#who knows exactly how you feel because he has the same dream

[sooyamine]

ANGST! where you see your ex boyfriend with his new girl.

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Four months ago your heart was broken, your dreams were thrown away, your plans were interrupted, your hopes shattered. All because he decided that he no longer had room for you in his hectic and difficult life. You tried everything: you talked, you suggested solutions, a break in the relationship so that he could settle down, you cried and begged him to let you stay in his life. You humiliated yourself. But nothing made him change his mind, he had already made it up (maybe a long time ago, you just didn't know it.)

How could you move on after spending years hearing that you would be the mother of his children? That you would get married at the end of spring so that you could have a honeymoon at the beginning of summer?

You were fighting every day to get through it all, practicing sports, studying even harder, working harder than ever. Turning pain into efficiency has always been your way of dealing with problems, why should it be any different this time? Despite everything, you tried to take it one day at a time, even if at nightfall your strength gave way to tears.

On the day the relationship ended, it was agreed that it would be a separation on good terms, so that a friendship could remain between you two (as if that were possible). This only resulted in months of no contact or interaction of any kind. Neither of you took the initiative to remove each other from social media, but you couldn't follow the life of someone who used to tell you every detail of his day through a screen, so you decided that silencing his profile updates would be enough, but that couldn't be done in real life. It couldn't be done now, where you could see him in the bar that used to be your place with another woman.

Nothing could prevent or prepare you for the sharp pain in your heart, the shortness of breath, the sickness in your stomach and above all, the disappointment. You wanted to cry, scream, destroy every damn part of that place, beat him up, sell your house, set fire to all your clothes and call a priest to exorcise your demons. Even if it made you die screaming, you wanted him to hear everything.

All these things were just wishes and intrusive thoughts, because you could only look at the scene without looking away. He made her laugh, showered her with kisses and stroked her face while removing locks of hair from her cheeks, just as he did with you. Fuck, he was doing it in the exactly same way. How could he fall in love again in such a short space of time? At least was it a short time or was he already with her while your relationship seemed to be sinking?

You want to have the answers to all these questions, really. But the only things that popped into your mind were questions: "how could he not miss me?" "did he ever really love me?" "was I being cheated on all this time?" An evening that was supposed to be relaxing and peaceful was completely ruined by that vision.

The only action you had the strength to take was to turn on your heels and walk out the door, feeling the cold of the night burn your cheeks, which by now were beginning to get wet with tears. In a sudden movement, your hands hovered under the cord around your neck: a gift from Suguru, given to you on your birthday. You used to do this when you wanted something to keep you safe, something to remind you that he was always there. Then you realized there, amidst the tears, that old habits really do die screaming.

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hi, guys! first of all i'd like to apologize for any grammatical or coherence errors, English is not my first language!

i was listening to The Black Dog by Taylor Swift and thought "why not write something inspired by that?"

(btw, this is my first time writing smth and it would mean a lot to me if you guys could help me with tips and constructive criticism about my writing! :3)

[star-light-artist]

Rogue One rewatch thoughts after all of Andor:

Wow!! They really set up exactly why Cassian knew to ask about what kind of weapon they were making, Jedha, & Galen Erso!! He literally just heard all of that from Kleya!! The writing is incredible!

They know where Saw is. They just need help getting through the door - just like how in Andor they were trying to meet with him & knew where he was, but Saw wouldn't hear them out.

Bail is wearing the same outfit he wore in Andor!!

I love Jyn so much - she hides her feelings but still obviously feels so much. The vibe is so serious & cool. So much of SW is lighthearted & the characters laugh & smile, which I love. But I also love how Jyn hardly ever smiles. She acts like she's in the genre she's in. Not overly grumpy, rude, or "I'm not like other girls" kind of way. But just because her life is hard & she has no one to trust - until later on in the movie. When she comes to trust & love Cassian. Then she smiles.

The world feels so vast & unique, yet so perfectly fitting in with Star Wars. It feels straight out of the 70s. I love that the Force & Jedi aren't at all a focus, yet they are stilp myths & an undercurrent to the culture & worldbuilding.

Andor ends with Cassian startling awake after a dream about his childhood. Jyn does the same here.

I love Chirrut so much - everything he does is profound & hilarious!

"It's not a problem if you don't look up." I love that she isn't perfectly moral. She doesn't constantly put others first. She's lost. She doesn't know her place in the galaxy or what she wants to fight for like Cassian does. She feels like a realistic, nuanced person who has been through great hardship. Yes, she's a good guy. But a person exposed to so much war, death, suffering, & paranoia would not be totally good, selfless, & idealistic. She is a victim of the world she lives in. Yet despite it all, when she figures out who she is meant to be and what she needs to do, she pulls everything together to be an unstoppable force for good alongside Cassian.

I love so much how Galen inspired Bodhi - telling him that he can be a better man if he chooses to do the right thing. He's a dad at heart, and without Jyn, he teaches Bodhi to do the right thing.

Cassian said, "You're the messenger," - oh, man, alive!! That's just what the Force healer told him!! Both Cassian & Jyn are the messengers, sent by the Force to bring Luke & Leia where they need to be.

Chirrut is such an interesting person - I'd love to know more about his religion. It's so strange that he prays to the Force. He's so very like the Force healer & Bix & Leia - the Force isn't a showy, powerful tool for them. It's instinct, guidance, a sense of someone's morality, & hope.

Cassian can't fall to the Dark Side, but he can darken his heart & become the evil he sought to destroy. If he had killed Galen, perhaps Jyn wouldn't have worked with him & the Death Star never would have been taken down. I love so much that Bix's words of regret over killing so many people finally reached him before it was too late.

Cassian loved Bix, but he had moved on, I think. The panic in his voice when he realizes Jyn is in danger is not something I've heard from him over anyone else.

Galen's confused, afraid-to-be-hopeful face when Jyn yells, "Father!" - I can't!! 😭😭 I love him so much. Such a sweet, loving, moral character who lost everything & had to live with that grief & the guilt of what he was doing for so many years. And he never gets to see his revenge. All he had was hope.

Cassian's speech about living for the rebellion - maaaan!! That's the Andor show he's talking about! He hasn't had the luxury to decide when he can be moral & when he needs to be ruthless. He snaps at Jyn because his conscience agrees with her.

Cassian gathers all his friends to help Jyn because he needs all his evil deeds - & Luthen's evil deeds - to mean something.

I would have loved to see Cassian sternly tell K2 that he needed to be their for Jyn! 🤣🤣 He loves her so much! 🥹

ANAKIN!!! A sarcastic diva as always!!

"We'll take the next chance on and on until our chances are spent." That sums up Cassian's life.

Jyn & Cassian are so cute in their matching Imperial couples costumes!! 🤣

I'm so torn between shipping Cassian with Bix or Jyn! 😭😭 Narraively, both love stories work so perfectly! Cassian falling for Jyn adds another layer to the tragedy because he never learned that Bix still loved him. He seemed unsure about seeing Bix again last time he saw Vel. I think he had moved on emotionally, but if he'd known that she still loved him & that he was a dad, he would have rushed back to them.

Someone once said that Cassian was meant to live with Bix and die with Jyn. I think that sums it up so beautifully. Cassian died so far away from Bix, but he didn't die alone or without love.

Baze gained his faith when he saw the faith his friend had even when facing death. 😭😭

Bodhi's panicked, maddened desperate final action just to tell the Rebels what they needed to do is so sad. Dying not for the mission itself, but just a step in it. One step. Without that step, though, it all falls apart. I wish we could have seen more of his relationship with Galen. His last words were, "This is for you, Galen."

Nemik's, K2's, & Kino's last or close to last words were "Climb!" That is what Cassian does, even when shot & dying. They died, so he could climb.

Cassian & Jyn died to send the plans and never got to see their revenge. But they had hope. That's what everyone who died in this movie had. Even after they die, we see the story continue in the final few minutes. Andor leads perfectly into Rogue One, and Rogue One leads perfectly into A New Hope.

[superm4ks]

Thoughts on Lestappen as a ship, if any?

Their whole lives lead up to this

[sunniques]

— 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

your stepdad shows you how much he loves to have you by his side.

❥ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

❥ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

❥ WORD COUNT: 10.3k

❥ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, reader can be picked up by cheol, grinding, begging, breeding kink, daddy kink, spanking, nipple play, thigh riding, oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, recording during sex, riding, office sex, morning sex, creampies, overstimulation, cockwarming

NOTE: PLF MASTERLIST. don’t like, don’t read. as always, huge thank you to my oomf @wonustars for beta reading <3

Seungcheol is in love. He’s deeply, irrevocably in love with an amazing, beautiful woman who makes him feel more alive than he has in years. Falling for you was the easiest thing he ever did. It was so easy that he didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late. When he thinks back, he can pinpoint the exact moment this feeling started to develop. It began after the first time you two had sex; on the night you snuck into his room and helped yourself to his cock like it was already yours.

Just below the surface, Seungcheol knows the entire situation isn’t right. Honestly, it’s something that probably should’ve never happened, but he doesn’t care. For once in his life, he’s going to be selfish and indulge in his depraved desires without caring about any of the potential consequences. Maybe he’s lost his mind, but if loving you is insanity, he never wants to be sane again.

There is one problem, though. Seungcheol still hasn’t told you about these very real feelings he has for you. Not in the way they were meant to be expressed, anyway. Saying it during or after sex isn’t as intimate because of the fact that those are the only times he’s said those three little words to you. The last thing he wants is for you to think that he’s love bombing you or you thinking it’s the sex talking. While you are the best sex he’s ever had, being with you is more than that. 

There’s also the (not so) small fact that you’ve never said those words to him. The most he’s gotten is a love you or love this from you. Seungcheol isn’t the insecure type, but the longer he thinks about it, the more it makes him think you might not love him how he loves you. Part of him knows you feel something for him, but there’s also a small doubt in the back of his mind that maybe you’re not serious about being together.

It’s not like he doesn’t understand if that is how you feel. A young woman with her entire life ahead of her might not be ready or willing to settle down so quickly. Seungcheol isn’t foolish enough to think that you’re willing to put off your goals and dreams just for him. Not that he would want you to, but the thought of you picturing a future that he’s not a part of breaks his heart. Even the mere thought of not being important to you kills him, and he tries his best not to think about it constantly.

Unfortunately for him, he’s forced to confront this very real possibility when he unintentionally hears you talking on the phone with one of your friends one day. 

After a long meeting, he came home with the urge to hold you in his arms and decompress. Seungcheol doesn’t think twice about heading straight for your room with the intention of relieving all of his stress with your help. Your bedroom door is ajar, and just before he can walk in, he realizes you’re on the phone. You have it on speaker loud enough for him to hear everything.

“Did you buy your ticket already?”

You hum as you roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling unseeingly. “Yeah. I bought it a while ago.”

A high pitched squeal of excitement cuts through the peaceful silence. “Okay. Don’t forget Chan and Vernon are coming too, so make sure you pack that cute two piece you have—you know, the black one.”

Seungcheol feels his heart drop because he knows exactly the swimsuit your friend is talking about. It’s the same one that drove him crazy on your vacation last week. The worst part about this entire situation is not the fact that you’ll be around guys your own age, but the fact that you never mentioned going on a trip at all. It makes the most insecure part of him start to spiral, and he can’t stand by anymore and listen to you be so excited for this trip you never bothered to tell him about. 

So he leaves quietly, taking his heavy heart with him.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice something’s bothering Seungcheol. He’s been a little distant, and even though he never opted out of spending time with you, you can tell his mind is somewhere else whenever you two are hanging out.

“Cheolie, what’s wrong?”

Seungcheol snaps out of his self-deprecating thoughts and realizes the movie on the TV is paused. Your eyes shine with concern as you stare at him. His heart throbs painfully because there’s this glimmer of hope he feels that he knows might end up turning into disappointment. Are you really worried about him, or is he deluding himself into thinking that you care more than you actually do?

“Nothing.” 

The response slips out before Seungcheol can fully think it through, and immediately he can tell that you don’t believe him. You sit up and turn to face him fully. The incredulous look on your face does nothing to take away from your beauty. He almost smiles because in this moment, it feels like you actually care about him. 

“You’re lying,” you say, voice bordering on demanding. “Did something happen?”

Seungcheol can’t look away from your piercing stare. He’s never been one to hesitate, but he’s also never felt like this about anyone before. You have his heart in your hands, and he knows that no matter what he does, he’ll never get it back. The craziest part is that he doesn’t want it back. Because he gave it to you, and Choi Seungcheol would never take back something he gave you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re going on a trip?”

You’re floored by the words that come out of his mouth. Not because of the question itself, but because of how vulnerable he sounds when he says it. His eyes are shining, but not in the way you love. You can tell he’s holding back tears, and you can’t stand the crushed look on his face.

“Is that why you’re upset?” You ask tentatively. “Because I didn’t tell you?”

Seungcheol looks away. Your tone isn’t mean or dismissive, but he’s still embarrassed by how upset he’s gotten over you not mentioning your plans to him.

“I just– Why wouldn’t you tell me? Do I mean that little to you?” 

“What? How could you even say that?” You exclaim in disbelief. “You know how much you mean to me!”

There it is again. You have no problem telling him that you care about him, but you still don’t say the words he’s dying to hear. And once again, it makes his chest tighten in the worst way.

“Yeah, but you don’t love me, right?”

A thick silence follows his words. Suddenly everything makes sense to you. For some reason beyond your belief, Seungcheol doesn’t know about the very real and intense feelings you have for him. You almost laugh at the absurdity of it. How can he not see just how deep your feelings for him are?

Seungcheol can’t deny that he loves the expression on your face. Despite everything, the look in your eyes makes Seungcheol start to doubt all the distressing thoughts plaguing his mind. Had his insecurities gotten the best of him and made him overthink about your feelings for him? It’s starting to really feel that way.

Without another word, you climb into his lap and take his face into your hands. His wide eyes stare into yours as you gently stroke his cheeks. “Is that what you think? That I don’t love you?”

Seungcheol swallows thickly before he answers you.

“You never say ‘I love you’ to me, and maybe that’s my fault because I’ve never properly told you that I’m in love with you, but—”

“You’re in love with me?”

You relish in the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen. A cute blush spreads on his cheeks when he realizes what’s slipped out of his mouth. He doesn’t regret it, though. Especially when he sees how you light up at his words. Your eyes are shining with joy like he’s given you the only thing you’ve ever wanted. There’s also a hint of vulnerability that he doesn’t miss. It makes him realize he’s been overthinking and worrying for nothing.

“Of course I am. How could I not be?”

Seungcheol is more genuine than you’ve ever seen him, and you know right then that no one will ever make you feel as loved as he does. You grin and smash your lips onto his, your movements full of passion and need. He responds to your kiss eagerly and with a deep groan. His tongue slips into your mouth as his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer to him. Your soft lips feel like heaven, and Seungcheol wonders how he could’ve ever doubted that you don’t feel the same way.

When you pull away, you cup his face again. “I love you too, Seungcheol. I’m in love with you.”

The smile you get is blinding, and at that moment you know you’d do anything to keep that look on his face. 

“Yeah?” Seungcheol can’t keep the grin off his face. “You really love me?”

“More than anything.” You tell him honestly as you caress his face.

“Tell me again,” he demands cutely.

“I love you, Choi Seungcheol. I love you so much.”

His pretty smile is bigger than you’ve ever seen it. Seungcheol is a perfect picture of happiness, and you have to commit the beautiful sight to memory. He starts pressing sweet kisses all over your face, telling you how much he loves you between each one. You laugh joyfully as he holds you close. Nothing will ever compare to the feeling of having such an amazing man love you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.

Seungcheol’s bright eyes look up at you with ardent love. The emotion is undeniable now, and it makes your heart soar all over again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the trip,” you say as you run your hands through his hair. “I was going to tell you about it once you told me about your business trip.”

Seungcheol pouts at you. “I didn’t mention it because I was going to cancel—”

“I know,” you say in a chastising tone. “And although I love spending time with you, I don’t want you to always cancel your work trips because of me. Your work is important which is why I decided to go on the trip in the first place.”

Affection tightens around Seungcheol’s heart. He can’t believe he ever thought you might not love him when it’s so obvious that you do.

Seungcheol buries his face in your neck as his body slumps in relief. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, baby. I just hate being away from you.”

“I do too,” you admit easily. “You have no idea how much I want to be with you as much as possible. I just don’t want you to think I’m clingy.”

Seungcheol pulls back and keeps speaking to you with his cute pout that you love so much. “I like clingy. I’m yours so you can cling to me all you want.”

You grin slyly. “Okay. Just don’t regret it later.”

Seungcheol smiles and presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Never.” 

For your stepdad, the small peck is not enough. He’s quick to deepen the kiss into a heated one. You moan when his tongue slips into your mouth. With a quiet whine, you grind down on the growing bulge pressing into you. Seungcheol groans as his hands slide under your shirt to undo the clasp of your bra. Immediately, you take your shirt off and discard it on the other side of the couch. Seungcheol tugs your bra off before he shoves his face between your soft tits. 

“God, I love these pretty tits,” Seungcheol’s hums as he mouths at your skin.

Big hands palm your tits, making you keen into him. Seungcheol smoothes his thumbs over your nipples over and over until they’re hard.

“Oh fuck,” you mewl as Seungcheol plants wet kisses on your stiff buds. Your hands tighten on his hair as he starts to lick and kiss your nipples.

“Fuck, baby. You just love it when I put my mouth on these pretty nipples, don’t you?” 

You moan in response as his grip on your tits gets firmer. Seungcheol squishes them together and starts to suck on both of your aching buds at the same time. You cry out and grind down on his huge bulge. Wetness pools in your panties as he starts nipping and biting at your stiff buds. He runs his tongue over your nipples until you’re crying out loudly.

“Daddy,” your eyes roll back as you go to tug on his hair. “Fuck. I love it when you suck on my nipples.”

Seungcheol groans. “Yeah? Daddy’s going to have to play with these pretty tits every day from now on then.”

Your clit pulses with need as you grind down on him. “Yes, daddy. Please.”

As always Seungcheol’s cock throbs when you ask him so politely. His hand slips into your panties to feel how wet you are. His groan is deep as his fingers glide across your slippery cunt, parting your needy slit to tease your clenching hole.

“You’re already so wet, baby,” he hisses in delight. “This needy little pussy needs my cock, hm?”

“Yes, Cheolie. Need your big cock to split me open,” you moan as you start to grind down on his fingers.

“You know I can’t deny this greedy pussy anything. Take off your clothes for me.”

With an excitement that makes Seungcheol’s heart swell with affection, you get off his lap to take off the remainder of your clothes. He does the same, discarding his shirt and tugging down his pants enough to free his cock. You salivate at the sight of his fat dick resting against his thigh. It’s throbbing and leaking and all ready for you to take.

You eagerly sit on his lap, mewling softly when you feel his cock throb and pulse against your cunt. Seungcheol reaches down and strokes his dick for a bit before he smacks it on your pussy. Slowly, he notches the leaking tip at your hole and guides himself in the first few inches before moving his hand away to grab your hip while the other reaches around to grope your ass.

“Come on, baby. Sit on it. Sit on your stepdad’s cock,” he grunts. Dark eyes watch your pretty tits as you slowly sink down his length. “Goddamn. This tight little pussy was made to be stretched out like this.”

Your eyes flutter shut once you feel him bottom out inside your cunt. No matter how many times you take his dick, you’ll never fully get used to the amazing feeling. “It’s so deep, Cheolie,” you whine wantonly. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Seungcheol’s cock throbs, and he bucks his hips upward to fuck you even deeper. The rough motion makes you fall forward with a loud cry. You grab his shoulders and bury your face into his neck with a needy whine. Big hands grope your ass before they start bouncing you up and down on his cock. Your moans are loud and impetuous as he starts pumping his girthy cock into your gushing hole.

“Rub your cute little clit for me, princess,” Seungcheol directs you, not wanting to stop squeezing and kneading your plush ass. “Make yourself cum on daddy’s cock. Fuck. Squeeze my dick nice and tight, just how I like.”

Your hand quickly slides down between your bodies. A choked moan slips through your lips when your fingers circle and press down on your swollen bud. The ministrations make your velvety walls flutter and tighten on Seungcheol’s aching cock.

“Good fucking girl,” your stepdad groans as he slaps your ass. Once again, your cunt clenches in delight as you cry out. “Fuck, baby. Can’t wait to cream this sweet little pussy.”

You moan with every brutal thrust of his cock, wanting nothing more than for him to creampie your cunt. Seungcheol’s fat tip hammers against your g-spot ravenously, driving you closer to your orgasm. He slaps your ass repeatedly until you’re pushed over the edge. Your entire body trembles as your pussy milks his cock. 

Seungcheol moans when he feels your orgasm soak his dick completely. He fucks his cock deeper into your tight pussy until it’s fluttering around him all over again. With a deep grunt, he buries himself inside you and shoots his hot load into your cunt. Thick ropes of cum continuously stuff you to the brim until his seed starts to drip down his cock.

You sink into his chest, fully sated and satisfied. Seungcheol caresses your back and sides, making no move to slip out of you.

“I want to sleep with you tonight,” you mumble into his skin. “And every night from now on.”

Seungcheol grins and kisses your temple sweetly. “Don’t worry, baby. I already have plans to do just that. I’ll make it happen tonight.”

You hum in content, loving how he’s always so quick to give you what you want. Just knowing that you’ll be able to sleep beside him whenever you want now makes you feel deeply satisfied and excited. Finally, you’re a step closer to living the life you want with the man you love.

That night, you hear the argument between your mom and Seungcheol. You can’t keep the smirk off your face when he tells her to go to the guest bedroom downstairs and stay there from now on. Guilt and remorse are things you’re unable to feel, especially when you get a text from Seungcheol telling you you’re free to come to the master bedroom whenever you want.

Despite wanting to go right away, you wait a bit in case your mom comes up to your room. She never does. 

With a sly smile, you practically skip down the hall to the master bedroom. Seungcheol is beaming and smothers with sweet kisses when you close the door behind you. The feeling is sweet, and you immediately pull him into a needy kiss. Seungcheol groans into your mouth and starts to walk you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours.

You smile into the kiss when he pulls you closer to him. He’s just as excited as you are, and neither of you care that your mom is downstairs. You giggle against his mount when he falls back into the bed and takes you with him.

“Let me make you feel good, daddy,” you purr as you reach down to cup his cock.

“God, baby,” Seungcheol groans as you squeeze and rub his clothed dick. “You know I can never tell you no.”

You grin triumphantly and sit up to take your sleep shirt off. Seungcheol groans when he sees you’re completely naked underneath. You tug on his own shirt and he’s quick to discard it. He’s eyes flutter shut when you start trailing wet kisses down his chiseled torso. You slowly inch your way until you get to his sleep pants. Impatiently, you tug them down until his cock springs free.

It’s already starting to leak with precum, and you don’t wast any more time to get your treat. Seungcheol groans deeply when you lick up every last drop from his leaking tip. He feels your lips and tongue gently kissing and caressing at his fat cockhead, lathing the skin before lapping up the drippy precum from his slit. You repeat your sinful motions before taking him fully into your hot, wet mouth.

“Mmh, good girl,” your stepdad groans as you start bobbing your head up and down his cock. 

Soft sucking noises sound through the room as you moan around his cock. A syrupy-like pleasure builds in Seungcheol’s lower abdomen as you eagerly suck his dick. He can only moan because it just feels so fucking good. A gentle hand settles on your head, lovingly combing through your hair as you slobber all over his thick cock.

You can feel yourself getting wet, especially when Seungcheol starts thrusting up into your mouth. The tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat and makes you gag around him. You eagerly sink more of your mouth onto his leaking cock. A guttural moan slips out of your stepdad’s lips when he feels your spit dripping down his throbbing length.

Seungcheol’s fingers twitch in your hair as his pulsing tip brushes the back of your throat. He groans when you pull of his cock and plant adoring kisses all of his cockhead before dragging your lips down his thick cock. You sensually lick a broad stipe all the way up to the tip. Seungcheol’s cock throbs as you slide it between your lips again. A thick glob of precum spills out and you’re quick to lap it up. Seungcheol’s eyes roll back as you keep sinking your hot little mouth onto him.

At this point, he’s leaking with so much precum that you didn’t doubt he’ll give you your treat soon. You lick up every drop like it’s the tastiest thing ever. 

“Baby,” Seungcheol moans as you continue to suck his dick eagerly. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum, sweetheart. Be a good girl and swallow daddy’s load.”

With a wanton moan, you take his fat cock deeper down your throat until you’re choking around him. The feeling makes the coil in his stomach snap immediately. Seungcheol groans loudly as his balls tighten. His cock throbs and pulses wildly as he pumps a load of hot, sticky cum down your throat. You swallow everything he gives you, loving how ropes of his thick cum fill your mouth until it’s spilling around the edges and dribbling down his cock all the way to his heavy balls.

“That’s it, brat. Swallow all of daddy’s cum,” Seungcheol hums lovingly as he caresses your cheek.

You don’t move right away. Instead you pull off and start to kitten lick his twitching cock until all of his cum has been cleaned off. Seungcheol’s eyes are full of affection as you sit up. His eyes are drawn to your wet lips and blown out pupils. Just seeing the remnants of cum on your mouth makes his cock throb all over again.

Seungcheol sits up and smashes his mouth against your, moaning as you respond with as much eagerness. Without breaking the kiss, he lays you on your back and starts to trail wet kisses down your body, just like you did with him.

“Been thinking about eating your little pussy since earlier,” Seungcheol confesses as he spreads your legs. “Finally I can make you feel good in our bed.”

You moan when he presses a sweet kiss on your pulsing clit. He gently nips it, making you writhe in pleasure.

“Please,” you whine, bucking your hips impatiently.

Seungcheol groans and starts to make out with your pussy. He does it sensually, lips moving all across your heat. The way he sucks and licks your slick pussy lips makes you arch into him. The cute little noises you’re letting out are enough to get him hard all over again.

When he pulls back and spreads your lips with his fingers, he moans at seeing the amount of juices leaking from your pussy. Seungcheol greedily fucks his tongue into your wet hole, eager to lick up all your wetness. You moan loudly and roll your hips into his mouth, eyes crossing when his nose bumps your clit.

Your stepdad groans when you thread your fingers in his hair and tug on it. He fucks his tongue deeper into your fluttering hole, grinding his nose on your puffy but. Seungcheol’s dark eyes watch you fall apart, and it only makes him hungrier for you. He runs his tongue through your wet hole and immediately presses his face deeper into your cunt.

His hot tongue licks every inch of your dripping pussy. He laps up all the arousal leaking from your clenching heat. Seungcheol presses his nose down on your sensitive bud until you’re crying out for him. He can’t hold back his smirk when he feels your body start to tremble in his hold. Your grip on his hair tightens to make sure he keeps his mouth on your pussy. 

“Daddy!” You mewl, hips rolling into his mouth. “Gonna cream all over your tongue. Fuck!”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes watch you carefully as you arch up into his thrusting tongue, head grinding against the mattress as you moan loudly. He hums against your cunt, lapping up every drop of your orgasm. You’re completely satisfied as he places another kiss on your pulsing clit. He moves up over your body slowly, kissing every inch of your soft skin as he goes. 

Seungcheol goes to kiss you with a groan, pleased at the way your lips part to eagerly kissing him back. His fingers trail down to your pussy, smirking when you whine into his mouth. It’s loud and needy.

“Shh, baby,” Seungcheol’s tone is deep and wicked when he pulls away. “Your mom’s downstairs. You don’t want her to come up here and interrupt us, do you?”

You choke back another whine, clit throbbing underneath his fingers as he circles the swollen bud over and over again. His fingers dip down to part your pussy lips, gathering slick between the digits before sliding back up to rub wetly across your clit. He lightly spanks your cunt, making you buck your hips forward. 

“Daddy,” you whimper, nipples hard and aching in need. 

Seungcheol slides his cock between your juicy lips, soaking his fat length in your arousal. You moan so loud that your stepdad has to cover your mouth with his free hand while he uses the other to press his tip into your clenching hole. 

“Greedy little girl,” the way he laughs in your ear makes your cunt throb. “You don’t even care that you’re gonna get us caught, baby.”

Seungcheol’s eyes flutter as more of your juices coat the tip of his dick while he presses himself deeper into your fluttering walls. You can’t stop whining against his palm as he works his cock all the way into your pussy, burying himself balls deep with a low groan. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re extra tight and wet tonight,” Seungcheol grins as he starts to roughly thrust into you. “You like that your mom can walk in on me stuffing your hot cunt?”

Your loud wail is muffled by his hand, and Seungcheol groans as his cock start to slam into your g-spot. He smirks when you start to grind up to meet his thrusts. Your stepdad slows his movements to gently grind his cock inside your soaked hole as his fingers tease your pudgy clit. 

“Should I just let you make all the noise you want?” He says as he fucks his cock deeper into your hot cunt. “Let your mom hear how much you like your stepdad fucking your tight little pussy?”

Pleasure pools in your stomach at the thought, pussy fluttering wildly around his cock. The milking compression of your cunt makes Seungcheol take his hand off your mouth. The thought of his wife hearing your filthy moans pushes him closer to the edge.

“You like that?” He laughs as his cock throbs. “Fuck. Nasty little brat. Of course you do.”

“You do too, daddy,” you moan quietly. “I can feel your cock throbbing inside me like it’s going to explode. I know you wish your wife could see me like this—stuffed full of your cock.”

Seungcheol groans deeply, fucking into you harder. His hips pick up speed as he fucks into your squelching pussy like a feral animal. “Goddamn. You’re squeezing me so tight, baby. Gonna make me creampie this cute pussy.”

Your stepdad doesn’t care that your moans are getting louder. He keeps slamming his cock into you with the goal of making you cream all over him. He feels your orgasm approaching from how much you’re tightening around him. Seungcheol’s fingers stop their slow pace and start rubbing your clit in tight little circles that make you squirm against him. 

“Cum for me, baby,” your stepdad grunts. “Cream all over my cock with your sexy little pussy. Show daddy how good he fucks you.”

Seungcheol rocks forward one more time, brushing across the spongy spot in your cunt. That band of arousal snaps. Your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice, walls pulsing and fluttering around his fat length. 

“Daddy,” you whine into his neck, hips still fucking into his.

“Fuck that’s it. Such a good girl,” he whispers in your ear.

Seungcheol is close to his own orgasm, and he starts hammering his cock into your sensitive pussy. His fat dick is fucking into you so hard all you can do is whine and moan.

“Take daddy’s cum, princess. Fuck. Take it all,” he hisses as he buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he shoots his load into your cunt. 

You whimper softly when you feel hot rope after rope of his thick cum filling your pussy to the brim. After a few minutes, he finally pulls out with a wet schlick. Cum drips from your used hole, and the sight makes your stepdad feral all over again.

Without warning, he shoves his cock back inside you. He stifles your cry of pleasure with a wet kiss. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he snaps his hips into yours with the goal of completely ruining you.

“Da-Daddy!” You squeal against his lips. “Y-Your cock—too much!”

“Don’t be a brat,” Seungcheol groans as his cock presses deeper into you. “Not when you love it every time I do this.”

He’s right, and the ring of cream on his cock growing thicker and thicker is proof of that. You love it when he pushes you past your limits. Seungcheol loves it even more, though. He’s completely obsessed with the way you tremble against him and how your desperate whines never stop. He loves seeing how worked up you get on his cock.

“Maybe I should get this on video, so you’ll never forget.”

He reaches for his phone when you clench around him in agreement. Seungcheol can’t believe he didn’t think to record your first night in this room together earlier, but better late than never. He aims his phone where you two are connected, capturing the leaky mess that’s spilling from your cunt and down your ass. He has no doubt the video is perfectly catching your needy whines and the lewd squelching of your cunt. 

“Fuck, daddy. Hurry up and cum in me.”

Seungcheol grins deviously as your cream stains his cock. “Greedy little brat.”

It’s late when you two are done fucking. The thought of your mom was long forgotten. As you lay in Seungcheol’s arms (which feels more intimate than usual), you contemplate how you’re going to make sure you have him to yourself once and for all. You fall asleep easily as you picture a life where Seungcheol and you are living a happy life together.

You wake up feeling blissful, belatedly remembering why you’re not in your own room. A strong pair of arms pull you into a broad chest when you try to get up. You don’t try to fight the smile spreading on your face when you turn around in his arms to look at Seungcheol’s sleepy face.

“Morning, baby,” he murmurs. His voice is rough with sleep, making you press your thighs together. 

"Morning," you whisper, nuzzling into his neck.

Immediately, his hands go to your hips as he rubs his hard cock against your bare pussy. You sigh softly, noticing the tiniest bit of sunlight peeking through the blinds.

“We have a little bit of time before I have to be at work,” he kisses your neck as he rolls his hips to grind his cock against your slippery slit.

“Daddy,” you mewl, bucking forward with a whine. “Want you in my pussy.”

Seungcheol groans and rolls over until he’s on top of you, pressing your body down into the mattress. Your toes curl in anticipation as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Want me to fill up your cute little cunt?” 

You smirk at him. “I want you to breed me, daddy.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, rocking against you harder. His cock throbs and pulses as it glides between your puffy lips. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

With that, he ruts his thick cock against your slick cunt, fat tip pressing right on your clit. “Gonna fuck this little pussy nice and deep.”

You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol presses his cock into your drippy hole. He grunts, shoving himself as deep as possible until you're squirming from the pleasurable pain of his tip kissing your cervix. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “My little brat’s got the tightest fucking cunt.”

Your nails scratch along his back, making him grind even harder against you as your pussy squeezes around his dick rhythmically. Seungcheol fucks your pussy with slow thrusts, barely pulling out before fucking back into your pliant body. You lose complete track of everything, only able to feel Seungcheol’s cock stretches you open. He loses control as he bullies into your hot cunt over and over. 

All you can hear is skin on skin as Seungcheol stuffs your pussy with his thick cock. He moves his hand in between your bodies to rub at your swollen clit. You trade soft wet kisses, tongues slipping back and forth. With every thrust, Seungcheol drags his cock along your g-spot, sloppy squelching noises filling the room, disturbing the quiet ambiance.  

You’re in a daze, orgasm coiling tight in your lower belly as Seungcheol’s thick cock slips in and out of your clenching hole. 

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you moan softly, pulling him in for another wet kiss. 

“Then do it, baby. Cum all over my cock. Squeeze me tight so I can breed this cute little pussy,” he groans, hips snapping harder against you.

He picks up his pace, fucking you quicker than before. His girthy cock plunges into your drippy cunt hard as his hand rubs your sensitive bud with firm circles. 

“Oh, oh!” You let out a breathy cry as your orgasm washes over you in a slow wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, baby. Tight little pussy feels so good.”

Your body is still thrumming with aftershock as you wrap your legs around his waist. Your pussy clenches down on his cock like a vice, milking him as he fills your cunt with hot, sticky cum.

“So much cum,” you mewl tiredly. 

Seungcheol bites your neck gently, cum leaking out around his thick shaft, “You love it.”  

The high of climaxing is still bubbling in your veins. “Mhm. Love it when you fill me up with cum.”

He pulls out with a hiss, loving how his cum drips out of you and down to your pretty ass. Seungcheol wishes that he could stay in bed with you, but you remind him that he doesn’t have that option. You laugh as he gets out of bed with a pout. Eventually, you get up to go shower in your own room, feeling more rested than you have in a long time.

After you shower, Seungcheol sent you a message to let you know he left first. You laugh when you read the sulky part of his message about not getting a goodbye kiss from you. With a promise to never let it happen again, you go downstairs and find your mom sitting on the couch. You’re surprised to see that she’s still home, but you don’t say anything about it.

“Hey, mom.”

“Sweetheart,” she smiles, but it looks forced. “Sorry I didn’t make any breakfast. I woke up late.”

Although her breakfast is never anything special, she never deviates from her routine. Not waking up on time is so unlike her, and you know it’s because Seungcheol kicked her out of their bedroom. You sit on the other end of the couch and watch her closely. She doesn’t look at you. Her stare is blank as if she’s completely numb.

“Are you okay, mom? You look—”

“Sweetheart,” she interrupts, not really hearing you. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” you say even though you feel unsure of what she’s going to ask for. “What is it?”

“Will you spend more time with Seungcheol? He’s been distant lately, and I…” she trails off, but you know what she’s trying to say.

“You think he won’t cheat on you if I’m around.”

Finally, she looks at you. “It’s only temporary. Just until he’s not mad at me anymore.”

You nod solemnly, barely holding back your devious grin. “Sure, mom. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him.”

You press the button to the top floor, fixing your blouse and skirt so you look perfect. Ever since you decided to cling to Seungcheol to your heart’s desire, you’ve been visiting him at work whenever you had the chance. 

As always, you’re greeted warmly by the staff as you walk towards the back where Seungcheol’s office is. As the boss, he has a personal office away from where the rest of the workers are. You walk down the hall with a smile, excited to see your stepdad again. You knock on the door and wait for him to give you the green light to come in.

“Cheolie.”

Seungcheol smiles at the sound of your voice. He disregards the work on his desk and stands to greet you with a kiss.

“Come here, baby.”

He walks you over to his desk and pulls you down to his lap as he  sits on his chair. You’re straddling one of his thick thighs, and immediately you start to get wet. Your hands come up to brace against his shoulders while his slacks rub against your bare thighs where your skirt is hiked up.

Seungcheol presses a soft kiss on your neck, leaving a heated trail up to your jaw. Pulling back, you can see how dark his eyes have gotten. “I’m glad you’re here, princess. Been thinking about you all day.”

One of his hands tangles into your hair as he guides your mouth down to his. Your parted lips lets him slip his tongue into your mouth. Groaning, he grabs your ass with his free hand and urges you to roll your hips forward. You whine, feeling so hot and dizzy with arousal. Your clit pulses with excitement as you follow the guidance of his hand and start to grind your hips down into his leg. You eagerly suck on his tongue when he thrusts it into your mouth. You feel him groan low in his chest, and it makes you arch into him more. Whining, your hands come up to tangle in his messy blonde hair, tugging gently when he sucks on your tongue. 

“You taste so good, baby,” he whispers against your mouth before dragging his lips down your jaw. “Fuck. I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy right on top of my desk.”

“Daddy,” you whimper, rocking your hips forward, and he groans, hands sliding to wrap around your waist. “What if we get caught?”

“No one comes in here without my permission,” he reassures you. “So we can do anything we want, baby.”

“Don’t be so greedy, daddy,” you laugh through a moan as your stepdad trails wet kisses down your neck. “What will your subordinates think if they see me walk out of here with your cum dripping down my leg?”

Seungcheol groans against your soft skin, cock throbbing at the mere thought. He gives you a nasty smirk, and right then you know what’s going to happen next.

“They’ll think that you’re the woman who’s going to be my future wife.”

“Fuck,” your eyes flutter while he sucks on your neck.

“So let daddy cream your sweet pussy, brat. You know you want me to stuff you full.”

You whine in need. “Yes, fuck. Cream my little cunt, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he nips at your jaw. “I’m gonna breed you until it’s time to go home, baby.”

Your toes curl in your heels as you gasp and grind down on his thick thigh.

Seungcheol smirks. “You like that, princess? Like that I’m gonna creampie your needy cunt? Of course you do. Slutty little brat loves it when her stepdad breeds her, hm?” 

Your pussy flutters and throbs at his filthy words. You’re so turned on that you can’t hide your erotic expression.

“We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already acting cockdrunk,” he says through a laugh.

“Daddy,” you whimper as you roll your hips. “Want you so bad.”

“Look at the mess you’ve made, sweetheart,” Seungcheol groans as his eyes drop down to where you’re grinding your pussy on him. “Just look at how your needy little pussy’s soaking my pants. Fuck. That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on my thigh like a good girl.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, wrinkling the fabric of his designer shirt. It all feels so good, and you know you can cum from this alone. You whine, humping down onto his leg harder. Your juices pool in your panties and drip all over his pants.

“God damn, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Always so good for me,” he lets go of your hair to grab the back of your neck. “Always so eager to please.”

Seungcheol smirks as he slides his thumb into your panting mouth. He presses it down on your tongue and lets you suck on it before pulling his thumb free and smearing spit all over your lips. You whine again, desperate for him to give you what you want. Your stepdad lets you go only to tug your button up blouse open. 

“You have the prettiest fucking tits,” he groans as he pulls undoes you bra and tosses it behind him.

Your breasts are completely bare, aching nipples on display and eager for his touch. Seungcheol slowly drags his fingers across the swell of your tits. He circles your sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing the hardening buds. Your breath hitches as arousal pulses in your cunt.

“Cheolie,” you say to make him give in, but it only makes him want to savor you more.

“Daddy’s going to make a mess out of you just by teasing your pretty tits.”

Your back arches into him, pressing your tits into his hands. “Please, daddy. They’re so sensitive”

Seungcheol groans and gently tugs your nipples. He pinches them roughly before soothing them with slow drags of his fingers. Panting, your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt. Your clit throbs with every brush against your nipples, and you can’t stop keening into his touch. 

Everything Seungcheol is doing has more arousal pool in your panties. You’re so wet, and it keeps dripping down to where your stepdad’s pants are pressed against your pussy. You can see his big cock straining against his pants. A thrill goes up your spine knowing you’re the cause.

“Always so eager for me, princess,” he teases, voice deep and raspy. 

Seungcheol lifts you off his thigh and settles you right on his growing cock. Your hands go up to his hair and tug gently as you roll your hips on the huge bulge in his slacks. He gives your nipples a sharp tug then tweaks them as you writhe in his grasp.

“Just look at how wet you are, baby,” he groans, dark gaze drawn to the juices dripping from your panties. “Desperate little slut.”

A pleased sigh tumbles past your lips as you continue to play with his hair.

“You drive me crazy, Y/N.” Seungcheol growls out, letting his gaze roam across your swollen nipples and  up to your dazed expression. “Always acting so sweet and making me want to do the filthiest things to you.”

“Yeah?” You whimper excitedly.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me, sweetheart,” he says as he drags one of his hands from your chest up to your lips. You moan when he slips two fingers into your mouth. “Want to keep you on my cock all the time. Can’t stand not being inside you.”

Seungcheol presses his fingers deeper into your mouth. You whine and suckle on them softly, swirling your tongue around them like you would his cock. Your stepdad grunts and pulls them out with a soft pop.

“Touch me, daddy,” you demand through a throaty whisper as he drags those fingers down to your puffy nipples.

Seungcheol concedes immediately. He greedily mouths at each tit and sucks on your nipples, teeth catching on the sensitive buds until you’re clawing at his shoulders again.

“Such a bratty little girl,” he hums fondly, feeling you shudder at the endearment. “But always so good for me. You’ll be good for me this time too, right?”

“So good,” you promise with a grin.

That’s all your stepdad needs to hear to suck one of your hard nipples into his mouth as his hand teases across the other with quick flicks of his damp fingers. Like always, he goes back and forth, swapping sides as his dark gaze watches you bite your lip and toss your head back at the pleasure. Pulling away a little, Seungcheol grabs each tit and presses them together—an action he’s becoming fond of lately. He runs his tongue from one nipple to the other more easily, suckling them until you’re squirming in his lap.

Seungcheol groans low in his chest and rolls his hips to grind his cock against your hot, wet cunt, almost jostling you from his lap. In the same motion, Seungcheol’s sharp teeth tug on one of your nipples, earning a breathy cry from you. He swaps to the other nipple, using his teeth so you’ll reward him with more of those sounds. After repeatedly teasing each nipple with his teeth, you tug on his hair in a silent plea to slow down. He eases off from biting to soft, gentle sucks.

“Love your tits, baby,” he mouths at your nipples. “So fucking perfect.”

You cry out at the hot, wet suction of Seungcheol’s mouth on your sore nipples. Your back arches forward to press your chest closer to his hungry teeth and tongue. You start grinding your hips down, feeling him moan against your tits. With a sly grin, you repeat the motion only this time your clit grinds against Seungcheol’s slacks, earning a low cry of want.

“Cheolie,” you whimper.

He only hums in reply as he keeps up the hot suction on each hardened nub. You try rolling your hips again only to be stopped by a strong grip on your waist.

“I want you to cum from this,” Seungcheol grunts, voice deep as his tongue lashes against your abused nipple. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

You mewl, clit pulsing in arousal. “Yes, daddy.”

A sharp tug of teeth on your nipple has you arching in pleasurable pain. Your hands slide up into his hair again to hold him in place so he keeps worshiping your chest. “So perfect,” Seungcheol murmurs, lazily mouthing his way up to your neck. “So sweet for me.”

The way he speaks against your skin and gently kisses across your collar bones drives you crazy. You feel dizzy and aroused. All you can do is grind down on the outline of his hard cock and tug his hair to pull him into a soft kiss. Seungcheol groans low in his chest, pressing you harder against him as he licks into your mouth. He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it gently before slipping his tongue further in. You moan in response, loving the feel of his slick tongue teasing your own. His hands came up and grip your hair, tilting your head at an angle where he can kiss you even deeper than before.

Before long, the kiss becomes sloppy and wet, but neither of you care. You can’t stop whining in pleasure as his tongue fucks into your mouth and teases your own. Chest rumbling in pleasure, Seungcheol draws your tongue into his mouth to suck on it greedily. You slip your tongue away to pull his plump bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling gently before softly sucking. You drag your teeth aggressively against Seungcheol’s lip, tongue following in silent apology for the rough treatment. 

Your stepdad growls and pulls back far enough for you to let his lip go with a small pout. His cock twitches at how debauched you look. Pupils blown wide with lust and lips swollen. He moves his hands from your hair to grip your hips. You know his hold is tight enough to bruise, but you only moan in appreciation. Fingers start to roughly pinch and rub your swollen, sore nipples again. His dark eyes never leave yours as you edge closer and closer to orgasm. Your cunt is copiously dribbling with arousal.

“I’m so close, daddy,” you whimper, grinding down on him like an animal in heat.

Seungcheol smirks and decides to tease you a little. His fingers lightly grace the hard peaks, not fully giving them the attention they crave. His gaze drops from yours to take in the swollen nipples his fingers are touching. He groans loudly, knowing he can’t deny himself another taste. You grip his head as your stepdad starts eagerly lap at your nipples, running his tongue across each one before gently biting.

“Daddy!”

Seungcheol bites down harder on your left nipple as he gives the right a sharp twist. Your eyes roll back in your head as he gets even more aggressive. Harsh bites followed by a hot soothing tongue has your cunt dripping and needy.

“I know you like it rough, baby.”

You can only moan wantonly in reply since Seungcheol doesn’t let up the assault on your abused chest. You continue to gasp and moan in the otherwise quiet office. Your stepdad is being so rough on you, and you love it. Want him to pin you down right here and now. Make you cum all over yourself. Make you take his thick cock over and over until everyone in the building knows he’s fucking you.

Seungcheol groans against your tit as your orgasm abruptly hits you. He can feel you soaking his pants, and he helps you ride out your high by grinding you harder on his clothes cock. Without giving you time to recover, he hoist you up on his large desk, shoving his laptop out of the way. His dark eyes locked onto your white panties, nearly transparent from how wet they are.

“Daddy,” you hiss, squirming on his desk as he reaches under your skirt to tug your panties off. 

Clear strings of slick web between the fabric and your glistening pussy lips making him groan in his throat. 

“Fuck, princess. You always look good enough to eat,” he growls as he pockets your panties and pushes your skirt up.

You moan loudly when he holds your legs open and leans down to kiss your slit. His hands smooth over your thighs and press you open even wider.

“Want daddy to lick your pretty cunt?” He asks, teasingly blowing air on your pussy. 

“You promised, Cheolie,” you whine.

Seungcheol hums in acknowledgment as he licks up your slick coating your thighs. “Try not to be too loud, baby.”

With a smirk, he flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, parting your folds and pressing the tip into your hole. A whine spills past your lips and Seungcheol groans. He hungrily licking into your pussy like he’s never tasted anything so good. Your stepdad sucks on your clit with the perfect amount of suction that has your toes curling and eyes rolling back. His hands come up and pull your pussy open, letting him lick and kiss and suck your swollen bundle of nerves until you’re humping his face.

“Fuck, daddy. You’re so dirty for eating your stepdaughter’s pussy on your desk. What would your workers say if they knew how much of a perv you are?”

Seungcheol moans, fucking his tongue deeper into your dripping hole. “They would understand if they knew how sweet my stepdaughter’s cunt tastes.”

You cry out when he starts sucking on your clit, eager to get you to cum again. His tongue flicks and laps at your puffy bud, loving how your juices flow right into his mouth. All it takes is an affectionate nip on your clit for you to cum all over his face. Seungcheol groans as you cry out his name, cock throbbing and twitching in his pants as you ride out your high on his tongue.

“Fuck, baby. You did so good for me.”

You mewl as your pussy clenches. The sound of his belt unbuckling sends a fresh wave of arousal over you. Lust builds within you as he pulls away from your pussy, lips and chins shiny with your release. He stands with his cock sticking out of his pants, leaking and pulsing with the need to be inside you.

Seungcheol slaps his aching cock down onto your cunt repeatedly. The lewd plap sound fills his office, making you buck into the heat of his dick. With a guttural groan he ruts his cock against your clit until you’re wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

“Daddy,”  you drag out the word through a needy whine as he teases you.

Your stepdad smirks as he swipes his fat tip up and down your folds. His cock notches against your cunt and he thrusts forward, but it slips upward, parting your slit to bump your pudgy clit. You whimper when you feel his balls press against your ass. With a mean laugh, he grabs the base of his cock and presses it against your hole again. He uses his thumb to press on the head of his dick, guiding himself slowly into your pussy, dipping it inside your hole completely.

You let out a sigh of pleasure as Seungcheol groans at the feeling of him fucking his cock deeper into you. Your pussy spasms around his girthy leg th once he’s buried inside you to the hilt.

“So fucking tight,” he growls, pulling his dick out halfway to thrust back inside. “So much better than your mom.”

Your pussy ripples and clenches while you cry out, his words burning hot in your ears. He doesn’t let you take any time to adjust to his size and starts a slow, hard pace, cock bullying in and out of your pussy and rattling his desk. Your stepdad pushes you flat against the desk and cages your body, dick grinding deep in your pussy and making you whine. The new angle has Seungcheol’s cock rubbing against your g-spot. Your eyes roll back as Seungcheol fucks your pussy with quick, rough thrusts.

“Dirty little slut. What would people say if they knew I was breeding my stepdaughter on my desk?”

You clench down tightly on his cock and he hisses, eyes staring down at you as he grins. 

“Filthy girl. You like that? Maybe we should let them watch so they can see how much you like your stepdad creaming your hot pussy,” he uses his other hand to slip between you and rub your clit. “The they’d know that you’re addicted to my cum.”

His fingers glide across your swollen bud in a way that has you crying out for him. That paired with the way his cock grinds against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt has your orgasm rolling over your body. He laughs delightedly and pumps his cock in and out of your squelching hole. 

“My little brat always cums so hard,” he grunts softly.

“Fuck. Gonna breed your slutty little pussy. Gonna knock you up.”

Your pussy flutters and milks his cock as he buries himself balls deep and shoots his load inside you. He drops his head into your neck as he slowly ruts inside your cunt, hot sticky cum flooding your walls until it's dripping out of your stuffed hole. The thought of you getting caught being creampied by your stepdad is making you horny all over again. 

The flex of his cock pulls your thoughts back to him, and you realize Seungcheol slowly thrusting in and out of your pussy, cum dripping all over his desk as he fucks his seed deeper into you.

“Fuck, baby. This sloppy pussy is making daddy hard again. You don’t care if I breed you some more, right, princess?”

You go to kiss him and mewl into his mouth. “Fuck me again, daddy. Don’t stop until I’m carrying your baby.”

Seungcheol groans and pulls out of you slowly, smirking when cum oozes from your cunt. He licks his lips and sits back on his chair. He effortlessly picks you up and sits you back on his dick.

“God, baby. Still so fucking tight,” Seungcheol groans as he smacks your ass.

Your stepdad doesn’t give you anytime to adjust and fucks up into you, grabbing your hips to pull you down at the same time. You scream from the feeling in your spasming cunt. Without waiting for your pussy to adjust, he pulls out halfway to bully his fat cock back into your aching hole.

“Fuck me, daddy,” you cry out. “Make me cream on your fat cock again.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol pulls you down until his cock is buried deep in your pussy. “I’ll have to give my little brat what she wants, hm?”

With that, he pulls out until just the tip is teasing your wet hole then shoves his cock back deep inside your pussy. You’re moaning loudly and clinging onto his shoulders. A pleasurable heat is slowly building in your abdomen. You whine as your hips roll down onto the thick cock stretching you out. It takes you a while to realize Seungcheol stopped thrusting and now you’re the one fucking his cock.

“Good girl,” Seungcheol smacks your ass again and you moan. He smirks and starts guiding your hips to fuck harder. “Such a needy slut. Just for me.”

“Only for you, daddy,” you agree through a moan.

Your brain is completely fuzzy from how deep he is inside your cunt. Seungcheol laughs in absolute delight, loving how you’re completely his. His thumb brushes against your clit in slow circles, eager to see you make a mess on his dick all over again.

“Cream on my cock, princess. I want you squeezing me when I breed this little pussy.”

You moan loudly, hips gyrating down on his cock in excitement. “Fuck. Please, daddy!”

“That’s it, baby,” he groans low in his chest. “Keep working daddy’s dick. Fuck. I’m gonna creampie your sweet little cunt.”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. With his hard cock fucking into you and his thumb rubbing dizzying circles on your clit, you’re close to reaching your climax. “Gonna cum, daddy. Gonna make a mess all over your big cock.”

Seungcheol hums in approval and pulls his thumb away from your clit before he spits on your pussy. The glob of drool slowly drips down your clit. He brings his thumb back to rub the slippery mess over and over and over into your sensitive bud. Your back arches, eyes rolling back, as you clamp down on his pistoning dick. Slick coats his cock as you cum, pussy walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck yes,” he hisses, thumb still pressing into your clit. “Cream my cock so I can fill up your pretty pussy.”

Your thighs jump and twitch from overstimulation as he keeps teasing your clit and grinding his cock deep in your cunt.

“Take all of daddy’s cum, baby. It’s all for you,” he groans out, snapping his hips up into your squelching hole and pumping you full of hot cum.

You moan brokenly, pussy fluttering around his throbbing cock. At this moment, you know you won’t be able to get over the feeling of getting creampied by your stepdad at his work. You can tell Seungcheol feels the same way. He fucks his cum into you until neither of you can handle the overstimulation. 

Seungcheol leans back into his chair with a pleased sigh. “God. I should’ve had you come by sooner.”

Your thoughts are still hazy, so you only hum in response.

“Did I fuck you dumb, baby?” Seungcheol smirks, pinching your nipples until you’re squealing.

You go to get off of him, but he keeps you in place. “Stay.” He says tenderly. “I’m almost done with my work, then we can go home.”

You slump against his chest and nuzzle your face into his neck. “Okay.”

Did you see anything?

You roll your eyes as you shift on Seungcheol’s cock. He’s typing away on his computer, completely focused on his work.

No. He was just working.

“Are you okay, princess?” Seungcheol wonders suddenly, dropping his head to press a kiss into your hair.

“Yeah. Just updating your wife about how good you’re being,” you say with a laugh. 

Seungcheol hums and contemplates his next course of action. While he wants to get rid of your mom soon, he still hasn’t talked it over with you. He still doesn’t know how you’re going to feel about what he has planned.

“Cheolie,” you call, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I know you’re going to leave my mom, but before you do, let’s have some more fun first.”

You’re looking at him with a naughty grin, and it makes his cock throb inside you. Seungcheol smirks and kisses you deeply. You two really are meant to be together, and he’ll make sure everyone knows that sooner than later.

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After one unforgettable shoot with Bakugo, you’re left unable to finish with anyone else—on or off camera. He’s the only one who’s ever made it real. When you run into him at a party, the sexual tension explodes, leading to a filthy, passionate reconnection that neither of you can shake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MATURE CONTENT 18+ Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, degradation + praise, light dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink references, creampie, soft aftercare, strong language, alcohol mention, sex industry themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2k (omg)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

You haven’t cum in weeks.

Not on set. Not in the shower. Not with the $300 vibrator your manager sent as a “self-care” gift. Not even with that one video you shot with Keigo—the one that used to always do the trick.

Nothing works anymore.

Every orgasm you fake now feels like a cheap knockoff. Just muscle memory. Fake moans, fake trembling, fake gasps as the camera zooms in on your face like it’s catching something real. You used to be good at this—great, actually. Made your name off it. You could sell pleasure better than anyone. But now?

Now it’s all broken.

Because Katsuki Bakugo had the audacity to actually make you finish. Not once. Not twice. But over and over until your voice was hoarse and your legs wouldn’t stop shaking. And the worst part wasn’t even how good it felt—it was how real it was. He didn’t just make you come, he pulled it out of you. Like he knew exactly what buttons to press, what noises made you unravel, what rhythm would keep you teetering right on that edge. And then he’d tip you over it like it was nothing.

And ever since then?

Every other guy has felt like cardboard. Even the good ones. Even the pros. You tried not to be obvious about it on set, but your heart’s not in it. Your body’s not either. You’re back to acting, and that just makes it worse. Because now you know what it’s like to actually feel it. To lose control. To not have to fake it.

He ruined you.

And you hate him for it.

Kind of.

Maybe.

You dream about him. That same low, hungry growl in his voice. The weight of his hands on your thighs. The way he looked at you after the cameras cut, like he knew. Like he’d figured you out and wasn’t gonna let you forget it.

And you haven’t.

You still haven’t.

Which is why this fucking party is the last place you want to be.

You stand outside the mansion in heels that and a dress that hugs you like sin, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Your manager’s text is still glowing on your lock screen:

Be nice. Good networking. Smile.

Yeah, whatever.

Keigo’s place is massive. Of course it is. He’s been in the industry since forever, and he’s got that kind of charm that makes people want to party with him. His invite list is basically the who’s who of adult film, plus a few influencers trying to act like they belong. You hate these things. Too loud. Too fake. Everyone pretending to be friends, pretending they don’t judge each other for who they’ve worked with or how many followers they have. It’s all for show.

Still, you walk in. You know how to play the game.

The place is packed. Low red lighting makes everything look softer, sexier. Music pulses through the floor, the bass low and smooth. You’re barely through the front door before someone offers you a glass of champagne. You take it and downs half in one go.

A few people wave at you. A few others eye you up and down, probably checking who you came with. You fake a smile, offer a nod, and keep moving. You’re not here to socialize. You’re not here to flirt or network or play nice.

You’re here because your manager told you to be.

You end up leaning against the edge of a fancy-ass velvet couch, letting the music drown out your thoughts. The champagne doesn’t help much. Neither does the way some guy you vaguely recognise is trying to start a conversation with you, talking about some upcoming project and how “you should totally collab.” You tune him out.

And that’s when it happens.

You feel it before you sees it. Like something in the air shifts. Like static on your skin.

Your spine straightens. Your fingers tighten around the glass.

And then—there he is.

Across the room. Leaning against the wall like he owns the place. Dressed in black, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rings glinting on his fingers. Blonde hair messy in that perfect, careless way. His eyes scan the crowd, bored and sharp all at once.

And then they land on you.

The breath catches in your throat. For a second, the music fades. The party disappears. It’s just him.

Bakugo.

His eyes narrow just slightly. Like he’s surprised to see you here. Like he’s not surprised that you look this good.

He pushes off the wall.

Starts walking.

Right toward you.

Your heart is beating way too fast. You hate that it is. You want to look away. Pretend you don’t care. But you can’t.

Because even now—especially now—your body remembers exactly what he did to you. The way he touched you. The way he looked at you. Like he wasn’t playing a part. Like it was real.

And worse—you know he remembers, too.

He stops in front of you. Doesn’t say anything at first. Just look’s at you.

Up close, he looks even better than you remembers. Like he’s been working out more. Like he hasn’t lost a second of sleep over you even though you haven’t stopped losing it over him.

“Didn’t think you’d be here,” he says finally, voice low and scratchy.

“Didn’t think you’d be,” you shoot back, arms still crossed. Your tone is cool, but your pulse is sprinting.

He smirks. That same damn smirk that used to drive you crazy. Still does.

“Keigo dragged me,” he says. “Said it’d be good to ‘be seen.’ Whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds familiar.”

You stand there in silence for a second. The air between you is thick. Heavy. Loaded.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes drifting down to the drink in your hand. “You good?”

“Peachy.”

“Mm.”

Another pause.

Then he leans in—just a little.

“You fake it again today?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. You hate that he knows. Hate that he’s right.

You don’t answer.

He chuckles under his breath. Not mean. Just… smug. Like he knew it. Like he never had a doubt.

“I did,” you admit finally, voice tight.

He steps in just a little closer. Not touching you. Not yet. But you can feel the heat coming off him. The way his presence wraps around you like a damn trap.

“You try with someone else yet?”

You swallow hard. Your eyes flick away.

He already knows the answer.

“No one’s been good enough, huh?” he murmurs.

You wants to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Instead, you down the rest of her champagne in one go.

He watches you the whole time.

Still smirking.

Still standing way too close.

“Why are you here, Bakugo?” You asks, voice low.

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up.

“Maybe I missed you.”

He says it so casually.

Maybe I missed you.

Like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t completely wrecked your life and walked away with a goddamn smirk.

You set your empty glass down, not caring where it lands. Your heart’s still hammering in your chest, but it’s not nerves—it’s need. Hot and bitter and building in your gut like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

You don’t look away. Don’t soften. You just say it—because fuck it. What’s the point in pretending anymore?

“I haven’t cum since you.”

His smirk falters. Just a little. But enough.

“I’m serious,” you add, stepping closer, voice low. “Nothing works. Not my hands. Not toys. Not other guys. I film a scene and fake it like always, but it’s worse now. So much worse. Because now I know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Bakugo’s jaw tenses. His hands curl slightly at his sides, like he’s holding himself back.

You lean in, close enough that your words are only for him.

“You ruined me.”

His breath comes out sharp. Controlled—but barely.

“You think I don’t know that?” he mutters. “You think I haven’t been fuckin’ losing it, thinking about that day?”

He looks down at you, eyes dark and burning.

“You were the best thing I ever had in front of a camera. Fuck—probably the best I’ve ever had, period.”

Your stomach flips. Heat flashes under your skin.

“Every time I close my eyes,” he goes on, voice getting rougher, “I see you. Bent over, whimpering, beggin’ for it. You remember that? The way you sounded?”

You swallow, throat tight.

He leans down, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“Do you remember how wet you were when I spread you open?” he whispers. “How your thighs were shaking so bad I had to hold you down?”

Your knees nearly buckle. You grip the edge of the couch behind you, the only thing keeping you upright.

“I remember,” you breathe. “I can’t stop remembering.”

His nose grazes your jaw, not quite touching your mouth, but close enough that the air feels electric between you.

“I jerked off to that shoot so many times I lost count,” he says. “Watched it back with the volume turned all the way up. Had to bite my fuckin’ fist just to keep quiet.”

Your thighs press together. Everything in you is throbbing.

“I tried,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to fuck it out. Tried to touch myself. Tried to forget it.”

Bakugo pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy, lips parted.

“And?”

You shake your head slowly. “Didn’t work.”

His chest rises and falls a little faster now. You can see it. Feel it.

“I need you,” you say, honest and raw and a little unhinged. “Not even just your cock—you. The way you touched me. The way you talked to me. My body remembers you like muscle memory.”

He groans, low and quiet, like it slips out without his permission.

“You know what that does to me?” he mutters. “Hearin’ you say that? Standin’ here in that tight little dress, legs pressed together like you’re already aching for it?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

“You want me to remind you what it feels like?” he asks, stepping in close again. His hand hovers near your hip, not touching, but so close. “Want me to bend you over that couch right now and make you scream my name again?”

Your breath shudders out of you.

“You want me to tell you all the things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of this fuckin’ party?”

You nod. Slow. Deliberate.

“Say it.”

You look up at him, eyes sharp. “I want you to ruin me again.”

His control shatters for half a second. His tongue runs across his teeth. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re desperate to grab you.

“You want my fingers down your panties, feelin’ how wet you are just from talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“You want my mouth on your neck while I tell you how I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget every other name you’ve ever moaned?”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice wrecked.

“You wanna know what I’d do to you if I dragged you into one of those empty rooms upstairs?”

“Tell me.”

He leans in again, mouth right at your ear, his breath hot and filthy.

“I’d eat your pussy until your legs give out. I’d make you ride my face until you’re crying. And then I’d bend you over the bed and ruin that tight little cunt all over again. No cameras. No crew. Just you, screamin’ my name into the pillow like you need me.”

You whimper. Actually fucking whimper. Your knees almost give out.

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes again, and his voice drops to a growl.

“Tell me to stop, or I’m taking you upstairs right now.”

Your eyes burn into his.

“I’m not telling you shit.”

He grabs your wrist—gently, but with purpose—and starts walking.

The music fades behind you as you two leave the main room, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and rough and so sure. It’s not forceful—never forceful—but it’s firm. Intentional. Like he knows exactly where he’s taking you, and you’re not even thinking about stopping him.

You follow.

Of course you follow.

The air in the hallway is cooler, quieter. Dim lights line the walls, casting long shadows, the bass of the party now just a distant thump behind closed doors. Every step echoes in your ears. Your heels click against the tile, but you barely hear them. All you can feel is his hand. His grip. The burn of his touch where your skin meets.

He’s walking fast. Focused. Like he’s barely holding himself together.

But then—he pauses.

Right in the middle of the hallway, without a word, he stops. Still holding your wrist, but frozen in place.

And then he looks back at you.

And fuck.

Your cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and glassy with heat. Your lips are parted, and you’re biting the bottom one like you don’t even realize it. Your breath is shallow. Your chest rises and falls way too fast. And you look—

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

It just hits him all at once.

The image of you like that—flushed, dazed, following him willingly down some dim hallway in a dress that barely covers your ass. Your mouth red from chewing on your lip, eyes shining like you want to be devoured.

It’s too much.

It’s way too much.

Bakugo turns around in one sharp move and pushes your back against the wall.

You gasp, more out of surprise than anything, and your back hits the cool plaster with a soft thud.

He doesn’t give you time to speak.

His mouth is on yours before you can breathe.

It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s a claim.

His lips crash into yours like he’s starved. Like he’s been dying for this. His other hand finds your waist, squeezing tight, pulling you flush against him until there’s not an inch of space left between your bodies.

And fuck, you melt.

You kiss him back with just as much heat, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer like you want to climb inside him. His mouth moves against yours with wild precision—like he knows exactly what you need and he’s giving it. All tongue and teeth and soft, filthy groans that vibrate against your lips.

His hand slips down to your hip, gripping tight. Your back arches. You moan into his mouth when his tongue brushes yours, and he growls—a low, guttural sound that sends heat straight between your thighs.

He pulls back for just a second, breathing hard.

“Been wantin’ to do that since the fuckin’ shoot,” he mutters, voice rough and wrecked.

You grab his shirt tighter, dragging him back in.

“Then shut up and do it again.”

And he does.

He kisses you like he needs it to survive. Like your mouth is the only thing that’s going to keep him sane. His hand slides up, fingers brushing under the edge of your dress, just a taste of skin, and you gasp into his mouth. He swallows the sound greedily.

Right now, it’s just him and you and all that fucking need you’ve both been drowning in for weeks.

Your hands are in his hair now, tugging, and he groans like you’re driving him insane. His lips trail down to your jaw, your neck, kissing and biting and licking like he wants to leave a mark—something real. Something that says mine.

“You feel that?” he growls against your skin, grinding his hips against yours. “That’s what you fuckin’ do to me.”

You whimper.

“You think I haven’t been aching for this? You think I don’t wake up hard, pissed off, because it’s not you under me?”

“Bakugo—”

“Say it,” he growls. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you,” you breathe. “So fucking much.”

He grabs your face, tilts it up, and kisses you again. Harder. Deeper.

He’s losing it. Right here, in the middle of some stupid hallway, with your hands on his chest and your mouth so fucking soft and perfect under his.

Fuck he was gonna wait. He really was.

One more hallway, maybe two. Find a room, lock the door, throw you on the bed and wreck you the way you’ve been dreaming about. But then his hand drifts lower, just a little. Just enough to feel the hem of your dress under his fingers. His palm slides up, slow and sure, bunching the fabric higher and higher until—

He groans. Loud. Filthy. Like it physically hits him.

“No fuckin’ panties?”

You flinch, just a little. Lips parted, eyes dark.

“Were you expecting something to happen tonight, baby?” he breathes, voice thick with heat. “You showin’ up like this just for me?”

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Bakugo presses his forehead to yours for a second, breathing hard.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice low and ragged. “You’re my dirty little whore, aren’t you?”

You whimper.

“You come to this party all dressed up, no fuckin’ panties, already wet for me…”

His hands are on your thighs now, spreading them just a bit. Your backs against the wall, breathing like you just ran a mile.

“You wanted this,” he growls. “You needed this.”

And then—he drops to his knees.

Just like that.

Right there in the middle of the hallway.

The air leaves your lungs in a gasp. Your back hits the wall harder this time, legs shaking, heart pounding in your throat.

“Bakugo—” you hiss, panic in your voice. “Someone could see—!”

He looks up at you, eyes dark and fucking wild.

“Baby,” he says, voice calm and sinful. “You’re a pornstar.”

He licks his lips.

“Let them see.”

And then he’s between your thighs.

One of your legs stays planted on the ground, barely holding you up. The other—he lifts and hooks it over his shoulder, gripping tight behind your knee with one hand, keeping you open for him. Exposed. Spread. His other hand pins your hip to the wall like he’s afraid you’ll float away.

Then—

Then his mouth is on you.

He groans the second he tastes you, like he’s been dreaming of this moment. Like the taste of you is everything he’s been starving for. His tongue is hot and greedy, licking through your folds, lips sealing around your clit as he sucks, hard, and you cry out, hand flying to his hair for balance.

“F-fuck—Bakugo—”

He growls against your pussy, the vibration shooting up your spine like lightning.

“Been thinkin’ about this pussy every fuckin’ day,” he mutters between licks. “You taste even better than I remembered.”

Your head falls back against the wall with a soft thud, mouth open, chest heaving. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you know is his mouth—his tongue flicking and licking and circling your clit just right, dragging slow, wet moans from your throat that you couldn’t fake if you tried.

His fingers dig into the back of your thigh, holding you still. Your other leg trembles, barely keeping you upright. Your dress is bunched around your waist, forgotten, as he devours you like a man possessed.

“You hear yourself?” he growls, voice muffled against your soaked cunt. “You hear how fuckin’ wet you are?”

“Y-yes—fuck—”

He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it, slow and firm, and you nearly collapse.

“You gonna cum for me like this, baby?” he asks, licking up your slit, tongue dipping in like he wants to taste every part of you. “Gonna make a fuckin’ mess on my face?”

You’re nodding, eyes wide, lips parted in silent gasps. Your hand’s gripping his hair so tight it must hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it.

“Thought about this every night,” he mutters. “Me on my knees. You fallin’ apart. No cameras. No crew. Just me eatin’ you out like it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

And it is.

God, it fucking is.

Your thighs are shaking. Your stomach’s tight. You’re right there, and he knows it.

So he goes harder.

Sucks on your clit like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, tongue flicking fast and filthy, relentless. Your legs nearly give out.

You scream his name.

And then you’re gone.

Your orgasm hits like a truck, ripping through your body as you cry out, nails digging into his scalp. Your leg twitches in his grip, your body writhing against the wall as you cum for the first time in weeks—for real.

Bakugo doesn’t stop. Not until he’s sure you’re done. Not until he’s sucked you through every last wave, tongue gentle now, soft little licks that make you squirm from the sensitivity.

He pulls back, panting.

His chin’s shiny. His lips are swollen.

And he looks fucking proud.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

You can’t speak. Can barely breathe. Your legs are jelly, your face flushed, your dress still hiked around your hips.

And he’s still on his knees.

Looking up at you like he owns you.

Like he always has.

You’re still trembling.

One leg weak, back still pressed to the wall, dress bunched around your hips and mouth parted in a breathless, wrecked little gasp. Your head’s spinning, body soaked in sweat and pleasure, but it’s not enough. Not for him.

Bakugo stays on his knees for a second longer, just staring up at you like he’s watching the aftermath of his own destruction—and loving every second of it. His jaw’s tight, eyes wild, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

Then he moves.

He rises slowly, all smooth, deliberate heat, and crowds you against the wall again, towering over you. His hand slips behind your neck and pulls you in, and his mouth crashes into yours—hot and messy, all tongue and teeth and need.

You moan into it. Loud. Desperate.

He doesn’t give a shit if anyone hears.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, making you taste herself. He kisses you like a man obsessed, like he needs you in his lungs to fucking breathe. His hands are everywhere—sliding over your hips, your ass, up your back, gripping tight like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you all over again.

“You feel what you do to me?” he growls against your lips.

You whimper when his hips roll into yours, and fuck—he’s hard. So fucking hard it feels like it’s about to tear through his pants. Thick and heavy and ready, pressed right up against your soaked heat.

Your whole body jolts at the contact, and suddenly something shifts in you.

You’re not just trembling anymore—you’re burning. You grabs him by the front of his shirt and pushes off the wall, stumbling forward on shaky legs.

“Where’s the room?” You pant.

He grins, drunk on the sound of you.

“End of the hall. Second door.”

You don’t even wait.

Bakugo catches your wrist again as you try to walk, sees your knees still unsteady, and without saying a word—he scoops you up. Hands under your thighs, body flush to his, carrying you like you’re light as air.

You gasp. “I can walk—!”

He growls, “Don’t care.”

He carries you like you weigh nothing, like you belongs in his arms. Your legs are still trembling from the orgasm he just pulled out of you in the hallway, but your hands never stop moving—gripping his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, dragging your lips along his jaw just to feel him shiver.

He kicks open the door, steps inside, and shoves it shut with his foot. The lock clicks.

He sets you down—not on the bed. He pins you against the wall again, just for a second, breathing hard, eyes locked on yours. His hands are all over you, sliding down your body, squeezing your hips like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.

And you’re looking up at him with that same fucked-out, fire-in-your-veins look that’s been haunting his dreams since your shoot.

And then—slowly—you start to sink to your knees.

His breath catches.

“Wait,” he mutters, chest heaving, “you—fuck—what’re you—”

You’re already looking up at him through your lashes, fingers tugging his belt loose with quick, desperate movements.

“You ruined me,” you say, voice low and dangerously sweet. “Let me return the favor.”

Bakugo swears under his breath as you pull his cock free—hard and leaking, twitching in your grip. Your fingers wrap around him, slow and teasing, and he shudders.

And then your mouth is on him.

“Fucking hell,” he chokes out, his hand flying to your hair, not pushing, just holding, gripping tight like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

Your lips wrap around the head, tongue swirling in slow, wet circles, tasting him like you’ve been waiting for this moment since the second the cameras cut. You slide down his length, inch by inch, until your lips are stretched around him and your throat is already working to take more.

“Jesus fuck, baby—”

His voice is raw. Wrecked. You moan around him and his hips jerk.

“Just like that,” he groans, jaw tight. “That’s it. My perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

You hum, sending vibrations through him that almost make his knees buckle. Your hand strokes what you can’t fit, your spit coating him, dripping down your wrist. You’re relentless—pulling off to lick the tip, spit pooling on your tongue before you sink back down again.

Bakugo’s head hits the wall behind him with a soft thud. His eyes flutter shut, mouth open, breathing hard.

“You know what you fuckin’ do to me?” he growls, voice shaking. “You know how many nights I’ve jerked off thinking about you like this?”

You pull off, slowly, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock as you go.

“Tell me,” you whisper.

He grabs your jaw, tilts your face up toward him, cock resting against your cheek.

“I’d picture this mouth every fuckin’ time,” he breathes. “Your lips all shiny, tongue out, eyes begging. Just like this.”

You moan and take him back into your mouth deep, throat fluttering around him, and he loses it. His hand tightens in your hair as his hips stutter forward, fucking into your mouth once, twice—then forcing himself to stop.

“Fuck—stop,” he groans, pulling you off with a shaky hand, even though it kills him. “Gonna blow if you keep that shit up.”

Your lips are swollen, spit dripping down your chin, eyes glazed and smug.

“Good,” you purr.

He yanks you up off the floor and spins you, pushing your back toward the bed.

“You wanna ruin me?” he growls, voice low and filthy. “Let’s see if that pretty little cunt can finish the job.”

He manhandles you onto the bed like he owns it.

Like he owns you.

You land on your back, dress still hiked up around your waist, thighs spread open without shame. Your chest is heaving, lips wet, eyes locked on him like he’s the only thing you see.

And fuck—he might as well be.

Bakugo shrugs off his shirt in one smooth pull, muscles flexing, abs on full display, veins in his arms popping from how hard he’s holding himself back. His cock’s still out, thick and leaking, twitching with every step closer.

“You sit there lookin’ like that,” he growls, crawling up onto the bed, “and expect me to take it slow?”

You grin. Daring. “I don’t expect you to do anything except ruin me.”

He laughs—dark and mean—and grabs your ankles, dragging you down the bed until your ass is right at the edge, legs hanging off, wide open for him.

“You’re fuckin’ insane,” he mutters.

And then he’s on you.

One hand hooked under your knee, pushing it back toward your chest, the other lining himself up. His eyes are locked on your soaked cunt like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. The tip of his cock brushes your entrance, and you both moan.

“You feel that?” he mutters, dragging it through your folds, teasing your clit. “You’re fuckin’ dripping for me.”

“Need you,” you gasp, already trembling again. “Bakugo, please—”

“Please what?” he growls, leaning over you, tip just barely nudging inside. “Say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He slams into you in one deep, smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream as he stretches you—thick and deep and perfect.

Bakugo groans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck—this pussy missed me, huh?”

“Yes—fuck yes—”

He pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, making the bed creak under you.

“I can feel it,” he pants. “The way you’re squeezing me. Your cunt’s starving for it.”

His pace builds—relentless, deep, every thrust angled just right to hit that spot that makes you sob. One of his hands grabs your throat, not squeezing, just holding, thumb brushing over your jaw like he owns you.

“You like that, baby?” he growls. “You like bein’ fucked stupid?”

You nod, gasping, eyes rolling back. “Yes—yes, fuck, harder—”

He gives it to you.

Hips snapping into yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls, your moans getting louder, messier, realer. Your nails drag down his back, your thighs locked around his hips as you cling to him like you’re about to fall apart.

“Gonna cum for me again?” he mutters, leaning down, forehead pressed to yours. “Gonna cream on my cock like a good fuckin’ girl?”

“I—I can’t—” you whimper.

“You can. You will.”

He reaches between them and rubs your clit—fast, tight circles—and you scream.

Your entire body locks up, and then you break.

You cum hard, legs shaking, mouth open, nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, eyes locked on your wrecked, blissed-out face.

“Goddamn,” he grits out. “You’re fuckin’ unreal.”

His thrusts get rougher, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge—but then, suddenly, he pulls out.

You let out a broken whine, head thrown back against the mattress, body still twitching from your orgasm. Your pussy clenches around nothing, fluttering in the absence of him, wet and ruined and aching for more.

“N-no,” you gasp. “Why’d you—why’d you stop—”

Bakugo’s hovering over you, chest heaving, every muscle in his body tight like a live wire. His cock is soaked, twitching as it rests against your thigh, flushed and throbbing with the need to be buried again.

“Could’ve fucked blown in that pretty pussy just now,” he growls, voice wrecked. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He leans down, kisses you hard—filthy and deep, tongue licking into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls back, his voice is rough, laced with heat and control.

“Don’t wanna cum yet,” he pants. “Wanna watch you fall apart again.”

His fingers trail between your thighs, sliding through the slick mess he left behind. You gasp, hips twitching, eyes rolling when he pushes two fingers into you without warning—slow and deep.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, voice low as he watches your face twist in pleasure. “So wet for me. You like bein’ stuffed full, huh?”

You nod frantically, legs spreading wider, hips grinding down into his hand like you’re starved for it.

“Good,” he says, curling his fingers just right, pressing into that soft spot that makes your legs jump. “You’re gonna cum on my fingers now.”

“*Fuck—Katsuki—”

“Yeah?” he smirks, eyes locked on where his fingers disappear inside you. “You close again, baby? Didn’t even give you a break.”

He keeps rubbing your clit with his thumb, fingers stroking in and out slow and deep, dragging slick sounds from between your thighs that make him groan under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ messy already,” he says, voice tight. “Look at you. All wrecked for me.”

You sob, head tossing back, hand fisting the sheets.

“Cum again,” he whispers, mouth brushing your ear. “Wanna feel you squeeze my fingers. Wanna make a mess before I fuck you proper.”

And you do.

Your body jerks, thighs clenching around his wrist, another orgasm ripping through you so fast and hard you nearly scream. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, clenching down with each wave, slick gushing down to his palm as you trembles through it.

Bakugo watches you lose it, feels your walls fluttering around his fingers, and his cock twitches, aching with the need to be back inside you.

But not yet.

He pulls his hand out slow, dragging it over your swollen, soaked folds, and brings his fingers to his mouth.

Sucks them clean.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted,” he mutters, eyes never leaving yours.

You look wrecked—eyes glassy, chest heaving, lips parted like you’re still trying to breathe.

He leans in, kisses you slow, and lines himself up again.

“You ready for more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, barely able to speak.

He smirks, voice dark and low.

“Good.”

He slides back into you slow. Painfully slow.

His cock pushes in deep, stretching your ruined cunt all over again, and he groans at how wet, warm, perfect you still are—even after two orgasms and his fingers inside you. You’re flushed and boneless beneath him, lips parted, hair stuck to your face, eyes barely open.

Cockdrunk.

And he knows it.

He watches your face twist as he sinks in fully, his hips flush against yours, but doesn’t move.

Just stays there. Buried to the hilt.

You whine.

He pulls back, just a little.

Thrusts again—slow, deep, teasing. Like he’s savoring every inch. Your walls flutter around him, still clenching like you can’t let go, and he groans through gritted teeth.

“You feel that?” he pants. “How tight you still are?”

You nod, whining, legs twitching.

He does it again.

Slow.

Deep.

Unbearable.

You cry out, hips jerking up toward him, trying to chase more—anything—but he holds your hips still, smirking down at your wrecked face.

“Aw, what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, breathless. “Not enough for you?”

You whimper. “Suki—”

He grins. “Tryin’ to fuck yourself on my cock now?”

And you are—rocking your hips up in tiny, desperate motions, your hands gripping the sheets, voice a string of needy little noises that go straight to his dick.

“You’re such a desperate little whore,” he groans. “Can’t even wait for me to fuck you proper, huh?”

“Suki—please—please—”

Your voice is high, slurred, half-sobs and gasp, like you’re not even forming real words anymore. Your cunt squeezes him so tight he nearly loses it.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s in pain. “You sound so fuckin’ wrecked—‘please, Suki’—you know what that does to me?”

You nod, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Need it—need you—need more—please—”

And then he snaps.

His grip on your hips tightens, and he slams into you.

No mercy. No hesitation.

Just filthy, hard, deep thrusts that rock the bed against the wall.

You scream, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there’s nothing—just his body, his cock, him, pounding into you like he’s trying to bury himself in your soul.

“You want more?” he growls, voice wrecked. “Take it. Take every fuckin’ inch.”

You’re so loud now—moaning with every thrust, your back arching, body jerking with the force of it.

“I—I’m cumming—” you cry, body locking up again, cunt fluttering like you’re gonna break.

But he doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop.

“Yeah, baby? Already? Barely even started.”

Your third orgasm crashes through you like a wave, soaking him all over again. Your body trembles under his, and still—still—he doesn’t let up.

He grabs your legs, throws them over his shoulders, and folds you in half.

Then leans forward.

His body presses into yours, hands braced on either side of your head, his cock now driving in deeper than ever before, dragging against your walls in a way that makes you sob.

The angle is brutal. Relentless.

You gasp—eyes wide, mouth falling open. Your whole body freezes.

“Suki—!” You squeal. “Wait—wait—I think—I think I’m gonna pee—!”

He knows.

He fucking knows.

And the second you say it?

Bakugo groans. Loud. Wrecked. Ferally turned on.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna squirt for me?”

You’re panicking now, overwhelmed, the pleasure too much, too fast, building into something different.

“I—I can’t—Suki—Suki—!”

“Yes you can,” he growls. “Let it go. It’s okay. Fuckin’ do it.”

And you do.

Your body jerks once—twice—and then you scream, back arching off the bed as a gush of slick explodes from between your thighs, soaking both of them, soaking the sheets. Your legs shake violently. Your pussy clenches and flutters and gushes, and he pulls out just in time to watch it all.

“Holy fuck—” he groans.

He’s panting, cock dripping, and you’re still shaking, still coming, body twitching like you’ve been electrocuted.

He doesn’t even give you a second.

His hand dives down, fingers rubbing your clit fast—tight circles, no mercy.

“Gonna make a mess all over me, huh?” he pants. “Gonna soak my fuckin’ cock next?”

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, body still spasming as more slick gushes out of you, squirting again, harder, soaking his hand and the sheets and your thighs.

“You’re such a dirty fuckin’ slut,” he groans, mouth open, watching you fall apart. “Look at you—fuckin’ look at you—”

When you finally start to come down, body trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks, Bakugo grabs your hips and slams back inside.

No pause.

No recovery.

Just more.

More of him.

He fucks you through the overstimulation, pounding into your soaked, sensitive pussy, growling every time your cunt clenches around him.

You’re babbling again, sobbing out moans and whines, brainless.

He’s close now. So close. His thrusts get sloppier, deeper, hips stuttering.

And then—

You grab his face, eyes barely open, voice slurred and high and ruined.

“Cum inside me,” you beg. “Please, Suki—want it inside—need you to fill me up—please—please—”

His whole body locks up.

His eyes roll back.

And he blows.

“Oh fuck baby, yes yes yes, FUCK—!”

His cock pulses inside you as he empties out, the hardest orgasm of his life, ropes of cum shooting deep into your twitching cunt. He groans through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, body shaking as he keeps thrusting, slow now, drawing out every pulse, every drop.

You moan at the feeling—full, warm, messy.

“You take it so fuckin’ well,” he pants, kissing you hard. “Made for me, baby. Fuckin’ made for this.”

His cock finally softens inside you, and he collapses onto your chest, both of you panting, soaked in sweat, slick, and cum.

You’re trembling. He’s still groaning.

And neither of you can speak.

Bakugo’s chest is still heaving as he lowers himself onto his elbows, careful not to crush you. His cock slips free, spent and messy, and you wince from the overstimulation. He’s already watching you—eyes dark, but softer now. More present.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut, voice hoarse. “Yeah… just—holy shit.”

He lets out a quiet, breathless laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah. No kidding.”

You’re still trembling beneath him, body twitching with aftershocks. Your skin’s flushed and glowing, your chest rising and falling fast, and for a moment he just stares. Watches you breathe. Watches you try to come back to yourself.

He reaches for the edge of the bed, grabs the nearest towel—probably Keigo’s fancy ass silk robe or something, who cares—and gently wipes between your thighs. You twitch, gasps softly, but doesn’t stop him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice low. “I know you’re sensitive. Just wanna clean you up a bit.”

His touch is careful. Gentle. Like you’re made of glass now, even though he just had you screaming his name with your legs over his shoulders.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Didn’t think you’d be the sweet type after railing me like that.”

He smirks, eyes flicking up to yours. “Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t pass out.”

He finishes wiping you down, tosses the towel to the floor, and climbs back onto the bed beside you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You hum and bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in.

It’s quiet now.

Just the sound of your breathing. The faint music still thumping somewhere in the house. His heartbeat under your cheek.

Bakugo presses his lips to the top of your head and holds you close.

“You really didn’t wear any panties tonight?”

You giggle sleepily. “Hoped you’d be here.”

His chest rumbles with a laugh, but there’s something else in it too—something warm. Dangerous.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice low, lips brushing your temple, “just tell me what you want.”

You shift, just slightly, enough to look up at him.

Your voice is quiet.

Real.

“You,” you whisper. “I want you.”

He stares at you.

Heart pounding.

And says nothing.

Because there’s nothing left to say.

A few months later you’re standing outside.

The air is warm. Quiet.

No cameras. No script. No fake moans echoing off studio walls. Just the sound of a car pulling away from the curb, leaving behind nothing but soft tire tracks on the gravel and a sudden, still silence.

You exhale.

It’s done.

Your manager waved goodbye with glossy eyes and a box of farewell cupcakes like it was some emotional graduation ceremony. And maybe it was. A part of your life—the biggest part—is officially over. No more lights. No more contracts. No more “one last scene” promises.

You’re out.

Retired.

And free.

Your fans had been devastated, of course. The internet flooded with edits, fanpages posting heartfelt tributes, DM requests piling up asking if you were okay, if you’ll ever return. But you were calm about it. Because you had made your money. More than enough. Enough to buy three lives if you wanted. Yours, your future kids’, and their kids.

And for the first time… you didn’t feel like you owed anyone anything.

The gravel crunches under your feet as you walks up the driveway of your new house. It’s not huge. Not flashy. Just a little white-brick home with a cracked front step and windows that let the morning sun spill inside. There’s barely any furniture yet. The walls are still too clean. But you open the front door and walk in anyway, because it’s yours.

You walk through the living room. Kicks off your shoes. Run your fingers along the kitchen counter. There’s a faint smell of fresh paint and wood polish and something warm. Like home.

And then—warm arms wrap around your waist.

You’re startled for a second.

Until he nuzzles into the side of your neck, all soft breath and scratchy stubble, and you relax instantly.

“Hey,” Bakugo murmurs against your skin.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You scared me.”

He hums. “You’re the one who snuck in without saying hi.”

“I live here,” you tease.

“Hey,” he says. “We live here.”

His arms tighten around your middle. His hands are calloused and warm, and he smells like clean linen and cedarwood shampoo. He presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder and then another behind your ear.

“You know,” he says, voice low and teasing, “we gotta christen all the rooms.”

You snort. “You’re horrible.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

You turn in his arms, facing him now—barefoot and smiling, cheeks warm, heart full.

Because this is the part no one saw coming.

After that night at Keigo’s house—after the hallway, after the bedroom, after you whispered “I want you” like it was the most honest thing you’d ever said—Bakugo was done.

He left the industry the next day.

Didn’t tell anyone at first. Just walked off set, deleted the shoot schedule, and never looked back. He didn’t need the job. Didn’t want it. Not if it meant being surrounded by people who weren’t you.

He pursued you properly after that. Not with half-assed flirty texts or casual hookups. He showed up for you. Asked you out. Cooked for you. Slept next to you, not just with you. You thought it would feel weird—awkward, even. But it didn’t.

It felt easy. Natural. Real.

You left the industry a week later. For yourself. For him. For whatever this life was becoming.

Now?

Now you’re here.

In a half-empty house with your names on the mortgage and a stupid list of furniture you still need to buy, and for the first time in forever, you feel like you can just breathe.

Bakugo kisses you softly. Just once.

Then he smirks.

“Bedroom’s still got space on the headboard for scratches.”

“Bakugo.”

“What?” he shrugs, already lifting you up by the thighs. “I’m sentimental.”

You laugh, cling to him, and let him carry you down the hallway, your new life unfolding behind every door.

Your bedroom’s bathed in soft afternoon light when he pushes open the door with his foot.

It’s nothing fancy—white walls, wooden floors, a tall dresser with half the drawers still empty. The bed’s made, kind of, one corner of the blanket folded back like it’s been waiting for them. A single mug sits on the nightstand. Your side.

He lays you down gently, like you’re something delicate. Like he hasn’t already had you screaming into his pillow a dozen times since you moved in.

You pull him down with you, fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt.

Your mouths meet in a slow, lazy kiss. It’s not heated or rushed—it’s warm. Familiar. The kind of kiss you only give to someone when there’s no performance behind it. No pretending.

Just love.

He crawls over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other on your hip, thumb brushing circles into the soft skin there. You exhale against his lips, smiling.

“You gonna make good on your promise?” You tease, eyes fluttering open.

“Which one?”

“‘Christen all the rooms.’”

He grins, teeth and cocky heat.

“Yeah,” he says. “Thought I’d start with this one. Seems the most important.”

Your heart thuds. You try to act unbothered, but his weight on top of you, the way his hand slips under your shirt, palm warm on your stomach—it makes your stomach flutter.

“But we’ve already-,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair.

“Shut up,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing there slowly. “I know.”

You laugh.

“You make me crazy,” you whisper.

His mouth stills.

He pulls back, looking down at you.

And there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before.

Something quiet. Serious.

“I think about it,” he says softly. “The future.”

You stare up at him, breath caught.

“You ever do that?”

You nod, slow. “All the time.”

He leans down, presses his forehead to yours.

“I want it all,” he murmurs. “With you.”

Your hands slide up his back, feeling every tense line of muscle under your palms. You pull him closer. Your noses bump. Your lips brush.

“Me too.”

He kisses you then—not playful, not teasing. Just real. Long and deep. Like he’s telling you something in a language only your mouths understand.

When he pulls back, he whispers against your lips, “I love you.”

You exhale and smile. “I love you too.”

His hand slips between you, fingertips ghosting down your stomach, between your thighs. He touches you like he’s got all night. Like there’s nowhere else you need to be. Like loving you isn’t something he wants—it’s something he needs.

You gasp softly, hips shifting under his touch.

“You always get like this when you talk about the future?” You whisper.

He laughs quietly. “Only with you.”

Your thighs part for him. You’re already wet. Already aching.

“Then don’t stop,” You breathe.

He doesn’t.

He makes love to you slow. Hands in your hair, forehead pressed to yours. No loud moans. No biting. No rush. Just the steady rhythm of your bodies moving like they were made to fit.

After, you lay tangled together, half under the blankets, half on top of each other. Skin warm. Hearts steady.

He runs his hand down your spine. You hum.

“Hey,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“Mm?”

“If we ever have a kid,” he says casually, “we’re not naming them after Keigo. I don’t care how much that bastard tries to bribe us.”

You bark out a laugh, pressing your face into his chest. “I wasn’t going to!”

“He’s already been hinting. You know he has.”

“I’m naming our first kid after someone normal, like—Ida or something.”

Bakugo looks physically pained. “Absolutely not.”

You laugh until your stomachs hurt, until your eyes sting with leftover tears, and then he kisses you again—slow and sweet.

“You really want all that?” You ask later, voice small.

He nods.

“You and me,” he says. “Little monsters running around. A house full of loud shit and chaos and love.”

You bite your lip. “And a couch that doesn’t suck.”

He smirks. “Yeah. That too.”

You fall asleep like that. Wrapped up in each other. Wrapped up in something soft and real and permanent.

Something that, for the first time in both your lives, has nothing to do with being watched.

And everything to do with being seen.

-

TAGS <3

@2elusional @cosmicaoii @kizsuki @kodzubaby

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Life in SkyHaven w/ Self-Aware!Caleb

Who would've thought your first three days in SkyHaven would be like this? Actually you never even thought being in SkyHaven was possible yet here you are. Self-aware!Caleb x Emotionally-torn!Player A/N: Well part 3 is here. I thought Sylus would be first buuuuut you know it is what it is.

↢ previous

Three days have passed since Caleb left you in this fully furnished prison. His place was comfortable, but the atmosphere was cold. You found yourself counting the minutes which only made time tick by slower. He didn’t tell you exactly when he would be back, but you could estimate.

Should only be a few more hours before you get to see that handsome face of his. Also only a few more hours before you shove your foot so far up his ass he’ll be tasting nail polish for the next three months. You’re passed angry with this man — absolutely livid! Not only does he kidnap you and drug you, but he has the audacity to leave for three fucking days right after?

I’ll kill him.

He thought he was slick by setting up his guest room to perfectly resemble yours back home. Even down to the exact same books you had on your shelves. It’s almost like he’d perfectly planned this so you would be grateful that he took the time to get everything that you liked so you wouldn’t be upset about being stuck here.

What do I mean ‘almost’ that’s definitely what he did.

After the first night of sleeping in that imposter room you were so happy to wake up and see ‘your room’ that you actually believed the entire debacle was just a dream. Your joy was fleeting when you turned and saw those damn floor to ceiling windows. You could practically feel your soul shatter at the realization. That’s when you decided to sleep in Calebs room.

You woke up this morning in his bed as expected and sat up turning to stare out the window taking in the vast city of SkyHaven. A small ember of hope gnawed at you, but it was quickly pushed down. “Prepare for the worst and you won’t be disappointed….” You sighed, falling back into the plush pillows of Calebs bed. “I should get up” You’d hate to admit it, but damn was his bed comfortable if your stomach wasn’t growling you’d probably spend another few hours rotting in bed.

You wrapped the plush blanket around yourself and detoured to sit by the window for a little while. You sighed as you watched the everyday civilians below go about their day unbeknownst to them they had a foreigner watching their every move; trapped just a few stories above them wishing she could walk around freely like they do. In just three days you noticed a few patterns among them.

The sophisticated dark haired man who stops in the corner bakery every morning and sits alone.

The two teens running to catch the bus. How are they always late?

The old man who pushes his wheelchair bound — you assume wife — slowly through the park as he makes her giggle.

You kissed your teeth and slammed your fist against the window willing it to break, but your efforts were in vain. You glance over your shoulder to examine the mess you've left in Calebs room. Clothes strewn about making the room look like a tornado came through here. You hate that you find comfort by sleeping in his bed and since you can’t take it out on him the next best option was his room. You've left your mark everywhere disturbing the inhuman cleanliness he had. Could that be because he’s usually barely here? Possibly, but you don’t care it gives you a sense of power ruining his personal space.

However, his scent clings to his pillows and sheets lulling you to sleep. It feels like you’re being held in a loving embrace as you drift off into a lonely slumber. “I hate him so much, but I can’t deny that I do have feelings for that man” You mumble to no one, but yourself because who else is there to talk to? You stand throwing the blanket on the floor and head out of the room. “Doesn’t negate the fact that he’s fucked up for leaving me here”

Although you've kept yourself entertained while being here you can’t help, but miss home. You miss your friends, you miss your bed and you miss your fucking kitchen where you knew where shit was. Calebs kitchen is like a spaceship — three days and you still struggle to find anything in this bitch.

You went about your day as usual.

Eat breakfast….

Shower…..

Watch TV….

Read a book…..

Stare out the window…..

You find yourself jumping at any noise that passes by the front door. ‘Is he back early?’ ‘Is that him?’ then the sound fades and you’re left alone once again.

You curl up into your usual spot on the couch and crack open a book. The sun is starting to set now and you can’t help, but wonder if you'll have to spend another day here in this foreign place alone. SkyHaven truly is a sight to behold — you probably would have loved to explore and see what this place has to offer, but now you just want to go home. You can feel tears stinging the back of your eyes as you watch the sun dip below the horizon. Is he punishing me because I was mean to him? Should I have been nicer? At least the sunset is pretty.

You let your tears flow freely down your face — crying silently.

You turned on the lamp by the couch and tried to immerse back into your book, but you were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking. You quickly wiped your tears and tried to stifle your sniffling.

“Are you cryin'?” You had little time to react before you were smothered by Caleb in a tight, but gentle hug. “What happened?” He pulled back — wiping a stray tear from your already soaked cheek. You’re sure you look a mess in your current state and yet here he is looking at you like you're the most precious thing to ever exist. You reached a hand up slowly dragging your fingertips across his face just to make sure he was real. “I told you I'd be back in three days” He smiled as he nuzzled into the palm of your hand — giving it a chaste kiss.

“Caleb….” You felt some sense of relief having him in front of you again after three days of forced solitude. You graciously raised your hand and swung with everything in you — connecting with his cheek so hard it made your hand sting. For a lack of better words — you slapped the shit out of him.

Caleb who was previously sitting next to you on the couch was now sprawled on the floor rubbing his face. You stood over him — anger practically burning you alive “Why am I crying!?” The gall. The audacity. “I was kidnapped, drugged and then left to rot here while you were off with the Farspace Fleet finger poppin' each others assholes!”

Caleb looked up at you before dropping his head and chuckling silently to himself. “What’s so funny about that?” You pushed him onto his back with your foot trying to get a good look at his face. “You’re just very cute when you’re angry pipsqueak” Cute? He finds this all cute right now? Unbelievable. You turned on your heels and stormed out of the living room. You could hear his footsteps rapidly following behind you. Out of habit you stormed into his room and tried to slam the door behind you, but failed when Caleb was already there to catch the door with his foot. “Okay okay I’m sorry I'll explain myself”

You plopped down on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other while gesturing for him to hurry up and start talking “It’s not like I can really go anywhere so go ahead” Caleb approached slowly — sinking to his knees and sitting back on his heels in front of you. Seeing him like this made your heart race and you did your best to remain composed. He stared up at you with those big amethyst eyes — they’re not helping your erratic heartbeat. “Did you trash my room because you’re mad at me?” His fingertips gently brushed your calf, giving you goosebumps, before settling on your knee. You swatted his hand away “Don’t touch me and stay focused”

Caleb chuckled as he ignored your demand and grabbed your foot proceeding to give you a foot massage. “For starters I didn’t drug you”

“Yes you di- ah!”

Caleb tickled your foot making your voice hitch “Your body didn’t respond well to the amount of g-force it took to get here which is why you slept for almost a full day when I got you here” A day? He uncrossed your leg so he could easily get to your other foot. “I imagine the shock you got from waking up here caused your adrenaline levels to spike and once you calmed down that adrenaline dump caused you to faint” The look in his eye seemed sincere, but you’d have to be naïve to believe him off rip. “I would never hurt you” He rested his chin on your thighs — those big amethyst eyes pleading with your angry ones. He actually looks like a puppy right now.

“You look like a kicked puppy” You deadpanned.

“You look gorgeous from this angle” He switched from a sad puppy to a lovesick puppy so fast it almost had your head spinning. “You’re always gorgeous though”

“You can’t sway me that easily Caleb” You shoved him by his forehead off your thigh and stood to your feet. “Even if you are telling the truth you still left me here for three days” You seethed “That’s fucked up and I didn’t appreciate it”

Caleb shifted so he was leaning with his back against the bed frame. “I had a routine patrol” His tone was even and relaxed like you were just supposed to be okay with that answer.

“So why not wait until after your patrol?” A familiar knot formed in your throat as you anger built up — no way you’re about to start crying right now. You swallowed hard and regained your composure. Caleb noticed the shaky breath you let out and it made something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. He slowly got to his feet moving towards you. You stepped back wanting trying to keep him at arms length. “You deliberately brought me here and then left like it was nothing”

“Once I figured out how to bring you here why would I wait?” Calebs words were cold, but his voice was soft and his touch was even softer as he gripped your waist willing you to come closer. “I’m real now so we can be together according to your rules” You fought against his hold and repeatedly punched him in the chest. “I hate you so fucking much you lizard built bitch if you ever have no haters then I'm fucking dead” Part of you is hoping these hits are caving his chest in and the other part just wants to fall into him, but you’re so torn and it’s his fault.

By the time you calm down you realize your face is pressed into his chest. His arms are wrapped tightly around you and a gentle hand rubs your back. You hate to admit it, but being in this moment is the most comfort you've had in days. Nothing could stop the way you’re melting in his arms — fuck. “You can punch me a few more times if it will make you feel better” You want to, you really want to, but damn does being in his arms feel like a safe haven.

How can someone so unnerving be so comforting at the same time?

You sniffled and purposely rubbed your nose onto his uniform. Your last little bit of revenge on him. “I’m done I tired myself out”

The two of you stood there in an oddly comfortable silence. Caleb only held you tighter when you tried to slip away. He was the first to break the silence “Are you hungry? I can cook you something special” without looking at him you quietly nodded your head. Having a meal specially prepared for you sounded nice and you figured it’s a good way to have an actual conversation. “Since you so graciously got snot all over my uniform i’m going to shower and then get started on your dinner”

He turned on his heels, but not before placing the softest kiss on your forehead. It took everything in you not to recoil or tense up — you want him to think you trust him completely if you plan on getting any actual information out of him.

“I hate that your cooking is so good” You didn’t anticipate the fact that you’d end up scarfing down his food like a heathen when you agreed to have dinner with him. You didn’t even get to ask any of your questions. You wiped your mouth with a napkin and dropped it onto the plate, signaling to Caleb that you were full.

“You hate it, but you cleaned the plate” He snickered as he grabbed your plate and replaced it with a slice of warm apple pie topped with ice cream. Your mouth practically watered when the intoxicating aroma hit your nose. “Still have room for dessert?” You looked at him for the first time since you two sat down for dinner and the sudden movement shocked Caleb. You keep falling into this never ending loop of falling under this alluring spell of his whenever he’s close. The way his eyes sparkle when your gaze meets his shouldn’t have your heart racing, but here you are.

Memories of the kiss you two shared three days ago replay in your head and you find yourself hoping he closes the distance. “Well?”

“What?” You blinked rapidly.

“Do you still have room for dessert?”

You looked back down at the dish in front of you; you could tell it was going to be immaculate. “Of course there’s always room for dessert” You slid the bowl closer as Caleb moved around the table taking his seat next to you again. “I do have questions Caleb and I'm still mad at you”

“Then let’s go over each grievance one at a time pipsqueak” He pinched your nose making you swat his hand away. “You’re so cute”

You start dramatically scooting your chair away which probably is not helping your case, but who cares. “You need to take me seriously” You stabbed your spoon into the pie making sure to get a good apples to crust to ice cream ratio when suddenly Caleb drags your chair back to him — even closer than before.

Caleb: I’m listenin' You: How did you make a carbon copy of my room? Caleb: I could see it durin' our video chats You: Ok creepy … Did you put something in those flowers? Caleb: No you had a panic attack You: Do my friends and family know where I am? Caleb: I pulled some string with them don't worry You: That was incredibly vague what about my job? Caleb: Your job thinks you're on vacation which by the way thanks for lettin' your vacation time stack up you have enough time to be here for a month You: Im not staying for a month and don’t I need clearance to be here? Caleb: Of course that’s why you’re my Adjutant

You drew back in shock, choking on your food in the process “I’m what!?”

“My adjutant” Caleb so graciously repeated as if you actually didn’t hear him the first time. “No one will even dare to think about questioning you” He beamed at you while he spoke “See? I took care of everything”

“What if I don’t want to do that? I can walk out that door right now!”

“And go where?” His beaming smile shrunk into a cocky smirk. “How exactly do you plan on getting home?” His words were said with a smile, but the look in his eyes was cold. His demeanor sent shivers down your spine causing you to instinctively lean away. He must’ve seen the fear in your eyes because his gaze melted and nothing, but yearning pooled in those captivating eyes of his. “Let me make up for those three days”

“Caleb let me go” You whispered.

He cupped your face and caressed your cheeks with his thumbs “I’ll do anything, but that”

↢ previous

[okwonyo]

⠀ LOVE BETWEEN ⠀⟡​ ⠀HUSBAND!JAKE

ii 𓈒 ❛❛⠀엔하이픈, ─────⠀제이크ㅤ ⠀❜❜ 5OO fluff non-idol au & skinship crying ࿁ ⠀ fem!rea.

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i saw this in a vision 💌

reblogs (≧ᗜ≦) &feedbacks ╱ click

husband!jake who has always dreamt of finding his person at a young age, of marrying as soon as he could and spending the rest of his life with his lover.

husband!jake who never dates anyone because he knew he would date to marry.

husband!jake who knew exactly it was you, when his gaze landed on you.

husband!jake who asked you out on a spring day. who proposed to you on the same day two years later.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

husband!jake who did everything in his power to make the day he says ‘yes’ to you be on the same day a year later.

husband!jake who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle in your beautiful dress.

husband!jake who, with a shaky voice and tears streaming down his face, vowed to forever cherish and take care of you. to be yours forever, no matter what happens.

husband!jake who likes to run his left hand over his torso to feel his ring roll around his finger.

husband!jake who likes to, whenever you are together, to play with your wedding ring as you talk to him— or anyone.

husband!jake who reminds you that you weren’t the ‘marrying type either’ when you refuse to do something with him. such as having ketchup and mustard matching halloween costumes.

husband!jake who already called you his wife way before he proposed to you. now that it is real, he can’t stop talking about ‘my—beautiful, gorgeous, amazing—wife’.

husband!jake who never misses any anniversary because that day is the one that matters the most to him.

husband!jake who, when a bit tipsy, keeps asking you if the guy that is married to you knows how to fight.

husband!jake who puts his left hand up, showing of his wedding ring proudly whenever someone asks him how he is doing.

“i’ll be the happiest as long as i wear this ring,” husband!jake assures with a grin.

husband!jake who was already very clingy before and that got ten times worse since the wedding day.

husband!jake who uses the excuse ‘we are married!’ to justify his—and yours—constant display of affection.

husband!jake who needs your presence for everything. even if it’s just to do his own thing. and you need him everywhere with you as well.

husband!jake who is very good with kids. which makes your heart feel warm everytime you see how he acts with them.

husband!jake who loves lazy mornings and pillow talks until dawn.

husband!jake who keeps your picture in his wallet and set a selfie of yours as his wallpaper just to stare at it whenever he misses you.

husband!jake who, one day, decided to set pictures of your wedding all over your house's hallway. but, only pictures of the bride and only one with the groom.

husband!jake who looks at these pictures from time to time as if he was in a museum. with his chin between his index finger and thumb and all.

husband!jake who watches your wedding day’s videos on the television at one in the morning when he can’t sleep and misses you, as always when you are asleep.

husband!jake who works hard to give you the life you deserve and to spoil you as much as he can.

husband!jake who dreamed about having a wife like you his entire life and still can’t believe you are his.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[folkwhoreberry]

I'm sorry I'm too shy to ask without being anonymous 🫣 but could I get a story with Lando where reader is a childhood sweetheart and was always there for him and still is. Like a scene where she arrives at paddock solo because she had to do something first and she is all nice to fans and collects bracelets and stuff then she goes to garage where she and Lando have a pre race ritual of her kissing the helmet or something.

Lucky Charms

lando norris x reader

or... the one where wherever he goes, thats where you follow

word count : 674

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : die with a smile by bruno mars & lady gaga

🏎️🧡

the paddock buzzes with excitement, fans crowding around as you make your way through. it’s a familiar scene by now, but today, you had to come alone. lando was already deep in pre-race preparations, and you’d gotten held up with something earlier in the day. still, you smile warmly at the fans who call your name.

“can I have a photo?” a girl asks, holding up her phone, eyes wide with hope.

“of course!” you say, pausing for a quick selfie. another fan hands you a bracelet, colorful beads strung together with care. “thank you, I love it!” you slip it onto your wrist, adding it to the growing collection from fans you’d received over the years. these little moments always meant a lot to you - connecting with the people who support lando, who support you both.

after a few more quick interactions, you wave goodbye to the small group gathered near the entrance and head toward the mclaren garage. the familiar hum of mechanics working, the scent of fuel, and the sight of the car bring a sense of calm. this place, chaotic as it is, feels like home because of lando.

“hey, you made it,” one of the crew members grins as you enter, giving a little wave.

“barely,” you laugh, walking past to find lando. you know exactly where he’ll be, a ritual of sorts for both of you before every race. and when you finally see him, helmet in hand, his eyes light up in that way that makes your heart race just as fast as it did when you were kids.

“thought you were gonna leave me hanging,” lando teases, leaning against the wall of the garage. the smile he gives you is soft, familiar, the same one he’s been giving you since you were just two kids with dreams bigger than either of you could grasp.

“never,” you say, stepping up to him. he’s already in his race suit, looking every bit the professional he’s grown into, but to you, he’s still the boy you grew up with, the one who used to drag you out to the karting track to watch him lap until the sun went down. you had always been there, and now, years later, nothing had changed. you’d always be there.

he hands you the helmet, the same way he always does before every race. it’s become a part of your routine - your good luck charm. lando says he won’t race without it, and you know he means it.

“still lucky?” you ask, running your fingers over the sleek surface of the helmet. it’s the same one you kissed before every race, a small but meaningful gesture that had started when you were both teenagers and just stuck.

“hasn’t failed me yet,” he says, eyes softening as he watches you. “besides, I don’t know what I’d do without it.” he shifts closer, his voice lower as he adds, “without you.”

you smile at him, warmth filling your chest. there’s a comfort in the familiarity of it all - of knowing that no matter how chaotic life gets, this part of your day is always just yours. you press a gentle kiss to the top of the helmet, lingering for a second longer than usual, as if sealing all the good luck you could give.

“there,” you whisper, handing it back to him. “you’re all set.”

he takes the helmet with a grin, his eyes never leaving yours. “I think I am now.”

for a moment, the world outside the garage fades, and it’s just the two of you, like it always has been. childhood sweethearts who never grew apart, who stuck together through every high and low. he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “thank you, for always being here.”

“always,” you promise, as the sounds of the paddock come rushing back in. but even then, nothing can break the quiet bond between you two - not the race, not the noise, nothing. this moment, this little ritual, was yours.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : wrote this while eating a can of pringles haha

[hiddenreamers]

Worlds Collide - Lando Norris x neuropsychologist!Reader

SUMMARY: You're a fresh neuropsychologist who is internet-famous for making entertaining and educational videos about anything psychology-related. Lando and you meet for the first time when the two of you are invited to do an episode on a podcast where people from very different professions sit down together and talk about their lives. Considering the instant chemistry, the fans aren't exactly surprised when the dating rumours emerge...

worldscollide_pod tagged landonorris and yn_thebrainiac in a post:

What do a neuropsychologist and a Formula 1 driver have in common? 🧠🏎️ We don't know either! So we invited landonorris and yn_thebrainiac to tell us about their lives.

Listen to Worlds Collide wherever you get your podcasts or watch the episode on our YouTube channel. You can suggest and vote on show guests on our Patron page.

Comments:

user1: i'd say they have brain injury in common??

user2: not the crossover episode we wanted but the one we needed

user3: he's driving fast, she's a failed med student, what's interesting about that?

↳ user4: omg please be a joke 😭 or a ragebait ↳ user5: user3 do you realize how much time and effort it takes to be either a f1 driver or a neuropsychologist? ↳ user5: high school dropout ass comment

landonorris: can't wait!

↳ yn_thebrainiac: looking forward to meeting you ❤️ liked by landonorris

user6: he called a rectangle a circle and she uses Latin names for brain parts like it's common knowledge. Truly a collision of worlds lmao

user7: these two in one room?? feels like a fever dream

↳ user8: more like a new Barbie movie

worldscollide_pod tagged landonorris and yn_thebrainiac in a post:

This week on Worlds Collide we have learned that a pit stop is kinda like a therapy appointment, helmets are humanity's best invention and waffles are to your brain what fuel is to a car.

Huge thanks to landonorris and yn_thebrainiac for giving us insight into their exceptional careers as well as two hours of good laughs!

Listen to Worlds Collide wherever you get your podcasts or watch the episode on our YouTube channel. You can suggest and vote on show guests on our Patron page.

Comments:

user9: yn_thebrainiac is the only person to get excited over brain injuries

↳ user10: and landonorris is the only person to make heart eyes while someone is talking about brain injuries

user11: when yn_thebrainiac was explaining her job and said to Lando he should hope he never has to be examined by her he looked so defeated 😭😭 truly a wet cat

↳ user12: and the "I guess I won't wear a helmet anymore"?? bro is down bad from the start

yn_thebrainiac: thank you for the opportunity! landonorris it was great meeting you ❤️ hope to see you again soon liked by landonorris and worldscollide_pod

↳ landonorris: just let me know when and where 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

user13: landonorris is that guy who suddenly becomes a comedian whenever a pretty girl is around

↳ user14: but it DID work on yn_thebrainiac 😭😭😭

user15: not yn_thebrainiac answering questions like it's a presidential debate and Lando going idk man I just drive

user16: Lando asking the hosts to repeat the question because he was too focused on yn_thebrainiac? man's not beating the simp allegations anytime soon

user17: that whole episode felt more like a date than a talk show liked by worldscollide_pod

↳ worldscollide_pod: were we more wingmen or a third wheel?

user18: the way both of them were invested in each other's stories made me realize how utterly single I am

↳ user19: when yn_thebrainiac said it's a force of habit to ask how something made him feel and then Lando casually asking her the same thing??? delete Tinder, no dating app will get you a man like this

user20: can I just say how surprised I am with Lando's thoughtfulness? Like when yn_thebrainiac said she's scared to drive after examining an accident victim and he immediately offered to be her driver?

↳ user21: considering the tales of Lando's driving, it will only traumatise her further lol

user22: Lando telling her to continue because he wants to hear the rest of the story when she apologized for getting sidetracked??? 🥺🥺 mom, I want this one!!!!!

user23: they just met and they have more chemistry than some couples who have been married for decades

↳ user24: if Lando was staring at me the way he's staring at yn_thebrainiac I'd be radioactive 📛☢️ ↳ user25: no but really girlies if he doesn't look at you the way Lando's looking at her, he's not the one 🏃‍♀️‍➡️❌

user26: now I kinda want yn_thebrainiac to take up Lando on his offer to test his cognitive skills

↳ user27: if they're in the same room he's going to fail every attention task

user28: Lando's dolphin ass giggle would make you think yn_thebrainiac is the funniest person on Earth

↳ user29: he's just a girl 🎀🎀

user30: I became a fan the moment yn_thebrainiac said "imagine your head is a hairy watermelon with a ball of jello inside"

↳ user31: as a med student I can tell you that it's pretty accurate

gossipgirl_f1 just posted a picture:

🚨🚨🚨McLaren's most eligible bachelor landonorris not eligible anymore? 🚨🚨🚨The driver has been spotted in Japan getting comfortable with an unnamed girl.

user32: didn't yn_thebrainiac post she's there too?

↳ user33: oh god please let it be real ↳ user34: it's definitely her

user35: people out there living my dreams 🥲

user36: why do yall even care?? he's a grown ass man, grow tf up

↳ user37: and yet here you are commenting 😴😴 like what are YOU doing at the devils sacrament?

user38: where's the FBI when you need them we have to knowww

↳ user39: that's yn_thebrainiac she had the exact same outfit in the story she posted earlier

user40: come look girl user41 someones stealing your man

↳ user41: aw hell naw she better know how to fight ↳ user42: wow the delulu is strong with this one

user43: look what yall did worldscollide_pod liked by worldscollide_pod

↳ user43: i guess that's a confirmation huh

landonorris tagged yn_thebrainiac in a post:

Japan treated us nice but she treats me nicer 🌸🇯🇵

Comments:

user44: so they met and fell in love because they were randomly invited to do a random episode of a random podcast? and people still say God ain't real smdh

↳ user45: they better not forget to invite worldscollide_pod to their wedding

user46: guess he'll fuck anyone, when's my turn?

↳ user47: probably never, considering you're no one rather than anyone💁‍♀️💁‍♀️

oscarpiastri: yes, they are as annoyingly in love as they look

↳ landonorris: woww and here I thought we were best friends ↳ landonorris: so rude ↳ oscarpiastri: I have group chat screenshots ↳ landonorris: you're my bestest friend Oscar and you're too nice to ever do this to me 🥰 ↳ maxverstappen1: we all have screenshots ↳ georgerussell63: you're cooked mate ↳ landonorris: 🥲🥲

user48: I would sacrifice my firstborn for this 😭😭

user49: I'm not sure who I am more jealous of

↳ user50: both

user51: they look so good together wtf

user52: worldscollide_pod you guys need to fix your post, what neuropsychologist and a f1 driver have in common is a marriage certificate

user53: ok real question how did he pull her??

↳ user54: he's a millionaire he doesn't have to do anything lol women's ideal type is a loaded wallet ↳ user55: bold of you to assume someone like her needs a walking piggy bank

yn_thebrainiac tagged landonorris in a post:

Hey, did you know that it was a Japanese scholar, Hiroshi Kojima, who popularized phenomenological ontology? He proposed that the dichotomy of individuality vs consciousness could be solved by treating the body as a half-way point between those two concepts. In essence, Kojima suggested considering the body as being seen both from the inside and the outside, now focusing on the intersubjective encounters as part of what constitutes the human being in the context of ontology.

Ps. He promised to wear his helmet! 🌼💖

Comments:

user56: she's everything, he's just Ken😌💅liked by landonorris

↳ georgerussell63: facts

user57: I bet the pillow talk is baffling

↳ landonorris: nah she's too tired for that ↳ user58: 💀💀 bro you didn't have to do her like that

user59: if he breaks your heart I promise to shake his head real hard, repeatedly 🥰🥰

user60: 😬😬 do they not make them pretty anymore?

↳ user61: fr she doesn't deserve him 😐 sad ↳ user62: this relationship feels like a social experiment like what do you mean he chose HER???? Lando Norris settling for a 2/10 is not the news I wanted to read today ↳ user63: wow no wonder yall dads left 😭 she's a normal looking woman, did porn rot your peanut brains completely? go outside and interact with regular, non-photoshopped people and then come back

user64: they have nothing in common and yet they fit perfectly how?? i feel like I'm having a strokee

user65: diagnostic process videos bout to get lit now that there's a volunteer to draw clocks and memorize strings of random words

user66: why do they look like a disney movie couple

↳ maxverstappen1: he may or may not have called her princess on more than one occasion ↳ landonorris: you guys promised 🥲 ↳ oscarpiastri: no, we promised not to post the screenshots ↳ yn_thebrainiac: you mean the screenshots georgerussell63 just sent me? ↳ landonorris: good talk everyone I'll just go die of embarrassment if you don't mind ↳ yn_thebrainiac: I thought the things you said about me were kind of cute ↳ landonorris: nvm I'm back to life

[ponderingmoonlight]

Oh, to be trapped with Dante

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: What's worse than getting trapped with Dante? Getting trapped with a stripping Dante.

Warnings: this is hilarious and fluffy at the same time, I'm still begging for Dante requests so get in my inbox if you have one, hope you like it @veijdana

You’re not sure what sets it off.

Maybe it’s the faulty lock. Maybe the door was always a little off its axes. Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour when it comes to you and that guy.

What you do know for sure is this: the door slams shut, there’s a sharp click, and no amount of jiggling the handle is getting you out of this storage room-slash-death trap. No windows, no signal, and the only light is from a flickering overhead bulb that looks like it could give up at any moment.

Perfect.

So much to being the greatest demon hunters of them all.

You turn slowly to Dante, who’s lounging against a metal shelf stacked with boxes labeled “Supplies” like this is nothing. Like he didn’t just help trap you both in a glorified closet with a single bottle of water and a half-eaten protein bar. Like he did something except for watching you struggle with that heavy ass door.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Problem?”

“The door’s locked.”

“I noticed,” he replies, utterly unbothered.

“Dante.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, barely able to hold it together any longer.

“Please don’t call me that right now.”

“Noted,” he declares, in a tone that means absolutely not noted.

He strolls over, casually tests the door for himself, then shrugs.

“Yeah. We’re stuck.”

“No kidding.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone finds us.”

“Which could be hours. Or days.”

He grins, shameless.

“Even better.”

You sit down hard the cold ground. It creaks threateningly, but you’re too irritated to care. He paces once, twice, then flops down across from you like this is a vacation, arms behind his head, one leg draped over the other ready to sunbathe.

Except this isn’t Miami beach but a mouse trap.

“Are you always this calm when you’re locked in small spaces with people you annoy for fun?” you question innocently.

“Only when it’s you.”

You narrow your eyes, gaze spitting thick venom at him.

“Do you actually enjoy pushing my buttons this much, or is it just some kind of defense mechanism?”

“Little column A, little column B,” he thinks out loud, flashing you a lazy smile.

“But if we’re being honest… you're kind of cute when you’re mad.”

You throw a balled-up wrapper at him. He ducks it easily, still smirking.

The minutes stretch. Then an hour. The silence tries to creep in, but Dante won’t let it. He talks. About nonsense. Old missions, weird dreams, things he overheard once that he probably wasn’t supposed to. You try not to laugh. You really try.

Eventually, you’re sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, legs stretched out, head tilted toward him without meaning to. He’s closer now, somehow. At some point. The distance between you shrunk while you weren’t paying attention.

“I think you like being trapped with me,” he mutters, voice quieter now.

Less teasing, if that’s somehow possible.

“You haven’t told me to shut up in, like, ten whole minutes.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“That’s because I’ve accepted my fate. Resistance is clearly useless. And somehow I get the feeling it turns you on even more.”

“Exactly. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

He bumps your knee with his. You don’t move away. No, somehow, this faint touch has a comfort to it, a warmth you haven’t felt for quite some time by now.

The silence now is different. Thicker. Weighted. Like you’re both suddenly aware of how still everything is. How alone. It’s just you and him. You and the walking sex symbol itself Dante.

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

“This is the part where you make some dumb joke about body heat, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, low.

“Tempting. But no. Not yet.”

You glance at him.

“Yet?”

He shrugs.

“I’m giving you a few more hours before I wear down your defenses. I’m not a complete monster.”

You shake your head, lips twitching despite yourself.

Another stretch of silence. Then:

“You ever think about it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, caught off guard by that strange and unexpected question.

“About what?”

“Us. Like - if this whole ridiculous situation wasn’t so ridiculous. If it was… different.”

Your stomach does something complicated. You turn your head to look at him, your palms starting to get sweaty. Why do you always feel like this when he’s around?

He’s watching you, eyes dark and serious for once. No smirk. No teasing.

“Yeah. Sometimes,” you admit quietly.

A beat.

“I like the idea,” he confesses.

You nod.

“Me too.”

He shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours now, solid and warm and real. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Still not sharing my blanket, though.”

You snort.

“I’m not cold.”

“Yet.”

You laugh. And this time, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Just a little.

Just enough.

Bonus:

You're curled on one side of the room, using your jacket as a pillow. Dante's a few feet away, stretched out like he owns the floor, arms folded behind his head. The silence has gone companionable, easy. You almost forget where you are.

Until he moves.

You hear the rustle of fabric first. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

You lift your head, every single alarm going off inside your head. No, he isn’t about to strip…Is he?

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to sleep,” he remarks like it’s obvious.

Which it isn’t.

At all.

Because his shirt is coming off, and now he’s unbuttoning his pants in the dim light of the room, clearly visible to your accustomed to dark gaze.

“Dante-”

“What?” he interrupts, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I always sleep naked.”

You sit up straighter, just the thought of seeing him naked, let alone shirtless...

“You are not - you can’t just strip.”

He shrugs, already stepping out of his jeans like this is just another Tuesday with a pizza waiting on his desk for him.

“It helps with thermoregulation. Look it up.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, turning away.

“You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you’re not telling me to stop.”

You don’t. You don’t want to. Which is the worst part.

He stretches out again, now under the thin blanket you both agreed to not share (but he’s already claimed half of), bare chest barely hidden in the dark, a picture of shameless comfort.

You try not to look. You try.

He catches you anyway.

“See something you like?”

“See something I want to throw a box at.”

He laughs - low, satisfied, like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Relax. It’s not like I’m gonna pounce on you.”

“You better not.”

“Unless you ask nicely.”

You grab your jacket and hurl it at his face. He catches it one-handed, grinning like he’s thriving on your outrage.

“Goodnight, Dante.”

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

You lie back, trying to will your pulse to settle. But you can still hear him breathing across the room, steady and slow, and you swear you feel the heat from him bleeding across the short distance between you.

The night settles heavy. And you're very aware you’re trapped with a half-naked Dante, no door, no escape, and a dangerous lack of personal space.

Sleep is going to be impossible.

And you think he knows it.

“I still feel you staring-“

“Shut the hell up, Dante.”

[verareids]

feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be. 

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation. 

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

~

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

~

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback. 

“You do?” The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm. 

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

[rotagnus]

what kind of a father/husband will/would he be? fs/person of interest reading.

pick a pile from the first row for what kind of a husband he will be.

pick a pile from the second row for what kind of a father he will be.

you can choose different piles from each row. if two number 1s align with you, f.e, that is fine as well.

pile 1.

this man will do anything to give you the world. he'll probably be more of a blue-collar worker. you might come from countries that are more traditional and place a high value on culture. something about him will remind you of your childhood--maybe the dreams you had of marrying someone like him, maybe the hope and childlike view of the world you had. i think that you'll probably have a strong relationship with him because he'd be there for you when nobody else was. he may come with the same culture/childhood as you, too. you guys understand each other very well. he probably wants children, not too much, but he may have been an only child/younger child who wasn't exactly supported, and he wants to give his kids the childhood he didn't get. he may be away for his job, but you're his world, and he would always check up on you.

pile 2.

oou he's gonna adore you! i think he's gonna be working in a more technological field...computer sci or maybe some kind of stay-at-home work. he's probably more modern in his views unlike pile 1, and he's gonna shower you with compliments and gifts--he may not have come from a place of acquired wealth, and he saw how hard his parents worked to give him a good childhood. he has a deep appreciation for hard workers, and he admires you for how hard you work. you hustle!! he treats you like a queen. i think you guys are the kind of couple who visit friends on the weekend--you don't let the adult life stop you from being happy. with him, you'll feel free; you will never be a caged bird.

pile 3.

you're gonna have a good family. i think you'll probably have kids, and this man might want them even if you don't, so that might be something you guys clash about...if not, then yay! you guys will create a long, powerful family tree. every morning he's going to wake up and kiss your face. i think your husband is a very ambitious person and he gets what he wants, no complaining about it. he can be a bit arrogant, but you're able to contrast his bad qualities and he does the same to yours. he probably looks different than you--you guys may be from different cultures/areas of life, which may cause some trouble between your extended families, especially if they're narrow minded, so be careful of that...however, you guys will mesh together will. you might live in a city later on in your life.

---------------------------------- onto the paternal reading.

pile 1.

this father might be a little awkward around his kids--whether this means he doesn't spend a lot of time with them, or he just isn't a person who's exactly good with children, he's still gonna try. he ain't gonna be like your usual absent fathers, but he might need some encouragement. he may have had a funky childhood himself, and with your encouragement he'll help out. y'all may have had your kids early, which adds to this feeling. be careful not to get caught up in material things--he might want the best for your kids and spend all his time working because of it.

pile 2.

awww he's gonna be one of those silly dads who also cares a tremendous amount about his kids. he's a very vibrant person, and there's something youthful and childlike about him even though he's older. he gets along well with kids, so he's gonna be a good dad. fierce, protective too. he won't let anyone disrespect the kids or you. he'd pull the sun to the earth for his family--the true definition of a family man. you can rest assured that this family will be one that knows effort and knows good morals.

pile 3.

oouu this is a smart smart man. probably got good education, if not then he educated himself. he's a go-getter, and he inspires this quality to learn within your kids, too. he knows how important knowledge is, and he does his best to ingrain this quality in your children. however, due to his fears of the world, he may pass that to your children, so you guys may need to have a talk about that. other than that, he's very stable and he probably won't be the kind of man who would lash out. he may have some faith and pass it on to children, depending on what your faith is and what you guys think about it.

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

.

.

.

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

[talaok]

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request 

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face once... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen 

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself" 

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much, 

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder 

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

[naughtyjjk]

just a massage (pt. 2)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism notes: if you haven't already, make sure to read part 1 here first!

it’s been a week and nanami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. it’s terrible for him mentally, for his day-to-day living in general. every time he closes his eyes, you’re there in his mind. you with your naked body and perfect curves and smooth skin… the way you were so vocal and reactive to his touches…

he’s thought about you more than he’d ever admit, especially at night, after a long day of work, when he’s finally able to take off his clothes and lie down in bed and wrap a hand around his aching cock. yes, he’s jerked off to the thought of you—multiple times. he can’t seem to stop, addicted to the fantasy that he conjures. and it’s bad, it’s so bad of him, but he’s also never come so hard before and you make him irrationally horny.

today, nanami gets to the massage parlor and opens up his schedule. that’s when he sees your name there, a session booked for 1:30 pm. he blinks, wondering if it’s a dream. it’s not. he moves through the whole morning on autopilot, speaking politely to clients who are not you. they’re all irrelevant and he’s both looking forward to and dreading the time of your appointment.

he promised that he wouldn’t repeat what happened last time. it had been far to inappropriate, far too unprofessional, and he could easily get fired if anyone found out. but… his cock has other ideas. he doesn’t know if he would be able to hold back once he sees you again, in person, there to tempt him with your hot, sexy body. at the same time, a part of him wants to find out how far he can push you, test the limits to see how much you’re able to endure. it had been obvious that you were into it just as much as he was last time.

inhaling, nanami looks at the clock. it shouldn’t be long now before you get here. he has to tame his thoughts so that he doesn’t get himself all worked up over nothing.

but fuck, he wants you. he wants you so fucking bad.

.

“you booked a longer session this time,” nanami greets you as you walk into the room. he’s shirtless again, of course. at this point, you can probably guess that it’s a deliberate choice, as if he’s testing your resolve from the very start. like last time, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of shorts that barely does anything to hide what he’s packing down there.

you divert your eyes before you end up staring for too long. everything about the massage parlor looks exactly the same as it had when you visited last week, with its white walls and minimalistic decorations and the different bottles of oils all lined up on the counter which, as nanami has proved previously, can be used for more than their intended purposes. but there is something that changed, though, and you sense it as soon as you see nanami.

“well,” you reply eventually, “we left off with some unfinished business.”

there’s no beating around the bush anymore. neither of you bother to keep up pretenses this time because it’s inevitable where this will lead. and this is something you both clearly want. you know that you’re not the only one who had been looking forward to today, that nanami wants it just as much as you.

“right. but you know,” nanami drawls, “last time, while you were in the changeroom after our session, i think i heard some… noises. any idea what that could be?”

flushing, you feel your entire body heating up with embarrassment. you curse yourself for not being quieter at the time and you clear throat, glancing away. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“hm.” nanami looks at you unconvinced. he takes a step closer. “it couldn’t have been that you were doing anything naughty in there, right?”

“o-of course not,” you say, hating how guilty you sound.

thankfully, nanami doesn’t press you any further. “good. i mean, no one else heard you… but it would’ve been bad if someone did.” he grabs a few of the items from the counter and walks over to the bed. “now, where would you like me to massage this time?”

sitting back, you make a vague gesture. “just—continue where we left off. same as before.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “come on, now. let’s be a bit more honest,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “we both know what you’re really here for.”

“everywhere,” you blurt out, arousal hitting you without warning. “my whole body… the front this time, too. make me feel good.”

eyes darkening with desire, nanami nods, pleased with your answer. “much better. we’ll start with you lying down on the bed again.”

you position yourself the same as last time, on your stomach with your face down and legs spreading apart instinctively. you hear nanami chuckle at your eagerness.

soon, oil is poured over your back, warm hands spreading it all over. your muscles relax at once and you’re reminded of how skilled nanami is. along your spine, he applies pressure to his palms, drawing out soft sounds from you. nanami runs his hands parallel, gliding them down all the way to your legs, then back up again, and repeating the process until heat starts to coil inside you.

after a moment, nanami asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“nothing,” you mumble. a lie, obviously. there’s only one thing that could be occupying your mind while nanami is touching you like this, rubbing your body sensually, and that’s—

“hm.” nanami says. “want to know what i’m thinking about?”

“wh-what?”

“how much i want to fuck you.” nanami’s voice is low and he uses both hands to squeeze your ass over the towel. in response, you moan, arousal hitting you hard. “how horny you make me. i've been thinking about it since our last session…”

breath hitching, you feel a rush of heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire, a wetness starting to soak your pussy. it’s no secret that you’ve been imagining the same scenario for the past few days, every second that you’ve been apart.

“how long has it been since you’ve had sex, darling?”

“ah—i don’t know. weeks, maybe,” you say, exhaling. you’re losing himself to the sensation of nanami’s hands as he moves them again, this time drawing circles on your inner thighs. “months.”

skirting along the edge of the towel, nanami’s fingers slip under just for a second to brush against your ass. “and how are you feeling? pent up from all those months without relief?”

“y-yeah.” you swallow hard. you’ve been more on edge than you’d like to admit, more irritable in general the longer you go without getting laid. sometimes, you’ll be flooded with dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate times, often waking up to wet dreams and an ache in your pussy to be filled.

“mm, and do you miss it? having sex?” nanami’s hot breath is right by your ear, a low whisper when he asks, “getting fucked?”

shuddering, you can’t help but moan softly. “yes.”

“it’s not enough to satisfy the craving by yourself, is it? it’s been so long…” nanami murmurs. “you want someone there with you, someone to touch you, someone to make you feel good.”

“kento… oh…”

last time, this was the point in the massage when he had stopped. but nanami shows no signs of slowing down, and even when his hands lift from your body, he makes sure that you know he’s not done yet.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you today,” nanami tells you, and you’re hit with another wave of arousal. “now, turn around for me.”

you do as you’re told, flipping over on the bed to lie on your back, facing up at the ceiling. your heart hammers away in your chest as nanami eyes you up and down. you expect him to start working down from your shoulders, but he seems to have other plans when his hands move directly to untie the towel around your waist.

“w-wait, i—”

pausing, nanami glances at you, a smirk on his face. “what’s wrong? are you embarrassed that you’re wet already?” he slides the towel lower just a little. “have you forgotten how you were begging for it last time?”

nanami doesn’t wait for you to reply before unwrapping the towel all the way. like this, you can’t hide your desire anymore. and you’re more than aware of how wet you’ve gotten, pussy dripping and soaking the bed. you see nanami’s gaze flicker down, pausing in his actions to admire your body. you feel so exposed like this, naked on the bed while presenting yourself to him, and the tension between you grows thicker by the second. it’s all so arousing.

taking the bottle of oil, nanami holds it over you and pours out the liquid directly so that it leaves a trail from your chest all the way to your stomach. you can’t help but flinch slightly, feeling it tickle as it drips. a few drops fall directly onto your pussy, causing it to throb, and your breath hitches as you bite back a moan. nanami licks his lips and then his hands are on you again.

first, he runs a single finger down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, stopping just before touching your pussy, above your clit. the process is slow. slow and sensual. spreading the rest of the oil evenly across your skin, nanami takes his time in feeling you all over, making the anticipation build and build inside you.

next, your breasts are the main area of focus as he draws large circles on both sides, dipping near your armpits, along the underside, and trailing back up the center. slowly, the circles get smaller with each round, closing in on your nipples. but as soon as he’s about to come into contact with those hardened nubs, nanami retreats and starts all over again. he does it three more times—large circles spiraling closer, closer, closer. tracing just around it. caressing the sides. and you always think that this time, this time, he’s going to finally reach your nipples.

he never does. you groan, frustrated. it’s the first time you’ve experienced something like this; the first time you’ve ever wanted your nipples to be touched so badly. the worst part is that it’s really getting to you, turned on from barely anything. your pussy begs for attention, leaking more of your arousal as you mentally curse nanami for being such a fucking tease.

at that moment, nanami leans in so that his mouth is hovering just above one of your breasts and your heart pounds at the possibility of what’s to come. but all he does is blow against it gently and chuckle. 

“your nipples are so hard…” his tongue pokes out, swirling it in the air just above your skin, exactly like how he would if he were to suck and lick at the sensitive nub. he holds your gaze but never makes contact with his tongue. still, you can feel the phantom sensations there, and you want so badly for him to take you in his mouth. “want me to touch you?”

god, yes. you let out a whine. all of this teasing is going straight to your pussy, so wet with desire. but nanami’s mouth retreats and he goes back to using his hands, circling your breasts with his fingers.

when you don’t think that you could take it anymore, you feel it—a single finger brushing across both your nipples, just grazing them, the lightest of touches. you’re so turned on at this point, the anticipation having built up inside you, that you gasp, squirming on the spot as you try to adjust to the sudden, unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“ah—”

“look at you. so sensitive, so riled up from barely anything,” nanami says, waiting for you to regain your composure.

it’s not your fault. nanami made sure that your body would be extra responsive by taking it slow, making you crave it, and one barely-there touch is hardly enough to satisfy you. but that’s all you get for a while as nanami repeats his actions with the sole mission of making the experience as agonizing as possible for you.

eventually, when you least expect it, the pattern changes. nanami flattens his hands over your nipples and rubs them, going from palms to fingertips, the oil adding a delicious glide to every movement. he grabs both your breasts and fondles them, massages them. cupping them with his palms and squeezing with his large hands.

“ohh…” you moan, arching into the touch. soon, nanami switches to grasping your nipples between his fingers, pinching the delicate nubs with the perfect amount of pressure, and it sends a rush of sensation throughout your body. you whimper. “fuck, k-kento…”

“does it turn you on when i play with your nipples?” nanami asks, hyperattentive, watching every reaction that your body makes. “such a naughty girl.”

fuck, it’s only your second session here but nanami has already figured out your body’s weaknesses, all of your most sensitive areas, the erogenous zones, and how to take you apart. you shouldn’t be falling for every one of nanami’s tricks. you shouldn’t be this easy. but you gave up control the moment you laid down on this bed, and nanami just seems to have that effect on you.

having gotten the reaction he wanted, nanami moves on. he had spent so long playing with your nipples that you almost forgot the feeling of those tantalizing hands on the rest of his body. but you’re quickly reminded when he travels down to your stomach, your lower abdomen, purposely avoiding your pussy and going straight to your legs.

it’s the assault on your inner thighs that eventually ruins you. because nanami is running his hands up your thighs, stopping right at your pelvis, and doing it over and over and over—repeatedly, for what seems like forever. occasionally, his fingertips will brush against the outside of your folds, but the touch is fleeting and never goes any further than that, only serving to taunt you.

you groan, wishing nanami would just get on with it. when you express this, you only get an amused chuckle in response.

“so impatient. and you’re all wet for me already…” nanami says, those words making you even more aroused. “that’s it, let your body crave it. i would love to eat you out and taste you on my tongue.”

you certainly wouldn’t complain if he did just that. but nanami only spreads your legs and runs a finger past your pussy, spreading your wetness there. he circles your clit once, and you moan. then he goes further down until he finds your entrance but doesn’t push inside. he continues to do that—playing with you, teasing you, turning you into a writhing mess on the bed.

oh, you want him so bad. you’ve never wanted a man this fucking bad before. your body is burning, the need and desire growing exponentially by the second.

“there are so many things i want to do to you.” nanami swallows, looking like he wants to devour you but is doing everything he can to hold himself back. “but i’ll keep it simple for today. you look like you won’t be able to last much longer, anyway.”

without warning, nanami slides his hand back up to your clit, pinching it between two fingers, slick with oil. your entire body jolts as you feel pressure being applied there, a choked out moan escaping your lips. nanami rolls the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub and you throb at his touch, breathing significantly harder now.

it had already been overwhelming before, but now your whole body burns with pleasure, with desire—wild and untamed. heat sears through you, fast, hot, making you somewhat delirious. you lose control of yourself as you buck up and circle your hips, trying to feel more of it.

“remember, this is still a massage,” nanami says, voice low, and you’re not sure who he’s trying to fool. he pinches you again, the perfect amount of pressure, and you arch off the bed with a whimper. “all i’m doing is giving you a massage…”

his hand flattens and he rubs your clit up and down, then in circles, slow at first and gradually increasing in speed. there’s no pattern to his movements; nanami is completely unpredictable, leaving you guessing, never allowing you to adjust to the sensation at any given moment. all you can do is lie there and take it, at his mercy, chasing after whatever he’s willing to give you. but you can’t exactly complain, though, not when it feels this fucking good.

“k-kento—” you cry out as all your nerves ignite at once, tingles of pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

“is this how you touched yourself in the changeroom last time?” the pace quickens, nanami drawing tight circles around your clit. “did you imagine that i was the one touching you? getting you closer and closer?”

moaning, you try to reply but your head is swimming with pleasure and it’s infinitely more arousing now that nanami is really here, playing with your pussy. it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

and then—it hits you fast, hard, entirely by surprise. one minute nanami is changing up his rhythm and the next, you find yourself bucking into the air uncontrollably, moaning loud and needy, and fuck, you’re—oh god, you’re going to come, you’re going to come—

“not yet, baby,” nanami says, voice low and stern. a command. his hand immediately withdraws from your body, keeping you right on the edge but never tipping over, and instead moves to hold your hips in place as you convulse on the bed, helpless to ride it out as your orgasm ebbs away. your pussy throbs and throbs, aching, dripping with your wetness. you’re left painfully unsatisfied. fuck, it’s not fair.

chest heaving, you whimper, having been denied your release. your whole body is on fire, and you’re so fucking turned on. you need to come. you need to come so fucking bad.

“kento,” you plead, willing to do anything to get his hands back on you. if this gets drawn out any longer, you’re not sure if you’ll survive. “kento, please—i’m—i can’t—please—”

almost idly, nanami trails a hand around the outside of your pussy, keeping his touch gentle like he has all the time in the world. it’s only a single finger grazing against you, but your hips flinch, moaning at the feeling of it. “do you really want it to end that quickly? i would love to see how desperate you can get. it won’t take much more for you to come, will it?”

you’re trembling and your pussy throbs every time nanami makes contact with it. you’re still unbelievably close to the edge despite calming down a bit now, and you’re sure that all it’ll take is a bit more stimulation from nanami before you reach your climax.

“can you—oh,” you start, words dissolving into a moan as nanami touches you again, fingers prodding at your entrance this time. it takes deliberate effort for you to gather your thoughts and finish the sentence, but you’ve become shameless, too aroused and horny to maintain any sense of dignity. “c-can you fuck me instead? i wanna—hah—wanna come on your cock.”

“mm, tempting. really tempting. but i don’t think so,” nanami tells you. his fingers latch onto your clit again, circling around it faster than before, and it’s so fucking good, so distracting that you’re barely able to hang on to his words. “i won’t fuck you today. i want to get you really desperate for it, let the tension build up until it makes you lose control. and when i finally give you what you want—tomorrow, or the next day, or even a week from now—i’ll break you apart slowly and leave you writhing under me. think of how good it’ll feel to finally have my cock in you after all this time, hard and aching inside you, filling up that tight little pussy.”

whimpering, you’re not even able to formulate a reply. that has to be the hottest proposal you’ve ever heard, like nanami has somehow figured out all of your dirtiest fantasies and is making them a reality. your mind is clouded with an arousal so strong that you’re struggling to process everything. but nanami isn’t even done yet.

“eventually, if i fuck you… when i fuck you, i’m going to take you apart slowly and push you to your limits until you show me just how badly you need it. you’ll be shaking under me, begging to have my cock in you. god, darling, i’ve wanted to ruin you since our first session together.”

you moan brokenly, hips thrusting wildly on the bed in response to his words. holy shit. nanami knows exactly how to get you all worked up. what’s worse is that every word he says is a cruel reminder that his cock isn’t inside you, isn’t fucking you, isn’t even out of those tight, tight pants yet.

“hah—fuck, your cock—n-need your cock—”

“i’ll give you something just as good.” nanami is watching you intensely, taking in the way your body responds. he bends your legs, hands sliding almost innocently across your entrance. “i can massage your insides. how does that sound?”

it sounds incredibly fucking hot, that’s what. and suddenly, you’ve never desired anything so badly before. “y-yeah—ngh, please—”

“spread your legs for me, baby,” nanami tell you. doing as you’re told, you follow his guidance to expose your pussy even more, aroused and horny beyond belief. “good girl. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

a finger runs along the outside of your pussy, slick with oil, and you choke out a moan, lifting your hips to try and feel more of it. thankfully, it goes in soon enough, not wasting any time, and nanami sinks a finger into you, the slick oil helping to ease his length inside. you let out a startled gasp as he goes deeper and deeper, past the first and second knuckle, all the way until his whole finger has been swallowed up.

once he’s all the way in, nanami groans at the tightness that envelopes him, the way you clam down as if refusing to let him go. but he starts pulling back out, inch by inch, and you’re helpless to it; all you can do is moan at how good it feels. he pumps it in and out a few times almost experimentally, taking in how quickly you’re falling apart on the bed before him.

“you can imagine that it’s my cock fucking you if that helps,” nanami whispers in your ear and the suggestion has you whimpering. “but of course, my cock is bigger than this. think you can take another?”

“Y-yes—ah—yes, yes, more—”

“look at me,” nanami says, waiting until you turn your head before adding a second digit, stretching you open. you gasp, panting as soon as he starts to thrust into you properly. “see how hard i am because of you? my cock feels like it’s going to burst out of these pants.”

and it’s true; your gaze falls on nanami’s bulge, so hot and obscene within the confines of his pants. the fabric shifts every time it twitches, pulsing like it’s trying to break out, wet and damp where the tip is. nanami’s free hand moves to touch himself, hips rolling into his palms, giving himself some relief for the very first time.

god, you swallow. you would do anything to have him pull out his cock already.

but nanami’s only goal seems to be to get you as worked up as possible, bringing you right to the edge with his dirty words. “mm, yeah. think about how fucking good it’ll feel to have my cock throbbing inside you. thrusting into your tight little pussy, nice and deep.”

his fingers curl, sending an unexpected jolt through your entire body. you cry out, back arching off the bed, head thrown back as an intense wave of pleasure overtakes you. “a-ah—! shit, kento—o-oh my god—”

grinning, nanami makes sure to aim for the same place again. “is this the spot? does it feel good here?”

“hah—fuck—y-yeah, good—hng, so fucking good—”

nanami hums, but the next few thrusts he makes purposely avoids your g-spot. each one is shallower than the last and you can’t help but squirm as you get increasingly frustrated, until he pulls out altogether.

“that’s a good look on you. it seriously turns me on to see how desperate you are now,” nanami says, licking his lips. his eyes are dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of you, running his hands along your thighs and watching your pussy throb. “it’s almost a shame we have to end things here today.”

you take a few seconds to process what he’s saying, and once you do, all you can think is, no, no. not again. you didn’t get to come yet. you need more, need your release, need those fingers back in you. need to—

“th-that’s it?” you ask in disbelief when it becomes clear that nanami isn’t going to continue. the towel is wrapped around you once again. your pussy aches in protest at how abruptly things ended, still dripping and dripping and dripping with unresolved arousal.

fuck. you refuse to let nanami leave him like this again; you’re determined to get a better outcome, unlike last time when you had to get yourself off in the changeroom. you’ll break down and beg if you have to. you want to come on nanami’s cock, on nanami’s fingers, and you know that nanami wants it, too. but whenever it seems that he’s about to go further, he always stops, right when you’re most anticipating it.

it’s especially frustrating because he’s gotten you all worked up, so fucking horny that you can hardly even think straight, but it never goes far enough for you to be fully satisfied. you’re kept on the brink of release, never allowed to come. it’s so cruel. it only works to turn you on more, to an unbearable degree.

but nanami doesn’t even acknowledge it. he only looks at you innocently. “our time is up for today,” he says, then leans in close, voice lowering to a whisper. “did you really think that i would let you come so easily? you’ve been a very naughty girl.”

fuck, that shouldn’t sound as hot and sexy as it does. it definitely shouldn’t be making you even more turned on.

“i—” shit, you think. you glance down at nanami’s very obvious erection, the desire he clearly has, too. i want your cock—want you to fuck me. but it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on going any further today, so you only manage to stammer out, “i don’t think i can go out like this.”

because you’re in arguably a worse state than nanami. despite the towel doing the bare minimum of hiding your arousal, your legs are still trembling slightly and the wetness between your legs isn’t going away.

“ah.” nanami’s eyes flicker down as he licks his lips. “you’re right, we can’t have you leaving like that. why don’t you take care of yourself now?”

you stare at him. when nanami only meets your gaze expectantly, you ask, “you mean… right here?”

“yes. we pride ourselves on customer satisfaction, you know. i can’t let you go when you clearly still have… unfinished business.” nanami smirks, evidently smug for getting you to such a state. “and don’t mind me. there’s still some time before the next appointment, so i’ll just be cleaning up the room.”

and you can’t believe it. what nanami is essentially asking you to do is masturbate, get yourself off, while you’re being watched.

the idea of it is crazy. but it’s undeniably hot, too. so fucking hot.

a few steps away, nanami is busying himself with setting up the equipment, but it’s obvious that he never strays too far. he’s still paying attention, making sure to keep you in his peripheral vision, intent on not missing out on anything.

hesitantly, you unwrap the towel around your waist until you’re fully naked once more. you sigh and glance down at yourself. it’s almost embarrassing because it’s far too noticeable just how fucking horny you are, with the way your pussy is swollen and so, so wet, making a mess on the bed.

across the room, nanami’s movements have stopped. he’s openly staring at you now, taking in the sight of you greedily. there’s hunger in his gaze as he grips the counter next to him, transfixed on the way your pussy is fully exposed, practically begging for attention.

you make eye contact, and a charge of tension passes between you before nanami nods once. “go on. show me how you make yourself feel good.”

so, you get comfortable again on the bed, hyperaware that your every action is being watched. it makes you more excited than you’d ever admit as the shame and embarrassment and humiliation all mix together with intense arousal, clouding your mind. you run your hands over your own body, starting with your breasts, cupping them and teasing your hardened nipples. just like nanami did earlier. soft moans escape you, pleasure surging throughout as you turn your head to look at nanami with half-lidded eyes.

nanami remains silent, but his expression gives him away. there’s no mistake that this is turning him on too, and you swear that you see him twitching in his pants, the fabric shifting over his bulge. but still, he’s far too composed, and you want to break down his self-control, get him so worked up that he can’t resist coming over and fucking you anymore.

traveling down your chest, across the planes of his stomach, your hands come to a stop at your hips. you spread your legs, bending your knees so that your feet are planted flat on the bed, giving you easier access to your aching pussy.

you’ve waited long enough. the slow tease of nanami’s massage and the beyond erotic proposal of masturbating in front of him have all caught up to you and you can’t delay this any longer. trailing a hand down to your entrance, you push a finger inside and immediately moan at the feeling of being filled again.

“fuck… yes,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself over to the sensation. you’ve only just touched himself, barely even started at all, but you’re already feeling it.

it’s hot and wet inside your pussy, the oil helping to loosen you up. you drag your finger, moving in and out of yourself, feeling how needy and pent-up you are as your hips roll slightly, growing impatient. you squeeze a second finger inside. moaning, you scissor them apart and pleasure floods through you.

and then you begin to thrust, going at a fairly slow pace. but still, it’s enough to have your thighs shaking, so fucking sensitive. you can feel yourself falling apart.

your fingers curl, angled just right, and your nerves come to life, firing jolts all the way up your spine. “o-oh—ngh, shit—kento—”

at the sound of nanami’s name slipping past your lips, mixed in with a moan, you hear the hitch of a breath to your side. opening your eyes again, you blink to clear your vision, and see that nanami has made his way over to the bed, standing right beside you. something about him being this close, watching over you with his cock hard and bulging in his pants, has your arousal spiking.

suddenly, you can’t stand the slow buildup anymore. your speed increases, thrusting into yourself faster before you even realize it, pushing as deep as you can go. the rush of pleasure is immediate, and your head falls back, breaths growing ragged. there’s a moan but this time it doesn’t come from you; nanami is the one who made the sound, low and strained. he looks like he’s at his limit just by being there as a bystander, watching you on display.

“fuck, that’s it,” nanami encourages you, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch. replace your fingers with his own. “in and out, steady thrusts. just like that…”

receiving instructions from nanami only makes you more turned on. your hips lift off the bed involuntarily and you can’t help staring at the twitching erection in his pants. “ah, feels—feels so good—"

“i bet it does,” nanami says. “look at how much you’re getting off on this. you secretly like being watched, don’t you?”

“f-fuck,” you break off into a moan. the answer to his question is evident in the way you’re dripping from your pussy, walls clenching around your own fingers.

and nanami must notice it too because he tells you, “don’t forget about your clit, baby. i know you like it there.”

reaching down with your other hand, you circle around your sensitive clit, body jerking at the added stimulation. and this is going to be your undoing, you know, because you feel the familiar buildup of your orgasm reaching a peak inside you, the crescendo of something bigger. already, you feel like you could come at any moment.

on top of that, nanami is relentless. “good girl,” he murmurs. “faster now. get yourself real close for me.”

you obey because you have no choice, because nanami has always been the one in control here. it’s getting dangerous now as you finger yourself faster, drawing tight circles around your clit, whining at the pure pleasure that’s accumulating in your stomach, between your legs. and you’re squirming, unable to contain the sheer amount of arousal inside you.

“shit—hah—o-oh my god, fuck, fuck—” you moan brokenly. then you use all of your willpower to force yourself to stop, both hands pulling away. your hips buck up in the air desperately, but you don’t want to come yet. you look over at nanami, chest heaving, and plead, “i-i want you, kento…”

growling, nanami grips onto the side of the bed, fingers digging into it to physically restrain himself. you can see the way the muscles of his arms contract, so strong, so tense. holding himself back.

“trust me, i want to fuck you so damn bad,” nanami says, and his voice alone is enough to make you more aroused. “you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you. if it weren’t for my next appointment, i would bend you over right here and have my way with you until you’re screaming.” he swallows, gaze dark and filled with desire. “but today, it’s enough for me to just watch your pleasure. so, be a good girl for me and use your fingers to fuck that pretty pussy of yours and get yourself off properly this time.”  

holy fuck. you’re throbbing hard just from those words alone, before you even touch yourself again. you can’t possibly resist; your hand moves automatically to do as you’re told, two fingers sinking into yourself again, pumping in and out with urgency. your other hand resumes its assault on your clit, gasping and moaning, overwhelmed.

there’s no buildup this time—you go fast and hard right away, too fucking turned on to make yourself wait any longer. beside you, nanami hums with approval, always watching.

“hah—hah—ah—yes, k-kento—kento—”

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” nanami says. “find your g-spot for me. come on, baby. i want to see you make yourself come.”

you cry out when you do exactly what nanami tells you, applying pressure to the most sensitive nerves inside you. your hips are thrusting wildly, out of control, and all of the stimulation combined is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“oh fuck, o-oh fuck—” you choke out a moan, sounding wrecked. “i-i can’t—ngh, can’t take it anymore—i’m—hah—i’m gonna—”

nanami groans. “yeah, let it out. make yourself come.” his voice is strained, eyes transfixed on your body. “that’s it, such a good girl… make a mess of yourself and come for me.”

god. god. the dirty talk has your pussy throbbing, throbbing, clenching tight around your fingers, preparing for your release. you’re trembling, so close to being pushed past the limit. so fucking close. there’s no way you’ll last much longer now.

“hng—fuck—” once again, your eyes land on nanami’s cock in his pants, bulging out, stretching the fabric thin, and it’s the thought of his cock—touching it, sucking on it, fuck, having it inside you, stretching you open and filling you up—that eventually tips you over. you moan loud. “ah, c-coming—i’m coming—”

your release hits you less than a second later. you pump your fingers, curling to your g-spot, other hand rubbing your clit urgently, and that does it for you, back arching beautifully off the bed as your orgasm crashes through your body. your mouth falls open in a silent cry. it’s mind-numbing, absolutely filthy, pussy pulsing and pulsing. you ride out the pleasure in waves, panting, feeling like you might lose consciousness from how good it is.

in you half-delirious state, slowly coming down from your orgasm, you look up at nanami. you’re both impressed and extremely frustrated at his level of self-control. throughout the entire session, he never touched himself even once, despite the fact that you know he must be aching for it, so hard that it has to be painful. and he’s gotten no relief at all, his cock still locked away in the confines of his pants this whole time, occasionally twitching and throbbing without any stimulation.

maybe it’s because the timing just didn’t work out for the two of you. maybe nanami really does have to prepare for his next client. but if your positions were reversed and you happened to be the one watching nanami masturbate, such an erotic and filthy sight at your place of work, you has no doubt that you would’ve succumbed long ago.

you wonder, what would it take for nanami to finally give in? this is the second time that you’ve had to get off using your own hands at the massage parlor. and you just came, which felt good, incredible, but you’re still left somewhat unsatisfied because what you really wants is for nanami to fuck you already.

getting up from the bed, you brush a hand against the bulge between nanami’s legs. nothing more than a graze of your fingers. but that alone is enough to make him gasp, swallowing back the moan rising in his throat.

you asks, “can you really go back to work like this?”

nanami swats your hand away, cursing. he shuts his eyes to even out his breathing before settling his gaze on you again. “fuck, are you still that horny?”

grinning, you lick your lips. “if i say that i am, will you finally fuck me?”

nanami sucks in a breath, glancing over at the clock. “you really should go now. i wasn’t lying when i said that the next client will be here any minute.”

it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but you know when to accept your loss and drop the subject. for now, at least.

“i’ll go for today, but you’ve teased me twice already,” you say. then you lean forward, whispering into his ear, “next time i come, i won’t be leaving until i get what i want.”

.

part 3 will be the last part! also tumblr has been buggy recently and won’t let me tag some people... i’m sorry if your name is here but you didn’t get a notification :(

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

(comment to be added!)

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

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