born. Let everyone have their moments, and we can share ours with them after,’ he says sensibly, and I nod in agreement. ‘Our little secret,’ I say, and he lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing the ring instead of my skin this time, the action making my stomach turn with excitement. He’s really put a ring on my finger – I’m engaged!

‘It’s so beautiful, Mase. It’s perfect.’ ‘Perfect ring for my perfect fiancée,’ he says softly, my heart skipping a beat at the word. ‘Mason Mount’s my fiancé. Oh, yeah, that’s my fiancé, Mason Mount. My fiancé’s a professional footballer for Chelsea and England. No, I’m not here alone – I’m here with Mason Mount, my fiancé. Lisa, can you reserve a seat in the front row for my fiancé please? My fiancé scored a goal today, did you see? Oh yes, me and my fiancé summered in the Bahamas this year,’ I test the word out, putting on a snooty voice as Mason laughs at my roleplay.

‘Summered? Who uses that word these days?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘People who have a fiancé. I’m gonna have to start using all sorts of new words now. Charcuterie and sandalwood and opera-’ ‘Babe, being engaged doesn’t mean we have to turn into rich people from Downtown Abbey or something,’ he laughs, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I beg to differ. I need to start training to be your trophy wife, and I don’t wanna be a typical WAG. I wanna be serving businessman’s wife, not footballer’s wife,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes amusedly.

‘Maybe you should marry a businessman instead then.’ ‘Maybe I should,’ I reply simply, and he gives me a look. ‘Don’t even think about it. You’re mine, y/n,’ he reminds me, the words echoing in my head like the perfect melody. You’re mine, y/n. ‘I’m yours,’ I agree, ‘and you’re mine too, Mason Mount. Always and forever.’ ‘I’m glad you know it,’ he murmurs, pressing his lips to mine in an innocent kiss, though when he breaks away this time, I feel myself wanting more.

‘Show me,’ I whisper, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Show you what?’ ‘Show me how much you love me,’ I say quietly, shy at being the one to initiate this, but my boldness is rewarded at seeing the way his eyes darken, lips parted in surprise. ‘Fuck. Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod with a coy smile. ‘Okay. Come on then,’ he says softly, holding my hand and leading me to the bedroom, my heart beating harder with each step.

‘I thought you’d pick me up and slam me against the wall,’ I joke, and he chuckles gently. ‘I don’t wanna fuck you like the best man and the maid of honour having a quickie in a broom cupboard,’ he says, making me giggle as we enter the bedroom. ‘How do you wanna fuck me then?’ I ask, and he grins, pulling me into his arms. ‘I don’t wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you, like the luckiest man in the world making love to his beautiful fiancée,’ he murmurs before pressing his lips to mine, happiness settling in my heart.

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fanfic #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount social media au #mason mount insta au #mason mount smau #chelsea fc

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letarasstuff · 4 years ago

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A Genius’ Baby

(A/N): This is based on this post and requested by an anon. It is also leaned on the episode, where JJ brings Henry in for the first time. I got the general idea from an episode of Bones (hmu if you know which one)

Summary: How will Spencer’s daughter’s first meeting with the team exactly go down?

Wordcount: 1.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

Spencer never dreamed of taking time off of work voluntarily. He loves doing what he does for a living. It’s not only something he is good at, it’s also something that makes him proud, knowing how many lives the team safed together.

But one thing led to another and now he is a single father of a newborn baby girl. His first week with his little (Y/N) was, to put it mildly, chaotic. Her mother decided early on in the pregnancy that she doesn’t want to be a part of her child’s life. Spencer is fine with it, as long as he is able to be there for her.

“What do you think, Sweetie, is a visit at Daddy’s work going to kill the whole office, because you are way too adorable?” He asks her as he pushes her in her stroller through the streets. A cute gurgle comes from inside the stroller as an answer. “Yes, I think so, too.”

It’s their first time to visit the BAU, since the little one’s birth. (Y/N) is a month old now and the little family slowly finds a schedule to live by. They hadn’t had the time to take the metro and the following walk to Quantico, but Morgan took the liberty to come to Spencer’s apartment and help the freshly baked father a few times.

Father. It still has a weird ring to him, but it also makes Spencer swell with pride being able to call himself a word like that. He promised to (Y/N) that he will live up to it. That he never leaves her, unlike his own father did. It doesn’t matter how difficult things may get, Spencer is going to be there for his daughter.

But enough love smack for now. It’s time for Reid to show off his newborn cutiepie.

They get through security check rather easily, except for the guards, who swoon over small (Y/N). Spencer has to slap away several hands and he doesn’t want to imagine how many germs are all over them.

“Aaaaand here we are. This is where Daddy will go in a few months. I’ll make sure you’ll visit me as often as possible.” Then Spencer looks around only to see a vacant bullpen. “This is an example for your father not being as smart as everybody thinks. I forgot to ask if the team is on a case.” He facepalms himself, but continues to push the stroller.

A few minutes of walking later he knocks on Penelope’s door. “Wait a sec, the tech goddess is on her way, mysterious stranger.” As she opens the door, the blonde lets out a loud gasp.

“Is this- Oh my god- Is this- Are you.” Yes, Penelope Garcia is broken even before she gets to see the newest addition to the BAU kids. Spencer smiles while taking his girl out of the basket and holds her in his arms.

“Child, meet Penelope Garcia, one of your many Aunties.” The techie can’t hold in another gasp. “Oh my god, pretty boy. She is an overload of cuteness. I- I can’t! I think I got diabetes just by looking at her.”

Some time later the doors to the elevator open, allowing the team to step out. They all look exhausted. That case didn’t go as planned, having lost more lives than necessary. As they make their way over to the bullpen a happy Technical Analyst approaches them with a pep in her step.

“There is a surprise for you in the conference room that definitely will cheer you all up. Pinky promise.” She doesn’t need to say more, because a pinky promise from Garcia is a safe ride.

And a surprise it is as they spot their fellow genius rocking a bundle of white blankets.

Hotch is the first one to speak. “I thought I told you to not come to the office. I said-” “That I have a family to think of now. I know Hotch, but I wanted to show my child where she will spend a great amount of time of her childhood and I wanted you to meet her.”

“Come on Spence, tell us her name”, JJ complains. Since he announced that he is going to be a father, he made a game out of them guessing her name.

“(Y/N), meet my team, also known as our family. Team, meet (Y/N) Diana Reid. Not only is she named after her Grandma, but also after her butts and doors kicking godfather, since it’s also the feminine form of Derek, who is going to be the best godfather in history on a side note.”

In this moment everyone has to push back tears, also Morgan, even though he knows the revelation already. Emily softly pushes her way to the front.

“Now, am I allowed to hold my goddaughter? I know as soon as Morgan gets his cool together he isn’t going to let me get my own time with her”, the back haired pouts. Spencer looks at her a little unsure.

“Uhm, can you uh sanitize your hands please?” He nods his head towards the diaper back on the round table. A little tube filled with hand sanitizer dangles from it. Without any complaints she compiles to the request, ready to do anything his teammate wants from her only to be able to touch the newborn.

“You do know that exposing your child to as many germs as possible in her early childhood makes her resistant to any allergies against them in her following development, right?” Rossi asks, an amused smile gracing his face.

Spencer blushes a bit while handing his daughter over to Prentiss, saying “be aware of her head, the neck is not strong enough to keep it up on its own yet” to her as if she never held a baby before. “Hey, Little One. I’m your Auntie Em”, she whispers.

“Uh, I know that, but I kind of decided that I don’t care about this statistic. Whoever wants to touch (Y/N) has to wash their hands and sanitize them. I can sleep better knowing that I even protect her against the smallest of things”, he sheepishly scratches his neck, seemingly not knowing what to do with them now.

“Well”, Derek says, “This is a first. Spencer Reid, the man of numbers, giving not a shi-” He cuts himself off seeing the warning glares from his team mates. “A shoot? Not giving a shoot about numbers?” Morgan tries to correct his statement.

“If you want to keep that mouth around my child, I have to rethink my decisions”, Spencer murmurs, watching Emily stroking (Y/N)’s soft check endearingly. Suddenly she begins to whine. The older woman looks up at the father, who glances at his watch.

“It’s time for her bottle. Let me go heat it u-” “I’ll do it”, Hotch offers. His face is less stern than usual, which is noticed by everyone. “Uhm, thank you. You hav-” “I don’t want to be rude, but I know how to heat up a bottle, Reid. I got a child on my own.” The Unit Chief says this with a smile and takes the little plastic bottle out of the genius’ hand to go to the little kitchen the office offers.

After this little visit many follow in the next few months Spencer is off duty and they still remain in some frequency as he comes back. Because nobody can survive long without as much as a glance of their favorite little genius.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader #reader insert #spencer reid

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ppersonna · 4 years ago

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waking up in vegas - jjk | m

get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now. that's what you get for waking up in Vegas - waking up in vegas, katy perry

↳ summary- you know what they say. what happens in vegas, stays in vegas. but, what happens when you accidentally marry your brother’s best friend?

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- jeon jungkook x reader

↳ word count- 3.1k

↳ genre- fluff, smut, pwp with feels

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, fingering, unprotected sex (be smart friends), cream pies, light dirty talk, jungkook being cute af, slight nipple play

↳ a/n- well. i can’t tell you why i decided to write this, but i did. and it’s cute? i hope you enjoy this! thanks to @taetaewonderland @kookiesjoonies for reading it over and for @ladyartemesia and @xjoonchildx for being the best hype team a lady could ask for. i love uuuU!!!! feel free to hmu if you’d like!

It’s a splitting headache that wakes you up from your near comatose sleep.

Your eyes blink open and you groan when a sliver of light bores into your vision. The curtains are closed but there’s just enough of a crack that the sunlight seeps in directly onto your face.

You roll over in the expansive hotel bed and hold a pillow to your face as you groan out loud.

What happened last night?

All you remember is being with the guys, celebrating your brother Namjoon’s upcoming nuptials by bar-hopping your way down the main strip of Las Vegas.

It all gets pretty blurry from there.

You know you’re in a hotel room and you hope it’s yours. You can’t remember if you made it back to your own room or if you found someone to share the night with. There had been that cute guy at the first bar who bought you a drink. Maybe you’d gone home with him.

You chance a look at the bed and see a human-sized lump next to you, a tiny bit of black hair sticking out.

The black hair was nondescript, and you had no idea who it could be. There surely were a thousand men in the greater Las Vegas area alone with black hair. It could be anyone.

Looking around the room, you notice the decor is like that of your own hotel. But the layout of the room is different. You bite your lip as you notice you’re completely naked as well. You’re in a stranger’s room and nude. Well, at least you’re in the right hotel.

You’re desperate to know who the mystery person under the blankets is, but a war rages within you—should you grab whatever clothes you can find and book it before they wake up? What if your beer goggles were a little too foggy last night? How would you feel if you woke up next to someone 20 years older than you? Or god forbid, younger than you?

A groan comes from the blankets beside you and you panic. You quickly lay back down in bed and pretend to sleep, back turned to the stranger beside you.

“Fuuuuuck,” the voice grumbles as they emerge from the white cotton bunker they huddled under.

Your pulse froze in your veins.

That voice. It was so familiar. It couldn’t be.

You peek an eye out and see the back of a head, unruly black hair sticking out in different directions. The man smacks his lips as he adjusts his eyes to the low light of the bedroom, before he turns and looks in your direction.

You nearly gasp in horror.

Jeon Jungkook stares at you with a dopey grin on his face. He’s shirtless, and you hate how your eyes can’t stop staring at the way his muscles ripple down his back. Even in times of crisis you’re still achingly attracted to him.

Jeon Jungkook is your brother Namjoon’s best friend, soon-to-be best man at his wedding, and your decades long secret crush.

The fact that you’re waking up naked in his bed is equal parts distressing as it is titillating.

“Oh!” He looks startled. “What are you doing here?”

You’ve pulled the sheets up to your chin, covering any inch of exposed skin.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you whisper as you swallow hard. “I was hoping you would know.”

Jungkook sits and squints his eyes, as if he’s trying to directly visualize into the past.

“Did we end up drinking in here last night after we went out?” He asks as he rubs at his messy hair.

He drops his left hand to the bed, then freezes, eyes locked on his fingers.

“Oh, my god.”

You sit up, worried he’s recalled something that you don’t.

He spins his head to look at yours and notices your bare shoulders. His eyes widen and he grabs your arm, reaching for your left hand anxiously.

Before you can open your mouth to question his movements, your eyes follow where his eyesight lands.

A gorgeous, sparkling wedding ring sits on your delicate finger, sparkling in the single strip of sunlight beaming through the windows.

Your throat goes dry. Jungkook lifts his own hand and presents a silver band on his ring finger and you nearly faint.

You’re married.

To Jeon Jungkook.

You got drunkenly married to your childhood crush and your brother’s best friend.

“Namjoon is going to kill me,” he groans. He dramatically falls back onto the pillows and covers his face in shame.

You bite your lip carefully and study the ring on your hand. It’s stunning. It’s the size and shape you’ve always dreamed of having. You can’t help but note the irony of it all. Your dream ring and your dream husband.

Jungkook turns his head to look at you, stares at the soft skin of your bare back.

“Oh, my god, we fucked.” He covers his face with his hands again, muffling his words. You’re grateful that he can’t see your face—can’t see the way your cheeks are flaring bright red.

“I had sex with the girl I’ve been in love with for years and I don’t even remember if I did well or not,” he cries.

Your own head whips to where the boy lies prone on the bed, groaning his sorrows into his palms.

Did Jungkook just admit out loud that he’s been in love with you? Were you hearing that right? You nearly pinch yourself to check and make sure you’re not dreaming. There’s no way. Was there?

“What did you just say?” You question.

He peeks at you through his fingers covering his face, a bashful look on his face.

“Was I good? Did I make you cum? God, please don’t tell me I finished too quickly.”

You shake your head and scoot closer, desperate for confirmation of what he just said.

“Not that, you idiot. I don’t remember either. What did you say before that?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn pink and you hold back any cooing that’s desperate to claw out of your throat at the sight.

“I uhh,” he stumbles. “I sort of may be a little… into you. Like, a lot.”

He hides his face again with his hands, but his grin gives him away. He’s bashful, and you want to push him off the bed as much as you want to kiss him.

“You fucking asshole!” You laugh as you shove at his arm. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was 6! Ever since Namjoon crushed my Barbie dream house and you helped me fix it.”

He pulls his hands off his face and slaps them down on the bed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Really?!” He asks.

“Yes, you idiot,” you sigh. “Why else would I drunkenly agree to marry you?”

Jungkook sits up and smiles, like a puppy. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you in for a hug. It’s tight, and innocent and you can tell he’s still beaming from ear to ear. It makes you smile as you wrap your arms around his middle and return the enthusiasm.

He pulls back and holds you away from his body with his hands on your shoulders. His eyes are lit and he looks like a kid on Christmas.

“We’re married!” He exclaims.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yes, we are. A little non-traditional but, it worked out in our favor.”

Jungkook slides his hand down to hold your left, bringing it to his lips and kissing the diamond-studded finger gently.

He lets your hands drop, and he smiles at you, silence shrouding the two of you on the king-sized bed. He seems to be taken, deep in pleasant thoughts.

“Wait!” He jerks back to reality. “We fucked. But you don’t remember it, and I don’t remember it.”

You bite your lip, suddenly shy. “Yes?”

“So we can’t even truthfully say we’ve consummated the marriage.” He looks at you as if he expects you to follow his train of thought.

“Kook, I’m hungover. Can you just… spill it?”

He sighs dramatically, but the grin remains.

“Lets fuck? It is our honeymoon, after all.” He winks as he crawls towards you.

The sheet has fallen off his lower body now and your eyes widen at the sight. He’s hard and impressively thick. He’s shameless too, knows you’re staring and doesn’t move to hide it. In fact, he appears to make it more on display as he hovers over you.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he sighs as he approaches you, comes face to face above you.

Jungkook is no longer the silly, playful puppy dog you know and love. His eyes are dark and blown wide, breath heavy and confident. He oozes a raw sensuality that has you squeezing your thighs tight.

“I’ve always wondered what you’d look like underneath me with those big, beautiful eyes of yours,” he breathes as he leans down to pepper your collar with kisses.

“Will you let me make you feel good? Give you a honeymoon you’ll never forget?” He asks, fingers playing with the sheet but never straying further. He’s waiting for you, waiting for your consent or denial.

“Please,” you gasp as his fingers tickle the skin of your decolletage. “I want you.”

Your acceptance is all he needs to hear before he’s pulling down the stark white sheet from your chest and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips as he stares at you, and your body warms under his gaze.

“Fuck, you really looked like this under your clothes? All this time?” He asks, his voice turning needy and whiny. “No wonder Namjoon kept you under lock and key.”

You huff lightly. “Can we not talk about my brother during sex?”

Jungkook chuckles and nods, before bringing a finger up to pinch and tug at a nipple. It makes you both moan, and the bud hardens beneath his touch.

“Fuck,” he repeats. He seems to be stuck on a constant loop of surprise. He seems just as dazed as you—unsure if this is real but unwilling to wake up if it’s not.

His cock hardens even more—you can feel it through the cotton sheet on your thighs and you’re desperate to touch him. As he lowers his mouth to suck your nipple into his mouth, you push the remaining bits of sheets and mused blankets off your body and reach for his cock with a groan.

Jungkook inhales sharply around your nipple as he feels your warm hand grip him. It makes his cock twitch in your grasp and he sucks harder to compensate.

Your back arches with the force of his suction, and your hand strokes his length languidly. He nearly whines onto your breast, before he pops off and lifts his head—eyes closed and mouth dropped open in bliss.

“S-shit, your hand feels so fucking good,” he whispers through gritted teeth.

“Imagine how my pussy will feel,” you counter.

Jungkook drops his head onto your breast at your words.

“You’re gonna kill me with that dirty mouth.”

“That’s the plan.” Your hands tug at his black locks until his lips meet yours, meshing them in a deep and passionate kiss.

His hand slides down between your legs, slithers to your heat where he presses two fingers inside you and groans at the wetness there. It makes you gasp and whimper into his mouth as he fucks your relentlessly with his fingers.

“Dirty little girl,” he whispers as he bites your lip and tugs. “Can’t believe you’re mine. This pussy is all mine, now.”

You nod quickly and desperately as your legs fall open even more. The wetness of your channel is squelching around his fingers and Jungkook’s groans muddle with your own in the expansive room. His fingers scissor you open and you’re keening at the stretch.

“Gotta get this tight cunt ready for my cock,” he breathes as he sucks a spot on your neck. You’re sure it’s gonna leave a dark mark, and you thrill at the idea. You want the world to see you’re his—you’re finally his.

“P-Please,” you beg as you feel your body coming closer to the breaking point.

Jungkook growls as he pulls his hand from inside you and shakes his head.

“I want you to cum on my cock.” He lines himself up and rubs the head of his cock up and down the slit.

“You okay without a condom?” He asks, waiting with the bulbous head still catching the slick of your pussy, not quite pushed in fully. “I’m clean.”

You’re whimpering—the feeling of his thickness so close to being inside of you has your mind nearly empty. You nod your consent.

“I’m good too. On the pill.”

It’s all the boy needs to finally push his length into you. His head throws back in bliss as he feels your tight walls accept him. You wrap your legs around his waist to encourage him deeper, pulling him in to the hilt.

“A-ah,” he gasps. “You feel so fucking good.” His hands grip your hips as he stills himself for a moment—allows himself a minute to catch his breath and beg his body not to cum too quickly.

“So big,” you whine. “Fuck, Jungkook, baby…”

There’s nothing else to say, no ability to speak as he pulls his length out slowly and slams it back in, knocking all the air in your lungs with it.

“You’re finally all mine,” he grits as he thrusts in and out of you again, as deep as he can. “My fuckin’ dream girl, all mine.”

He finally opens his eyes and watches as your cunt takes each thrust, watches your tits bounce in time with his pistoning hips. He can’t help but travel up to your face, where your mouth opens in silent rapture and you focus your eyes on him—like he’s the only man in the universe. Jungkook has never felt more powerful, more loved. The girl he’s only ever pined over is finally here, finally beneath him, wearing his ring. While he doesn’t remember how it started, he’s sure as hell he will remember how it continues.

You squeak out moans with each harsh thrust, reveling in the way the tip of his cock kisses your cervix and drags against your walls. Feeling him bare—rubbing and hitting each spot that has you gasping for air and seeing new colors, is sending you closer and closer to a screaming finish.

Your hands hold his powerful arms, grip the muscles of his biceps you’ve spent years drooling over. You can’t comprehend that he’s yours now, all yours to touch and feel and fuck. And love. You finally can shower the man with all the love you’ve cultivated for him, and you plan to start now.

“L-love you, Jungkook, fuck! I love you,” You gasp.

His rhythm stutters as he registers your words, and he feels his stomach tighten—your admission bringing him even closer to his climax. His hands grip your hips tighter, knowing he’s sure to leave bruises there.

“G-god, baby,” he grunts as he thrusts into you harder, faster. The sounds of your cunt are music to his ears, the slick juices squelching around his cock. “I’ve always loved you.”

He removes a hand from your hip and rubs your clit with the pad of his thumb, eyes now firmly locked with yours. Your legs fly up to rest on his shoulders and the new position has him hitting you even deeper.

“Cum with me, baby,” he begs as his thumb circles your clit harder, applies more direct pressure. “Wanna see my pretty wife cum on my cock.”

Your spine tingles as it builds and you’re gaping for breath as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. Your entire body is alight with licking flames and electric shock. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his cock, gripping so tight that Jungkook lasts only a few more thrusts before he’s cumming hard inside you.

Jungkook gasps your name as his cock spills his load inside you, emptying himself completely. Your walls are coaxing him, stroking and encouraging him to spill so deep, as if it can’t get enough of him.

You take nearly a full few minutes before your vision returns to normal and your breathing settles down from the heavy breathing. Your legs are still on Jungkook’s shoulders and his cock still rests deep inside you, softening gently.

“Holy shit,” you whisper with a long exhale.

Jungkook nods and lets out a chuckle. He eases his cock out of you, sighing with pride at the way his thick cum slides out of you with it. He can’t believe that this is him, and that is you. That his cum is what’s decorating the inside of your walls, that he gets to be the one to do it—always.

Jungkook lies beside you and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to kiss him sweetly.

“I know we sort of skipped the whole dating part and went right to marriage,” he says sheepishly. “But, I was hoping you’d let me take you to dinner sometime?”

You can’t help but cup his cute cheeks and kiss him again—your heart feels as if it might burst.

He pulls you close, wraps his hands around you to pull you on top of him. His cock is jerking with the need to go again, to be buried inside you once more.

You smile as you straddle him, lining his cock up with your soaked heat before sitting fully and allowing him to enter until he’s completely enveloped. You gasp out his name at the feeling—oversensitive but still not yet satisfied. You sit and marvel at how he feels inside you—you think you could let Jungkook be there forever, as if it’s where he’s meant to be.

A harsh knock pounds on the door, before the clicking noise of the lock moves and allows entrance to the intruder. Jungkook is quick to throw the sheets of your combined bodies, you still straddled and laying on top of him.

“Kook! Have you seen my fucking sister? Where the hell--,” your brother is cut off mid-sentence as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Uh,” Jungkook blushes. “Hey, new brother-in-law.”

Namjoon quickly averts his eyes and backs away quickly.

“Jesus! Christ!” He complains as he moves out of the field of vision.

“You two get dressed now!” He demands from the hallway. “You have some explaining to do!”

You can’t help but giggle as Jungkook’s features turn stark white with fear. You press a kiss to his lips for reassurance.

“It’s okay, babe,” you whisper as you pat his cheeks.

“And what the fuck do you mean by brother-in-law!?” Namjoon shrieks. “Jeon Jungkook, I’ll fucking kill you!”

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