#yes i have a sequel/second part in mind

[ridingtorohan]

hey!! i saw ur recent post about the tulpar crew walking in on reader touching themselves, could u do the same but vice versa?

Ask and ye shall receive!

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. possible second hand embarrassment. masturbation, sexual propositions, the whole shebang. this is a sequel to this post. this one can definitely be read on its own though. lightly implied that reader didn't accept swansea or daisuke's offers in the prequel but that can be left up to interpretation. jimmy's definitely happened though.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Masterlist - Want to Join my Taglist?

Curly is just so damn tired. Tired of the reports, faxes, checking the straps in the cargo bay. One of the few downtimes he gets is when he can sit and watch the constellations pass on the common room monitor. The Augira, Constantine and Mitena were all ones that he recognized from this sect of the system, all penned from the eyes of Saturn and further.

Movies are a scarce commodity on the screen, given Jimmy's track record of not wanting to hook the systems up, but it helps him nod off most times.

Working out, though? Working out he can do. Pony Express has given him permission to bring his weights on board, alongside a slew of magazines and audiobooks to listen to.

While Curly doesn't think of himself as a gym rat, those moments to himself are some of the best. Nothing but the burn of iron, the strain of his muscles with each rep. It's methodical work, one that sets his mind at ease and off of reports for once.

Some days, he can get Jimmy in on the action, but most of the time his co-pilot bemoans it. Each time they worked out, the stretches between the next session grew longer.

He's pleased when you agree to attend a few sessions with him. By then, it's almost amicable between you two, as if him walking in you didn't even happen. He's very much acted the part of a dutiful captain, though, he can't help his own eyes from wandering when he sees you stretch. Can't help himself from putting his hands firmly on you when he goes to correct your stance. It doesn't linger, doesn't wander, but goddamn, does he wish he could throw propriety out the window.

It's after one of his solo workout sessions when he chooses another way to unwind. Really, that's the only explanation for it. One that he tells himself anyway, because the strain of propriety is heavy. If he still thinks of you from time to time, if your face crops up in his thoughts while he touches himself, that's his business.

The only places you'd catch him in the act is either in the bathroom or his room.

Curly has always been imaginative, thoughts trailing to roads not travelled, paths that burn out of sight. Of you, sprawled out on the bed, and how he wished he had stayed. How he'd have given anything to hike your legs over his waist and kiss you senseless when he slid against you.

As it always is, every fantasy comes to an abrupt end. Every night that he had dreamed of walking in to find you waiting, you found him. Wifebeater drenched in sweat, towel draped over his shoulders, every line of his well built body on display, hand fisted around his cock.

There's a difference between wishing you'd walk in on him and actually receiving it.

A painful, terse moment lingers between you two, tension so thick he swears he can cut it. His hand completes the motion, wiping from his base to the tip, each breath deep. Despite how uncomfortable he felt (for more than one reason), he also felt more prepared. "Hold on a minute." He'll cover himself, boxers and uniform hiding himself from view.

If you believe you could flee from the room without Curly following you, you're dead wrong. He'll track you down, put this to bed once and for all. He'll catch you, half-dressed in his uniform, blue workwear draped around his waist, hand against the wall. "We have to talk about this."

Regardless if you stay or leave, not talking about it is no longer an option. You've both seen more of each other than was warranted, then what you both signed up for, but dammit he wants this. And he's so tired of shying away from things that he wants. From the person that he wants. All because of some higher-ups sitting cozy back home saying that it's wrong to do. He can't do it anymore, not when he feels like he's on the cusp of something great for once in his life.

"I know that what happened isn't what either of us expected," he'll start, voice low and perhaps far too sensual to be appropriate considered his half-dressed state. "And frankly, we can keep it to ourselves, pretend we never saw it." Biting the bullet is one of the fewest things he's done in life, but this is something that he wants to do. By fractions, Curly leans in closer, his voice entering a low murmur. "But... it doesn't have to be. We could give each other a.. hand, so to speak."

Routine. That's one thing that the Tulpar is good at. Routine. Each meal time, the rigid necessity of clocking in and out on time, even bathing. Pony Express may be a shit machine but it's well oiled, worked raw by the people under it. Delivering the payload is a smooth easy task because they all work on it together.

Part of that routine is shift work. Jimmy, ever the night-owl, works evening and night shift. This makes it so incredibly easy to avoid him if you wanted, especially since he walked in on you tending to yourself.

But he doesn't let you forget it. Since that moment, there's a smoldering heat in his gaze, eyes hooded as he watches you go about the room. Watched as you did your tasks, always standing too close - enough that you can get a whiff of his woodsy cologne, or feel his arm against yours.

He's almost helpful, even when your tasks really don't necessitate the need for another. His hands linger, hot against your uniform, his hips against the back of yours whenever he steadied you, or reached above you. Each word a rumble in his throat.

Except there's never really any change to talk to him about what happened. Not when every moment is tense, fraught with unresolved desires and need. Not when Daisuke or Curly walk into the room, silencing the burning questions and words that haunt your lips. Jimmy seems especially disgruntled about the interruptions, getting almost snappy towards the other crewmembers.

All in all, you rarely have a moment to speak with him. It's the furthest thing from your mind when you step out of the shower, more than eager to collapse face first into bed and sleep the weariness away.

If you're the sort to bring clothes into the washroom to change into, the absence of them is noted fast. No amount of scrounging around turns them up either. At a loss, it's to your sleeping quarters to wrangle up something else to wear.

Except you're very much not alone the second you step into your door. The door swishes behind you but you're effectively grounded, eyes drawn to the man lounging on your bed.

His head is tilted, messy hair falling across his hooded eyes, a dark and smoldering look to them. A slow stretch of a smirk crawls across his face, a pleased look darting into his eyes.

Jimmy is just as bare as the day he was born, an arm languidly thrown over your pillow. A leg bent up, not at all coy about having himself on display. His other arm is resting against his thigh, one hand smoothing along his flushed cock in a slow, slick motion. His fingerstips are all but slathered in precum - or actual cum, as you might suspiciously think when you look at your clothes haphazardly thrown onto the floor, looking sticky.

"There you are. Took you long enough." He breathes out your name, chin tilted upward, something primal lurking deep in his eyes. Jimmy clicks his tongue, ever the disapproving copilot. "You should know better than to keep someone waiting." Despite the curt, wanting tone to his words, he doesn't move towards you. Letting you go to him. Like he knows you will.

"I've been thinking," each word is low and deep, husky in his mouth. Jimmy's hand very much doesn't stop moving, stroking himself as you're rooted to the spot. Whenever you glance down between his thighs, his smirk deepens. "That you owe me for what I did for you."

It's not like you could dance around the topic forever; each touch, every interrupted conversation, it all would have culminated to this. Jimmy waiting for you, eager to put his hands back on you, to feel you tremble and shudder beneath him as he pulls you apart.

The thing was, you realize, it'd be terribly easy to leave him here. To not respond to his advances. The door was to your back and even Jimmy had enough sense not to walk out nude in pursuit of you. It'd be easy to walk to another crewmate's quarters and pilfer clothes. It'd be laughed off, brushed under the rug just as another incident, excused as you being unable to enter your room because of 'technical difficulties'.

The thing is, though, you can clearly remember how his hands felt, the way he moved. How Jimmy watched you with the same intensity now, his eyes a dark promise of a repeat experience, if not more.

You don't really want to refuse such an offer, do you?

Try as Anya might, she can't get the image of you out of her head. The sounds you made, how your hands moved. She'd tried to be civil, though how quickly she averts her gaze and fidgety hands betray how much it affected her. Nerves, she'd try to excuse it. Nothing ever related to you, of course, because that sounds too much like blame. She blames herself for walking in on you masturbating, and blames herself for wishing that she hadn't left.

But by god, did it make her needy and so sexually frustrated. She's found every excuse under the sun to touch you then jerk back, at war with herself. She has to act professional. Doesn't she?

Something about you, seeing you like that, had coiled something burning inside of her. Something hot, that festered low in her gut.

For the most part, she can act professional. Mostly. But she can only get so far from letting her eyes trace your silhouette, from sitting on her leg whenever you talk to her. It's risky business, even riskier when she decides to keeps a few tokens of yours. Things that smell like you, even distantly - papers, a bracelet. Things that you've lent to her before.

It's been a while since she got laid, since she's even been attracted to anyone. But something about you just sets her on fire, burning with want and need. She needs you like she's never needed anyone before.

Realistically, Anya knows it's because of the forbidden nature; because of the close proximity day in and day out, but there's something so tantalizingly beautiful about it too. She's a sucker for it.

One of her favourite places to get off is in the medbay; she can lock herself in it - but she doesn't. Because it's so much more tantalizing when she thinks about you walking in. When she thinks about pressing you against the desk and using her medical expertise on you. She wants to hear you - taste you - feel you. Is that too much to ask for?

That's exactly where you catch her. Her breath coming out in hot breaths, eyes shut tightly, uniform pulled open. It'd be so easy to mistake it for something else, such as the room being hot - if it weren't for where her hands were.

One has all but ridden up her shirt, rolling the peak of her breast between her fingers. The zipper has gone all the way down to her waist, one hand curled tightly in her underwear, motions jerky as she fingers herself.

Every inch of her wishes that it was you, your fingers working her over, touching her clit and prodding at her walls. She feels so close, having edged herself for a bit until you came in.

It was just to ask her her input on supper, or for a nonsensical question that very well could have waited for another moment.

The door swishes shut behind you and her eyes flutter, dark as she looks up at you, flush all but crawling up her neck.

Seeing how you look at her - how you came to look for her- needing her for something, a question halfway on your lips - and it's her undoing. She moans your name, guttural and hoarse, hips jerking, dripping over her knuckles. "Wait-" Singlehandedly one of the better orgasms she's had, better than when she pined endlessly.

When her senses come back, Anya is breathless and shaken - and you're long gone.

She's not letting you go this time. Not when a new, burning question lodges inside her. Did you like what you see? Did you wish you weren't there?

Anya approaches your door at night, knocking crisply and when you grant entrance, she stands there, the atmosphere almost palpably awkward. She takes a few steps closer, feeling flighty and desperate, eyes searching your face, whispering your name.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispers, voice low in the room, nerves biting at her throat. She can't not know anymore. "But I'm... glad that you did."

"Is this.. tension between us all in my head, or, do you want me too?"

It's one thing after the next. Couplings came loose, Daisuke's homework is not up to par, the lightbulbs need to be changed but no one seems capable of doing it. It all amounts to a sort of frustration winding up in him. Swansea has enough grace not to lash out at anyone, but it's there, palpable in his tone.

By some saving grace, you're willing to help him out with his work. Passing over screwdrivers and wrenches, new copper wire as he needs it. Swansea has noticed that you're attentive and eager like that; willing to help. Sometimes, he really wished you were his intern instead of Daisuke, not that he blames the kid.

He really needs a damn beer.

Wanking out his frustrations as a teenager and young adult had really suited him just fine, and with each passing day, it becomes a far more likely possibility.

It surely does not help when every little moment with you feels charged. Knuckles brushing when you supply him with mechanic tools, or when his arm brushed against your thigh as he steadied the ladder for you.

Swansea finds his gaze lingering.. on how your uniform bunches, the sway of your walk, the excited chatter to your tone when you've launched into some spiel or other. Each look he gives you is in quiet contemplation, though perhaps not as obvious as to why.

He's long since brushed off your curious questions.

It's when Anya outright slipped and fell over an oil spill that Swansea called it quits. There's only so many small annoyances that he could take before it became a hazardous snowstorm.

After it's suitably cleaned, he tried to find a place to tuck himself away. Keyword: tried. Something else always needed to be fixed, and he had enough years under his belt to know the ins and out of everything. Leaky faucet? Hold his glass. Vaccuum given up? He's got it. Curly, goddammit, he has it.

It's so grueling to find a moment of peace, so he takes what he can. That just so happened to be in the utility room, frustrations to a boiling point.

He knows his body, knows just the right way to stroke himself, the perfect amount of pressure. Learned it long since his youthful days, since his amicable divorce from his wife. Sure, it might feel mechanic at a certain point, but to him, it was a small reprieve. A getaway that only booze came close to.

Foreskin pulled back, his head is tucked low, eyes heavily lidded, fingertips pressing under the tip of the head just like he likes.

Swansea has himself sticky with precum when the utility door rattles and open. "Swansea, I found your keys-"

His eyes track up, eyebrows raised. Whatever hasty attempt you may have made, it's blocked by the aging mechanics of the utility door. It's from an older rig, one that still uses keys instead of the security bars that the medbay and cockpit use. Which means it's faulty as shit.

He sighs, head tipped back, eyes still on you. "That's on me for not leaving a sock out there," he grumbles, voice gruff and husky. A reference to how he told you to ward off people when he caught you masturbating earlier.

Moving his hand from his cock, his gaze is surprisingly steady, arm draped against the back of the chair. "Listen, kid, I won't say shit about this if you don't. Keep it jammed tight better than a olive jar when making margaritas. But." He rolls his neck, feeling a satisfying crack run through him. "I can show ya a few things that the ole cap' or other men won't, if yer interested."

Daisuke has been, for lack of a better word, edgy around you. Hovering, then trying to create distance. He can't seem to decide how to act around you. Not when he's seen you that way, pleasuring yourself. When he wishes you'd involve him.

He's seen plenty of naked people before, got hard over them, but wow, did you take it to the next level. Even how you tilt your head or roll up your sleeves has him in an outright tizzy, straining hard in his pants.

Daisuke often has to excuse himself from your presence. Ignoring Swansea's rolling eyes and knowing scoffs is easy; ignoring you is harder.

It's during one of those mundane tasks, where you're prattling about your work to the others, his eyes glued to your form, absorbing every word that he can't take it anymore. Excusing himself, he pops right out of the room, awkwardly striking towards his bunk.

But of course that is the exact moment you decide you need to return his gameboy - or comic, or whatever he had lent you a few weeks prior.

Daisuke is completely in the groove, pants folded down, back propped to the wall, knees folded and lips parted with each heavy breath. He's always been loud, noisy and boisterous. But his saving (and falling) grace is that he's also often playing movies in his room, and what muffled sounds you may hear from the other side of the door is easily chalked up to that. (Or perhaps, you knew.)

You catch him like that, hand fisted around his lean cock, shirt ridden up over his stomach, his movements sharp and jerky. It's bad enough that you walk in on him like this - but another to hear Daisuke rattle out your name, the sound breathy and full of want coming from his lips.

He's a poor, flushed mess, eyes wide when he looks up at you - and it's so plainly obvious to the both of you that he didn't call out because he heard you come in.

"I- I can totally explain." Except he really can't, can he, when he has his dick in his hand, just moaning your name literally seconds ago.

Any attempt to backtrack out of the room will be greeted with a hasty, "Oh my god, no, pleasewait!" As he all but tries to leap from his bed, tripping over his pants in his haste to get to you. Daisuke is nothing but determined and will try to talk to you about this, even if you manage to successfully flee.

Choosing to stay has him utterly red-faced, almost ashamed as he rambles through a tirade of, "Okay, so," punctuated by repeated, stumbled phrases before he manages to get out, "So, me calling out your name just now - total accident. Unlessyoudon'twantittobe? But, like, I definitely understand if you want to leave but I'dreallyratheryoustaybecause I really can't stop thinking about you and, - oh hey, is that my gameboy? You can just set it-- that's not important! I just. Really don't want you to leave. Please."

[jin0]

A Morning Between King Nicholas and His Queen - A Sequel to «��Of Love, Lust and Wasted Time »

Summary : what does a morning between Nicholas and his lovely wife look like ? Sex. A lot of it, obviously. porn with like some kind of plot but who are we kidding really.

Pairing : King!Nicholas Alexander Chavez X Queen!Reader

Warning : 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, fluff, size kink, slight breeding kink, cockwarming, morning sex, slight cum play, biting, lots of I love you, slightly mean!reader/spoiled!reader (she needs her sleep, nick needs her)

A/N : i have no decorum so I wanted to add this because why not so this is just filth. Also, you can find the ‘first part’ here :)

_______________________________________________

It was morning such as these ones that reminded Nicholas that he had grown to be a rather complicated man in terms of where he could find his happiness. Because no matter what, to wake up in his bed, in the arms of his beloved, skin on skin, warmed by morning rays of sunlight, this was a pleasure he could only find here, in his home, with her.

Duty had required his presence abroad for days now and she had to stay and rule alone in his absence. It had been the first time they were separated since their marriage and both had to suffer without the other. To see her at the door, last night, as soon as he returned, his heart could thump of joy alone.

Wrapping himself around her frame, he felt every muscle of his body relax against her, finally feeling himself ease down from days of political conversations and trades. He laid on top of her, covering her whole while his arms crossed under her. His hands were tight around her waist, pulling her so close they could’ve merged together if possible. He wondered if she was uncomfortable, the look of contentment on her face enough of an answer for him. Her own hands were draped over his back, the pad of her fingers soft against his skin.

This was it, true Love like he had learned existed as soon as he had met her.

With his face nuzzled into her breasts, he inhaled deeply, enjoying being wrapped in her scent all over. Rubbing the tip of his nose along her mound, he kissed that very same spot with a grin. Was it human to be so happy ? Was it human to love so much ? To love a human with such ease and so naturally ? Some days, he looked at her and felt nauseated from not being able to surrender every second of his remaining time alive to her every wish.

Breathing in her heat, his fingers grazed her sides up and down.

Rubbing the sleep off of his face with one hand while his other arm held her close, his lips found themselves kissing and biting the corner of her jaw tenderly while she whined in her sleep from being moved off of her preferred position.

« Nicholas… » She groaned in a voice so sweet it traveled through every pore of his body and infiltrated her bloodstream.

Looking up to meet her narrowed eyes to avoid the sunlight. Oh, how marvelous she was, his girl. The love of his life.

« I love you… » He whispered dreamily. His mind was trained on her face and how delicious she tasted whenever his lips found her body. He kept going, from her neck to her bosom, all he could reach, before dropping his body on her again.

After their first night, Nicholas had been glad to find out that his large stature made for an excellent mattress for his wife. She loved nothing more than to cover herself of him or lay on top of him. By the time she could feel him on her whole being, she was satisfied.

« Settle down, my love…» He muttered as he moved them both again to be on his side but still, half his body covering her in a makeshift cocoon.

The princess squirmed a little to position herself correctly. Her legs wrapped around one of his, her arm draped over his side while the other was kept close to her chest. She kept close to him, whining until he moved his face to lay on hers. Yes, this was perfect.

He could only chuckle, amused by her demands to be comfortable. But he lived to serve and please her, even in her sleep. So much so in fact that when his hard cock grazed the inside of her thighs, pushing against her flesh and taking up space between them both, his grin widened.

Yes, King Nicholas would still enjoy a little more sleep. And like his wife, he would need certain adjustments to be comfortable, starting with her gapping pussy, still dripping of his load from the night before. He could see it between her legs, thick and sticky, what a vision.

He moved her body slightly, nudging between her legs to part them with a smile and a kiss to her lips. He hiked her leg up to his waist, and her reaction was almost instantaneous. In a matter of seconds, there she was, looking up at him with her big beautiful eyes, less than amused.

« Must you have me twice a day ? » She asked, blinking away the sleep which had been taken from her.

« If I have to be honest, twice a day is nearly not… enough » His response was punctuated by movements, attempting not to cum as soon as his tip pushed past her folds. « Remember, an heir is expected of us, sweetness. We must be hard at work on this, it is of the greatest importance. »

They both could’ve laughed. Becoming parents was important, the gender of said heir, less, and the moment they would come even less. But Nicholas couldn’t hide that he enjoyed working to bring said heir as quickly as possible. Less for the baby and more for the pleasure of fucking his lovely wife. And that he did, in various positions and rooms of the castle. It was as if he had found a source and from then on his thirst could only be quenched by the water of that very fountain. She was but Life itself to her lord husband, the only thing he would ever need. Even so early in the morning.

After all, what was decorum if not rules that a king simply could not be bothered with ?

Nicholas rubbed his face close to hers, kissing away the pout on her face with a smile. The domestic bliss he’d been enjoying could simply not be replicated, not without his darling. To have her displeased, in his arms, in their bed, together, was a pleasure that he now couldn’t go without either. Like honey to a bee, he craved the surge of happiness from waking up next to her, hearing her chat away about her day, seeing her live life in all its grace. It was all of this and more that made him desperate for her, so much so that he would tighten his hold on her body and push himself deeper until he was buried deep as can be. And in that moment he was home.

The sigh of relief they both breathed out could lead him to believe that to stay in that position would be enough. Unfortunately and, as always, Nicholas was a selfish man who could never be content with the bare minimum. He needed to have his wife carnally and then enjoy more rest inside her.

As she readjusted on him to return to the sleep slowly evading her, the queen grew needy as can be for her husband to continue what he had started. Her nails started to run along his back, digging into his skin occasionally, when the throbbing of his cock sent electricity through her pliant body. Luckily she did not need to say a word for him to move, or take action.

Covering her body with his more, his lips found every possible area of her face to kiss with tenderness and care while she moaned in pleasure under him. It would be quick, both knew, and he chose to make it as loving as possible. His hips rutted into her with slow yet forceful thrusts, the tip of his cock digging into her guts while she failed to utter a single word. To feel her husband so deep in the morning and to be held so nicely, it was as if he invaded each crevice of her. The soft of her hand now replaced by her nails digging new marks along his wide back, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and big down on his collarbone before kissing the same space her teeth had left their marks in.

« My darling girl… I love you… I love you so much… I could never go without you… » There was generally no reason to such words from him. All were inspired by her presence near him.

She trembled under him, all the way to her toes, curling and her legs shaking from the force of his body pushing into her. With each movements that reached her pleasure point came a small, hiccup like, cry of pleasure from the queen. The sounds of skin slapping, grunts from the king and moans from his beloved merged together, resonating through the room as the only sign of life. And as it was never enough, Nicholas always the greedy man, took his girl in his large hands, holding her by the plush of the hips to flip her over and have her sat down on his throbbing cock.

« Taking me so well, my love… Keep going… » He breathed out into her ear, his lips glued against it as he groaned loudly for each movement.

Suddenly entirely exposed to his eyes and the control he had over her, she abandoned herself in his arms. He planted his feet on the mattress and started bouncing her up and down his fat cock. He was quick to see his tip push into her cervix and lower stomach, a smile drawing on his face before he pulled her close to his chest to kiss away at the tears spilling from her eyes.

« F-Fuck… T- Mmmh, s’good » Her syllables blended together in concert with both their sounds while her hands found support on his shoulders to ground her. It quickly became insufficient thought, the queen wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her nose in his hair.

« I love you… So much. I love you, my pretty girl… Tell me, tell me you love me, my love, tell me you love me too… » His voice was thick with desperation, pleading for her words and her being.

« Yes ! Yes, yes, yes ! S’much, I love you so much, my love, yes ! »

He enjoyed having her in such a state. Barely awakened mind and body trying to process the force of his desire. It was now common for her to lose her thoughts as well as her words, both replaced by tears of pleasure dripping down her soft cheeks. His hands unceremoniously grabbed at the fat of her ass to fully bounce her on top of him, never loosing focus of the tenderness he gave her. Kiss after kiss, his lips never left her. From her lips to her neck, to the spot behind her ear that made her float in his arms, and the corner of her mouth, and her swollen eyelids, every single one of her favorite places he kissed. He even made sure to have his cock kiss her cervix just right to leave no place untouched.

« I…love… you … » A groan of pleasure soon turned into a soft cry erupting out of him. Each word punctuated with a thrust of his. As she tightened around him, he couldn’t take much more himself.

She was the first to finish, as always. The moment his thumb had grazed her clit, she was done for. He watched in awe as her eyes glazed over, her mind visibly blanking before she drowned him in her cum. Of course, he was no better, following only seconds later. The most amount of focus he could muster was put into her again, his eyes trained on her lower shim and how it bulged from his load. He’d never get tired of watching it, the way her body still struggled to take him whole.

These days apart had been difficult and it seemed they both had needed a little more to catch up, not that they would ever be satisfied.

As if nothing had happened, he flipped them both again, this time laying fully on top of her like they both loved and needed. Both bathing in the post coitus glow, breathing heavily and covered in sweat, they stayed quiet for a moment.

King Nicholas’s hands caressed her side, overtaken by admiration as he looked at her. She held his face and looked into his eyes, hers softening. Her thumbs caressed his eyelids, still breathing heavily as she came down from her high. He looked so beautiful, her husband. Her sweet love. She would complain about her sleep but to have him love her so loudly and at every hour of the day. The man she had chosen, to have him disregard the customs to profess his love at ever turn, she could never really be mad at her, not when he spoiled her of his Love.

« You have ruined my sleep, Nicholas… » The tone of her voice was playful, but the smile on her face was the greatest of treasures.

Nicholas dropped on top of her, smiling as she laughed in his ear, carding his hand through his hair and kissing the spot next to her ear.

Both fell asleep for the next few hours, the maids of the castle and any knight with functioning ears and a little bit of experience knowing better than to attempt to bother them.

Life in the kingdom would wait for the rulers to wake up.

[kaciebello]

Not even the addressee

Masterlist Badger express ★ Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff ! reader (fem) Summary: When Theodore's name gets misspelled he's not happy about it.  Warnings: no use of y/n, cigerets Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.1k Song: Up to You - PRETTYMUCH, NCT Dream

Mr Theodore Nott was one of his kind. Or he liked to think so, when one of the Ravenclaw girls could not remember his name he was baffled. How dare she. She went through his whole friend group before she came to something resembling his name. He would understand if he was some kind of low-muggle-born. But he was part of what was essentially a royalty. Now, it did occur to him that she might have done it intentionally. He is not dumb, he very much knows all the mind tricks and hacks. And although it was supposed to get his yearning to make her remember his name, he was just mad. Mad is not enghou, he was pissed.

Sitting down and zoned out, he kept playing with the note in his hand. He did not even notice the Hufflepuff girl standing before him with a concerned look. He registered her only when she waved her hand in front of him. He jumped a bit and looked at her. Her yellow bow adorned her hair. Her usual uniform was covered in a long fluffy yellow sweater. Her arms were now retracted to her body.

It was not unusual to see her in the Slytherin common room. He wouldn't even bat an eye if he saw her in the boy's bathroom, or the chamber of secrets. To see her in his room was questionable. He may have asked a question, be it not his mood right now. He was just going to assume she was here to get something for Enzo.

“You okay?” She asked, still a bit startled by his quick movements. He just sighs and reaches over to his bedside table for a pack of cigarettes. He lights one up and offers the other one to her. The girl declines and waves her hand around to get the smoke away from her face. He shrugs and puts them into his pocket. He exhales the smoke and stares at the wall for a minute before speaking.

“You know my name right?” The girl looks at him even more puzzled. Of course, she knew his name, they had been friends for a few months now. Granted sometimes she calls him Theo and both he and Mattheo turn around, but that hardly seems like her fault. She was hesitant to answer.

“Have you changed it?” She asks. She does not mean to offend him if he perhaps decides to go by Denim or something like that. He just gives her a side eye before getting up to fetch the ashtray. She took a few tiny steps to get out of his way. When he passed her back, he gave her the note. She took a look at it. It was a love note alright, Theodore's name was misspelled in all the ways possible. Not even his last name was spelled right, missing one t at the end. The girl was starting to frown and Theodore could see she was getting mad. Finally, someone who understood him.

“Oh hell no!” She yelped. Theodores smiled in bliss, he knew he could count on the Hufflepuffs when it came to empathy. She took a few steps to him and grabbed his face so he could look at her. 

“Who gave you this and how dare they steal my business.” His smile instantly dropped. She was mad but not for the same reason. looking up at her caged in her arms. For a second he thought it didn't matter if she did not know his name. But then he remembered that the Ravenclaw girls pretended to not know and he was pissed again.

“Is that what you're mad about?”

“YES!? What else?

“LOOK AT MY NAME!” Her eyebrows scrunched together and she took another look at the note. She read his name over and over again. Deep down she knew it was supposed to be his name, but it looked like a poor attempt by a kindergartener. Her lips twitched to a smile and her eyes kept flying between him and the note. She was trying to keep her giggles down, he knew it, and she was doing a horrible job at it. He was starting to lighten up.

“Who the fuck is Thieodor.” She laughed out loud. He hung his head in defeat. Debating whether or not to change it. Whether or not to change his whole identity. He however snapped when the girl in front of him placed her hand on his shoulder and wheezed at the fact that his last name is not written as Nott, but as Noot. His hands reach to the base of her neck. He stands up now towering over her. 

She looked at him dazed, eyes full of tears from laughing, seemingly not releasing the position they were in. He's very close to her face, even closer than that one time she was forced to count his eyelashes as a dare. He leaned closer to her, only stopping by her ear. Her breaths were now quick and sharp.

“Theo?” She asked, her voice very weak and quiet. He liked it like that. He liked that she said his name, he liked that she knew his name. If she were to say it again, he swears his knees would bend and he would not be responsible for what was happening after that. He wanted to beg, he would never, but he wanted to. He didn’t answer her, rather he leaned in even closer. She could feel his breath on her neck.

“Say it again, please say my name again.” He whispered. He was so close. One little move and he would kiss her neck and take their friendship on a different boat. He just needed to hear the magic words. He should have known something was wrong when she giggled first before speaking.

“Noot.” She says softly and starts laughing. He shoots up to his full height looking at her in disbelief. He pushes her away with a grimace as she continues laughing.

“Go fuck yourself.” He murmurs and lights up another cigarette. She was now on the floor clutching her stomach. There was nothing he could do but watch her. He waited till she was done. It took her a good 10 minutes. When she was done, she got up, her legs a little bit wobbly. She could not look at his face without smiling excessively but Theodore decided that it was enough for him.

“Let's go, we need to find the others.”

“Okay, Noot Noot.”

“Stop.”

Tag list @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse

[marauder-misprint]

I loved Nail polish & cologne, you are such an amazing writer! It's been so long since I read a decent version of Moony in a fic. You made me incredibly happy today 🫣

Sorry if it's rude to ask, any chance you could make a sequel?

Omg, I don't find it rude at all to ask for sequels/more parts to any of my writing! It's one of the highest compliments in my opinion! So, thank you 🥰

Also tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 in the replies/comments ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Fresh parchment & perfume

Remus Lupin x reader

part one

2.3k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, Y/N, angst if you squint

You want to murder Remus Lupin. 

Okay, not really. But you’re frustrated that he’s taken away one of your simple daily joys: staring at him during class. You’ve been caught staring at him multiple times now and you swear there have been times where he was looking at you first. This never happened before so why is it happening now? 

You come to a conclusion, but you don’t like it. It’s the only thing that makes sense though.

“Lily!” you yell as you enter your dorm and slam the door behind you. “What did you say?”

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“About what? To who? When?” she asks, preparing her defense.

“About what I smelled in the Amortentia!”

“You never told me what you smelled,” she says, furrowing her brow. “I mean, I can assume, but you never actually told me. And who would I have told?”

“Oh, I don’t know, James, maybe?”

She laughs. “Potter?” Then she looked down at her hands. “I mean, yeah, we’ve talked a little bit and he doesn’t seem… as bad? But we don’t talk about you.” 

“Oh.” Your voice is small. “Never mind then.”

You collapse on your bed and Lily is sitting at the foot of it within seconds. 

“What gave you the idea that I’ve told Potter about your feelings for a certain quiet prefect?” she asks.

You lift your head to glare at her. You’re not in the mood. 

“He’s been looking at me…” you mumble, which causes Lily to fall into a fit of laughter. “Lily!”

“I-I… I’m sorry, but… that’s ridiculous and you know it,” she manages to say in between her laughs. “He’s been looking at you?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “He’s never looked at me this much before”

You pause as you hide your face in your hands. 

“He must know and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or he’s working up the courage to talk to you?” Lily offers.

“He can talk to me just fine. We’ve studied before. Played Summoner’s Court. Wizards’ chess. We talk.” 

“Okay, yes, you talk. But have you tried flirting with him?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “No… But then why is he just staring at me and not talking to me?” 

“Why have you been staring at him and not flirting with him?” she shoots your question back at you. 

“I don’t need your logic right now,” you groan, rolling over to shove your face into your pillow. 

---

“Has she always stared at me this much?” Remus asks Sirius nervously as they lounge in their dorm. 

James was at quidditch practice and Peter had solo detention. 

“Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to her, Moony. Might be a better question for Prongs.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Because Y/N’s always with Evans? And he stares at her quite often. Come on, mate. Two plus two.” Sirius gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Have you talked to her at all since?”

Remus doesn’t answer, letting the silence answer for him. No, he hadn’t. The amount of times he’s caught you staring at him over the past two days is startling. Each time, you would turn red and look away almost immediately. He hasn’t been able to focus as much in classes, not when he knows you might be looking at him, not when Sirius thinks he might actually have a chance with you. 

“Have you… oh, I don’t know, considered talking to her?”

“Padfoot,” Remus says tiredly. 

“You can’t ask a girl out without words.”

“You would know.” It comes out more as a sigh. 

Remus doesn’t want to admit it, but yes, out of the Marauders, Sirius had the most experience with girls. But whether his “expertise” could actually be trusted was up in the air. He never stayed with a girl for too long and he wasn’t sure if it was his choice or a result of his actions. 

“Yes, I would know. And if she has been staring at you as much as you claim, even if just these past few days, ask. her. out.” 

“What if she’s just been zoning out? You know, when you stare but you’re not really looking?”

“She’s just been zoned out in your direction multiple times a day?”

“Yes.”

Remus knows it sounds ridiculous, and that’s only enforced when Sirius chuckles from the window where he’s smoking. Then he’s standing up and offering Remus one. 

“Stop being so dense,” he says. “And so hard on yourself. I know what that voice in your head is saying.”

Remus takes the cigarette and follows Sirius back to the window.

“And what is it saying?”

“That you’re not worthy of love or attraction, that you’re not attractive. So how could lovely Y/N actually like you when you’re, well, you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Remus says dryly before taking a drag. 

“Oi, not saying any of that’s true.”

Remus rolls his eyes. 

“Ask. her. out. And you’ll see that you’re wrong.”

The two boys sit on the window ledge for a while, each going through a few cigarettes. Silence fills the room. Sirius is more than content to just let his brain empty while Remus’s mind is running circles around itself.

Was he imagining the blush when he caught you staring? Were you staring because you liked him? Were you just staring into the distance and turning red because you realized you were staring at a person? How often did you stare at him? Was it because of that Potions lesson? What if you were staring near him and not actually at him? Was he being narcissistic to think you looked at him? He sat by Peter, James and Sirius in every class. It was very logical to think that you were staring at one of them. 

“Shit,” Remus mutters.

“What?” Sirius’ voice sounds far away despite being right next to him.

“She’s been staring at you.” 

Sirius laughs.

“No, Pads, think about it. You’ve been next to me every time I’ve caught her staring. It makes so much sense!”

“Moony. You’re delusional,” Sirius says. 

James enters the dorm. Sirius’ eyes light up.

“Prongs, help me out here!” Sirius calls as James throws his bag down on his bed.

“Yeah?” 

“Y/N. Has she been staring at me or Moony in class?” 

“I’m not getting in between you two if you’re fighting over a girl,” James says, laying down on the floor near the window.

“Not fighting over a girl,” Remus says, giving Sirius an annoyed look. “Padfoot just figures you’d know who she stares at, if she’s staring at all, since you, you know, stare at Lily.”

“I do not!” James exclaims as he sits up rapidly.

Sirius laughs, “She’s not in here and we know you do. Don’t lie.” He pauses for a moment to light a new cigarette. “For Moony’s sake, does Y/N stare at him during class?”

James slowly lays back down while giving Sirius a wary look.

“I swear, if I get hexed for answering…”

“Not going to hex you!” Sirius says.

“She stares at Moony. A lot. Think she pays more attention to him than lessons.”

“So she’s gone for you!” Sirius barks, clapping a hand on Remus’ knee and causing him to grimace. “Fucking told you!”

---

You make a serious effort to not look in Remus’ direction during classes. It kills you. It’s been your habit for years and you’re quitting cold turkey. You’re both grateful and mortified that Remus hasn’t called you out for it; he can’t call you out for it if he hasn’t talked to you. 

It doesn’t help that Lily has started gently nudging you every time Remus enters a room or sits remotely near you. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what she’s thinking. 

“You’re the first thing he looks at when he enters a room,” she whispers during Transfiguration. 

“Or he’s looking for the Marauders,” you retort just as quietly. 

“Yeah, right,” she says sarcastically. 

Professor McGonagall flashes a harsh look in your direction and the two of you fall silent. You’re thankful that she didn’t call you out, or worse, ask you to share what you were talking about with the class. That would have been mortifying. 

You’ve been successful in your mission to not stare at Remus so far, despite the insatiable urge to do so pulling at your eyes. You swear, the man is magnetic. It doesn’t help that Lily has suddenly become relentless in her nudging and subtle poking.

“What?” you hiss, looking down at your notes.

“He keeps looking this way.” 

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to McGonagall. While Lily’s words stoked the flame of hope in your heart, you didn’t need to be losing house points for not paying attention. 

When class ended, Lily put her things away at record speed.

“Potter! Wait up!” she calls, leaving you behind.

You frown as you briefly watch her go. You usually walked to your next class together. You knew that she smelled something like James in the Amortentia and that had fueled her new friendship with him. And as much as you liked seeing your friend this happy, you didn’t like that it meant walking to your classes alone. 

Except when you exit the classroom, you aren't alone. Remus is right at your side. You walk in silence for a few paces. It’s not uncomfortable but it’s charged. Despite the other students in the corridor with you, you swear you can hear every step you take. It doesn’t help that you can feel your heart beating in your throat. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask. You keep your face straight, knowing that if you look at Remus, you’ll likely trip, fall and embarrass yourself.

“Oh… I’ve been relatively good.” He pauses momentarily. “James hasn’t shut up about what he smelled in the Amortentia.” 

You try not to laugh. “Lily’s not been too shy about it either. I think she’ll say yes sooner or later.” 

Remus gestures ahead of you to where the two are. “Seems like it.”

Silence falls between you again. You were used to being with Remus in the quiet; that’s how it usually was when you studied in the library together. Except that was different. When you studied, you had your books in front of you and you were both scribbling away, scrawling on  parchment until your inkwells ran out. 

“Did you really smell the library in the Amortentia?” you ask, breaching the silence. You’re not really sure what made you ask, but something inside of you needed to know.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I did,” he answers. He’s not looking at you in the same way you’re not looking at him, meaning you’re both trying to gauge the other’s expression in your peripheral vision. “What did you smell? You got pretty quiet after smelling the potion.”

“Oh, um, I smelled… nail polish, chocolate, parchment,” you listed off with a glaring omission. 

Remus let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed in your answer. He was hoping you had smelled something more obviously him. It didn’t register in his brain that he was the chocolate and parchment you smelled. 

“That all?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Was the library all you smelled?” you retorted defensively. 

You saw his features tense. 

“Was it?” you repeated, more gentle this time, like talking to a scared child. 

“It was the library. Everything that encompasses my usual visits,” he starts to say as he turns to look at you. “The books, fresh parchment, ink, your perfume.” 

You stop walking. Remus notices immediately, having been watching you and your expression. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t tell if your reaction is good or bad, based on your wide eyes and sharp intake. You swallow, looking up at the taller, scarred boy next to you.

“My… perfume? You smelled me?” you ask. “You smelled me in the Amortentia?”

Remus flushes with embarrassment. He feels like he should’ve known better than to trust Sirius on this. He was a self-proclaimed ladies’ man afterall. 

Remus nods. He doesn’t know if he trusts his voice, but then he starts rambling.

“I thought… Sirius said you couldn’t look away from me so he said I had a chance, but obviously, if you don’t feel the same way… I don’t want this to change anything between us. I don’t want it to be awkward. I really value our friendship. I’m so sorry if I just ruined it, but I like you. I really do. I have for a while, but I’ll try to stop if it makes you uncomfort-”

“Remus,” you say firmly as you grab his arm. 

He stops talking immediately. His eyes search yours for an answer that he realizes he probably cut off. 

“What do you always carry with you and share with me in the library?” you ask, your voice just as firm.

“Chocolate?” His brows bunch in confusion.

“And what you always, always have a fresh roll of?”

“Parchment?”

“And… I may have smelled one more thing. In the Amortentia.” You took a breath. “Your cologne.”

“My cologne?” he echoes like how you had repeated him earlier. 

You wait for him to connect the dots, pressing your lips together. 

“So you smelled chocolate, parchment and my cologne?”

“Don’t forget nail polish.”

He chuckles. He takes your hand that’s on his arm and holds it in his own. 

“What you’re saying is that I do have a chance? That Sirius was right?” 

“Sirius was right,” you laugh. 

“In that case, would you like to come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I would love to come to Hogsmeade with you, Remus,” you answered with a smile.

Maybe Sirius does know a thing or two about girls, Remus thinks as he walks with you to your next class. 

Tags: @oursweetmoony, @pinkdaiisies, @iloveremmy, @3sriracha, @auntjezzy

[sxcret-garden]

Jongho ღ Break You Down [M]

ღ Ateez Jongho x fem-bodied!reader  ღ words: ~6.9k ღ genre & warnings: tiny bits of fluff if you squint but mostly pure filth, smut (sub!Jongho (who needs and wants to be coaxed into submission), dom!reader, dry humping, praise, some punishment & teasing, shibari, choking, handcuffs, edging/orgasm denial, handjobs, oral, overstimulation (all idol receiving), hair pulling (reader receiving), masturbation (both, guided for him), unprotected sex, use of traffic light system (he yellows reader once), he goes into subspace, reader puts on a strap midway, he performs oral on said strap, pegging (idol receiving), a hint of dacryphilia, a single spank (idol receiving), multiple orgasms (both), some aftercare) ღ reader: has a vagina, no other descriptions of reader’s anatomy, no pronouns used

Desc.: It’s the second time Choi Jongho seeks you out to help him take his mind off everything else going on in his life, and it’s also the second time you happily assist him with that.

Author’s note: Some time ago I realized I’ve never written sub!Jongho. Well now I have. Don’t ask how any of this happened because I have no idea either. Enjoy aksjdflköas

Edit: check out the sequel here 👀

“I knew you’d come back.”

He watches from his spot on the dark red sofa in your room as you slowly walk over to him, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face. You made him wait for you here while you got changed into your preferred outfit for a scene like this - some simple black lingerie that comfortably wraps itself around your body, elegant and practical, giving you full freedom of movement. He doesn’t answer, and so, when you come to a halt right in front of him, standing between his spread legs, you lift up his chin with your index and middle finger placed underneath it.

“Choi Jongho…” you say his name, letting it roll off your tongue as if testing whether saying it out loud would fit the way you speak or not, and he raises his eyebrows at you ever so slightly. Your fingertips dance down his throat, and you notice the first button on his black dress shirt is undone. “What brings you here?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” he replies, and you can’t wait to wipe that expression off his face that tells you he feels superiour. It’s interesting to you that he still sounds so bold, when it completely contradicts what he’s come here for.

“Is it?” you ask, purely to engage him in a bit of a push-and-pull game to keep the both of you entertained, and because it seems to you that’s what helps ease him into the situation. You sit down in his lap, straddling him, your hands now rested on his shoulders, and you cock your head to the side.

“I would think so, yes,” Jongho replies, his voice deep and quiet, the sound wrapping itself around your ears like honey. Now you can see his gaze wandering to your lips, but he doesn’t dare take in your whole figure.

“Like what you see?” you tease him further, leaning back a little to give him a better view of your body. And now he can’t but accept the invite to take a good, long look at you, and though he doesn’t say anything, you can tell the answer must be yes. You chuckle at his reservedness when his eyes are back on yours, and you lean in closer, stopping with merely a hair’s width between your lips and his. His eyelids flutter shut at the proximity “In your message you said you needed someone to take your mind off things,” you repeat what he had written to you a few hours prior. “Is that what you want me to do?”

He gulps, looking back up at you, and it seems his features have softened as he mouths, “Yes please.” 

“See? It’s not that hard,” you mutter softly, before pressing your lips against his. You kiss him slowly, sensually, letting him fall into your rhythm, and you enjoy the way he kisses you back, his hands finding purchase on your hips. He pulls you just a little closer and you part his lips with your tongue to deepen the kiss. “You feeling okay?” you ask upon parting. “You seem tired.”

“I am…” he sighs, without opening his eyes, and he leans his head back, offering his neck to you - voluntarily or not, you’re not sure, but you can’t resist the urge to press a few kisses to the delicate skin there. 

“Had a rough week?”

“Month,” he corrects you, a bitter laugh escaping him.

“I see…” You come back up to look him in the face, and you can unmistakably see the bags under his eyes and the tension in his features. Cupping his cheeks with your hands and brushing your thumbs against his skin, you lure another sigh out of him, before he opens his eyes to give you a tired look. “I’ll take care of you,” you say, and as he nods, you go in for another kiss. You roll your hips on top of him, and for now you allow him to guide you to keep up a steady pace as you feel his bulge grow in his pants. You make out with him like this for a while, and when you pull away you have him letting out a breathy moan at the friction against his core. 

“I think,” you say, tugging at the hem of his shirt, “this needs to go off.” And so he watches you intently as you open up one button after the other, his well trained chest and soft stomach coming into vision, and you end up gasping at the sight.

“What?” he challenges you, a cocky grin showing on his lips.

“You’re handsome.” You say it matter-of-factly, so as not to flatter him too much, but you really do mean it. Running your palms up his torso once, you add, “Such a pretty boy.” He doesn’t react - for now, you assume, because you still remember quite well how much he relished in the compliment the first time you were with him. Back then he had come to you, not really knowing how to go about meeting a dom he’d only talked to a couple of times on the internet, but he played it off surprisingly well. You also recall it took him quite a while to actually do the thing he came to you for - submitting. And now that he’s here a second time, it makes you think that despite the difficulties of letting go, he must’ve really ended up enjoying himself.

You discard his shirt, tossing it onto the ground, and you marvel at the shapes of his body. Next, you hook two fingers into the waistband of his dress pants, a neat black color as well, and when he doesn’t object or stop you, you rid him of those too. 

“Let’s take all of this off you, hm?” you say as you make him stand, and once there’s no item of clothing left on his body, you guide him over to your bed, making him sit at the edge of it. You bring some rope with you, dark blue, and about one centimeter thick, unwinding it in front of him. “You liked this last time, didn’t you?” Jongho nods, and you continue, “Well, I also liked how you looked in this. So how about I do a few knots on you, and in the meanwhile you can tell me about all that’s stressing you out?”

“Alright,” he agrees, and you get to work. You’ve been wondering how to make the rope fit his body this time even before he arrived here, and you decided to do a simple chest harness on him, not primarily meant to restrict him, but simply because you think the shape would suit him - and the navy blue color does too. You get to work, and as soon as you begin, you can feel him relaxing under your touch.

“So? What’s bothering you?” you ask. 

“Don’t make me think…” he mutters, eyebrows knitted from the stress, and you reach out to cup his face, running your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Oh, I’ll wipe your head clear of all thoughts soon enough, don’t you worry,” you chuckle, and as he looks up at you, you can see his pupils shaking. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He lets out a noise that you interpret as agreement while he looks away, leaning into the touch of your palm. He’s already told you this before, when you received his text message, so you leave it at that for now.

“I just thought it might help you to get stuff off your chest. You can tell me anything,” you remind him.

“I know…” he mutters an answer, and he ponders on where to start as he sits there with his hands in his lap, only moving when you need him to. “I just don’t think this job is for me, you know?”

“How come? I would think you’re good at it.”

“It’s not that… I know I can do it… I think that’s why my father chose me as his successor. And I like the prestige that comes with being almost CEO…” He pauses, and you give him time to think. “It’s just… not what I want to do.”

“What do you want to do?” you ask, as you’re finishing another knot, and before he can answer, you throw in a question, “Too tight?” Jongho shakes his head.

“It’s just right,” he says. 

“Tell me if something feels off.”

“Mhm.” You continue working, laying the rope around his shoulders and his sides to tie him a simple but elegant harness. You think it’s what fits him best.

“Music,” he breaks the silence after a while. “I wanted to do music.” You acknowledge his words with silence. You’re sure there’s nothing you could say to him that would solve his problem, so you decide that simply listening would be the next best option. You move behind his back and continue to work on the harness quietly, listening to the way his breathing seems calmer now than when he came here, and he lets you, merely enjoying the feeling of the rope around his body.

“You’re too pretty for them to stick you in an office all day and force you into the footsteps of your father…” You eventually say, as you finish up your work.

“Hmm? Where do you reckon they should put me instead?” he slurs his words a bit as he visibly enjoys the way your fingertips trace his golden brown skin as you bring them back down his shoulders, yet he says it with amusement in his voice.

“I don’t know,” you reply, and when you run your hand through his hair he leans into your touch and it lures a deep breathy moan out of him. “My bedroom maybe. Like permanently. So I can do this with you all day.” And now he laughs, his eyes still closed as you have him lean his head back fully, so you feel his silky hair against your chest, and when you cup his chin with your hand he finally looks at you. 

“I’m affecting you, huh.” Something about the cocky smile he sends you, and the boost of confidence your words gave him that radiates off of him makes you like him just a bit more. You hum at his assumption, letting go of his chin and letting your hand travel down his upper body, tracing the navy blue knots prettily lined up along his sternum, and then touching the soft skin on his stomach. He keeps staring up at your face, waiting, but the more time you take, the more you can see his jaw tensing up, teeth clenching. 

“I thought that wasn’t a secret,” you answer, finally. “And it’s not like that feeling is one-sided.” As much as he’s trying to hide it, you don’t have trouble reading him, even when the signs are as subtle as they can get. 

“Then hurry…” he mutters, and you can’t but smirk at him, as your other hand snakes around his throat.

“That wasn’t very polite of you just now,” you scold him, though you speak softly, and to punish him your fingertips move right past where he so obviously wants you, running your palm up and down his thigh instead. You can feel him gulp against the hand around his throat, and he probably knows anything else he could say will be used against him, so he keeps quiet for now. “Hmm? No more cheeky remarks for me?” You relish in the glare he sends you - but you’re the one who has him in a chokehold, and he’s the one who wants his dick touched, so he stays silent for his own good. “What a good boy.” You retrieve the hand laying around his throat and use it to run it up his scalp instead, grabbing onto the roots of his hair and pushing him forward, forcing him to look away from you. A groan escapes him as you deprive him of your touch only a second later, but he’s quickly comforted when instead, you move around him on top of the blanket in order to sit in his lap and straddle him. You give his shoulders a gentle push, having him leaning back a little and supporting himself on his hands placed behind him, guiding him into the position you want him in. You take in the sight in front of you, eyes following the lines down his toned body - his chest, the hint of his abs hiding underneath his stomach, down to his navel and his half-hard cock. You feel the burning need to touch him, and yet the urge to play with him some more is bigger.

“What are you thinking right now?” you ask, reaching out to cup his face in your hand, and the way he melts into your touch makes your heart skip a beat. But you don’t show it - or maybe he can read you just as well as you can read him, and any attempt to hide your true feelings is futile. Either way, you press on, “Tell me.” From his current position, it looks like Jongho is looking down on you, and as much as you must admit that the air of dominance suits him, your intentions are entirely different. 

“What do you think?” he asks, mockingly, and as soon as the words have left his lips, your hand returns to his throat, applying just a bit of pressure this time. He gasps in response, shoulders and abs tensing up, but the look in his eyes remains calm.

“I asked you a question, pretty boy,” you say, sitting up on your knees to make yourself taller, now towering above him as you lean in dangerously. Your face is mere inches away from his as you speak, “Answer,” and your fingertips press against his pulse to put an emphasis behind your words. He hesitates, but you can unmistakably sense the cracks opening up on his facade - you wonder what it will take you this time around, to break it completely. 

To break him completely.

“You…” he finally says, as if it had taken him all of his willpower to utter that single word. “I’m thinking about you… getting me off…” You gift him a smile, finding it entirely too amusing how much it’s taking out of him to form even just such a vague request.

“You’re not used to this, huh?” you ask, removing your hand from his throat and placing it onto his chest instead, while you sit back down on top of his thighs. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you clarify, “Having to ask for the things you really want.” You know you hit the bullseye when it seems like his face is suddenly a few shades paler than it was before, and you let your palm wander from his shoulder down his arm and to his hand. You notice his fingers are cold when you wrap yours around them, giving him an encouraging squeeze.

“You’ll learn how to do it,” you attempt to comfort him, and you can see his mask sliding right back on. “I’ll teach you.” Then you move your hand away from his, and towards his core, and he inhales sharply as you make contact with his cock. Slowly, you begin jerking him off, his eyes glued to your hand and teeth clenched harder, the longer you test his patience. “Want more?” you ask, accompanied by a challenging raise of your eyebrow, and you capture his chin with the thumb and index finger of your free hand, so you could lift it up and force him to look at you. “Then ask for it.” You get nothing but a glare in return, but when your fist reaches his tip, he lets out a shaky breath and looks away from you nonetheless. “You won’t?” you ask, moving your hand down his shaft once more, and back up again, having him fully hard in your hand by now. “Too bad.” And then, as you’re removing your hand from where he wants you most, he quickly reaches out to catch you by your wrist.

“That’s not what we’re doing here, and you know it,” you warn him, commencing a battle of glares. And his fatigue alone is giving you a big advantage here, and with the end goal in mind, you’re not averse to making use of it. 

Besides - you know that if he seriously wanted to overpower you and win, using his sheer strength he could. But he won’t, and so you let him have this fight, his tired eyes glaring into yours, as you wait for the right moment to attack. To give him the chance to at least go down with dignity.

“You didn’t come here to fight,” you mutter eventually, and his grip around your wrist weakens. You seize your chance and slip out of his hold, wrapping your fingers around his wrist instead, and when you bring it above his head as you push his back into the mattress using your weight, you know he let you win. “Seems like I’ll have to fall back on more extreme measures to keep you in your place, huh? So you won’t get any… ideas again.” You reach for his other hand as well, and with a pair of handcuffs conveniently attached to the headrest of your bed, you force his hands into a fixed position.

“You like that better?” you ask, crawling off him, and without giving him the chance to answer, your hand is back on his cock, continuing your painfully slow ministrations on him. His gaze is filled with distrust as he looks at you, and rightfully so, but as you begin playing with his hair, you lull him into a false sense of safety. 

Of course you’re not going to let him cum just yet. But even you can’t resist the faces of pleasure he shows you as you adjust your speed a little.

“Does that feel good?”

“...yeah…” Jongho sighs under your touch, bucking his hips into your fist, his breathing growing shakier the longer you go on.

“Then I’m glad…” you whisper, your fingertips dancing from his hair down to his cheek and you lean in to press your lips against his for the fraction of a second. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I stop though…” You know he expected you to take your hand away too soon when he merely throws his head back in frustration. However, you don’t let it eat at him for too long. Instead, you crawl on top of him, and you connect your lips to his again, in a rather sweet kiss. You haven’t fully figured out yet what it is about him that makes you want to comfort him so badly, but you end up moving your lips against his more gently than you usually would. And even when you were planning for but a teasing kiss, you hesitate to tear yourself away from his mouth, both warmth and excitement rushing through your veins and making you feel dizzy at the way he kisses you back with that same unexpected softness. You say nothing as you finally do move away from him, bringing mere inches between the two of you, and when you notice the blush that has creeped onto his cheeks, your chest swells with pride. You lower your hips onto his thigh, letting out contented sighs as you begin grinding against him through the fabric of your underwear. Lips nipping at his throat, your hands naturally wander up his arms, scanning the movement of his muscles underneath the skin, until they’re securely wrapped around his wrists, just underneath where the metal of the handcuffs keeps him in place. Tiny moans escape you as you scatter kisses down his throat and the friction keeps building up against your core.

“You know what?” you whisper as you sit up, moving around a bit so you end up comfortably sat on his stomach.

“What?” Jongho asks, half-lidded eyes giving away that his resistance is fading ever so slowly. Taking him in as you scan his face and torso once again, your hand finds its way to your middle. 

“I really wanna get myself off on you.” He gulps - you didn’t expect him to, but it’s making you need that release that much more. Fingertips swiftly pushing aside the fabric of your panties, you moan at the feeling of your dripping cunt, all while never taking your eyes off him. “Watch,” you order, and while you start rubbing precise circles onto your clit, his gaze slowly drops to where you’re pleasuring yourself. “Wish it was you, huh?” He doesn’t answer, but when you easily push two fingers inside, he lets out a shaky breath.

“Shit…” You don’t miss the curse he hisses, and along with the image of his arms flexing against the restraints and your fingertips skillfully hitting that sweet spot inside of you over and over again, it’s making you lose your mind at least a little. You moan at the pleasure coursing through your body, making sure to angle yourself so he could get a perfect vision of your fingers pumping in and out of you, and you find yourself captivated by the way it’s showing on his face how he too has his sanity slowly slipping away from him. 

“Wanna be inside me, right?”

“...yes.” You tear your hand away from your pussy, panting for air. 

“That’s a good boy…” you praise him, and you think for the first time that night you can see a hint of the effect it has on him in his eyes. Bringing your hand up to his face, you coat his lips with your juices, and you watch intently as the tip of his tongue darts across to lick it all up. “Now open up…” you mutter, but he was ready to take your fingers into his mouth anyway, tongue running along them as he cleans you up. “That’s right,” you praise him, and his eyelids flutter shut for but a moment. And then, when he’s all done, you position yourself, watching his drunk gaze flick from your hand to your hips, and as you begin sinking down on him, taking in his size inch by inch, he lets out a moan that probably comes out more desperate than he had intended. The blush on his ears follows suit, and you praise him as you roll your hips on top of him,

“Sound so pretty…” You mutter the words and end with a moan of your own as he stretches you out, fitting inside you so perfectly, and once you’ve taken him in fully, you wrap your hand around his throat once more. “Don’t you dare cum without my permission.” Your words sound sharp, and the look on his face tells you he isn’t planning on obeying. However, you’ve never been one to say no to a little challenge, and so you begin riding him, fingers on your free hand tending to your clit, while you watch his face contort in pleasure. But he does his damndest to regain his composture at least externally, to give you as little hints as possible as to how close he is or isn’t, and you smirk at him, already feeling the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Don’t think you can win this one, pretty boy…” you spit the words at him, tightening the grip on his throat as a warning.

“Fuck…” he cusses, pressing his eyelids shut tightly now, with his teeth and fists clenched. He’s probably fighting the pending high, and with that thought in mind and a few more movements on top of him, your orgasm hits you, your walls contracting around his hard cock. 

You find pearls of sweat on top of his chest and his forehead as you crawl off him, and you lower yourself to kiss them off his skin.

“You don’t really wanna disobey me, do you?” you wonder out loud. “Or… were you hoping you’d get a little reward if you listened to me?” With your palm drawing circles on his stomach, you allow him to catch his breath. He doesn’t answer, and once he looks at your face, you begin touching him once again. 

“Are you gonna tell me when you’re close?” you ask, and he nods, his dark brown eyes scanning your face, and his lips parting to give way to a gasp as you start getting him off once more. “Feels good?”

“Yeah…” His breathing grows heavy, and with each time he exhales, he lets you hear a moan, each one sounding prettier than the previous one the closer you stroke him to his high. 

“Wanna cum, pretty boy?” you ask alluringly, finding him nodding at your question eagerly. With his eyes closed, he misses the smirk forming on your lips, and you almost feel bad for what you’re about to do.

“‘m getting close…” he lets you know, and when he bucks his hips into your hand, you deprive him of your touch, and you watch as he slowly begins to realize that this time as well, he’s been denied. Jongho holds his breath for a few seconds, and when he exhales he hisses a curse filled with anger and frustration, tearing at the handcuffs so strongly it must be painful for him. You watch, thinking to yourself how pretty he is, struggling like that, and then slowly calming down again.

“And that,” you then speak, “is what you get for trying to disobey me.” He’s visibly fighting the frustration in his mind, and that’s when you know you’ve hit the point where you have to give him something in return soon. You’ve learned this the hard way the first time he came to you, and you won’t make the same mistake again. “What’s your color, baby?” you ask, reaching out to undo the handcuffs one by one.

“...yellow,” he hesitates, but says it eventually.

“I’ll make it better… is that okay?” You gently run the back of your hand down his cheek and caress the skin on his chest when he nods. “Do you trust me?” He nods again.

“Yeah.” 

You kiss him, gently, bringing your lips to the corner of his mouth before you lead him into an open mouthed kiss. He lets you take the lead, and despite that, you can eventually feel his now warm palms being placed onto your waist. And though his touch is light, it feels as if he was desperately holding onto you, as you run your tongue along his. 

“I’ll make you feel good. Don’t you worry,” you assure him, and you feel his hands grazing your sides as you move south. You position yourself between his legs, and with his fingers up in your hair, tugging at the strands softly, you flatten your tongue and lick up a stripe along the underside of his painfully hard cock. Even this much is enough to make him whine, and you know that now you have him almost where you want him. You hum in approval, and then you wrap your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks as you take him into your mouth, with one hand wrapped around his base for some extra stimulation. Judging from the rather desperate noises he makes, it won’t take much time nor effort to have him coming undone underneath you, and yet you monitor him closely for his reactions, eager to make him feel as good as you possibly can. You hum at the way he moans at your touches, and you bob your head up and down along his shaft, until he hits the back of your throat, and you feel him pulling on your hair as he’s overwhelmed with pleasure. You want to praise him, but you decide to focus on getting him off, and so instead you moan at the way little whines keep falling from his lips. He doesn’t tell you when he’s about to cum, but you’ve seen it coming anyway, with his flushed dick twitching in your mouth, followed by the salty taste of his seed spilling all over your tongue mere seconds later. You swallow all of it, and as he lets go of your hair, ready to catch his breath, you continue sucking him off. His fingers find the bedsheets instead, gripping at them until his knuckles turn white and a string of curses escapes him. 

“Shit… ah… f-fuck…” You enjoy the sounds of him losing control while you overstimulate him, feeling his cock hardening again in your mouth, and gradually even the curses he utters get replaced by nothing but desperate moans. 

“Doing so good for me…” you praise him, a little out of breath yourself, as you let your hand take over to get a better look at his face distorting from the pain and the pleasure. “So, so good…” you mutter, and you feel like you could cum again from the state you’ve just put him in alone. It’s like his body isn’t sure whether to get closer to you or escape, and so one moment he’s arching his back, bucking his hips into your hand, and the other he’s throwing his head back, eyebrows knitted as he whines at your touch. Either way, you don’t stop tending to his cock, stroking him at just the right pace as he writhes underneath you, and then finally, with a broken moan, he cums for a second time, spilling all over his stomach.

You watch as the tension slowly leaves his body while he fights for air, and you reach over to the tissues on your bedside table to clean him up a bit. Then you position yourself so he can comfortably lay his head into your lap, and you find yourself chuckling at the image unfolding right in front of you when he rolls onto his side to wrap an arm around you with a pout on his lips.

“You did well,” you say, and he lets out a content sigh as you play with his hair. “You feeling okay?” He nods, moving his hand from your hips down your thigh, thumb drawing circles on your skin. Eventually he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, and he reaches up to cup your face with his big hand. You smile at him in return, taking a hold of his palm and moving it aside. “I’m really taking a liking to you, you know?”

“Me too…” he mutters, his soft hair tickling your stomach, and his hazy eyes glued to your face.

“Do you want more?” His lips part at your question, and slowly, he nods. “Then sit up for me.” And he does, without hesitation. You run your nails up his back until you reach the navy blue string tied around his chest. “Is this getting uncomfortable?” He thinks for a little while, before he shakes his head. “Good. Good boy.” His gaze softens when you praise him, and the pout on his lips appears again when you get up off the bed. 

“I wanna try something,” you announce, opening the drawer of your dresser where you store your toys. “How do you feel about this?” You hold out a harness to him, made of matte black leather and with a sturdy ring in the middle to hold a strap on. He gulps at the sight, but there’s a spark of interest in his eyes, so you slip into the harness and you choose a black medium sized dildo to go with it. Then you walk back over to the bed.

“Come here,” you order once you’re standing in front of it, and he gets up, approaching you. For some reason he seems taller now, compared to when he arrived here, yet his eyes reflect a kind of devotion you haven’t seen in him even when you played with him for the first time. His hands find your hips naturally, but you take a step back to break contact.

“Down.” He drops to his knees immediately upon hearing your command, the blush creeping back to his cheeks, and you lift up his chin to make him look up. “That’s a good boy.” Gulping, lips parted, he waits for your next move. “Open up,” you say, and he does, albeit a bit hesitantly. You make sure to encourage him with praises as he sticks out his tongue, but his blush only deepens when he makes contact with the toy attached to your core, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“You’re not used to being the submissive one, huh?” you assume, and he shakes his head, muttering a small “no”. Massaging his scalp with your fingertips, you help him relax a bit. “You’re doing really good for me though…” Driven by your praise, he opens his mouth and takes in the tip, immediately checking in with you to see if he’s doing alright, so you encourage him further. “That’s right… all the way, baby…” you whisper, and you watch as more and more of the strap on disappears in his mouth. And then eventually he starts moving his head up and down, like you had done on him not too long ago, and the sight of him sucking you off only serves to make you horny all over again.

“I want you to get yourself off too,” you order, and there’s a bit of drool dripping down the side of his mouth when he reaches for his dick. And now it’s you cursing at the image unfolding in front of you - he’s so pliant, so obedient, and you can’t wait to wreck him a second time tonight. 

“So needy, huh?” you tease him as he’s hard again in no time, and he furrows his brows at you in response. With a ruffle of his hair, you quickly apologize. “Alright, alright, I won’t tease you too much.” You smile, and then you guide his movements by his hair, making him increase the pace at which he moves his head up and down your toy, and at the same time his hand that’s wrapped around his length speeds up too and his eyelids flutter shut. “Doing so well…” you praise him again, and as the toy hits the back of his throat he gags a little, but continues his ministrations nonetheless. “And you look so hot with my cock in your mouth.” He blushes some more, and his movements are getting messier as he bucks his hips into his fist. The sight knocks the breath out of your chest, and you can’t but marvel at the way he’s losing control more and more, and so willingly at your hands, even when you’re not doing anything but giving him directions. 

“You gonna cum just like that?” you ask, and you receive a desperate whine in return. You can tell that he’s focusing hard on keeping up the movements along your strap, but as it’s getting harder and harder for him to concentrate, you somewhat ungently tear him away from the toy, and you earn yourself a beautiful moan just as he makes himself cum all over the floor by your feet. Spit is dripping down his chin, and you wipe it away with your thumb, muttering, “Look what a mess you’ve made of yourself…” You take a step back, and you grant him some time to regain his composure, and when you realize that that’s not going to happen anytime soon, the burning need to ruin him completely finally takes over you.

“Get up,” you say, and with his thighs shaking ever so slightly, he does as told. “To the bed.” You follow suit, grabbing a bottle of lube from your toy drawer on the way, and as you tell him to lay down for you, settling between his legs, you continue, “Look at me. What’s your color?”

“Green…”

“Good.” You run your hands up and down his thighs, nails grazing his skin ever so slightly. Then you spread a generous amount of the lube on your hand, and you check in with him again just in case. “And how do you feel about what I’m about to do?” He hesitates, pupils shaking. “Not sure?” you assume, and he nods. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow,” you assure him, and you watch his reaction closely as you bring your hand to his ass. A shaky moan escapes him as your fingers prod at his hole, and his face is beet red as he’s overcome with conflicting feelings. “You like it?” A whine is all you get as an answer, so you say, “Color.”

“G-green…” he responds through gritted teeth, grimacing at the sensation of your fingers stretching him out slowly, working their way in and out of him. 

“So you do like it…” you mutter under your breath, and this time he can’t complain about your teasing remark, so you add. “A little too much, huh? Has anyone ever done this to you?”

“N-no…” he answers, chest rising and sinking as he breathes heavily in between moans. 

“You think you can take my cock if it’s your first time then?” He glances at the toy he’s had in his mouth mere minutes ago, and drunk on all the new sensations coursing through his body, he nods, rather eagerly at that. You smirk at his reaction, and as you add another finger he throws his head back cursing.

“Fuck…”

“So cute…” you comment, and when he whines you give him a slap to his thigh, making him moan some more. “You’re gonna look even cuter once I fill you up.” With your free hand you give his dick a few strokes, and you didn’t expect him to react so strongly to your touch, but you guess he must already be overstimulated from the orgasms he’s had before, because now he’s desperately gripping and tearing at the bedsheets, back arching and hips bucking up as if they were moving by themselves. “Shit, I love seeing so desperate…” you mutter. “Wonder how much worse you’re gonna get in a sec.” You pull out of him, squirting some more lube out of the bottle to spread it on your strap, and you align yourself with him. You don’t give him any warnings as you slowly push up into him, merely monitoring his reactions, and the expression of pure bliss he shows you as you fill him up is enough to make you continue. You reach for his hands, intertwining your fingers as you pin him to the bed, and the second you begin thrusting you can see the last ounce of control that was left in his body slipping away. A blushing, panting, sweating mess, he moans at each of your strokes, the tip of his cock grazing your stomach with everytime you move. You start gently at first, but when it becomes clear he can take you, your thrusts become more powerful, and it sends him right off the edge of sanity. Unintelligible sounds drop from his slightly parted lips one by one, moans so pretty they could make you cum from the sound alone, and with the toy also hitting your clit just right with each time you push up into him, you know that neither of you will last long at this rate. And so you do the one thing every single cell in your body is aching to do, as your senses are drowned in his whines and you’re overwhelmed by the way his nails dig into the back of your hands and how fucking powerful you feel having him pinned down like this, completely ruined - you fuck him hard, chasing both your and his high at the same time. 

He’s the first one to cum, whining uncontrollably as his orgasm hits him, and as he’s beginning to writhe from the overstimulation, tears filling his eyes, you too are pushed over the edge.

Gathering all strength you have left in you, you pull out of him as carefully as you can, and you collapse next to him on the bed, one hand still holding his. The sounds of the both of you panting heavily fill the room, and when you turn your head to see how Jongho is doing, you find nothing but blissful exhaustion on his face.

“You did well…” you whisper eventually, rolling onto your side to comb your fingers through his hair, thumb grazing his lips and cheek. “Shit, now I really wanna keep you here forever…” He lets you hear a weak laugh, and when you have him lay his head on your chest, he immediately goes to hide his face there, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Even now, after all this exertion, you can clearly feel the strength he has, and it makes you even prouder of him for letting go and letting you handle him like this.

“Say…” you speak after pausing for a while, as you unhurriedly play with his locks.

“Mhm?” he replies sleepily.

“I don’t usually do this, but… do you wanna stay the night?” You await his answer anxiously, but as soon as he opens his eyes to look up at you, he nods. Brushing some hair out of his face, you smile. “Then let’s get ourselves a shower and then we can curl up in bed with some snacks if you want?” Furrowing his eyebrows, he groans, going back to burying his face in your chest and you giggle at his reaction. “I know you’re tired…” you whisper. “We can skip the snacks, but a shower and some cuddles is a must!”

“Alright…” he finally responds, and you run your fingertips along his shoulder, tugging at the knots of the harness to begin untying them.

“Alright…” you repeat, and as you lose yourself a little in the sight in front of you once again, you find yourself leaning in to press a feathery light kiss to his forehead.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.3)

W/C: 3.1k #SFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, mentions of death, yuuji has entered the chat, gojo has entered the chat, idky this got sad tho lol

A/N: This bit made me very sad please suffer thank you!!! Also the main story will be wrapping soon (I think next part will be the last part?) and then after that, it'll probably be drabbles! There might be a 'sequel' that touches on the culling games tho because b r u h they've got some down time during that arc so hfhfhfhfhghghf imagine what I could do--

tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

A strict no-contact order had been placed on Yuuji, and, subsequently, Sukuna. Neither were to come into contact with you while you recovered, and neither were to be alone with you considering the control-slip incident. 

Still, the curse had been rampant in the young man’s mind, constantly pacing back and forth just behind his consciousness, waiting patiently as a predator should for Yuuji's guard to go down. Granted, even if Yuuji was caught by surprise, it'd still be near impossible to overtake the peppy twenty year-old. Sukuna didn't have an explanation, but it was what it was. 

He would have gladly seized control now, when you'd somehow managed to slip away from your recovery prison and get comfortable in Itadori Yuuji's bed. Sukuna would have slaughtered everyone at the academy for a second to touch you again, to breathe you in.

But the brat finally realized something was off, and woke to find your head tucked under his chin, his arms slung across your waist. Your breath fanned across his collarbone, tickling the sorcerer's touch-starved skin and feeding the fire burning in his cheeks–Sukuna, though, didn’t seem pleased his host was the one touching you. Yuuji counted that as a victory. 

Suck it, dickhead.

Hm? A stranger’s voice rippled instead of the king's. 

Yuuji jolted, his blood growing cold for a second before recognizing that voice–it came from that tidal wave of memories. But it didn't tick him off the way Sukuna's did. It was…nice.

Uh…you can hear me? Yuuji wondered. He tried to envision his voice as loud and clear as possible to help it reach you. 

Your brows twitched in your daze. Yes, I can hear you. There's no need to shout. 

Oh. Sorry. Uh, how'd you get in here? 

The door. 

Oh. Cool. Yuuji shifted a little. I'm not really supposed to, y'know, make contact with you or–

But you're warm. Your nails lightly dragged across his back, leaving trails of tingly pinpricks dancing across his skin. Yuuji swallowed a moan. God, why did the littlest touches feel so nice? 

Y-Yeah? My grandpa used to say I ran hot. Like a furnace or somethin’. 

I agree. You burn like firewood. And you smell warm. Like cedar and honey. You stretched languidly, and the younger stayed put, not strong enough to pull away from your praise and touch. Your teasing fingers raked through his hair daintily, and this time Yuuji did moan. Just the slightest bit before he snapped his mouth shut and bit his lip. 

You leave me wondering how you taste. 

“What?” Yuuji squawked. Your eyes lazily opened a crack, seemingly put off by the sudden break in room silence. It gave the sorcerer an opportunity to admire the golden glints of divinity hidden in the hue of your iris. 

But he found fear in that moment, too. Yuuji knew what most didn't–the curse sealed inside of him thought you to be his equal. You were the only beast Sukuna would bow before, the only one whose attention he craved and sought in his reign. 

You were, in a way, a king yourself.

Do you think I'll eat you, Yuuji? 

“I–uh–you–well–” Yuuji fumbled exceptionally, choking on flustered words. “I just--Sukuna ate people, right? So, uh. Maybe you did too?” 

You looked him over for a moment. Your gaze traced the cute curve of the younger's nose, the petite fangs worrying at his bottom lip, the caramel swirl of his eyes. He looked so much like Sukuna. It made you wonder. 

I've eaten humans, yes, You agreed, nonchalant. Do you want me to eat you?

“Eat me?” Yuuji deadpanned, unsure if he should feel just bothered or hot and bothered. “I, well–”

No. Sukuna’s voice cut like ice through Yuuji’s mind. For a second, it scared him. It reminded Yuuji of what exactly Sukuna was. What he’d do. 

So what would you do?

“Hey,” Yuuji started, suddenly calm, serious. “Why’re you on Sukuna’s side? You don’t seem like a bad person.”

You took a deep second to think before sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest. Your tails curled weakly around your clothless frame, swallowing up any spot a young man’s curious gaze might wander in the secrecy of night. Maybe you’d been in this situation before. 

“‘Good.’ ‘Bad.’ We all have different definitions.” Your voice rattled and scraped out your tired throat, yet you didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “I do what pleases me: garden, sew, eat. Sometimes, I may cause harm in the process. I care sometimes, and I don’t others. Does it make me evil to choose what I care about?” 

Yuuji’s head started to ache. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up with your fancy, archaic way of speaking, but he was sure as hell gonna try. 

The younger sat up, too, and ruffled up his hair. “I mean. Don’t you wanna try to, y’know, not hurt people? Not cause harm, ‘n stuff?”

“Is fire wicked? Or does it simply exist?” You posed. “In the control of man, it is sacred. It cooks food, illuminates the dark, cloaks you with warmth. Yet it burns down trees. Swallows homes. Devours crops. Kills.” 

You looked at Yuuji, rose-wrapped eyes resentful of something the sorcerer could not know. “Man regards fire as a blessing when controlled, yet it is a curse when it runs free with nature–existence, the black and white of the world, is in the eye of the beholder.” 

Yuuji didn’t like how much that made sense to him. Objectively, Sukuna was bad. He killed. He murdered for fun. He ate people–

Yet your words, your pretty way of speaking and philosophies gave Yuuji pause. It didn’t click, despite igniting grim sparks in the cogs hidden far behind his eyes. He already made his mind up about good and evil, yes and no, white and black, and yet–

You poked him in the forehead, between his eyes, and Yuuji blinked. 

“It’s merely food for thought, Yuuji.” Why did you know his name again? “Don’t burden yourself with making decisions or anything of the sort. I suppose my answer was long-winded in regards to your question.” 

“Yeah, kinda,” he laughed, rubbing his cheek. “But, uh…it helped, I guess.” Yuuji pulled your hand down from poking him. “You don’t think Sukuna’s bad,” he concluded.

“I think he was a force of nature.” Your head tilted. Your eyes softened. “A monster to some, a god to others.” 

“‘N to you?”

Your eyes caught the morning light, iris reflecting with waking embers. 

“He was everything.”

Gojo thought you were pretty in the same way Getou was pretty; you were handsome with fine features, you radiated with odd power, and you spoke with unmatched poise and purpose it almost made the man’s ego swoon. 

But you looked tired as Getou had, too. Skin void of blushing warmth, eyes distant and hazy, dark circles pulling your gaze away from him. He didn't like it. It made him remember that cold hand ripping his heart to pieces. 

“Look who’s awake!” Gojo cheered as he sauntered toward you, hands in his pockets and a smile adorning his face. “Hungry? I could getcha some–”

“You were listening, were you not?” You wondered, running your bony fingers through matted fur systematically. Your split nails picked and clawed through tangles and knots thoroughly, as though it’d make a difference in your beat-up appearance. 

Gojo tilted his head before settling down in the seat beside your bed. “Hm? Me? Listening? To–”

“Yuuji and I.”

“Ah! You mean the night you snuck out to do some naughty, naughty things with my student?” 

You deadpanned fiercely, looking at him the way someone else used to. “Ha. Hm. Surely you jest.”

Gojo waggled his brows as much as he could, hoping they’d peek out over the top of his blindfold. “Hah, you think I don’t know what my sweet, precious Yuuji does behind closed doors? I know everything! I’m–”

“You misunderstand,” you cut him off, looking more and more concerned with each passing second. “You are a teacher? Why? How? This does not seem ethical.”

Gojo died. Rather, his pride did. Which was essentially his lifeforce. 

“What are you–okay, I’m just gonna chalk it up to you being cranky after getting woken up, alright? I’ll give you a pass. Just once!” Gojo nodded as a benevolent creature should. “You should thank me.”

“I’d rather not.” You sighed and returned to your grooming. “If you wish to interrogate me, I require food first. Tofu, specifically”

Gojo laughed. “Man, you are one high-maintenance god. Alright, you want normie tofu, or agedashi tofu?” 

You blinked and looked at him, curious. 

“Agedashi tofu?”

You really liked agedashi tofu. You liked the little sauce it came with, you liked the other random shit Gojo bought to try and win over your compliance–well, honestly, he also just wanted an excuse to shower someone with the food and snacks he liked. It’d been a long time since he’d had the privilege to. 

“So,” Gojo said as he popped the marble into the ramune bottle for you and handed it over, “About you and Sukuna.” 

“Mhm?” Your eyes glittered in fascination as you took the drink and examined it from all angles, carefully tilting it here and there to watch the blue bubbles rise to the top as the glass ball rolled and spun in its tiny prison. 

Gojo almost lost his train of thought watching you, but he reigned it in quickly.

“Seems like you were close.” Were was important. You'd referred to the menace in past tense when speaking with Yuuji–clearly, you didn't realize the curse resided within the young sorcerer. Best to keep it that way.

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment.

“I suppose. Why?” 

“I'm just nosy!” 

“I know that already. But there exists intelligence behind your annoying behaviour.” Your gaze slid to him, staring through the veil of fabric and straight into his eyes. “You're a monster like he was, aren't you?” 

“Hah?! Rude!” Gojo whined, but regained composure just as fast. “Seems your intuition is pretty good, huh?”

“It's simply an understanding of nature.” 

“Is that what pulled you to him? His nature?” 

“No. I was given to him. As a gift. By a clan of sorcerers.”

“Huh. A gift.”

“Yes. The harvest festival required as much. He was revered as a godly creature. Something to be feared.” 

“And so were you,” Gojo guessed, and you frowned and looked away, instead picking through the treats and snacks brought to you. 

“The people saw us very differently.”

Sukuna didn't walk through the city below often–not until you decided you liked it down there. 

Finding out that you walked through those streets alone sent a trill of something unpleasant up Sukuna's spine; knowing you were alone, vulnerable and under the eyes of so many that so often cursed Sukuna and wished him dead made him…uneasy, maybe. You could handle yourself. Sukuna simply couldn't handle the disrespect.

But things weren’t as he assumed.

You walked through town, and the people revered you as they would Amaterasu incarnate. Most didn't address you, but all saw and accepted your presence with grace and kindness, nodding or flickering small smiles as you passed by with the king trailing behind. 

Sukuna could understand; you'd become something astoundingly breathtaking. Lush, full tails dipped and swayed as you walked with the poised elegance of royalty, the feeling only enhanced by the careful, intricate way you presented yourself in your attire. Sukuna knew you felt beautiful. You were beautiful. 

“It's (Name!)” A child cried, and Sukuna fought the urge to punt the little shit into the restaurant across the road when the tiny human grabbed at your clothes. 

But you smiled. You actually smiled when you patted the girl on the head and said your sweet hellos before ushering her along after her mother. The corners of your eyes crinkled for once, showing that, yes, you'd aged and felt joy and become so perfect because of it. And when you cooed sweet farewells to passing little ones, your fangs flickered against the colour of your lips, just for a second. 

Your gilded gaze caught his carmine stare, and you tilted your head. 

“Sukuna.” You held your hand out to him, and he took it. He had no choice. He was only human, and you were God. Walking through a city of mortals.

He let you lead on, wandering to the shops where you bought thread and fabric for your stupid little projects with money he didn't even know you had. You could have just taken everything you wanted, especially with the king stood right by your side, but you eased the shopkeeper's nerves with kind words and ample pay. 

Sukuna all but picked you up and launched you both back home the second you were done meandering. He had a job to do; he had to fully commit to siring a runt.

Now, Gojo didn't need to know all that, but it didn't stop your mind from wandering to that night; it was the first time he looked at you like that. It was the first time he decided against lording his power over you, instead holding you close and taking things slow. You missed it. You yearned for the night he stopped seeing you as a toy and saw you as you. The night he finally learned your name.

“They viewed me as something divine,” you continued, digging out of the warmth of memories. “Perhaps because I walked alongside someone like him.” 

“Well, only gods can walk through a volcano and come out unscathed, no?” Gojo smiled a bit as you looked away, embarrassed. 

“That's a poor analogy.”

“Eh?”

“How would one walk through a volcano? None would even think to get close enough to do so.”

“W-Wait–”

“You would be underground, would you not? With limbs melted, oneself ablaze? And one would not walk but wade through lava.” 

“It's just a metaphor!” Gojo wailed. 

“A poor one.” And you continued to pick through snacks, unbothered that you'd just destroyed the strongest man alive as you munched on cheese-flavoured rice puffs.

Gojo laughed, though. “I can see why he liked you. Supports the theory he's not the one who put you in the coffin.” 

“It wasn't him,” you snapped. Your ears flattened against your skull as you shrunk in on yourself. “At least…not directly.” 

Oh? Gojo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together.

“Then who was it? What happened?” 

“I don't fully understand it myself,” you confessed. Your voice was a whisper, cold and lonely like a far North winter. 

“Maybe I can help.” 

You looked to him and back down again. 

“There was a man. A sorcerer. I don't know his name–I never cared to learn it. He was odd.” You tore up little bits of hi-chew wrappers as you spoke. “He asked me if I would sacrifice myself for Sukuna.” 

“And?” Gojo prodded. 

“I would not,” you said. “Sukuna would never need my sacrifice, he'd never need my aid. He was the strongest.” A light frown tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That creature thought otherwise. He mentioned something about additional wombs, but I don't know what that means.” 

Fuck. Gojo nodded politely. “Gotcha, gotcha. What'd this guy look like? You remember?” 

“Unremarkable, save for the odd sutures across his forehead.” 

“Oh? Interesting. Alright, last question, my cute little kitsune–”

“(Name),” you cut in. “Address me as (Name).”

Gojo sparkled. “Waaah, I think our relationship just leveled up to A-tier! One more level and I can romance–”

“Please do not make me hurt you.” 

The white witch whined and deflated against his chair. “Boooring.”

You huffed and flicked your ear. “Ask your question, goblin.” 

Gojo took a breath before he spoke. 

“Are you with child right now?” 

The world changed suddenly. Seal papers coating the walls drowned in bones and flowers as the pungent sweetness of orchids and decay curled around Gojo. Around you, a cage began to rise, jutting out from the earth and encircling you like thousands of rigid arms holding you in an embrace. And your eyes–they shone with abhorrent divinity, outshining even the nine, pristine tails breathing with blackened fire. 

But there was screaming. Two voices intertwined. Little and distant, warped and outraged at–at something. Maybe Gojo? Maybe his accusations, his questions? 

Just when the sorcerer was about to act, your clasped a hand over your stomach, and you whispered with the thrum of a thousand voices:

“Be still.” 

It all moved slowly, then. The phenomenon–the apparent domain expansion–reversed, sinking back into the floors and walls with the soft sound of chittering and cooing taking the place of wicked screeches. You, too, cooed back to the twin voices, placating them with maternal ease. 

Your divinity faded with the last shreds of the illusion. Now, your colours faded further, painting you in desaturated tones of exhaustion and worry. Gojo hated that palette. It'd been used too many times on too many he doted on. God was stupid like that, creating such sad, worrisome colours.

The sorcerer took a deep breath in the silence of the room. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it. He was never good at this kind of thing. His other half was much better at this. 

But he had to try. The look on your face told him he had to try. 

What would he have done?

Gojo’s hand reached out as he leaned forward, and he caught your scarred, bony hand in his own. You didn’t pull away, you didn't fight him, you instead curled your fingers around his and held your breath while your gaze became unseeing, your heart ceased beating just as your breathing had. For a moment, you died.

“I'm sorry,” Gojo whispered. And you nodded. Somehow, he knew it meant, ‘me too.’ 

It was then, touching you, that he could feel the negative energy thrumming beneath a shell of divinity. Two different un-lives coiled inside of you, filled with bitter hate for man and undying love for their mother. For you. It wasn't unlike the bond shared between Yuuta and Rika, but this was not as simple. 

“Your ilk did not approve of Sukuna siring children,” you murmured. Your grip on his hand turned poisonous. “If you try to take them from me–”

“What'll you do?” He asked, knowing they'd never be born. 

“--I will turn everything to ash. Set fire to the skies. Just as I have once already.”

“Good.” Gojo smiled. “You'd be a good mother.” 

“I hope I one day can be.”

The masked menaced nodded again as he idly soothed his thumb across your knuckles. “Never say never, yenno? We'll figure something out for you. If you can do something to help the school–”

“I can give gifts. Once I have the energy.” You didn't sound like you did. Gojo wasn't sure if you ever would.

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked anyway. 

You looked at him, weak and defeated, yet still clinging to life. 

“My divine favour.”

[shu-porang-porang]

Cat In Heat

You got him a little surprise!

(sequel: Bunny In Heat)

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Rating: Very Explicit!

Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.

Warnings: oral, fingering, butt plug, spanking, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), (I think that's enough! let's keep some elements of surprise!)

Word count: 2.8 k

You received a text from Minho: “Hey baby, I’m gonna hit the gym and grab a bite with Jisung next.”

He arrived at 4 a.m. so you didn’t expect him to go to the gym first thing when he woke up, but apparently that’s what he’s gonna do. He was away for only 3 days but you missed him so much it was gnawing at your every fiber. Last night you only noticed his arrival when the mattress dipped next to you and then he spooned you. You tried to fight your sleep weary eyes and wake up to greet him properly but his warmth and the comfort of his presence lulled you back to sleep seconds later. When you woke up this morning, leaving the bed was the hardest thing, you just wanted to stay tangled up with his limbs but you had to leave for work. You slowly slipped out the bed, trying to not wake him up in the process, then placed the softest kiss on his temple, you couldn’t wait to get back and feast on his lips later.

You can’t wait for this work day to be over. Your mind is somewhere else entirely, you’re thinking of the little gift you prepared for him. Two days ago was Valentines Day and he was away. Since it was your first valentine together, you were bummed that you couldn’t spend it with him, but you knew what you got yourself into when you started dating a very busy idol, so you put up a front and did your best to assure him it didn’t matter and you weren’t upset. There’s no point in making a fuss about it anyway, it’s not like they would cancel their plans because you wanted to be with your boyfriend. He said he’d make it up to you later and you decided you can plan a belated valentine when he’s back. Little did he know, you’ve been preparing something for him for weeks. You just can’t decide on the right time to give it to him.

You’re done for the day and there’s nothing else for you to do at work, you ask your boss if you could leave earlier and he says yes. So, you rush to your shared apartment. You have some time before he’s home so you decide to unpack his suitcase. As you’re going through his stuff, you find a box of chocolate, you can’t read the Japanese written all over it, but there’s no doubt it’s chocolate. He always brings you some souvenir so without giving it much thought, you open the box and try one. Well, it’s nothing special, just descent chocolate. Not every souvenir has to be something unique, right? You place it on the drawer and go back to your task at hand.

As time passes by, you start to feel impatient and on edge. It’s like when you have lots of caffein and you get jittery, except that it’s more of a warm feeling, it settles deep in your stomach. It’s not exactly uncomfortable but you’re not sure what’s causing it so you decide to distract yourself by checking the little surprise you got for Minho. You take out the stuff you hid in the back of your bottom drawer and sprawl them out on the bed. It’s an outfit you’ve put together. White and pink lingerie, stockings, garters, a chocker, and few other accessories, but the most exciting parts of the ensemble are the fluffy cat ears and tail. You pick up the tail, feel the weight of the plug attached to it. It was the last item you got and you haven’t come around to try it yet. Suddenly you worry you won’t be able to wear it. What if you can’t get used to it and have to take it off? You don’t know when you’re gonna give him his gift, but you decide to try it now that you’re alone and see if you can handle it.

You take your pants and panties off, hold the tail in your hand, not sure how to go about it. You poke the tip of the shiny plug to your hole but you stop as you can’t get it in even the slightest. Idiot! You need to prepare with lube first! Your hands fidget through the drawer with excitement in search for the lube you bought. You picked a very specific flavor, caramel, hoping it would taste similar to pudding! Too bad they didn’t have a pudding flavor! You lather a finger up and try again. It’s really uncomfortable but you wanna do it for him and you will do it. It’s a weird feeling, having a finger up your butt, and you think there’s no way it’s gonna get loose enough for the plug to fit in but you don’t give up. The warm feeling in your stomach from earlier encourages you to keep going. You move that finger around till you feel less resistance, then you take it out to lube up two fingers this time. You don’t wanna get too loose or the plug will fall out? Is that even a thing? You don’t know, so you decide to give the plug a try. You carefully pour lube on the plug, you don’t wanna ruin the fur, then you push it in and it fits perfectly! You clench and unclench your sphincter a few times, testing how it feels, then you stand up and check yourself in the mirror.

Watching the tail dangling from between your butt cheeks turns you on instantly. You immediately rid yourself of the rest of your clothes to put all the parts of the ensemble on. You pose in front of the mirror. You spend some time putting on a light cute makeup while enjoying a second piece of chocolate, then take another look at your entire outfit. Wow! You look so fuckable!! If only Minho got home sooner. You take a photo of your thigh hugged tightly by the stockings and the garter and send it to him along with: “Are you really gonna hang out with that stupid Ji while I’m waiting for you like this?” 

A few seconds later you receive a text from him: “On my way, be there in 10 minutes”

He finally gets home. He’s heart been racing since he laid eyes on that photo and he’s been sporting a semi-hard cock all along. Good thing his oversized hoodie covered it up. He opens the door to the apartment to find you stretched out on the couch, practically humping a cushion.

“Holy fuck! What’s gotten into you today?” He says as he approaches you in disbelief. His eyes scanning your outfit and becoming wide in shock as he notices the tail poking from under the mini skirt covering your ass.

“I’m just being hot for my boyfriend, is that wrong?” You say, stretching like a cat and raising your ass in the air. The skirt rides up and he sees that the tail isn’t a strap on or attached to the skirt.

He kneels next to the couch, running a hand up your thigh till it reaches where the tail inserts your body. He gives the plug an experimental push that draws a whimper from you.

“Kitty’s in heat, huh? What a naughty lil kitty. I’ll take care of you, pussy cat.” His hand comes in contact with your drenching pussy as he says the last word. You mewl in need. Your skin is on fire and his touch feels too good to be true. You can’t think straight, all you know is that you need him next to you, on you, in you, you just want him to take you right then and there.

He picks you up effortlessly and carries you to the bedroom, plops you on the bed and causes the plug to go a bit deeper, drawing a hiss from you. You sit up and get on your knees, reaching for his hand to drag him to bed.

“Easy baby, what’s the rush?” He says as his free hand is unbuttoning his shirt. Despite your needy erratic movements, he’s so calm, mostly just enjoying the view of your eagerness.

As soon as he gets on the bed, you reach to unbuckle his belt. He watches you in silence, the way your dainty fingers struggle with the belt and his waistband. You pull his pants and boxers down and he eases out of them. His cock springs free and you don’t hesitate to attach your lips to it. Usually it’s not how things go, you haven’t even kissed him once since he arrived, but your head is filled with carnal desires and you don’t need foreplay to get in the mood.

He leans back on his elbows as your head bobs up and down on his member, bringing it to life fast. You lick a fat stripe from the base to the top, your tongue teases the head with playful licks, his low grunts are melody to your ears. Precum pearls on the tip and you collect it all with your tongue. You wrap your lips around the tip again and give it a few sucks. He sits back up to stop you.

“I won’t last long if you keep that up.” he lifts your chin up, and fixes your cat ear headpiece “Aigoo! What a dirty little kitty.” He coos at you with his eyes fixed on your lips, all swollen and red, so kissable. You get the cue and move closer, clashing your lips. Kissing him after days feels like you’ve been deprived of oxygen and you can finally breathe. You straddle him, your fingers in his soft locks, his hands around your shoulders, your chests heave against one another. You push him on his back as you deepen the kiss, you hungrily suck on his tongue and pull his lips between your teeth. You only stop when your lungs are burning. You hide your face in his neck as you’re gasping for air, your core finding a rhyme to ride his thigh. You moan out his name at the new found friction. You’re not wearing any panties; you thought it wouldn’t be practical with a plug up your butt. Your slick coats his muscular thigh.

“Is kitty having a good time?”

“…mmh” you can’t form words, your brain already signed off and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You suck a spot under his ear while his hand reaches down to squeeze your butt cheek under the skirt.

“Then do me a favor and sit that pretty pussy down on my face.”

You don’t hesitate to follow his order. His tongue skillfully laps at your wet core, his nose nudges your clit. You try not to move but you have no control over your body anymore. Your hips move on their own, riding his face, so he gives your ass a slap as a warning. A loud squeak escapes your lips. You do your best to behave but how can you when now he’s sucking on your clit, while hooking a finger inside you and toying with the plug at the same time. He stops all stimulations at once when he realizes your close.

“…Min…… please”

“Naughty kitties don’t get to come so easily. Now get on fours”

You comply, what else would you do? You’d jump off a cliff if he told you so. You wiggle your ass to his face as he’s closely observing where the plug disappears inside you. Your outfit’s still intact but it’s not gonna last long. He pulls the plug out without warning and replaces it with his tongue. Instantly you hear his satisfied groan, he’s probably enjoying your choice of lubricant. You push back on his face, needing more friction. He brings a hand to rub around your clit while his teeth graze your rim. Your arousal drips shamelessly on the sheets, it’s like a leaky faucet, that’s how good he’s having you now. You never even imagined having your asshole eaten would feel good, something’s really gotten into you. He stops his ministrations just as you’re starting to feel the orgasm build up for the second time. He steps back to admire the view before shoving the plug back in and give you new instructions.

“Close your thighs and press them tight for me princess.”

You look back and see him aligning his oozing cock.

“Just… fuck me… already”

“Too soon…” he forcefully shoves his cock in the small gap between your thighs “…ughhh….for that”

After a few thrusts, he’s fully covered in your juices so he picks up the pace as it slides easier. His member rubs on your clit with every thrust but it’s nowhere near enough to get you off. He gives you a slap that makes you press your thighs harder, so he gives you another, and another, and another. You press your head to the pillow to muffle your yelps. You think you might be reaching a climax this time but no. He takes the plug out and flips you around. This time you don’t just complain with words, but tears are running down your face. You’re a mess.

“Oh little kitty, why the tears? Was I too harsh with my sweet angel?” he says as he towers over you and leans to kiss your tears away.

“No…. just….wanna cum”

“You will baby. You will”

He kisses your face some more and moves down to your neck and chest. He yanks your frilly chocker with his teeth and throws it on the bed, so he can properly kiss and mark your neck. Then he unhooks the lacy matching bra and discards it somewhere else in the room. His hands come in contact with your soft breasts, his thumbs rub your nipples simultaneously and your lips part in a whimper.

“My gorgeous lil kitty” he admires as he continues to knead your breasts and then dips to take one pebbled nipple between his teeth. His tongue twirls around it and he closes his lips on it to suck. His hand travels south to slip between your folds and find your entrance. He has two fingers inside you, with his thumb pressing down on your clit. You buck your hips up to his touch. He lets go of your nipple and comes back up to kiss your lips with his fingers still inside you. You’re so lost in the hot sloppy kiss that before you know it, his dick takes the place of his fingers in you. Fucking finally!

You bite his shoulder as he bottoms out in one go and the stretch overwhelms you. He moans in your ear from your delicious tightness.

“Please….Move baby” you plead and he obeys. Caging you between his hands on either side of your head, he takes his sweet time with slow thrusts. He pushes your thighs to your chest and throws your legs over his shoulders. With this new angle he reaches deep inside, hitting your cervix with every single thrust. It doesn’t take you long to feel the knot in your stomach again for the… you don’t even know how many times he got you there and left you unfulfilled. You tightly hold onto him as his thrusts get faster.

“ugh… gonna…. c..cum…”

“Cum for me… angel” he kisses your parted lips, muffling your moans, as your orgasm finally washes over you. He reaches a hand down to pinch your clit, your entire body jolts with each pinch as you’re riding out your orgasm. It’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had, well, you’d say that about every orgasm with him, but this one really hits different. Your fluttering walls around him milk him dry and a string of curses leaves his lips as he joins you. He rides his climax, still thrusting into you until your mixed cum forms a ring around his base.

He pulls out and falls on top of you, you don’t mind the weight, you’re too tired to care anyway and he feels like a heavy blanket, you don’t even care about your sticky bodies or sheets. You think you could die happy at this moment but he gets up to clean you before you drift off to sleep. He takes a good look at your fucked out state “Gosh! Baby you’re so hot. I love you so much”. You smile with your eyes closed “love you too”. You’re almost entering dreamland when he startles you:

“Fuck! Baby you ate these chocolates?” He found the open box of chocolates you left on the drawer.

“..mhmm”

“Did you know these were aphrodisiacs?”

“WHAT?” suddenly you’re fully awake, your eyes darting towards his direction.

“I wanted to try them together.” He says with an evident pout on his face.

“There’s still plenty left bunny boy.”

[bluelavendre]

Title: In His Shadow Sequel

Yandere Idol Jungkook X idol reader

All Fictional Ya'll!! hihi

You should read the first part first here

Enjoy!

-Bluellexoxo

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The warm aroma of coffee wafted through the cozy café, mingling with the soft hum of chatter and occasional bursts of laughter. The setting was picturesque—a bright morning with sunlight streaming through the large windows, illuminating the table where Y/N sat. But despite the seemingly cheerful scene, she felt a weight pressing down on her chest.

At her side sat Jungkook, his hand resting possessively on her thigh beneath the table. His smile was radiant as he engaged in animated conversation with his parents, who sat across from them. His mother’s soft laughter filled the air as she recounted old stories, and his father’s deep chuckles followed closely.

Across from Y/N sat Jennie, her best friend and unwavering support. Jennie’s eyes sparkled as she sipped her latte, occasionally chiming in with playful comments. She had been the one constant in Y/N’s life through every high and low, the anchor Y/N clung to when everything felt like it was spinning out of control.

Y/N smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. Her lips curved upward as if on autopilot, a trained expression she had perfected over years of public appearances. She nodded and chimed in with polite affirmations whenever the conversation steered toward wedding details. But inside, her mind was elsewhere.

“Y/N-ah,” Jungkook’s mother said, drawing her attention back to the table. “Have you thought about what kind of flowers you’d like for the bouquet? I was thinking peonies—they’re so elegant, and they’d suit you beautifully!”

“Oh, yes,” Y/N replied, her voice soft, “peonies sound perfect.” She gave a slight nod, her fingers curling tightly around the handle of her coffee cup.

Jennie noticed the subtle tension in Y/N’s posture, the way her smile wavered for a fraction of a second. She reached across the table and gave Y/N’s hand a reassuring squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly over Y/N’s knuckles.

“Peonies would look amazing,” Jennie said with her trademark enthusiasm, stepping in to ease the pressure. “And with the venue you’ve chosen, they’ll add a nice pop of color!”

Y/N threw her a grateful glance, but it was fleeting. The weight of the discussion loomed over her like a dark cloud, and her mind drifted again, back to the lingering pain of her past.

Her parents’ voices echoed in her memory—harsh words and disappointed glares. They had been so proud of her once, envisioning a future where she’d follow a “respectable” path, perhaps becoming a doctor or a lawyer. But when she dropped out of school to chase her dream of becoming a performer, their pride turned to anger.

“You’ll regret this,” her mother had said coldly the day Y/N packed her bags and walked out. “Don’t expect us to pick up the pieces when this falls apart.”

Jennie had been there that night, standing outside in the rain, waiting for her. “Come on,” Jennie had said with a soft smile, holding out her umbrella. “You’ve got me. Let’s figure this out together.”

“Bub?” Jungkook’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her, concern flickering in his eyes. “You okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N blinked, her focus snapping back to the table. “Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, forcing a brighter smile. “I was just thinking about all the planning we still have to do.”

Jungkook grinned, clearly reassured. “Don’t worry, bub. We’ll handle it together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The irony of his words wasn’t lost on her. For someone who claimed to want to share everything, Jungkook had a way of making every decision feel like it wasn’t entirely hers to make.

His mother clapped her hands together, her excitement palpable. “This wedding is going to be the event of the year!” she declared. “We’re so proud to welcome you into our family, Y/N.”

Jennie caught the fleeting flicker of sadness in Y/N’s eyes, the way her shoulders stiffened at the mention of “family.”

“Yes, family,” Jennie chimed in, her voice light but with an edge of protectiveness. “And Y/N’s lucky to have such wonderful in-laws.” She smiled at Jungkook’s parents, but her hand brushed against Y/N’s knee under the table—a silent message that said, I see you. I’ve got you.

As the conversation carried on, Y/N sat in silence, her mind a swirling storm of emotions. She was grateful for Jennie’s presence, for the way her friend shielded her from questions that felt too invasive. But the pressure was mounting, and with each passing moment, Y/N felt herself slipping further into the role everyone expected her to play.

The perfect fiancée. The dutiful soon-to-be wife. The woman who had it all.

And yet, deep down, all she wanted was to breathe, to escape the walls closing in around her.

“When will the wedding be?” Jennie asked, her tone light but curious as she took a sip of her coffee.

Jungkook’s mom’s eyes lit up, clearly thrilled by the question. “Yes! We need to pick the perfect date,” she chimed in eagerly. “And don’t worry about timing. We can always send a request to give our Kookie a few months’ leave for the—”

“I—I think it’ll be best after Gguk’s enlistment,” Y/N blurted out, cutting off the older woman mid-sentence.

Her voice trembled slightly, but she masked it with a nervous smile, squeezing Jungkook’s hand for support. Her heart raced as the table went quiet for a beat, the sudden change in tone catching everyone off guard.

“R-right, bub?” Y/N added, glancing at Jungkook with an expression that begged him to back her up.

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at her. He tilted his head slightly, his long hair framing his face, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “If that’s what you want, bub,” he said gently, though there was a hint of curiosity in his tone, as if he were trying to read between the lines.

Jennie watched the exchange closely, her brow furrowing slightly, though she quickly hid her concern with a bright smile. “That sounds like a good idea,” she chimed in, breaking the brief silence. “You’ll have plenty of time to plan everything exactly how you want it, Y/N.”

Jungkook’s mom, however, seemed slightly disheartened. “Oh, but wouldn’t it be better to do it before? That way, you could start your married life together right away.”

Y/N’s fingers twitched slightly in Jungkook’s grasp, and she forced herself to keep smiling. “I just think it’ll be less stressful this way,” she explained quickly. “We don’t want to rush something so important.”

Jungkook’s dad nodded in agreement. “That’s fair. It’s better to wait and do it properly than to feel like you’re cramming it in.”

Jungkook’s mom reluctantly sighed but smiled. “If that’s what you both want, then of course, we’ll support it.”

Y/N let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her fingers remained intertwined with Jungkook’s, though her palms felt clammy. She hated how her decision felt like an excuse, but deep down, the thought of planning a wedding while juggling the weight of their strained relationship felt unbearable.

Jungkook leaned closer to her, his lips brushing against her temple as he whispered, “You sure about this, bub? We can talk about it later if you’re feeling unsure.”

His voice was soft, but there was a lingering note of concern. Y/N nodded quickly, plastering on another smile. “I’m sure,” she whispered back, though the turmoil inside her said otherwise.

Jennie, ever perceptive, caught the faint tension in Y/N’s voice. She reached across the table and nudged Y/N’s arm playfully. “Don’t stress too much, Y/N. It’s your wedding—it’s supposed to be fun!”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice quieter than she intended. “Fun.”

The rest of the conversation shifted to lighter topics, but Y/N found herself zoning out, her thoughts spiraling. She was grateful for Jennie’s subtle attempts to steer the focus away from the wedding, throwing in jokes and stories that had everyone laughing.

When the lunch ended, and everyone began to leave the café, Jennie pulled Y/N aside. “Hey,” Jennie said softly, her tone laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Y/N hesitated, looking over at Jungkook, who was busy saying goodbye to his parents. She forced a smile and nodded. “I’m fine, Jen.”

Jennie frowned but didn’t press further. “Just… if you ever need to talk, you know I’m here, right?”

“I know,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

As Jungkook came over, Jennie stepped back, giving them space. “Ready to go, bub?” he asked, his hand slipping around her waist.

Y/N nodded, leaning into him despite the unease twisting in her stomach.

The ride back to their shared penthouse was mostly silent. Jungkook hummed quietly to himself, his hand resting comfortably on Y/N’s thigh as he drove.

“You’ve been quiet,” he finally said, glancing at her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just tired,” Y/N lied, looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

Jungkook frowned but didn’t push her. Instead, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “I’ll take care of you, bub. You don’t have to worry about anything, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that they could fix the cracks in their relationship. But as the city lights blurred past, she couldn’t shake the growing doubt in her heart.

When they arrived at Jungkook’s penthouse, the familiar space welcomed them with its modern, minimalist charm. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline, glowing with the soft hues of twilight. Jungkook kicked off his shoes at the door and took a slow, deliberate look around the expansive living room, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“We need a bigger fortress,” he said suddenly, a sly smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at Y/N.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his comment. She tilted her head slightly, a mix of confusion and curiosity in her expression. “A bigger… fortress?” she repeated, her tone unsure.

Jungkook walked over to her, slipping his arms around her waist. “Yeah, bub. Bigger. Better. Somewhere even more private, where it’s just you and me. No distractions, no interruptions.”

He said it so casually, as though he were talking about a simple weekend getaway, but the intensity in his eyes made Y/N’s stomach flip. His grip on her waist was firm, almost possessive, yet his smile was warm and loving.

She forced a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “This place is already massive, Gguk. What more could we possibly need?”

Jungkook leaned down, brushing his nose against hers. “It’s not about space, bub. It’s about security. I want to make sure you’re safe, that no one can get to us.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine. Sometimes, Y/N struggled to understand the extremes of his emotions. One moment, he was furious and jealous, his temper flaring at the smallest of things. The next, he was soft and tender, showering her with love and affection.

“You’re confusing sometimes, you know that?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s smile faltered for a brief second before he cupped her face gently. “How so?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure if she should voice her thoughts. “You… You’re so unpredictable, Gguk. One moment, you’re mad and jealous, and the next, you’re like this—sweet and loving. It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed slightly as he listened. He sighed, pulling her closer so their foreheads touched. “I know I’m not easy, bub. I know I can be… intense. But it’s because I love you so damn much. I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, but the raw emotion in it was unmistakable. Y/N felt her heart clench. She knew he loved her—he made that abundantly clear every single day—but sometimes, his love felt overwhelming, like it was smothering her instead of lifting her up.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook,” she said softly, placing her hands on his chest. “But you have to trust me. You have to let me breathe.”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might argue. But instead, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll try, bub. For you, I’ll try.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest ache. She wanted to believe him, to believe that things would get better. But deep down, she couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt that had taken root in her heart.

“Come on,” Jungkook said suddenly, his tone lighter as he pulled back slightly. “Let’s order some food. You’ve had a long day.”

Y/N nodded, grateful for the change in topic. As Jungkook busied himself with their dinner plans, she sat on the couch, her thoughts swirling.

A week later, the day had finally arrived. Jungkook stood in front of the mirror in his penthouse bedroom, running a hand over his freshly buzzed head. The soft, short bristles felt foreign to him after years of long hair flowing freely down his neck. He turned his head slightly, studying his reflection. Despite the haircut symbolizing discipline and transformation, there was something in his eyes that remained wild—untamed.

Y/N stood by the door, leaning against the frame as she silently watched him. He looked so different, so… formal. The lack of his usual hair, coupled with the sleek military uniform he’d already started wearing for familiarization, gave him an aura of authority and distance that she wasn’t accustomed to.

“You look…” she began, searching for the right words, “different.”

Jungkook turned to her with a small, lopsided grin. “Good different or bad different?”

She walked closer, her eyes softening as she reached out to touch his head. “Good different,” she said with a small smile, her fingers brushing over the buzzed cut. “Just… new.”

He chuckled, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her into his arms. “It’s still me, bub. Don’t worry. I might look like a soldier now, but I’m still your Gguk.”

Her heart clenched at his words. There was an ache deep inside her chest, one that had been growing ever since the reality of his enlistment began to set in. He’d be gone for two years, and though he promised to visit and stay in touch, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never be the same.

“When do you leave?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible against his chest.

“In an hour,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her. “I’ll drop you off at Jennie’s before I go.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I can come with you to the base.”

Jungkook shook his head, a soft but firm smile on his lips. “No, bub. I don’t want you to see me leave. I want your last memory of me to be here, like this, okay?”

Her throat tightened, and she nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

The drive to Jennie’s house was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Y/N stared out the window, watching the city blur past, while Jungkook occasionally glanced at her, his hand resting on her thigh. When they arrived, Jennie was already waiting outside, her usual bubbly energy subdued as she saw the somber expressions on their faces.

“I’ll take care of her,” Jennie assured Jungkook as he helped Y/N out of the car.

He nodded, pulling Y/N into one last hug. “Take care of yourself, bub,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ll write to you every chance I get.”

Y/N clung to him, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Be safe, Gguk. Don’t overdo it, okay?”

He pulled back just enough to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, he got back into the car, giving her one last wave before driving off. Y/N stood there, watching until his car disappeared down the street, her chest feeling hollow.

Back at the base, Jungkook stepped out of the car, greeted by the buzz of activity as other recruits arrived. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. This was a new chapter, a chance to prove himself in a different way.

But as he walked through the gates, his mind was already drifting back to Y/N—her scent, her touch, the sound of her laugh.

He clenched his jaw. No matter how far away he was, she would always be his.

Y/N was lounging on the couch, wearing an oversized hoodie, a steaming cup of coffee in hand, when her phone buzzed on the table. She lazily reached for it, expecting a message from Jennie or her manager. Instead, it was a call.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice soft and casual.

“Good morning, Y/N-shi!” her manager’s cheerful voice greeted her. “I’ve got some exciting news for you. Calvin Klein has reached out—they want you to sign as their global ambassador.”

Her eyes widened, and she nearly spilled her coffee. “Wait, what? Calvin Klein?”

“Yes! They’ve been following your career, and they believe you perfectly fit their new campaign. Isn’t that incredible?”

A wave of pride and excitement rushed over her. “Of course, I’ll do it! Tell them I’m in!”

Her manager laughed. “I knew you’d say yes. They’ll set up the contract and photoshoot schedule soon. Also, expect more calls—ever since your tour ended, brands have been lining up for you. Vacation or not, you’re the hottest name right now.”

True to her manager’s words, Y/N’s phone didn’t stop buzzing. Over the next few weeks, she found herself swamped with offers. Luxury brands wanted her face on their campaigns, magazines requested interviews, and talk shows begged for her appearance. Parties and events flooded her calendar, and Jennie was by her side through most of them.

One evening, as Y/N and Jennie sat in a chic lounge after an event, sipping on champagne, Y/N’s phone buzzed again. She glanced at the screen. It was her manager.

“What’s up?” she asked after answering the call.

“You’re going to love this,” her manager said, excitement clear in their voice. “You’ve been asked to co-produce a song with a male artist. It’s a big name, Y/N. Huge.”

Her eyes lit up. “Who is it?”

“Lee Minjae. He’s just released two chart-topping albums and is looking to collaborate with someone as dynamic as you.”

Y/N felt a thrill run through her. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing! Let’s do it!”

The project with Minjae turned out to be one of the most exciting things Y/N had worked on. They spent long hours in the studio, brainstorming, writing, and producing. As they collaborated, rumors started swirling online. Fans began speculating about their chemistry, and shippers quickly emerged, piecing together photos from studio sessions and public events.

Since her engagement with Jungkook was kept discreet, many believed her rumored relationship with Jungkook had been false, adding fuel to the gossip about her and Minjae. Articles speculated about a budding romance, and hashtags trended overnight.

Late one evening, Y/N was lounging at home when her phone rang. She didn’t even need to check the caller ID to know who it was.

“Bub,” Jungkook’s voice was cold, tinged with frustration, “what the hell is going on?”

Y/N sighed, already knowing where this was going. “What are you talking about, Kook?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Minjae. The photos. The rumors.”

“It’s just work, Jungkook! We’re co-producing a song. That’s it.”

“Doesn’t look like ‘just work’ to me,” he snapped. “Have you seen what people are saying? They think you’re with him.”

“Why do you care so much about what they’re saying? You know the truth,” she retorted, her voice rising in frustration.

“I care because it’s my fiancée they’re talking about!” he shouted. “Do you know how it feels to see those headlines while I’m stuck here, miles away, unable to do anything?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She hated fighting with him, but his possessiveness was starting to suffocate her. “Jungkook, you need to trust me. This is my career. I can’t control what people say, but I can’t stop living my life because of rumors.”

His silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

“Fine,” he finally said, his voice icy. “But don’t forget who you belong to.”

A week after their heated argument, another photo of Y/N and Jungkook from years ago was leaked online. It was an intimate picture of the two of them at a private gathering, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist as they laughed together.

The internet exploded with renewed speculation about their relationship. Fans began connecting dots, some claiming the photo proved they had been secretly dating for years.

Jungkook called her again, but this time, his tone was softer. “Bub, it’s everywhere now. Everyone knows.”

Y/N sighed, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. “What do we do, Gguk?”

“We let them talk,” he said firmly. “Because at the end of the day, you’re mine, and I’m yours. Let them say whatever they want.”

Months passed in a blur for Y/N, her schedule packed with photoshoots, interviews, songwriting, and collaborations. The added responsibility of planning her wedding made her life even busier. Yet, she welcomed the distraction. It kept her grounded and gave her a sense of normalcy amid the chaos.

Jungkook, on the other hand, kept his distance. He wanted to stay focused on his duties in the military, ensuring he was in his best shape—mentally and physically—for his fiancée. He’d been working harder than ever, driven by his love for her and his desire to be a better man. Every time a new photo of Y/N surfaced on social media, he’d save it immediately. Even in the midst of military drills, he’d steal glances at his phone just to see her face.

Back at their shared penthouse, Jungkook’s parents often dropped by to check on Y/N. They treated her like family already, making sure she wasn’t overwhelmed by everything on her plate.

One afternoon, as Y/N was having tea with Jungkook’s mother in the living room, her soon-to-be father-in-law entered the room with a grin.

“Y/N-ah,” he started, sitting down across from her, “have you heard about Jungkook’s latest project?”

She tilted her head, curious. “Project?”

His mother chuckled, shaking her head. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

Her father-in-law leaned forward, his smile widening. “He’s been investing his savings in a new house for the two of you. He says it’ll be your dream home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “A new house?”

His mother nodded. “He wanted it to be a surprise. He’s been so excited about it.”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. She should’ve been touched, but the weight of everything—their strained relationship, the upcoming wedding, the unresolved pain—made her feel conflicted.

A few weeks later, Y/N found herself in Paris for Fashion Week, joined by Jennie. Their shared suite overlooked the sparkling Eiffel Tower, the city buzzing with energy and glamour. After a long day of events and runway shows, they retired to their room with a bottle of wine in hand.

Y/N poured herself another glass, the alcohol loosening her tongue. Jennie watched her with concern as she began to ramble.

“Jen,” Y/N slurred slightly, her cheeks flushed, “you know, sometimes I feel like I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

Jennie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You’re doing amazing, Y/N. Look at you—everyone’s obsessed with you.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes glistening. “It’s not about the career. It’s about… everything else. The wedding, Jungkook, the baby we didn’t have…” Her voice cracked, and Jennie’s heart sank.

“Wait, what baby?” Jennie asked, sitting up straighter.

Y/N sighed, tears spilling over. “It happened months ago. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until I wasn’t anymore. And Jungkook… we fought about it. He blamed me, Jen. He said I didn’t take care of myself.”

Jennie’s eyes burned with fury. “He what?”

Y/N wiped her face with her hands. “I know he didn’t mean it, but it hurt. It still hurts. And now we’re planning this wedding, and I’m just… I’m scared, Jennie. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Jennie pulled her into a tight hug, whispering soothing words as Y/N cried into her shoulder.

The next morning, Jennie wasted no time. She stepped out onto the hotel balcony with her phone, dialing Jungkook’s number.

“Noona?” he answered groggily, his voice laced with sleep.

“You idiot,” she snapped, not bothering with pleasantries. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What?” Jungkook was instantly alert, sitting up in his bed. “What’s going on?”

“Do you have any idea what Y/N’s been going through? She told me everything—about the baby, the fight, how you made her feel like it was her fault!”

Jungkook’s heart sank. He hadn’t realized how deeply his words had hurt her. “Jennie, I—”

“No, Jungkook. You don’t get to ‘Jennie’ me. She’s your fiancée, and she’s terrified of this wedding because of you. She’s putting on a brave face, but deep down, she’s breaking, and you’re too blind to see it.”

Jennie’s words hit him like a truck, and guilt washed over him. He had been so focused on himself—on the military, on the house, on his plans—that he hadn’t stopped to consider how Y/N was feeling.

“Where is she?” he asked, his voice low but firm.

“She’s sleeping. She was a mess last night, Jungkook. Fix this. I mean it.”

Jennie’s scolding only fueled Jungkook’s fury—not at her, but at himself. He hung up the call and sat on the edge of his bed, his hands in his hair.

He thought about the baby they had lost, the pain he had buried instead of confronting. He thought about Y/N, working herself to the bone while pretending to be okay. And he thought about their wedding, the dream he was so focused on that he had forgotten to ask if it was what she wanted, too.

Jungkook’s anger boiled under the surface after Jennie’s call ended. He wasn’t mad at her; he was furious at himself for failing Y/N, for being blind to her struggles, for saying things he could never take back. But his emotions, raw and volatile, had nowhere to go. His hands trembled as he sat on the edge of his bed in the barracks, the weight of guilt pressing down on his chest.

Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and dialed Y/N. The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath.

Jungkook stormed out of the barracks, ignoring the curious glances of his fellow soldiers. His heart pounded as he made his way to the commanding officer’s office, the fire inside him driving every step.

Meanwhile in Paris…

Y/N woke up groggy, her head pounding from the wine the night before. She groaned, shielding her eyes from the sunlight streaming through the window. Jennie sat by the vanity, scrolling through her phone.

“Morning, sunshine,” Jennie said softly, her tone cautious.

Y/N sat up slowly, rubbing her temples. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon. You’ve got some events later today, but I told them you might be late.”

Y/N sighed, her mind still clouded with the memories of her breakdown the night before. “Thanks, Jen.”

Before Jennie could respond, Y/N’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She reached for it, her stomach twisting when she saw Jungkook’s name.

“Are you going to answer that?” Jennie asked, her tone sharp.

Y/N hesitated before shaking her head. “I… I can’t. Not right now.”

Jennie nodded, but there was an edge to her expression. “He needs to hear from you eventually, Y/N. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

Back at the military base…

Jungkook’s commanding officer stared at him in disbelief. “You want a leave of absence? Effective immediately?”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook said firmly, standing at attention.

“Jeon, you’ve been doing well here, but you know the rules. We can’t just grant leave without a valid reason.”

Jungkook took a deep breath. “It’s personal, sir. I need to fix something important. If I don’t, I might lose it forever.”

The officer studied him for a moment before sighing. “Fine. You’ve got three days, Jeon. Don’t waste them.”

Jungkook saluted, his jaw set. “Thank you, sir.”

Later that evening…

Y/N and Jennie were at a rooftop party in Paris, the glittering city stretching out beneath them. Y/N tried to enjoy herself, but her mind kept wandering. She hadn’t responded to Jungkook’s calls or texts all day, and the guilt was eating at her.

She was sipping a glass of champagne when she felt a strange sensation, like someone was watching her. She turned, her breath catching in her throat.

There he was.

Jungkook stood at the edge of the crowd, his military buzz cut making him look sharper, more intense. His dark eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

“Is that…?” Jennie whispered beside her, following her gaze.

Y/N set her glass down, her heart racing as Jungkook walked toward her with purposeful strides. The crowd parted for him, sensing his presence like a storm rolling in.

When he reached her, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he grabbed her wrist gently but firmly and led her away from the crowd, ignoring Jennie’s protests.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling.

He stopped in a quiet corner, turning to face her. His jaw was tight, his eyes filled with a mix of anger, hurt, and determination.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, his voice low but intense. “I needed to see you, to fix this.”

“Fix what?” Y/N said, her own anger bubbling to the surface. “You can’t just show up like this and expect everything to be okay.”

“I know,” Jungkook admitted, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I know I’ve screwed up, Y/N. But I can’t stand the thought of you going through this alone. I can’t lose you.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. “You hurt me, Jungkook. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough, like I was to blame for everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I was angry, scared… I didn’t know how to handle it. But I’m here now, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

She looked at him, torn between love and frustration. “You can’t just fix everything with words, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “But I’ll prove it to you. Every single day, I’ll prove it.”

Y/N’s walls began to crack, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through her defenses. “You have a lot to prove,” she said quietly.

“I will,” he promised, pulling her into his arms. “I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

As she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she wondered if they could truly move past the pain. But for now, she let herself believe in his promise, holding onto the hope that they could find their way back to each other.

Jungkook stayed in Paris for a few weeks with Y/N, giving them both time to reconnect and breathe. The chaotic nature of their lives had always kept them apart, but in the quiet, romantic setting of Paris, it was as though time had slowed down. The city, with its art, its beauty, and its timeless charm, seemed to wrap them in a cocoon where the outside world couldn’t reach them.

Jennie had left them alone, sensing that they needed space to work through their emotions, away from the constant buzz of their high-profile lives. It was during this time that Y/N began to see a side of Jungkook that she hadn’t noticed before—a side that wasn’t driven by anger or jealousy, but one that was vulnerable, open, and truly sorry.

They walked hand in hand along the Seine, the city’s lights reflecting in the water, casting a soft glow over them. The night felt magical, the air crisp and cool, a perfect setting for the conversations that needed to happen. They found a quiet park bench and sat down, just the two of them, watching the world go by.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” Jungkook asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled at the memory. “I remember. It was chaotic, full of press, and we barely had time to enjoy it. But even then, it was special.”

He nodded, his gaze distant as if he was lost in the past. “We were so young, so naive. But I promised you then, and I promise you now, that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always fight for us.”

Y/N looked at him, studying his face, trying to understand the depths of his emotions. “You always fight, Jungkook. But sometimes, I don’t know if it’s for me, or for the idea of us that you’ve created in your head.”

He turned his head to meet her eyes, his expression a mix of regret and vulnerability. “I know. And that’s something I need to work on. I’ve always been afraid of losing you, Y/N. You’re everything to me. But sometimes, I take that fear and turn it into something toxic. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Her heart softened at his words, and she reached out, gently placing her hand on his. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. But you did, Jungkook. And I don’t know how to just move past that.”

Jungkook sighed, the weight of the words hanging between them. “I know. I understand. It’s just... I’ve always been afraid of losing people. I think that’s why I act the way I do. I saw my parents fight growing up, saw the instability in relationships, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let that happen to us. But I let my fear control me.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around his. “I get that, I do. But love... love isn’t about control. It’s about trust. You have to trust me, Jungkook. I’m not going anywhere. But when you act the way you do, it makes me feel trapped, like I’m not allowed to breathe or live my own life.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to control you. I just... I get jealous. I get scared when other people are around you, when I see you so independent and successful. It makes me feel like I’m not enough, like I’m going to lose you to someone else.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him. She could see the honesty in his eyes, the deep-rooted insecurities that he had never fully expressed before. “Jungkook, I’m not going anywhere. I love you. But you have to trust me. You have to trust that I choose you, that no matter how successful I get, you’re the one I want to be with. It’s not about being perfect, it’s about us choosing each other every day.”

He looked at her, his eyes softening, and nodded slowly. “I want that. I want to be the man you deserve, not the man who keeps pushing you away because of his own fears.”

Y/N leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “We’re not perfect, Jungkook. But we’re perfect for each other.”

As they sat together, talking for hours into the night, Y/N realized just how much Jungkook had changed. He wasn’t the same person he had been a few months ago, the one consumed by jealousy and control. He was growing, learning, and trying to be better—for her, for himself, and for the future they both dreamed of.

The conversation shifted to other things—lighter topics, like the future they wanted to build together. They talked about Bam, their dog, and how they both envisioned a life with him and maybe, someday, children of their own. They dreamed of a house, not just any house, but a home where they could raise a family, a place that would always feel like a sanctuary for them both.

“I want to build something real with you, Y/N,” Jungkook said, his voice sincere. “A family. A home. I want to be the man you can depend on, no matter what.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her heart. “And I want that with you, Jungkook. I want us to be happy, to build something solid and strong.”

They stayed like that for hours, wrapped up in each other’s company, talking about their future. For the first time in a long while, Y/N felt like the love between them wasn’t just about passion or jealousy—it was about trust, vulnerability, and a shared vision for the future.

As they walked back to their hotel hand in hand, Paris lights twinkling around them, Y/N knew that they still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, she felt hopeful about what that future could look like. She didn’t have all the answers, but with Jungkook by her side, she was willing to find them together.

Jungkook's departure to continue his military service felt like a bittersweet farewell, but it was also a relief for Y/N. The weight of their previous emotional turmoil had been lifted after their heartfelt conversation in Paris. As he left, his words echoed in her mind: "I’ll be back for you. We’ll make this work." She clung to those words, knowing that he was truly trying to be better, not just for himself, but for their future.

Though the fans in Paris had leaked countless photos of them, capturing their intimate moments, Y/N didn’t let it affect her anymore. The scandal and public judgment had once plagued her, but now she was more focused on what was to come. The love she had with Jungkook wasn’t something to be hidden or ashamed of. It was real, and that was all that mattered. She could breathe again, free from the constraints of other people’s opinions.

As the months passed, the anticipation for the new house grew. The idea of finally having a space that was truly their own, a place where they could build a life together, filled her with excitement. She, along with Bam and Jungkook’s parents, was there to see it for the first time. Jennie, of course, was also by her side, always her rock through everything.

When they arrived at the house, it was even more breathtaking than Y/N had imagined. The spacious rooms, the modern yet cozy atmosphere, and the incredible view—it was perfect. But there was one room that stopped her in her tracks: the baby room.

It was beautiful, with soft pastel colors, a crib, and shelves filled with toys and baby clothes. The room was a clear sign of Jungkook’s hope for their future together. His parents looked thrilled, talking excitedly about the grandchildren they’d one day have. But Y/N didn’t know how to feel. The room, filled with all the promise of a family, felt like a weight on her chest. She had always dreamed of having a family, of having children with Jungkook, but the idea of becoming a mother in the midst of everything they had been through—the tension, the jealousy, the misunderstandings—felt overwhelming.

Her emotions were all over the place. She was happy, yes, but she also felt the sting of uncertainty. Was she ready? Was Jungkook ready? Would they really be able to give their child the kind of love and stability they both needed?

But the warmth in Jungkook’s mother’s eyes as she lovingly touched the crib eased some of her worries. Her future mother-in-law seemed so hopeful, so sure of the future. That brought Y/N a sense of comfort. She wasn’t alone in this journey. They were in this together, and whatever uncertainties she had, they would work through them as a family.

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

As weeks passed and Jungkook neared the end of his service, everything seemed to fall into place. The wedding plans were finalized. The venue, the guest list, the flowers—it was all coming together perfectly. Y/N could hardly believe that after everything, they were finally here, about to take the next step in their relationship.

There was still a lingering feeling of doubt in her heart, but that was only natural. The idea of marriage and children, of truly committing to a lifetime with someone, was a big deal. But deep down, she knew that she had made the right choice. Despite everything that had happened between them—despite the struggles, the pain, and the obstacles—they were still standing side by side, stronger than before. And that was what mattered.

Jungkook had grown, and Y/N had grown with him. They had learned, perhaps the hard way, how to communicate, to love, and to trust each other. Their love wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And that was all they needed.

The day Jungkook was set to return was fast approaching, and with it came a flood of emotions. Y/N was excited, nervous, and hopeful all at once. She knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one that would involve not only their love, but their future, their family, and the life they would build together.

And as she stood in front of the baby room once more, a small smile crept onto her face. She didn’t know exactly what the future held, but she knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever came their way. And that thought, as simple as it was, gave her the peace she needed to move forward.

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

The day of the wedding arrived, and it was everything Y/N and Jungkook had hoped for—intimate, quiet, and filled with nothing but love. No public statements, no press, and no fans. It was a sacred moment, one meant only for the two of them and their closest loved ones. The air was heavy with emotion as they exchanged vows under a canopy of white flowers, surrounded by those who truly mattered.

Y/N’s heart raced as she gazed into Jungkook's eyes, his expression filled with sincerity and affection. Their promises to each other were heartfelt, words exchanged that signified the bond they had nurtured over the years—despite all the obstacles they had faced. It was a testament to their growth as individuals and as a couple.

The moment felt surreal, and for a brief moment, everything seemed perfect. As they sealed their vows with a kiss, the cheers of their family and friends echoed around them, but Y/N felt like time had slowed. She held onto the sensation of peace, the joy of finally finding her way to this point.

But as they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, something about the atmosphere shifted. There was a slight unease, something unspoken hanging in the air. It wasn’t anything anyone else noticed, but Y/N felt it deep in her chest.

Later that evening, as the reception unfolded, Y/N and Jungkook shared private moments, their connection undeniable, their love shining brightly. But just as they were about to cut the cake, Jungkook’s phone buzzed on the table. He hesitated for a moment before glancing at the screen. His expression immediately changed.

As the night went on, the wedding celebrations were in full swing. Y/N and Jungkook danced, laughed, and shared tender moments together, basking in the love of their closest friends and family. Everything seemed perfect—too perfect, in fact. The kind of perfection that made Y/N’s heart race, yet she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

The night progressed, and Jungkook’s smile never wavered, but there was a certain tension in the air, a weight in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t ignore. The last song played, and as they stepped away from the dance floor, Jungkook excused himself for a moment.

Y/N, still lost in the glow of the evening, smiled to herself. She had always wanted this kind of love, this kind of commitment. But as she turned to find him, she saw him stepping into a quiet corner, his phone pressed to his ear, his back turned to her.

She watched him for a moment, intrigued. His tone was low and calm, but there was something in his voice that sent a chill down her spine. She couldn’t hear the words, but the energy in the room seemed to shift as she waited, her heart starting to race for reasons she couldn’t explain.

After a few moments, Jungkook hung up and turned around, his usual charming smile back in place, but there was something different in the way he looked at her—something dark, almost possessive.

Y/N’s curiosity gnawed at her. She approached him, but before she could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Are you okay, bub?” he whispered.

She nodded, unsure. "You seemed... different just now."

Jungkook gave a small, reassuring chuckle. “Nothing to worry about, love. Just some business stuff. Everything’s perfect.”

But as she gazed up at him, she knew there was something more beneath his calm demeanor.

Hours later, as the guests began to leave and the penthouse grew quiet, Jungkook sat in a dimly lit corner, his fingers tapping against his phone screen. Y/N was preparing to call it a night, feeling the weight of the day catching up to her, when she overheard Jungkook talking again.

This time, his voice was much sharper, filled with a cold, calculated edge.

"Yes, everything is perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but cutting through the silence. "Leak everything. Let them see. Let her know she won’t be able to leave me. Except for the thing I told you... And you know what to do with them. They’ve been hurting her long enough. Let me be the karma."

Y/N’s heart stopped as she heard his words, her stomach sinking into her chest. It was as if the world around her came to a crashing halt.

Jungkook wasn’t the man she thought he was—not the man she had fallen in love with. She could hear the coldness in his voice, the hint of manipulation and control.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to process what she had just heard. The realization that something much darker was at play sent a shiver down her spine.

And as Jungkook ended the call, he turned to her with a smile, but it wasn’t the smile she knew. It was something far more unsettling.

"Everything’s just fine, love. Let’s enjoy our night," he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth.

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest, a flood of questions and fears crashing through her mind. What was he planning? And what had he just promised to do?

The truth was closer than she thought, and she was only beginning to see the dangerous game he was playing.

[erwinsvow]

𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: lying to rafe is never a good idea.

author's note: eeee! back to writing for my man <3 this can be seen as a sequel to suit the mood of my soul as it follows the plot a little bit but not really, as there's no direct mentions of pogue!reader in this! i just wanted to write a little about what rafe would be like if he find out you lied/what he would do... :) inspired by @princessbrunette for the dad/kid trope she writes about and this one!

now spinning: prisoner by the weeknd & lana

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: smut! rafe is a lil scary in this one but it's okay <3, gripping/bruising, face slapping as punishment, daddy/dad usage for rafe and reader is called kid a lot.

“So, what’d you do the other night?” Rafe asks you the question quietly, and he sounds different than usual.

You haven’t really noticed the change yet though, so you act like you always do around him—a little dumber, not as vigilant, and using your brain less overall.

That’s the best part of being with Rafe. He makes all the decisions for you, he figures out what to do and when to do it, and you really don’t have to think around him. At first you were confused, if not a little worried. Did he think you were stupid?

But then you realize this is how he is—so overpoweringly, overwhelmingly dominant that you have no choice but to succumb.

So you go on, unthinking, saying what comes to mind. 

“I was with you, Rafey, did you forget already?” It comes out with a laugh, making yourself comfortable against his chest.

He’d just come over less than an hour ago, after dinner with his family, he had said. He always spent the night after doing anything with his family, because they made him angry and you made him feel better. At least, that’s what he always said.

So it’s easy to attribute his difference in demeanor, the strangeness surrounding your normally nice boyfriend, to a bad dinner with his family. He must have been more upset than you thought.

“Hm,” he says, slowly, curtly. “Is that right?”

“Yes, Rafey, dinner and the ice cream? Remember it melted all over your hand?” Your face flushes even thinking about it—because immediately following that incident, you had licked his hands clean. 

“Yeah, I remember. You have a good memory, kid.” 

You beam at his praise for a second, leaning your head up to stare at your pretty boyfriend for a second. But he doesn’t look down at you the way he normally does. He doesn’t look at all, instead his gaze is still fixed on the television, which is still playing one of your silly rom-coms quietly in the background. 

“Rafe?” it comes out like a whisper, but he ignores you, his grip on your arm tightening while he continues to stare off, not at you.

“Try to remember something else for me, kid. Night before last, what’d you do?” 

You freeze under his touch. Your entire body goes rigid, eyes wide, lips parting. You want to speak, but nothing comes out.

Then, Rafe looks down at you. 

“Can’t remember now? Should I refresh your memory?”

You don’t need him to refresh anything. On the night before last, Sarah had asked you for help with something in the Tannyhill library. You had gone to help, because this was more than just Rafe’s sister, she was your friend too, but when you got there, you were confused. Sarah was there, but so were all the Pogues you had seen around town, seen with her before. 

They were all digging through the shelves, looking for something in the library, and Sarah called you over because everyone in the Cameron house was aware of the fact that you knew this library like the back of your hand. Months of babysitting Wheezie and not having anything to do had led to this very situation. Until you became Rafe’s, that is, because ever since then, you haven’t had to spend another moment alone. 

So then you helped them search for whatever it was they were looking for, and when your phone went off with a message from Rafe, at Sarah’s urging, you lied and said you were at home with your parents.

The Pogues found it eventually, after almost two hours of combing through shelves and trying your best to organize them the way they were. You went home, texted Rafe goodnight, and thought that was that.

It wasn’t a lie, you tried to convince yourself. It was a fib, really, because you just didn’t want him to worry even more when he had so much going on. And it’s not like you knew what Sarah was even up to, she said it was just a little project. 

You didn’t realize what kind of project until now.

“Um, Rafe-” you start, really quiet.

You falter when you get a better look at the expression on his face. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that look—anger, disappointment, frustration.

Your eyes get watery, immediately. It’s just a natural reaction. 

“You think some tears are gonna get you out of this?” he questions, and you feel your breathing getting heavy, your cheeks getting wet.

You shake your head quickly. You don’t want him to think you’re crying for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry-” comes out before you can stop it, and you try to use the sleeves of your hoodie—Rafe’s hoodie—to wipe the tears away, thinking it’ll be better if he can’t see them any longer, but he grabs your wrist before you can.

You’re pinned in place, his hand gripping you and holding you down, the weight of his body on yours. It’s all you can do to look up Rafe with your wide, wet eyes and hope he listens to you. 

He’s never been mad at you before, so he doesn’t know how to react. You’ve always been perfect to him, for him, and he’s never had to do anything more than take your cheeks in his hand and lock eyes to make you realize you’re doing something wrong.

He didn’t think you could be capable of doing something to hurt him, to get in the way of everything he’s planning, not when you’re so compliant and docile and perfect all the other times. 

You have a collection of pretty dresses and skirts, ranging in lengths and sizes, and you always wear the right thing. Modest, longer dresses that stop above your knee and start just under the necklace you never take off—the necklace with his initial on it—when you’re invited to dinner at Tannyhill with his family.

Shorter, small skirts when he takes you to the club or the bonfire. Short enough that people are staring, not short enough to give anyone a view of what belongs to him.

In his bedroom, it’s just his clothes—shirts to sleep in, hoodies when you’re reading a book on his bed while he finishes his game at the desk, nothing more than one of your tanks and a pair of his boxers when you’re getting antsy and horny waiting for him to get back to bed when he’s on an important phone call. 

He’s never had to tell you any of that—you just do it, you just know it. He doesn’t have to tell you to go wait on his bed for him without complaining. He doesn’t have to tell you he doesn’t like when his friends are seeing parts of you they aren’t supposed to. But most important of all, he didn’t have to tell you to stay away from those dirty Pogues and his annoying sister. You were just supposed to know.

“You’re sorry?” he questions, and you know he’s mocking you. Rafe’s gone quiet, which you’re not used to because Rafe never gets mad at you. You didn’t even think it was possible.

He lets go of your wrist, which flails next to your side. His grip is replaced quickly as he squeezes your cheeks together, fingers pressing hard against your jaw.

“You’re sorry, really, is that all? You lied to me. You think that’s okay?”

Your breathing gets hard and fast under his touch. Your eyes get watery again, trying to say something but it’s silenced between Rafe’s fingers keeping your mouth shut.

You shake your head as hard as you can. You just want to explain yourself—it seemed so harmless when you were doing it. You didn’t want to worry him. You didn’t realize what you were doing. You’d never do it again if Rafe will forgive you.

Then you get scared, eyes wide and blank while your boyfriend stares at you, looking so upset and angry you wish you could reverse time and take it all bank. You worry that he won’t forgive you, that he’ll end things and leave you alone, and the thought itself is so frightening you start sobbing and shaking.

Rafe’s hand leaves your face because he gets surprised at your reaction—he thought you’d be telling him something he really, really doesn’t want to hear, but true to your perfect form, you say exactly what he does want to hear. 

“I’m so sorry Rafe, I’m so sorry, they asked me for help but I would have never done it if-if I knew it would hurt you or make you upset, I-I didn’t know-” It all comes out in a ramble, hurt coating your words and tears streaming down in rivulets down your pretty face.

He’s worried he might have gone too far, scared you too much, but you jump back in his arms the second he’s let go of you, face pressed against his chest and his shirt getting wet. 

“I’m so sorry, please don’t break up with me, I’ll never do it again, I’ll never even talk to them again, I swear, I promise-” 

It’s instinctual, Rafe wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. He wonders how he did this—changed the sweet, pretty girl he met on a trip with Wheezie to the library into the girl in his arms now—utterly dependent, crying because of him but not making a single move to defend yourself.

Instead you believe everything he says and you’re sobbing because you don’t want him to leave you. He wonders again, thinking about if he should regret what he’s done to you. 

He doesn’t.

“Shh,” he comforts, and you lean into him further. “S’okay, it’s okay.” He rubs your arms soothingly, ignoring the red down further on the limb, which is inevitably a bruise forming. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

When the words leave his mouth, you melt against his chest like butter, and he grips you tight.

“I’m sorry, kid, I am, but I have to make sure that-that, you don’t do something that could mess up everything I’m working on right now.” You mewl a noise of protest, but he quiets you down again. “Even if it’s an accident, baby, even by accident. You don’t know the things I’m trying to protect you from. I can’t let you get hurt like that, so when you lie to me about something like this, it just upsets me, because I’m working hard for you—for us, and you see that, don’t you?” 

He feels you nod your head slowly.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” and he lets out a heavy breath. You cling to his every word, wondering how you could have been so, so stupid, as to lie to your boyfriend. 

“It’s okay, kid,” his hand moves to your back, rubbing circles on the soft skin, hand tucked under his hoodie and above the waistband of his shorts that you’re wearing.

“Do you forgive me?” you ask, lifting your head a few inches to look up at Rafe, wet eyelashes floating up to reveal red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

He looks down, wondering just how much he’s messed you up.

“Of course I do.” Rafe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let out a sigh of relief, too soon. “But you have to promise me a couple things, hm?”

“Anything, anything-” it spills out of your mouth, like you can’t get it out fast enough, looking back up at your boyfriend with big eyes, trying to use your hands against his chest to lift yourself up. 

“Promise me you’ll never talk to those Pogues again.”

“I promise.”

“And that you’ll never, ever lie to me again.”

“I promise, Rafe.”

“Good girl.”

He does that thing again, the thing that has you melting in his hands and allowing him to call all the shots. He reaches out to take the back of your head in his hand, leaning you in for a kiss, and you let him do it, just like you let him do everything. 

Rafe kisses you hard, his tongue in your mouth and trails of spit around your lips. When he lets go, you feel him bit down on your bottom lip, and you yelp against his mouth, but it’s silenced because he pulls you into another kiss.

You’re breathless by the end of it, crawling into his lap because you don’t want it to end, craving a lot more than just a kiss and the press of his hard dick against your clothed pussy. 

When he pulls away, you make another noise of displeasure.

“Really?” he questions, and you know it can’t be good. “Do you really think you deserve this dick now? After that shit you just pulled?” He holds you in place on his lap, stopping your grinding motion with his firm hand. Your face heats up immediately, because you know that you don’t. 

“‘M’sorry, dad,” your murmur against the soft skin of his neck. “You already forgave me…”

“Not getting out of this that easily, kid,” and he pulls you by the hair, making your shoulders tense up as you moan again in discomfort. “I think you need to decide your punishment, hm? You’ll get this dick once you get punished.”

You want to scream in annoyance, because Rafe always knows what he’s doing, and right now he’s doing it on purpose. You can feel his hard-on, and if he let you do what you wanted, you’d fall apart in minutes, but he won’t, because he never does.

So you don’t say a thing, because you can’t ever be a brat to Rafe, not for anything longer than five minutes, and you crawl down, off the bed, sitting on your knees on the ground while Rafe adjusts himself to face you from the bed. He looks down at you, perfectly in place, nose still a little red from crying. 

“So, how many?” he questions, watching you stare up at him with big eyes.

“Five,” you start, until you see how Rafe’s looking at you. “T-ten, sorry, ten.” 

“Good girl,” he says, stroking the side of your face with his hand. “Five on each side, hm? That’s what you meant to say, right?”

“Yes, dad,” you murmur back, in a daze at the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your skin.

The first slap, on your right cheek, is light, lighter than you’re used to. It was barely a tap, and you think quickly, while staring at your boyfriend’s face expectantly, if not a little dumbly, that it was nice of him. The next three are harder, and the final one stings. You’re sure it’s red where his hand was, a part of you even hopes it left a mark.

“Five left,” he says quietly, maybe more to himself than to you. You nod, a little too eagerly. “Yeah, kid, you like this? I knew you would. Little freak,” Rafe breathes out. You cling to each word like it’s praise. “Ready for the other side? Yeah?” You nod again.

He’s harder on the other side, maybe because he realized you can handle it. You’ve gotten much harder slaps than these before, but Rafe forgets sometimes, so he always starts gentle. On the ninth one, your eyes get watery. On the tenth, the tears roll down again. Rafe takes his thumb and wipes it across your cheek, like it’ll soothe the sting. 

You go to unbuckle his belt immediately after, thinking you should make him feel good first, as a part of your punishment, but he stops your hands before you get far, taking you by the shoulders and lifting you up into his lap again.

“What’re you doing?” you question quietly.

“I should ask you that.”

“Y-you said I don’t deserve it yet, so I was gonna make you feel good-”

“I didn’t say that, kid,” he says, pressing his big hand against your neck. 

“Yes, you-” he looks at you sharply, and you shut up mid-sentence. 

“No, I said you’ll get it once you’ve been punished. Punishment’s over, hm?” His hand slips underneath your hoodie—his hoodie—and he starts to lift it up. Your hands go up, helping him ease it off. Once it’s discarded on the floor, you lean in for another hard kiss, hands around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Easy, easy,” he says, pulling away for a second. “Have to breathe, remember?”

You shake your head and whine, pushing your lips together again. Rafe moves you quickly, your back thudding against the bed and him hovering over you.

You scramble to get rid of your shorts—his shorts—but Rafe’s hands come up and stop yours before you can. Locking eyes with you, he takes them off himself, until you’re fully exposed and lying naked against his pillow.

Another kiss, another whine. You pull the front of Rafe’s shirt.

“Take it off, please,” you whimper, because you just want to get him naked and get on with it, but the tantalizingly slow pace he’s setting is killing you. 

“Really gonna tell me what to do right now? When I’m being so nice?” Your head shakes but you don’t know if you mean it. “Okay. If that’s how you wanna be, okay.”

He flips you over in one motion—your stomach hitting the sheets before you can process it. You don’t hear anything except the rustle of his hands on his belt, the clink of the metal falling, and a groan from Rafe.

And then you feel him—feel what you’ve been begging for this entire time, the nudge of his tip against your folds. Your whole body tenses and your walls clench in anticipation, but Rafe doesn’t move. 

“Rafe—!” the whine leaves before you can think about it. Rafe’s hand reaches out to grab you by your hair, pulling your head up, his mouth against your ear. You feel your nipples harden and pebble in the air, every part of your body craving something, some touch, some movement.

“Y’know, I thought you were gonna be such a good girl,” he starts, and you feel your walls flutter. “But you’re acting like such a slut today. But it’s okay, I’m gonna give you what you want. Then you’ll be good as gold, won’t ya?” You let a whine at the thought, before Rafe lets go and drops you back onto the bed.

In one thrust, Rafe pushes himself in, and your entire body tenses up at the feeling. The stretch of your walls hurts, no matter how used to him you get, and your bones feel like putty. You can hardly hold yourself up, when Rafe starts fucking you at the brutal pace he’s set. 

The stinging of your face disappears from your mind completely while Rafe batters your pussy, his hands on your back, pushing down while you arch up. Your cheek rustles against the pillow. Nothing comes out of your mouth except whines and moans, and the occasional cry when he goes even harder.

“Just needed this dick, huh, kid?” he chokes out, pressing your face into the pillow and watching his dick slide in and out of your pussy—coated in your cream, leaking down and making a mess of his sheets. “Ain’t that right? I asked you a question.”

He grabs your hair again, lifting you just enough so you can speak. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes-”

“That’s what I thought-” and he pushes your head down again. “J’needed to be set straight, hm? You won’t ever lie to me again—” Your voice is a mess of garbles and whines, not making any sense but wanting to agree with Rafe so badly. 

Rafe’s fucking you like he hates you, and you don’t have it in you to stop and make sure he doesn’t actually hate you, because the only thing you can think about is making sure he doesn’t stop.

“Or maybe you will,” he starts, in between thrusts. “Just wanna get fucked like this, don’t you? Wasn’t enough for you to get it gentle, right, kid? You’re my little slut-” 

Rafe’s hitting that part of you that makes you see stars—unrelenting, over and over again, but it’s all of those things together—the feel of your nipples rubbing against the bed, how full you feel inside, and especially the words he’s saying—that push you over the edge. You fall apart crying, body shaking, letting out a muffled dad, dad, dad against his pillow. 

He doesn’t stop there, though, riding you through it and then pulling out, just long enough to flip you back over. 

You’re sensitive all over, your walls clenching around nothing while you stare up at Rafe, and then back down to where the two of you were connected. He grips your cheeks again, pushing himself in and staring at your fucked-out face.

He’s way too close to still be fucking you—especially raw, like this—but it’s not until you start speaking that it’s a big problem. You sound all jumbled up since he’s holding your face way too tight, and when he loosens his grip, words fall out of your mouth and he realizes what you’re saying.

“Want it inside, dad, please, please, please, fill me up—” And he finishes, leaning over you and filling your pussy up, just like you asked for. He doesn’t stop for what feels like hours but could only be minutes—you mewl at the feeling and gasp when he pulls out, cum leaking out of your hole and spoiling the sheets even further.

Rafe’s breathless, collapsing beside you and in a much better mood, because he doesn’t complain when you fall against his chest and press your face into his neck. 

He lets you sit like that for a little bit, catching your breath and letting your heart rate return to normal. 

“We made a mess,” you comment, still feeling gushes of his cum spilling out of you. 

“We’ll get it in a minute.” 

He can practically hear your thoughts, buzzing through your little head at a mile a minute, wondering what to say, how he feels, if he's still upset, probably wanting water and a shower too.

You move a little, just to get more comfortable, when Rafe grabs your face again. The side of your jaw is red from where he keeps grabbing you. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow. He doesn’t care because he’s not planning to let you out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

“Don’t lie to me again, kid. Got it?”

“Yes, Rafe,” you breathe out. "I got it."

“Good. Now let's finish this stupid movie." Rafe lets go of your face, and wraps his arm around you. 

[featherandferns]

angel (fic)

jj maybank x fem!shy!kook!reader | technically the sequel for fascinating new thing, but can be read as a stand-alone too

content warning: pure filth, to be honest; sex (f and m self-pleasure; protected, p in v)

word count: 3k

blurb: jj knows there's something hidden beneath all the layers of quiet and meek; he just has to coax it out of you.

Nobody expected JJ Maybank to end-up having a thing for you, including JJ himself. He couldn’t explain how it happened, or when exactly, but it went from him being somewhat wary of you to completely desperate to have your gaze on him. It seemed that one day you just had him: hook, line and sinker. JJ had sort of accepted that he didn’t have a chance, especially with a certain ginger haired boy lingering in the background. He’d admire from afar and settle for friendship if that’s all you could offer him. But then you kissed him, and everything seemed to fall into place. JJ was allowed privy to your thoughts and the different facets of yourself: watching you song write and waking you from a nightmare and indulging in the late-night baking. He liked every part of it. Everything that was you.

Well, almost everything.

“You can’t seriously enjoy this crap?”

“Be quiet, please,” you mumble.

JJ rolls his eyes. He has one arm under his head, propping it up so he can see the screen of your laptop, and the other on your stomach, resting atop your tee shirt. He’s spooning you, cosy under the sheets of your bed.

It’s the second time he’s been in your bedroom. It’s a nice room; perfectly encapsulates you. Vinyl records and CDs and a million and one potted plants and succulents. Fairly lights draped above your bed and around a pinboard of pictures and keepsakes, shining a delicate golden hue on your belongings. An acoustic guitar rests against the wall by your bedroom door. It’s wide open right now. No need to have it shut; your parents aren’t home.

Looking back to the screen, JJ tries and fails to hold in a sigh.

“Can you be quiet, please?” you repeat.

“Who is that? The guy?”

“George the third.”

“The third? Is that the one that murdered all his wives?”

“JJ, I can’t hear it,” you complain quietly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He barely pays attention to the drama on the screen, too busy foraging through his brains for the history of English royals. “Is he though?”

You sigh, annoyed. “No. That’s Henry the Eighth. And he didn’t murder all of them. Just two.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” JJ sarcastically replies.

For some reason, he feels as though you’ve rolled your eyes. He attempts to watch the show that you’ve become obsessed with lately. The characters don’t talk like normal people. Everything is so flowery and over-the-top that he hardly understands what they’re talking about. It’s boring and dull and overdramatic. He lets his mind wander.

“Baby?”

“JJ?”

“Just a quick question.”

“Yes?” you sigh, patience clearly dwindling.

“Is George the Third the one that got really fat?”

“No, that’s George the fourth,” you say.

“Which one’s George the third then?”

“George the third is the one that was ruler when America won its independence. I mean, do you listen to anything in history?” you chuckle. JJ feels the muscles in your belly tighten and loosen as you do.

“Sometimes,” he shrugs. “When it’s interesting. Like, I don’t get how all of this—”

“Shush! I can’t hear what they’re saying!” you snap.

JJ can’t help but snigger. He likes when you lose your temper with him; let the good-girl side of you slip for a moment to put him in his place.

He nuzzles his face into your hair. It smells like cedarwood and salt water. Maybe he’ll just have a nap. You’re not coming away from the show anytime soon – not until the episode’s done, anyway. JJ closes his eyes and vaguely tunes into the droning of dialogue. Lady this and sire that. He’s just about to properly drift off (maybe it’s been five minutes or so) when he’s woken by the feel of you pushing back against his groin. His hold tightens on your stomach and he reluctantly inches his body away slightly.

“Baby don’t do that,” he mumbles sleepily into your hair.

“Do what?” you reply, absentmindedly.

You’re still watching the Goddamn show. He’s not sure if you’re playing dumb or not.

Then, you do it again.

JJ inhales sharply. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Rubbing up on me like that,” he tells you, half-laughing. “S’not fair.”

“Sorry,” you mumble.

He opens his eyes and looks down at the laptop screen. The moment he makes out what’s happening in the show, it clicks. Oh.

Smirking, JJ can’t keep from taking the piss.

“You didn’t tell me that you’re into regency era porn.”

“Shut up,” you reply all too quickly.

“Is it like all royal era stuff or just Henry the third things?”

“George the third!”

“Tomata-tomato,” JJ mutters. Quiet. Then: “Does it have to be in a bathtub or…”

“JJ!” you whine, embarrassed. He laughs into your hair. “Stop it!”

“Alright, alright! I’m just messing around,” he sniggers.

You don’t reply, don’t even seem to be listening to him, with your eyes shamelessly fixated on the screen. JJ starts to watch too, half-curious as to what has you so entranced.

The lighting is dark. Who JJ has finally come to grasp as king George the third is fucking his wife in the bath. She’s riding him, grinding down on him, still in her dress. The music swells with sharp, dramatic violins. This time, when you push back reflexively against JJ, he doesn’t complain. Instead, he uses his hand that’s placed on your stomach to keep you there. He’s only half ashamed to admit that he’s turned on by the regency-era-sex-scene from your corny, cheesy TV show.

Half hard, he rubs against you, sighing into your hair as he does. You don’t shake him off. Instead, you push back against him.

And then, the scene stops. It’s daylight. Cutting to a scene in a conservatory.

JJ shifts his hand so it’s under your tee shirt, moving to stroke at the skin. He feels your stomach constrict underneath his touch, as if you’re holding your breath, and then relax. He places a kiss to your neck, then another, and begins to work on a hickey. You let out a shaking breath, eyes only half-focused on the show, now. One of your hands comes down to lay atop of his, though not in discouragement. JJ can’t help but rut against you again. In the haze of kissing at your throat, he finds himself wishing a silent prayer that you won’t pull away this time.

He doesn’t mind waiting. Really, he doesn’t. He’d probably wait forever for you (if he really had to). He knows how nervous you get; knows all of this is new to you. Understands. Doesn’t want you to feel pressured. But, God, JJ would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to fuck you. That he didn’t jack off almost every night to the thought of it. That seeing you, drenched head to toe, stood in nothing but a bikini after surfing didn’t have him shifting in his seat. That having you pressing up against him like you had been tonight didn’t make his mind shoot off to the darkest, dirtiest places. So, yes, he’ll stop if you ask, but he’s praying, borderline close to begging, that you don’t.

Your fingers loop into his hair, pulling him off your neck. He shifts enough back so you can turn your head, meeting his eyes. Your breathing heavier than usual, lips wet as if you’ve been licking at them. Your eyes are dancing over his face, back to his eyes, glancing at his lips. JJ’s hand on your stomach continues scratching softly at your skin. He gently rubs himself against you. Please.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whisper. There’s a tinge of nerves to your voice.

JJ nods. Swallows. “I know.”

“But…I want to,” you quietly say. A smile teasing at the corner of your lips as you nod. “If you do, that is.”

JJ leans down so his forehead bumps against yours. He exhales a chuckle against your lips. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about since the hammock.”

You giggle, perhaps a little stunned at the confession, and then your lips are on his.

JJ’s rolling onto his back, sighing into the kiss, pulling you atop of him. His hand that was under his head now reaches out to close the laptop, shoving it to the foot of the bed (hopefully where it won’t fall off). Then he’s kissing you with newfound hunger. Tongue slipping into your mouth lewdly, brushing against yours, swallowing your sighs and breaths. Whenever you break apart, it’s for less than a moment. Your hands have come up to cradle his face, fingers splayed across his cheek and jaw. One of his resides on your waist, squeezing at the skin, and his other has fallen onto your bare thigh; the pyjama shorts you’re wearing having ridden up.

When you lean back against him, rolling down on his crotch, JJ groans against your lips. The gasp you let out is small, startled, as you feel him, hard against you.

“We don’t have to,” JJ reminds you, though the id in him is crying out yes, we do. Please.

You shake your head, hands still on his face. “I want to.”

Thank fucking God.

As the two of begin to kiss again, JJ lets his hand creep up your stomach. His fingers gently trace up the soft skin. He feels the ripples of your breaths as he goes; they’re uneven. Bringing his hand up to your chest, cupping at the bare skin, you sigh against him. He begins to tenderly palm at your breast, running a finger back and forth over your nipple, grinning to himself as he feels it harden at his touch.

You’re grinding back on him now, making him uncomfortably hard under his boxers, sensitive as he rubs against the fabric. JJ opens his eyes to look up at you, your kiss naturally breaking as you begin to breath more and more heavy. Frowns as he sees you dig your teeth into your lower lip. He lifts his hand from off your thigh to bring his thumb to your lips, tugging it free.

“I wanna hear you,” JJ mumbles, tone only slightly demanding.

You open your eyes. They’re angel-like; innocent and shining under the fairy-light glow. Then, you do something that has him twitching, horny past the point of no return. You take his thumb into your mouth and suckle at his finger. JJ groans at the sight. Jesus Christ. Something in you seems to shine through and take control. You don’t say anything as you hold his hand in both of yours, guiding his thumb out your mouth only to begin sucking on his pointer finger. Your eyes slip shut as you do, as if you’re getting off on doing so, and you sigh out a quiet moan. JJ feels himself begin to smirk, taken aback somewhat. Okay…

Pulling his finger from out of your mouth tentatively, he lets his thumb pinch at your chin. The dampness of your spit streaks onto your skin, if only slightly. JJ suddenly knows what his new favourite thought of you is. Your chest is rising and falling, lips parted, cheeks warm as if there’s a part of you longing to be embarrassed. But you’re not. Not shying away from him, at least. JJ’s hands find the hem of your shirt and coax it over your head. As he goes, he guides you to lie down on your back – head at the foot of the bed – and crawls on top of you. One of your feet hesitantly rubs at the back of his calve. Then your fingers are tugging at the bottom of his top and he leans back to take it off. Easing back down to kiss at your chest, he can’t help but sigh against the sensitive skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your nails dig into the skin of his back. You don’t reply, but he feels as though you’re shaking your head. Glancing up, he frowns.

“You are,” he repeats.

“Can you not say things like that to me right now…” you mumble, retreating back into yourself.

JJ sighs, somewhat disappointed.

“Sorry,” you add. It makes JJ chuckle, his breath fanning against your chest.

“You don’t gotta be sorry, baby,” he replies, moving to kiss at one of your nipples. One of your hands creeps up to his face, fingers slipping into his hair. A small gasping exhale at the sensation. “Just wish you saw yourself the way I see you, sometimes.”

You’re sighing at the attention he’s giving your body. His hand comes up to grope at your neglected breast. More gasps, more breaths. You’re still so quiet. JJ knows it’s in there, could see it trying to break out when you were sucking on his fingers, he just has to coax it out of you.

Leaning back (a string of spit following), JJ sits back on his haunches and takes you in. Wonders what to do with you, as if you’re fully at his mercy. You’re looking at him, watching him. Laid out on your back, near bare and gorgeous, breathing heavy. You're half covering your chest, not used to being so exposed before someone.

Maybe he’ll just fuck you now. JJ's barely holding it together as it is. No, you’ll be too tight if he does. He has to remind himself that this is new to you. He wants it to be worth it. Wants it to be perfect. Not only that, but he also wants you to appreciate yourself and your body the way he does. Words clearly aren’t gonna cut it; you go squeamish at the faintest of compliments. But maybe…

JJ feels the shadow of a smirk grow on his face with an idea. Makes your lips twitch with a frown, as if confused where his mind might be. The he’s reaching for your spare hand that’s found purchase in the bed sheets. Taking it by the wrist, he guides it over your body, down to your shorts. Your eyes dart up from following it, meeting his eyes. Your lips move as if to say something, but you don’t. So quiet.

“I got an idea,” JJ tells you. He’s so hard it hurts, but he can’t pass up on this opportunity.

Your gaze doesn’t break apart from JJ’s as you let him guide your hand with his under the hem of your shorts. He manoeuvres your fingers easily (you pliant like a doll) and slides it through your folds. You’re soaking. The feel of it makes you gasp. Leaning down, using his other arm to prop himself above you, he guides your conjoined touch back and forth, skimming over your clit. The brief, fleeting touch makes you moan.

JJ smirks. There it is.

“Feel good, huh?” he breaths against your ear, teasingly. You don’t reply but he feels your hand gain more control, working to finger yourself. JJ chuckles. “Knew you were dirty underneath all the good-girl shit you put on.”

It seems that whatever strap was holding you together has snapped. Your honeyed voice is crying out, in moans and whines. Eyes shut, head tilted back, and JJ basks in the sight of you. He gradually lets his hand leave yours, slipping out of your shorts, and watches as you continue getting yourself off underneath your shorts. Chews on the inside of his cheek as he does, bucking against your leg desperately. He can’t help but pull himself out of his boxers, jacking off at the sight. At your sweet, hopeless sounds. Your spare hand is coming to his throat, pulling at his jaw, guiding his lips to yours in a lustful, messy kiss. You’re moaning into his mouth, gasping, voice high and desperate.

“Good girl,” JJ croons. It spurs you on. He’s smirking again, gasping through his own pleasure. Fuck. You’re perfect. How are you so Goddamn perfect?

“You close, baby? You gonna come?”

Your reply comes in a stammered, broken gasp. Yes.

JJ forces his hand from himself, quickly moving to grab at your wrist, pulling your fingers away. They’re drenched. You whine at the loss of contact, so close to the edge it seems, and he chuckles darkly against your jawline.

“Not yet,” he simply says.

As JJ moves to take off your shorts, shucking off his boxers in this process, he catches a glimpse of your hand moving back up your body. His eyes flick up just in time to see you slip your used fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. Fuck. How JJ doesn’t come on the spot is beyond him. You open your eyes, catching his gaze, and meekly pull them from your mouth. Before you can form the inevitable apology you’re bound to give, JJ’s darting down to capture your mouth in a kiss. Then, he’s climbing atop of you, rubbing at your entrance. Has the both of you gasping against one another.

“Wait,” you mumble, pulling back. “We need a condom.”

“Shit, yeah,” JJ pants. He’d forgotten about that. You point vaguely to your bedside table.

“There should be one in there. Somewhere.”

JJ chuckles slightly and nods, leaning back to riffle through. He can’t help but notice the vibrator, making a mental note of that for another day. Finding one, he’s coming back to you, sliding it on, desperate to be inside of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he keeps his eyes on you.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

“I will,” you quietly reply, a hand coming up to cup at his jaw.

JJ nods and begins to slide in. His eyes reflexively shut; he can’t help it. It feels fucking amazing. Sex with feelings is better than any kegger hook-up he’s ever had.

But you’re tight, too tight, and it’s like your body is trying to push him out. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see your face twisted in pain, lips pursed and eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, thumbing at your cheek. You force your eyes open, gazing up at him. “You gotta relax, alright? Just breath out for me.”

You take a moment then do as he asks. He feels your body soften. Nudging a bit further in, you actively try not to go tight again.

“It’s just me,” he reminds you. “You’re doing so good, alright?”

To keep you lax, he rubs gently at your clit. Eventually, your body opens up to him. Once JJ’s eased all the way in, you’re squeezing him like a vice.

“You can move, JayJ,” you say, almost anxious that he isn’t.

JJ laughs a little. He won’t last a second if he moves right now. Closing his eyes, composing himself, he replies, “I really can’t. Gimme a second.”

Soon enough, the two of you sink into a rhythm. JJ places a hand one side of your head, another on your hip, angling you up slightly. Your back begins to arch and you’re moaning again, and JJ decides that it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. Prettier than when you sing. The sounds echoing off the bedroom walls are filthy enough to make Satan himself blush.

"Fuck baby. Feel so fucking good."

Groaning against your shoulder, moaning into your ear, JJ feels his resolve begin to break. He’s close. The way your body is reacting to him has him thinking you are too. His hand leaves your hip to rub at your clit. Quick, firm circles. You start to gasp, high pitched and euphoric, and JJ know he can’t last much longer. It’s too good.

The moment you finish, JJ lets go. The two of you come almost together, riding it out, clinging to each other as if you’ll float away if not. JJ eventually let’s himself collapse on top of you, breathing shallow and frantic. You’re still clenching around him, body dealing with the aftershocks.

JJ’s not sure how he’s supposed to go about the rest of his life knowing what it’s like to have you in bed. How he’s meant to get anything done with the memory of how you sound, gasping out his name. The picture stained in his mind of you sucking your fingers clean.

He presses a kiss to your damp neck, then another and another until he somehow finds your mouth. You sigh as you kiss him back, a hand coming to cradle at his face yet again. He pulls back, opens his eyes into yours, and you give him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. Bashful and blissed out and beautiful.

“I love you,” you tell him, still a little breathless.

JJ smiles back. Heart stammers.

You wanted him. You picked him.

Kissing you once more, tender and fleeting, JJ sighs. “I love you too.”

[bcacstuff]

The clock may be ticking for Outlander on TV, but the story is everlasting for bestselling author Diana Gabaldon, who writes the historical fantasy books (nine and counting!) upon which the show is based. Debuting in 1991, the first Outlander novel has spawned several sequels, spinoff novellas, and ultimately the intense Starz drama that viewers have come to love. With the final episodes on the horizon and new prequel series Blood of My Blood forthcoming, Gabaldon reflects on the show’s end and offers a peek inside her notebook.

What have you been happy to see so far in Season 7?

Diana Gabaldon: One of the things the Outlander production as a whole does really well is battle scenes. We’ve had a certain amount of the [American Revolution’s] Battle of Ticonderoga, the first Battle of Saratoga, and a lot of the second Battle of Saratoga. And I absolutely loved the actor playing Benedict Arnold, Rod Hallett. The casting this season has been spectacular. Every character is just right.

Would you say that Benedict Arnold was the character you were most excited for fans to meet this season?

He is historically fascinating, and I did a lot of research work on him because he plays a large part in more than one of the books. And we’ll see him again in Book 10. His story is very interesting. Everybody knows how his story ends, or at least they think they do. But yes, I was just impressed that, between the script and the actor, they pretty much nailed him and captured his sense of reckless adventure and his charm. Luckily, they used a lot of the book dialogue for it, some of which was taken from things that Benedict Arnold himself said.

With the show set to conclude with Season 8, do you have an ending in mind for Claire and Jamie’s story on the page?

Yes, I have shared the ending scenes with [the creative team]. But as to the actual way the story comes to a conclusion? No, they don’t know that. [Laughs] But we’ll get there. I don’t write in a straight line, and I don’t work with an outline. This is why it takes me several years to write one book — not only the way that I write, which I describe as like playing Tetris in my head, but also just the sheer size and the fact that they are books of a continuing nature.

You’ve shared a few excerpts from your 10th novel in the series. Is there anything else you can tease about it?

Well, I’m still writing it. And I have a title, but I’m not revealing that until we’re a bit closer to publication. I don’t want to rub all the “new” off it. I can tell you that it’s got whales.

You’ve also written Season 2’s “Vengeance Is Mine,” “Journeycake” in Season 5, and the upcoming 14th installment in Season 7. Can we anticipate more scripts from you?

Yeah, it’s so much easier than writing novels. [Laughs] It takes me three weeks tops to write a scene. I will be writing a script for the prequel [Blood of My Blood] and one for Season 8 [of Outlander].

Though only one season has been given the green light, how long do you envision the prequel’s story to be onscreen?

Well, the television version isn’t up to me, but for what it’s worth, I have material for three —  relatively short, as compared to the main Outlander novels — prequel books concerning Jamie’s parents. Blood of My Blood is based on the synopsis of the first of those books.

Apart from the ones you’ve written, are there any episodes you love so much that you wish you had?

Oh, yeah. There’s always at least one per season where I’m thinking, “Oh, this is fabulous.” It would be [Episode 8, “Turning Points”] for Season 7.

Do you have a favorite memory from your times visiting the set?

It would probably be the first season where they invited me to do a cameo [as Iona MacTavish] in Episode 4. It was fascinating being part of the set rather than visiting it. I was a cast member for three days. It was just interesting to see how it all worked.

Were you able to make it to set for Season 8?

God willing, I will be on set for a week or so next month [September 2024]. They’ll be filming the final block, for which I wrote one of the scripts, so I’d like to see a bit of it live. The last time I was on set for a prolonged period — as opposed to drop-in visits — was for Season 2’s “Vengeance Is Mine.” The food from craft services was always excellent, so I’m hoping to have a toastie, and I’m looking forward to seeing good friends.

How have the main cast’s performances surpassed what you envisioned on the page?

Sam Heughan does a fantastic job with Jamie, and Caitríona [Balfe], while she doesn’t look like the Claire of the books, certainly acts like her and is totally immersive in her character. I’ve [never] seen a bad performance by anyone at any level.

What will you miss most about the show?

I’ll miss the entertainment value of seeing dailies five nights a week, but otherwise, I’m not troubled. The end of a great adventure is always a bit traumatic and nostalgic — but it does leave you with a feeling of specialness, accomplishment, of having been part of a great endeavor. And they do live in my head, you know…

Are there more stories in this universe that you still wish to explore?

There’s always more I could write. Making the optimistic assumption that I’m going to live long enough, I have notes for [time traveler] Master Ray-Mond’s book (no title on that one yet) and for another [about Claire’s first husband, Frank], titled What Frank Knew.

Will you feel sad saying goodbye to Jamie and Claire?

I really don’t think I will — the main books are written with a lot of lacunae — spaces where we move from one block of story to another, leaving a hiatus of months (or sometimes years) in someone’s life. I can, should I want to, always go back to one of those places and write what happened while everyone was looking somewhere else.

Outlander, Season 7B, Fridays, 8/7c, Starz (Midnight on the Starz App and On Demand)

This is an excerpt from TV Guide Magazine’s Outlander: Claire & Jamie’s Love Story For The Ages issue. For a deep-dive into the historical romance, scoop on the second half of Season 7, and details on the upcoming prequel, pick up a copy of the issue available on newsstands and for order online at Outlander2024.com.

Article posted 29 November 2024

[kiwiana-writes]

hi MJ!! for the sleepover weekend asks, i'd love some fluffy and a few hurt/comfort firstprince fic recs! and and for fmk: bea, june and nora from rwrb! okay thats it byebye ~saturday xoxo

Forgive me: I sat on this one for so long it's now officially NEXT weekend, at least in my part of the planet, so I guess answering this is also me kicking off this weekend's slumber party 😅

I'm doing FMK first, even though I need you to know this is CRUEL. Fuck Nora, marry Bea, kill June, but I am absolutely relying on Nora's smarts/Pez's cash to get her out of this situation.

Anyway:

FLUFFY FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

take me back to San Francisco by @getmehighonmagic: this has a sequel languishing in my emails for that magical future day when I'm capable of reading again but I have no doubt it'll be just as incredible as part one, which is FUCKING DIVINE. Also I just... really wanna go to San Francisco.

You love me! You love me? by anarchyat4am: How often I shoehorn a rec for this fic wherever it might be even remotely applicable is sort of a running joke by this point but I stand by it actually. This is a massive comfort fic for my trans ass.

Confidential Memorandum by @sherryvalli: this fic is so stinkin' cute I feel like I need to book a dental appointment every time I read it.

Dick, Dick, Dick (You Down) by @everwitch-magiks: do I feel a deep abiding kinship with Henry's anxiety being read as rudeness in this fic? Maybe, shut up.

Getting Clinical by @cha-melodius: Yes I'm biased because this was a gift for me, no I don't care, IT'S A FUCKING DELIGHT.

In His Wildest Dreams by @myheartalivewrites: This fic is a fucking fluffy blanket of joy.

If at first you don't succeed by @clottedcreamfudge: I am lowkey obsessed with CCF second first impressions and Alex being blissfully unaware until he's not.

HURT/COMFORT FIRSTPRINCE FIC RECS

a shard or two by @aeithalian: you don't read WIPs? I don't care. Read this one. I beg of you. Hands down the most criminally underrated fic in this entire fandom in my opinion. It is so, SO good. I reread it all the time in between chapters, I am hoping DESPERATELY the author will let me ficbind it when it's done, and I will scream about it from the fucking ROOFTOPS to convince y'all to read it. No cliffhangers, no relationship drama, just the meatiest post-canon deliciousness.

(but i knew you) baby, kiss it better by saintsnames: age gap my beloved, sex bloopers my beloved, two idiots in love MY BELOVED.

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie) and even though we know it isn't true by @matherines: double-reccing even though these can be read separately because HAHA OUCH MY HEART. Both of these fics just fucking flayed me alive????

you were more than just a short time by @hypnostheory: DAVID 😭😭😭😭😭😭 mind the living fuck out of the tags but FUCK this is good. Heartbreaking, but good.

Downburst by @cricketnationrise had me clutching my face from start to finish I swear to god.

So I Will Weather the Storm by @sparklepocalypse: while reading this, picture me just screaming ALEX YOU FUCKING DUMBASS at my computer the entire time and it'll be like you were right here with me the first time I read it!

The Domestication of Household Spiders by @cultofsappho: if Spider-Man Alex has no fans I am dead etc etc. This is so fucking SOFT from start to finish.

[Sleepover weekend!]

[a-living-canvas]

Would you make a sequel of Darling Fool? It's got me QOXIWIXJKQKZAK SCREAMING PUKING CRYING AND SOBBING

I hope you enjoy this! <333

Part 1

Darling Fool II

"Excuse me?"

Whumpee turned their head to an old lady beside them. They returned her smile as she looked at them up and down. It's a normal thing for Whumpee by now, having people glancing up at them, at their scars and bandages.

Whumpee flinched when the old lady snapped her fingers in front of them, grounding them back to reality. 

"Yes?"

The old lady smiled sympathetically at Whumpee. She wrapped Whumpee's hands, the warm contact made Whumpee's heart flutter slightly. "Did something happen? Is it your parents? Or your dad—"

"No, no. Nothing happened."

Not with their family, of course. But with Whumper. Tormenting them everyday with their sick games. It's exhausting, but Whumpee felt better living with Whumper when they just accepted their fate.

The only reason they could talk with the old lady right now was because Whumper trusted them enough not to run, and to come back with the groceries to cook for dinner. Without a collar or leash and without cameras…maybe?

Thinking back, maybe the collar still wrapped around their neck…just not visible to the eyes. The invisible string that made Whumpee kept coming back to Whumper, even though they were given many chances to escape. 

Whumpee still remembered the relief on Whumper's face when they did return  along with the groceries that day. It had been etched into their mind until now. And they couldn't help but wonder why their tormentor would be glad to see them again when Caretaker looked at them in disgust. Someone that was supposed to love and care for them. 

"Are you sure? You don't look okay—"

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Whumpee walked away from the old lady. They felt like calling Whumper, asking them to protect them from all these nuisances. But they wouldn't want to bother Whumper, they wanted to be good for them. At least their punishment would be lessened that way. 

They could still feel the sting on their back from Whumper's belt last night. Wondering what could have went wrong, maybe they should be more responsive.

"Whumpee!"

Whumpee stopped their movement for a second but then they continued walking, faster this time. They knew that voice, and they hated it. Whumpee made their way to the crowd but before they could blend in, a firm hand wrapped around their arm. 

Whumpee jerked away instantly, hissing in pain. Caretaker frowned, approaching Whumpee again with a worried face. "Whumpee…I-I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Whumpee tried to back away but Caretaker suddenly cupped their cheeks, looking at them with eyes glistening with tears. "I was missing you, so so badly. Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you tell me that you finally escape from Whumper?"

Fake.

Fake tears.

Fake concern.

Fake everything.

"I didn't escape from them."

Whumpee said, grabbing Caretaker's wrists and lifted their hands away from their face. Caretaker felt panic rising on their chest at Whumpee's action. They never denied their touch before.

"Whumpee, please come home. I don't know what Whumper did to you that made you change but you can't trust them…! They are manipulating you."

Whumpee blinked twice, looking at Caretaker with indifference. Maybe they should call Whumper, after all.

Caretaker grabbed Whumpee's arms, sighing in frustration as they trailed their gaze all over their form. "Look at what they did to you Whumpee…!"

Caretaker narrowed their eyes. "You are broken. Look at those scars and wounds! Can't…can't you see how ugly—"

Before Caretaker could finish their sentence, a harsh slap landed on their face. Whumpee's eyes widened, they looked at Whumper who was standing between Caretaker and them. Whumper looked angry and annoyed, their commanding voice sent shivers down Whumpee's spine. 

"Stay behind me, pet."

"Y-yes, master…"

Caretaker looked at Whumper in disbelief, not expecting them to be here. They tried to pull Whumpee to their side but Whumper's glare was enough to shut them down. "W-whumpee, come back here please…" Caretaker pleaded.

Whumper let out a soft chuckle hearing that, wrapping their arm around Whumpee's waist possessively. "They won't do that. They already have me."

"No, they aren't. They are just scared of you."

Whumper raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

They pushed Whumpee forward to Caretaker before crossing their arms. Whumpee immediately panicked at the change of situation. 

"Go ahead. Take 'em."

Caretaker sighed in relief. They pulled Whumpee into a warm embrace before Whumpee pushed them away, running to Whumper and clinging on to them tightly.

"N-no, Master! Please…please don't leave me!"

"Oh? Isn't that what you want?"

Whumpee looked up at Whumper, shaking their head desperately. "No! I want to stay…I want to stay with you, Master! Please…!"

"Shh…don't make a fuss. We are in public, remember?"

Whumper stroked Whumpee's hair, watching Caretaker with a smirk. They tightened their grip on Whumpee when Caretaker tried to reach for them again. "Ah ah ah, no touching my property."

"They are not your property!"

Whumper hummed, looking down at Whumpee. A smug grin returned to their face. "Is that true, Whumpee?"

"N-no, master! I'm your property! I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours…."

Whumpee buried their face against Whumper's chest, tears streaming down their face. Whumper smiled softly, feeling contentment washed over them. 

"I understand that, little one. But maybe Caretaker here needs more explanation from you?"

Whumpee nodded, wiping their tears away as they turned to look at Caretaker. Resentment dripped down from their voice and Caretaker's heart clenched tightly inside their ribcage.

"I don't need you anymore. Please forget about me "

"Whumpee, please—"

"Don't come searching for me. I don't want to see your face again."

Caretaker was left in shock and disgust. They balled their fists, eyes tearing up in frustration as they watched Whumpee walked away with Whumper, away from them. Caretaker sighed, muttering softly under their breath,

"You will regret this, Whumpee…"

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes

[lewkwoodnco]

I got options, babe - Lockwood x Reader

“It’s a snow globe.”

In a miraculous moment of clarity, she realised what George was violently trying to communicate to her from behind Lockwood: play dumb.

”What’s a snow globe?”

George was positively beside himself.

a/n: the people have spoken so here is part 2 to buy me presents! am so sad i fell a little sick during the hols, threw a terrible wrench in my 12 days of fics plans for last year but i'm alr planning ahead for this year :))) yes its xmas themed but the vibes are close enough to valentines so shush. if i was in the l&co universe i would pay good money to see someone tell george to live laugh love, and i would tip extra if it was lockwood hehe. also I tagged a few extra ppl who seemed interested in a sequel!

warnings/tropes: lockwood x glassmith!reader, mostly fluffy, only a smidge of angst towards the end, clueless lockwood my beloved <3

word count: 2.6k!

buy me presents (pt 1)

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

When Lockwood had shaken George awake plenty of hours before, it had taken a while for George's brain to catch up to what was happening. By the time it did, he was worriedly watching Lockwood animatedly talking to one of the shop assistants from a nearby telephone booth.

"No idea what it is, or why..." he was telling Lucy. Lockwood was looking around for him. George nervously shifted behind one of the bars of the booth. 

"Maybe he's just blowing off some steam?"

Lockwood was now wearing an aggressively tinseled Santa hat while wielding an identical one. George had a pretty good idea who that was for.

"Er, maybe. But perhaps you should come home too. Just in case."

Lockwood had finally spotted George and was frantically waving him over. George did not like the way the Christmas lights were reflecting in Lockwood's eyes.

"For the love of God, Luce, please come home. You can't leave with me...this."

With a bone-deep sigh, George regretfully hung up and emerged from the telephone booth, smiling weakly at Lockwood.

He was more than grateful for his presence of mind earlier, once they had reached Portland Row. Lucy walked in just minutes after Lockwood's unpleasant realisation about Nicholas and guffawed at the sight of the tiny tsunami of gifts.

"Brilliant," George said. "Your turn." He handed Lucy one of the last presents he had been holding and disappeared into the kitchen. She turned towards Lockwood incredulously, who was indignantly standing in front of the sea of presents with his hands on his hips. She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, okay, I see how it is. I buy a few gi-"

"In what WORLD is this few-"

"- few gifts, and suddenly I'm the bad guy. It's Christmas, but I'm feeling a lot of negativity pent up here."

"Now you're just deflecting." Lucy rolled her eyes as Lockwood started fishing out some receipts from his pockets.

"Can't a guy spend...uh...three-oh. Oh. That's a lot of zeroes."

"Lockwood. How much did you spend?"

"...suddenly, I don't think I know any numbers past ten."

"Lockwood!"

"I couldn't figure out the installment plans! That's Y/N's job!"

George returned to the front door corridor and started picking up some boxes at random and shaking them experimentally.

"Yeah, a fine job you've left her to sort out your debts! No more shopping till Easter. And George, if you don't steal his wallet, I will."

He held up the present he was holding to Lockwood. "Listen, I don't think Y/N's going to want all of these, so how about I -"

"Absolutely not."

George made a rather rude gesture and disappeared back into the kitchen. Lockwood bent over to start clearing a path through the presents to the stairs.

"How was I supposed to know she was only kidding?"

"You know what her sense of humour's like. George and I would have picked up on it in a second."

A very unhappy Lockwood straightened out from under the avalanche of presents. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A little before lunch, Lockwood knocked on the attic door. It was ajar, and she was reading in a contorted position, all twisted up with a blanket on her rug in the one patch of sunlight in the room, leaning against her bed. She nearly tipped over when Lockwood poked his head in, but caught herself in time.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They stared at each other for a moment. It was the first time they had been alone since the morning's happenings, and it didn't feel as easy to laugh about it all when it was just them. Because the truth was, she didn't find it all that funny. Confusing, yes. Stressful, perhaps. But it wasn't that funny when all the emotions felt excruciatingly true. She closed her book, and Lockwood took another step in, leaning against the bannister.

"I'm sorry about the whole Nicholas thing. I was having a laugh, that's all. I never wanted to make you seem...foolish."

"I don't even remember Nicholas. I mean, that guy."

"Lockwood."

"Who's Loc- I mean, Nicholas? I'm Lockwood."

"Yes, I know."

"And I don't feel foolish. Do you think I'm foolish?"

She smiled at him with rheumy eyes, and his face twisted strangely like he was suppressing his own smile. His eyes drifted to the book in her lap, and the blanket swaddling her face.

"Er, reading?"

"Trying to. The sun's making me feel so sleepy."

"Then move out of the sun. Or take a nap."

She glared at him, scoffing incomprehensibly. "T-take a nap? What am I, 5? And we barely get any sun as it is, I'm trying to thaw my insides."

"Can you even breathe in that?"

She took a wheezing breath. "...yes."

Still, Lockwood sat down next to her, and after a bit of scuffling, she was tipped slightly to her side, leaning against him slightly. She was starting to regret using such a thick blanket through which she barely felt his shoulder. He picked up the book and opened it to the pages her finger was stuck between, and started reading. She closed her eyes and listened. It was some dream to be sitting next to him, without the usual inches between, to hear his honeyed voice ebb and flow, to watch his fingers smooth the pages and fiddle with the edges.

It was mildly disconcerting to hear the shape of his voice take on such a poetic form as if they were in some parallel universe. As if they were in some parallel universe where falling in love was easier than falling asleep.

A few hours later, she woke up on her bed with a jolt, writhing uncomfortably in her blanket. Once she had managed to peel herself out of it, the embarrassment of having fallen asleep on him sunk in. She needed something to take her mind off it and eventually decided to tinker in her workshop. Down in the basement, she had a small makeshift workshop set up for the occasional tinkering or fiddling with some spare parts. It helped her mind relax when her hands had something to do.

She spent a very peaceful hour regluing some tiny diamonds that had fallen off an old watch. That was, until a door banged open from somewhere else in the house, followed by frantic voices. She looked up in alarm as the footsteps drew closer, blinking owlishly behind her magnifying eyeglasses. Her door swung open and Lockwood walked in, closely followed by a barely suppressed silent, but very agitated, George.

“Y/N, look what I found in George’s suitcase.”

Between the panicked sirens blaring in her head and George’s epileptic hand gestures, it was a miracle she was able to process all those words in the right order.

“…oh?”

A frozen smile sat on her face as her eyes nervously darted between the boys’ faces.

“It’s a snow globe.”

In a miraculous moment of clarity, she realised what George was violently trying to communicate to her: play dumb.

”What’s a snow globe?”

George was positively beside himself.

Lockwood, on the other hand, looked alarmed and touchingly concerned.

“You...you don’t know what a snow globe is? Do they not have snow globes where you’re from?”

“Did you just ask me if they have snow globes…in Hackney?”

He looked slightly miffed, but she couldn’t stay annoyed for long with his foolishly good-natured intentions.

“Look, Lockwood, I’m a little busy here. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I just…wanted to see if you knew anything about this.” He turns it over in his hand, and even with the shelter of anonymity, she finds herself desperately seeking the approval in his eyes that she had been hoping for. “It’s...it's beautiful. When I first saw it, I thought…” He looks up from the snow globe at her, where she’s holding her breath, and she’s distantly aware of how suspiciously invested she must seem in his answer.

“I thought it had to be you.”

She has his answer, but she still hasn’t let go of that breath, as if keeping at bay all the emotions and hope that will come rushing in with her exhale. He watches her face, and she’s too scared to even twitch. Too scared to come right out and say everything the snow globe meant.

“You thought wrong."

George’s seizure-like convulsions returned with a new vigour. Lockwood continues standing there for another minute, and it makes her think he hasn’t heard her until he regretfully bows his head.

“I suppose. Well, I hope your work won’t keep you long. We'll be having tea soon. Let’s- good God, George, are you having a fit?!”

After their Christmas Eve tea, they exchanged presents, and to call it an awkward affair would have been an understatement. She passed Lockwood the pair of snowman socks. George grudgingly passed him the snow globe. The absurdity of the gifts and their donors made the four of them pause for a moment. 

Finally, Lucy broke the quiet by handing out her gifts: mugs with pictures of Inspector Barnes accompanied with cheesy quotes. George's was 'live, laugh, love.' Lockwood's was 'keep calm and carry on.' But everyone was still looking far too solemn, so she nearly had an aneurysm holding back her laughter.

After they all retired to their rooms, she retreated into her chilly workshop. But instead of continuing with her work, she just sat at her desk, brooding a little. A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door as a rather breathless and pink-faced Lockwood poked his head in.

"Still working?"

She shook her head. "What are you doing?"

"Returning the presents." He turned to step out but hesitated. "Are you sure you don't want to keep any?"

"I'm sure that I would hate it if we went bankrupt. Do you need any help?"

"Oh, no, I'll be - yes. Yes, actually. These are a lot of presents. If you could spare the time...I'd really appreciate it."

So after she bundled up in her woollens and wrestled a scarf onto Lockwood, they somehow hurriedly carted the many slightly scuffed shopping bags into the cab, where they only had a brief break to catch their breath, given how close they lived to the shops. 

After that, it was a race to hit all the stores before they closed for Christmas Eve. After a couple of rounds, they had developed the fairly efficient system of Lockwood lugging the gifts around while she spoke with the shop assistants. The one drawback to their fine plan, at least for him, was her glancing at the receipts and the too-long numbers at the bottom of them ("Jesus Christ, Lockwood, how did you not have to take out a loan for these? Honestly! Do you think we're made of money?").

Finally, their luck ran out at their very last store, which looked as though it had been closed for hours. She knocked and peered inside feverishly, clutching the very last gift stubbornly.

"No, no, we were so close! Now what do we do?"

"We can come back after the holidays. Or," he gently pried the box out of her fingers, smoothly lifting the top, "you could keep it."

It was a silver charm bracelet, with rapier and lavender charms dangling from the central chain, much like the ones they laid out on jobs. It was beautiful. But she couldn't take it.

"You already gave me a present."

"Have another. A little special something for a special someone."

His cavalier attitude, his foolish smile - in that moment, it was all too much. Her terrible temper flared and she shoved the present into him, forcefully enough to make him stumble a little. She turned and started walking home briskly, fuming silently until he and his long legs finally caught up to her.

"Wha - was it something I said? Y/N? Y/N."

"I don't know, Lockwood." She was sick of his carelessness, sick enough to be a little careless herself, let her tongue run loose. "What have you said? Or haven't said?"

"Y/N, you know I'm terrible at riddles."

"Well, maybe Belinda can help you."

That stuns him enough to make him stop in his tracks. She slows down and, after steeling her fraught nerves, turns around.

"...what does Belinda have to do with anything?"

His hopelessly clueless expression, which typically soothed her anger in their worst fights, only served to infuriate her further here. She walked towards him angrily.

“I didn't want to give you the goddamn snow globe because Belinda exists. All right? Because there are a thousand different girls out there who you’ll like better than me.” There’s a sudden tightness in her chest. With some difficulty, she turns away from him, lightly pressing her sternum. “I can’t compete with them, Lockwood. I won’t let you make me.”

She hears the crunch of the snow under his shoe as he takes a step towards her.

"Belinda is...amazing. She might even be perfect. But even she's just a friend, because...because you exist. And-and I could find...the most perfect girls out there, but the image of you would still be breathing in some corner of my mind. It wouldn't be the same with anyone else. It never is."

She sniffed gently. "This might be the right time to tell you that the snow globe...was from me."

She can't decide if she hates or loves how she can hear the smile in his voice. "No. Really?"

She turns back around, smiling sarcastically at him. "Ha-ha. But don't get too excited about it. I made little figurines to represent the four of us at Portland Row, but you can't even see them from the outside. It's ridiculous."

"It's okay. I'll know they're there."

At that moment, she felt a rush of gratitude towards Lockwood. He made everything a little easier, a little sweeter. They were standing so close that she could see a tiny snowflake on one of his eyelashes. She didn't dare breathe.

"There really never was any competition."

"I know."

"Then why does it sound like you don't believe me?"

She frowned. "I do believe you."

"I don't think you do."

"...do you want me to not believe you?"

"Y/N."

"What?"

"There's something you should know."

"Lockwood, I am going to throttle you."

"You're standing under mistletoe."

She glanced upwards, and it was as though all the air had been stolen from her lungs. Against the pitch-black sky and the gentle dusting of snow, a soft white sprig of mistletoe was curling out of the edge of a branch. She lowered her eyes back to Lockwood's, and her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned over.

As impossibly close as they were before, they were even closer now, and it still felt like they would spend their whole lives trying to get close enough to each other. She kissed him the way she loved him - desperately, with her whole being. When they broke apart, the tip of his nose and cheeks were tinged pink, and there was a light dusting of snow on his hair. In that moment, all she remembered thinking was that none of his presents made a better gift than he did.

As they walked home with fingers tangled together, she realised that they didn't need some parallel universe. In every universe, they would somehow, somewhere, find each other, and dare to love. 

TAGLIST: @novelizt @thegreathuxton @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

baby come back

♡ STEVE HARRINGTON'S MASTERLIST ♡

❁ AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE ❁

This is a sequel to "Careless Whisper"

✧ Summary : they say "you should leave all the past behind" but what if they deserve a second chance?

✧ Word Count : it might be long but I hope it's worth it

✧ Warnings : 18+ MDNI‼️ Past!Ex-Boyfriend!King Steve! Harrington x FEM!reader, eventual smut, cursing, mentions of bad household, complicated father & son relationship, slight emotion invalidation & misogyny, cheating, separated parents, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking, child neglect, trauma, intense confrontations, fluff, angst, not giving away anything! don't wanna give you guys ideas 🤭

✧ What to Expect : ANGST, FLUFF AND SMUT‼️reader will be so unsure of him but she'll get there ;)) I promise this will so fast paced, the story goes back to present and past!

✧ Note To Reader : YOOOO y'all making me inspire to write more for Steve! THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT omg- even it's just small numbers of recognition is enough for me 🥺🫶🏻✨

✧ Author Note : I literally tried to think of a better song to associate the next part and my god- my brain was like zapping up to Baby Come back and I was like "THAT'S IT!" 🤩🙌🏻

"Henderson, I already told you not to wipe your feet on the inside of my car"

"Must've slipped off my mind"

"I've been your chaperone- wait a second- I'm your goddamn babysitter for the past 3 years!"

"Just step on it, already!"

"Remind me why I'm being friends with you" Steve turns on the engine of his car and held onto the steering wheel

"It's because I'm a great person"

Steve chuckles as he shakes his head but a fond smile is evident on his lips

"What time should I pick you up?"

"The usual"

Dustin talks about his night yesterday after school with the whole segment of the D&D Campaign, while listening as he kept his eyes on the road, I think he could make a word count on how many times he mentioned Eddie

Steve watches his young friend steps outside of his car, "Okay, see ya"

He's heading on his way to Family Video, where she meets Robin sitting on the front stairs

"What are you doing?" He asks as he gets outside of his car and puts his keys inside of of his pocket

"I guess, we're both too early, too early that Kevin hasn't even arrived yet" Robin stood up as she walks closer to Steve

Steve looked behind him, there's a new diner in town that he hasn't been it yet

"Wanna go there and eat some breakfast?" He nudge his head on the facility that he's looking at

Robin follows his gaze and clasps both of her hands together "Let's go, I'm getting bored here for waiting"

Once they get inside, the smell of brewed black coffee invades both of their noses and the sweet scent of pancakes and waffles

Robin already got an eye on the waitress who is serving some delicious fully packed breakfast plate, she swore that she is drooling over it and it made Steve chuckle

Steve is always been a pancake and bacon kind of a guy, he likes the combination of sweet and salty, so, that's where he is aiming for

Both of them saw a table that is near to window, they sat together across from each other

The male waiter was about to gave them menu's but they dismissed it

He nods gladly as he calls someone else to fill up their order

"Hello, goodmorning, what's your order-"

"Hi, can I get-"

Oh my fucking god

Holy fuck

It's you

His mind is going ablazes because he pretty much knew himself that he has a 20/20 vision

But at this time? All of his insides are overheated

He hasn't seen you since....the prom

Fuck, the memories starts to take him back

You just finished your last school year on that history that you both happened before and you move out of the school

Not only moved out of school, but you also left the town, Hawkins Indiana

Yes, you left.... without sparing him a single word about your departure

The town that you've never wouldn't have thought you could ever get back to

But, this is your hometown where you truly grew up in

You only decided to comeback since

You got homesick

You missed your family, that's why you take the chance to finally be with them

Temporarily

You clear your throat, you try to mask up your expression as you completely forgotten his companion that you briefly glanced and you noticed her confused look at you

She darts back and forth on you and Steve

You remained civilized, "What can I get for you?"

You say softly as you clicked your pen and holding up your notepad

He blinks as he takes a deep breath, "Uh- Pancake and Bacon and Coffee"

Damn, you wished there's a machine to mind sweep your entire memory of him

You still remember it

He still eats the same way

"Okay, um, should I bring creamer and sugar?"

"Yes, please"

Shit, he still makes his coffee the same way too

Fuck, fuck, fuck

Who in the right mind that you chose to have your vacation here?

When you could do it somewhere else

You trust yourself too much that you thought you won't be able to see this familiar face again

You nod but you can feel his eyes on you

You look incredible

Of course, he'll take every chance to look at you

You cut your hair shorter, you even changed it into different shade of color, your natural dark brown is gone, it turned into more lighter brown

The wavy length and the bangs looks so perfect on you is shaping your face that he still does love until now

You dress so differently now too, he could tell by your silver rings and....

A piercing? You have three earlobes now

He adores how you wear your makeup, not too flashy but it enhances your features

He is delighted to see your face again, he never thought that the universe will give him another glimpse of you even is just like this

A part of him that made him sad for a sec, it's understandable that you changed your whole appearance

You changed because you want to forget who you were before

You have to remove every single thing about how you look that reminded of him

Maybe in another life....

You're happy together

You motion to Robin who is still absolutely puzzled from the not so obvious look of recognition form the both of you

She could already tell that is something is deep between the two of you

Before she tells her order, he catches Steve who is not even afraid to gape on you, he's not even trying to hide it until she spoke up and he heard her voice

He got shy all of the sudden and runs his fingers through his hair

"The Breakfast meal?"

"Yeah, right that one"

"A drink along with that?"

"Oh, a cup of coffee too as well"

You nod as you clicked back your pen as you tear off the paper from your notepad

"It'll be ready in a minute" you say, you offer the both of them with a small smile as you finally take your leave

Robin leans forward with her hands together, "Okay, what was that?"

"What?" He acts clueless, he knows Robin won't drop the scenario that just happened

Robin chuckles in amusement "Well, you tell me" she nudges her head to you

He glances at you with those eyes, you can still freaking feel them on you

You start cleaning the table and picked up the tip from a another customer

"Robs-"

"Don't you dare "Robs" me and don't you ever lie to me" she throws her hands up as she raises both of her eyebrows at him

He sighs as he scratches the back of his neck

"Do I really need to tell you?" He shuts his eyes for a second as he takes a deep breath

"Uh yeah? Because that look it isn't something that is far beyond that you just know the person"

"You knew her"

She leans backward as she crosses both of her arms

She can't even tell if she just struck off a nerve or offended him

"I'm just messing with you, dingus, it's okay-"

"No-No, it's just-" he exhales

"it's been a while since I saw her" he speaks in a voice that his bestfriend couldn't ever expected to hear

It sounds so broken, it increases her pique of interest even more

What happened?

"I hesitated because-" he looks at her with guilty eyes "I think you're not going to look at me in the same way ever again"

Robin listens intently as she gestures her to keep going

"I am here to reassure you that I'm not going to judge you"

"I did something bad in the past, Robin, but I've changed"

"We all have done something wrong in our lives, Steve, the right way to do is to face it, hold yourself accountable for it, and learn from it, but that doesn't make you a bad person"

He looked at you again, you are now serving someone else a vanilla milkshake

"Yeah, you're probably right, but to her? I am"

Flashback to 1986

He spent all of his allowance that his father gave to him

All of his money going out all night in the town

The prom was one month ago

One month ago

He trying to do anything to get you out of his mind

He drank a lot of alcohol and gets drunk most of the time

But when the morning comes, it felt like he needs to start it all over again

He realizes that trying to forget you, it's just a waste of time

He wants you to come back, he needs you to come back

He'll do anything for it

Anything at all

He knows it won't be easy

He angrily crumpled and tear off all of the pictures that he had with his friends

Friends that aren't not even real

He knows that you're right about him, it's just his own stubborn mind who refuses it

He hates himself

No, scratch that, he loathes himself for becoming like this

His mom's words were very dear to him even it's just a simple phrase

"Don't try to be something that you're not"

Don't be a fucking people pleaser

Now, he got the point why you don't like these titles at school

The social cliques at the campus

It's also his own fault that he got into this

He wanted to be somebody

Even it hurts people that he loves the most

So, that same morning, he is so determined to be different this next coming school year

He trashed everything that upsets him, he even ditched some of his varsity jackets, all of his trophies he put them all in a case and placed them on the attic

Everyone is going crazy how he acted so differently at school

He just rolls his eyes at it, god, now he really fucking gets it why you're so ick to this

"They're so overdramatic at this stuff, I mean- what's the damn point?!?" your voice echoes to his mind

That's where he retired of being King Steve

Everytime he heard someone mentioning it, he just grimaces, winces and even cringed at it

He doesn't even Iike to be called on that name anymore

Sure, he is still good at his academics and sports but now ever since he pulled that "dropping his title" at school?

He is now getting the treatment of true colors

Now, he is out of that barrier of being on the top popular guy at school

His eyes and mind opened at your perspective

He can see it why, fuck, that adds more salt to the wound

He cannot even blame anyone for making him being this way

Maybe, high school is tough that's why he did it

But then, he notices a pattern of events on his life

Fuck, he is just like his father

He rarely visits the house and just talking about his work and didn't gave him a chance to speak what is going with his only son

He never paid attention, never even cared, not even felt any affection to him

But when he does, he just snaps at him, and tell him that being emotional is weak

Having feelings are weak?

How fucked up is that?

So, he kept his mouth shut even though he wanted to yell at his father

The only parent that he felt being loved is his own mom

His mom that left them both behind, he can still remember it

Because why?

His father cheated on her too

It's like a damn cycle, it making him violently vomit at the thought of it,

History repeats itself

He made a promise to himself that he won't ever be like his father

But, he already done it and it angers him even more

"Hey, Steve" he opens and locks the door behind him

Not "Hey, son" am I even your son? He thinks to himself as he keeps his eyes on the television his own father doesn't even noticed the obvious scowl on his face

"There's this woman at work, who-" he chuckles in a salacious way and it sends shivers down to his spine

"Who slapped me right after I kissed her and told me that she isn't interested in me" he chuckles yet again as he removes his coat

"She wears that outfit and expect me not to do anything? She did that in order to seduce me, she wants it" he scoffs as he shakes his head

He gotten so uncomfortable, he starts shifting from his seat

Steve needed this bottled up emotions to blow up

He wants and he needs his father to hear him out

"That's what you did to, Mom, too, huh?"

The silence is too loud, Steve is so fucking insane for doing this confrontation but he has to do it or else he will lose his mind

"What the fuck did you just say?" His dad grumbles as he stares down at his son with a fire on his eyes

He glares at him as he chuckles dryly, "You're so messed up that it hurts" he spats

"What are you even talking about?" He pushed him by the shoulder

"I hate that you're my dad!" He does the same action as he stumbles back, Steve thought his mind playing tricks at him but he swore for a brief moment that he saw his dad cracked

He is guilty, he is ashamed of it, he knows he is not a perfect father, he is not proud of it

15 year old, Steve would've been shitted on his pants for doing this but he is not afraid of it anymore

He is completely appalled, lost for words, the way his narcissistic exterior washed out on instant

"I lost the girl that I ever truly loved because of you!" He points at himself with anger and sadness swirling into his eyes

"Do you think it's easy for me to live out my life there knowing that my own fucking father is proud to have this mindset?!?" He steps closer as he makes hand motions to his head

"I can't just push you away because why? You're my dad, I-I can't just do that" He throws his hands up as he sighs in exasperation

"I-I have so much things that I wanted to scream out loud for you to hear because I've been carrying it for a long time and it really sucks because this argument isn't going to change anything" He is trying to so hard not to bawl in front of his old man but it his voice wavered badly but he didn't care

This is the most unfiltered thing he has ever done in his life and he knows for sure this will help him....A lot

"You've gone soft, Steve, that's the real world"

He looks at him with furrowed brows as he shooks his head

"I'm not gonna grow up to be just like you, asshole" He laughs incredulously as he starts picking up his shoulder bags and luggage

"Where do you think you're going, young man?"

"I'm going to leave because I'm sick of you and this big house"

"You're not able to survive out there without my help"

"You know for the first time in forever made me realize having a enormous fortune isn't necessary in life sometimes"

"You listen here-"

"What is fortune when you don't even have a good fucking relationship with your parents and household"

That's where he slams the door shut and breathes out a really long satisfying sigh with a proud smile on his face

He feels good, he feels great, he feels he has done something wonderful in his life

This is just the start of it

He takes his car keys and drove away like nothing ever happened

"Steve! Earth to Steve!" Robin clapping her hands right across to her bestfriends face

"What- I'm sorry" he says as he began shifting on his seat

"Okay, so to be clear, y'all are highschool sweethearts before-" Robin squints her eyes as she make gestures to her expressive hands

"and I was...." His shoulders slumped down, he doesn't even want to finish the sentence

"King Steve" Robin shrug both of her shoulders as she gave a sympathetic smile

"yeah" A small but sad smile flashes on his lips as he ducks his head down in shame

Robin is obviously needs some more information to fully understand what happened to your relationship with him

"Is it so bad?"

"is far more than bad, Robs"

"Did you kill someone?"

Steve eyes widened as he genuinely laughed, "N-No- I didn't!"

She chuckles but she is glad she made him laugh, "So, what is it then?"

He just made this one look to Robin and as she tries to read his eyes, her smile drops

"Oh"

As if you we're on cue, you placed their orders on their table as Robin made a stressful brush up to her hair as she glances at you

"Your order's are complete, just call me if you're ready to-"

"We can pay now" Robin's voice is firm but a hint of disappoint surrounding at the tone of her voice

You looked over at Steve for a sec who still gave you those pleading eyes as you tried your best to look away as you gave the receipt to them

You've taken both of their payment as you walk away quietly

Did just Steve talked about you to her?

Fuck

"Robin- I"

"I know it's in the past, It isn't my place to open up the wound again" she sighs as she tug up a smile to him

He smiles as he nods to her words, he is worried that this could ruin their friendship

"But I am fond that you chose to change, Steve, you changed for her" she places her palm on top of his as she pats it gently

"Do you still love her?" Robin asks him as she tries to search his eyes

She can see it, the same devotion is still there, it never died and it never will be

His last words to you echoed into his mind

"I can't never love again, I only want you"

And it truly did

He still does

Robin chuckles slightly to Steve with those lovesick eyes, "Of course, you do"

"You can't never get over with your first love"

You're done with the night as you put on your jacket along with your sling bag on the shoulder

But when the time you got inside of your car, your vehicle won't start up everytime you try it won't ever run

You sigh in frustration "Goddamn it!"

You look over to the other side of the road, you saw Steve locking up the doors at the Family Video

Shit, the universe is really testing you

You walked outside of your car as you close the door with a slam as you start to pace around it

You fumbled with the stuff inside of your bag as you pulled out a cigarette stick and you flick the lighter in your pocket

You inhale deeply as you blow out the smoke, you massage the back of your neck as you try to figure how to get the fuck outta here

You're mad that you're hopeless to get home

The last thing that you wanna do and the last option is to get ride home with Steve

You felt a hand behind you, you shrieked as you almost punched him in the face

"Woah- it's just me!" He held both of your wrist as he takes as step foot back to dodge your aim

You huff as you tap off the excess from your cigarette, you mumbled a small "sorry"

Well, isn't this great? Your first conversation with him after what??? 3 years???

He doesn't want to react because he hasn't seen you smoke before, I mean- you can do what you want but both of you really did changed

Did you developed anything else such as bad habits? that added another pang into his chest seeing you do things that you've never done before

He looked over to your car, "What happened?"

You blew out the smoke as turn your head into the other side, you try your best to remain calm but it feels all too much when he is this close to you "My car won't start"

"I can take you home, I know a place that can fix your car tomorrow" he suggest as he offers you a ride home respectfully, you can see that

Something is not right to him and it's giving you the creeps not in a bad way but why do he seems so nice? Is it because of you or he changed too?

You have no other choice, the terminal closes up pretty early, so, there's no train or bus to take

Only for tonight, just this night

You blew out the last smoke as you stub the cigarette into the nearest ashtray near the trash can

His eyes are glued to you, he watches your every move, of course, he knows that you wanna wrap this all up and forget all of this ever happened

As much as he wanted to talk to you ask you if you're okay, he respects your peace and boundaries

"Okay" you walk back up to him as the both of you crossed the road

What the fuck? Is he a gentleman now? You're not used to him like this, opening up the car door for you?

You flashed him a small but also confused smile as he jogs into the driver's seat

You saw the oh so familiar necklace that hangs on the rearview mirror

You made that necklace to him

Why does he still keep it?

He starts the engine as he put his hand over the headrest as he drives backwards

The drive was....so awkward and how quiet it is ringing to his brain

You just busied yourself watching all of the scenery outside in the car window as you passed by into different places

He takes his chances to glance at you

My god, he can't believe that you can still made him feel like this way

You crossed your leg that made your skirt rides up a little, he clears his throat

"Uh, so, which way should I go to?"

"Just turn here" you point out to him

He brings the car around the different small houses and his breath staggered he recognizes it

Oh, you're here because of your family

You're only having a vacation

"Stop here!" The tires screech as he stops abruptly and you accidentally bring yourself closer to him that he almost almost can kiss your lips in just one move

His breath hitched at the gap between the two of you

Your eyes flit to his and to his lips

It felt like eons that you both just stare for each other at the moment

You know and he knows

Fuck, you still love him

"I-I gotta go" you slowly move back up as you open the door but before you get outside, you softly say "thank you" and closed the door

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you quickly grab your house keys to unlock the front door

He sighs as he massages his forehead, he rolls up the windows before you get inside

"Take care" he says as you only nod and closed the door behind you

You squeezed your eyes shut at whatever that was inside of his car

"What are you even looking for?" He says not looking at you as he looks at a Nazareth vinyl

"Michael Jackson's Bad album" you say as you squealed gleefully when you found the one you were looking for

"We're going to be late for the movie, sweetheart" he hold both of your shoulders to grab your attention

"They're aren't going to start without us, Eddie" you say as you smirk at him as you walk away

"We have to buy popcorn-" he whines jokingly as he kept being all dramatic while he slings his arm around yours

"and drinks and other goodie stuff, I know, I'm just gonna pay this, stay calm" you giggled as you excitedly take the purchased album into your hands

"Hey, Eddie!" The same girl with the dusty blonde hair greets him the same time as you both are about to leave the record store

You can't never avoid him, huh?

She looks at you and your hand is wrapped around his forearm as she gives you a small wave

You only nod and smile, Steve is right behind her

"Dude, what's up?" Eddie greets him, right you forgot they studied in the same school

Of course, they knew each other, except for you because you left

You're nervous because of what Steve might think of you but you can't see anything on his face and his eyes

He doesn't seemed to mind that you're with someone else, there's no jealousy, mockery, sarcasm as he talks to Eddie

He doesn't even noticed how close you are at the metalhead

Meanwhile, Robin saw how you study him, but you look away you don't want to make him realize that you still care for him after all of this time and as she does as well

"Where are you two going?" Steve beams as he takes in how divine you look, Eddie didn't even catches it

"To the movies!" Eddie grins as he pulls you by his side as you roll your eyes playfully

"Are you guys going to watch Batman?" Robin gasps as she watches Eddie eyes goes big in excitement

"Yeah" you nod at her, Robin who is surprised that's the first ever interaction that you just had with her, so, she decided to introduce herself to you

"I'm Robin, by the way, I'm the bestfriend of Steve- ow!" He hits her by the shoulder as you chuckle in amusement in the way Robin punctuates and emphasizes the words to you

"We gotta go now" Eddie chuckles as he wraps his arms around you, but halts his tracks as he remembers something

"Sure, see you later" Steve nods as he purses his lips together as the both of them step inside

"Harrington, you could invite her to your party!" Eddie points at you and your close your eyes in embarrassment

You didn't tell Eddie about your history together with Steve but you did kinda....throw some hints at him about your past but didn't reveal the real name

Party? He still does that? you think to yourself

You saw how Steve became jittery all of the sudden as he tries to drop the topic right away but Robin, a glint of mischief on her eyes as she snaps her fingers at Eddie

Damn, you got yourself invited but you grew amused to the mystery girl

"I can't fucking believe you did that" he glares at his bestfriend who is pretending to be innocent as she walks away from him

"Oh- please, don't act that you didn't want that" she scoffs at his in denial behavior as she saw a vinyl that is similar to his situation

"You still want her, right?" Robin smirks as she gives the vinyl to him who is now gauging at his reaction

He takes the vinyl out of her hands without looking at it first but he laughs as soon as he saw the title

"Baby Come Back by The Player"

She wiggles her brows at him, he tries to kick her by the leg but she managed to dodge it

"Don't fuck it up this time, dingus"

"Trust me, I won't"

You had fun watching Batman with Eddie, he'll be right back with you as he headed at the men's restroom

You overheard a kid who is very defensive with his bestfriend, you try not to pry but until you heard the name "King Steve"

You've never looked around so fast in your entire life and your eyes fall onto the boy

"You're being friends with a douchebag-"

"He is not a douchebag!"

"Yeah, right, I heard he break girl's hearts like it was nothing-"

"T-That's not true!"

God, your mind is saying no but your heart is making you walk towards him

Curiosity got the best of you as you listen closely, but you stay alerted when things get heated

The poor kid, huffs as he shifts on his stance as he watches the two young ones left him

"He doesn't even like that name anymore, what a bunch of assholes"

"Hey, are you okay?"

He quickly swipes the tears away "Y-Yeah, I'm good"

He probably doesn't even remember you, "Dustin, right?"

"Yeah"

You smile sweetly at the kid, you really shouldn't ask a lot about him but you feel mystified of what you just witnessed, "Was that true? about what you said at Steve?"

"He cares a lot, he loves a lot, he is willing to do anything just to protect- Wait a second- who are you anyway?" He was getting into until he realizes that he is talking to a stranger and he paused

The kid missed the endearment on your eyes as you blink rapidly, you looked over your shoulder as you saw Eddie searching for you

"I'm gonna go now, bye" you say as he tries to chase you but you got lost in the crowd until he can't no longer see you

"Whoever that person is, that's so bizarre" he speaks for himself

"I have to tell this to Steve at the upcoming party"

He is not looking forward to it

But he wishes you were

He doubt that you will show up over at his house

But, honest to god, he thought the time stopped when I saw you walking by alongside with Eddie and Robin

His brain is muddled and his heart rate is increasingly so fast

"Hey, Steve-" Dustin jogs over to him but his mind is elsewhere as the door swings open

"Here we are" Eddie does his classic antics as he opens his arms as you chortled

"Welcome" Steve steps aside as he lets you all walk in

"Where's the drinks?" Robin feels so at home like she unashamedly looks through his refrigerator

"It's literally 7pm- don't you dare drink-" He puts his hands over his hips as he reasons with Robin

"Not that- I'm just thirsty" Robin rolls her eyes as she tries to explain

"You?" Dustin loudly made a sound that all of the guests caught their attention

You give him a small wave and a crooked smile and now you're regretting attending this

Steve clocked your reaction as he hold your shoulder leading you away from him

"Why are you pointing at her, Henderson?" Eddie is perplexed as he tries to understand the situation

"You mean- you didn't know?" Dustin bunches up his eyebrows at the metalhead

Steve glares at Robin who winced at the look that his bestfriend just gave him

"I think, you might want to sit down, Munson"

Steve has taken you in the backyard as he slides the door close

Oh, hell no

Not this place

Steve cringes what he just realized but he tries to keep his composure

"You still do parties, huh?"

He stare at you for a second, are you actually having a conversation with him?

"Uh no- we're going to have a movie marathon, not a party"

"Oh" you nod slowly in understanding as you stare at the swimming pool, you breathe in deeply as you keep your hands to yourself

Your sight of vision fell into Eddie, Robin, Dustin bickering at each other as you saw the guilty look on your metalhead bestfriend directed at you as you send him a small smile as you look away yet again

"I see that you told them"

"I-I'm sorry, I only told Robin-"

"Save it, Steve" your voice has gotten serious unlike earlier, but he can see it in your eyes that you're fighting between your emotions

You're trying your best to resist yourself for giving yourself away too fast

Steve's shoulders tensed as he looked up into the sky to find the right words to say to you

You deserve to know that, he needs you to know that him and Robin are nothing more than a platonic friendship

"Robin is just my bestfriend, she helped me"

"Help you?....with what?" You knit your brows together as you look at him in question with your arms crossed

"I- uh- I moved away from my dad after we- to live on my own independently" He suddenly became shy as he scratches the back of his neck as he averts his gaze somewhere else

That's where he truly see your eyes soften as your eyes went everywhere to his face

He can communicate properly with you now?

He is actually saying the truth to you?

You're not used to it and he knows he doesn't blame you

Before you can reply, Dustin calls out at the both of you as Steve sighs when you're the first one to walk away from him

"Hey, are you okay? dude?" Dustin asks him sincerely

"Yeah, man, I'm good" He lies, as he gives his young bestfriend a forced smile

False bravado, that's the mask that he's wearing all the time ever since you reappeared again

Tryna' keep up a smile that hides a tear

He wants you so bad, but how he will ever to win you back?

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

"It's fine, Eddie, it's not your fault"

"Do you want to leave?"

"No, I'm gonna stay, Eddie- it's alright, I promise"

"Just tell me, if you're not up for it anymore, okay?"

"Okay"

Everyone is a blobbering mess after seeing Dead Poets Society, except for you and Steve

You caught him giving you those eyes yet again like he was begging for you

Begging for you to give him a chance

He wants to talk to you, the scariest thing you could ever say to him that your doors are chained and he'll understand

But the thing is that, he can't live without you

He'll do anything to persuade you, convince you, make you believe that he is nothing like the "Steve" the one you've met before

If he could go back in time, he would redo everything

The moment when everyone is leaving and saying their goodbyes

He took your hand and he must swallow his shock because you let him hold you for the first time in forever

Eddie even talked to him while you were distracted by Robin, by him saying "I don't know what happened between the two of you that much but.... I'd get her back, man, whatever it takes"

"Can we talk?" He whispers as he puts you in the corner where no one else can see you both

"Steve-"

"Just give me the chance to make you see-"

Oh, Steve's brain just mushed down

Because you're fucking kissing him

He recovers as he cupped both of your cheeks as he gives into you

Your hand gets lost to his hair, god- he misses that a lot, your sweet scent, he's inhaling it so much that electrocutes his brain

The kiss went into seconds, minutes and feels like an hour

You don't know what's gotten into you but you know you're going to blame yourself for this

You already told yourself that your guard is up

But, your heart tells no otherwise and your body reacted, so, positively that it flushed down closer to his

You stopped yourself as you saw him chasing after your lips but then he saw how hurt you look, his heart drops to his stomach as he gulped

He is flustered and so are you, but he sees the recognition in your eyes, the realization

He flinched the way you angrily punched him in the chest all of the sudden as you wept in front of him

No words thrown out between the two of you

It's the same damn kiss

It never changed, it still feels the same, moves the same, the way both of your lips melded into one another is a complete shocker to you

He didn't care about your outburst as he let the tears fall from his face as he embraces you instead

He starts caressing your head as he tries to keep you calm on his warm hug

You held onto his shirt in a fist that you violently sobbed face flat in front of his chest

As much as you wanted to stay in that area

You begrudgingly dragged yourself away from him as you walked outside, not giving him a second look

He knocks off one of his picture frames as he slides his back down against the wall as he started crying

Love is embarrassing, isn't it?

3 years, 3 goddamn years, you both still yearn for each other

Your first kiss after 3 years invaded his mind the entire night, he stares at the empty space of his bed

God, he wishes that you were here next to him on his arms

You've never packed up your stuff so fast in your entire life

You're ready to leave first thing in the morning

The door bell rings and you hold your breath for a second

"Oh no, not you- Steve-" you tried to close the door but no to avail as he stepped his foot to prevent you from for not letting him in

He glanced at your luggage and bags that makes his stomach twist

"Have you used up all of it?" He says as he kept his eyes on you

"W-What are you even talking about?!?" You threw your notepad in the near table, fuck- you shouldn't have double checked too much on your lists before going out

He got you now, you can't escape this

"All the love in your heart"

That's where you avoid his eyes as he moves closer to you

"Ain't there nothing left for me?"

"Steve- stop!"

"That's right-"

"What-"

"A lot of people that I know what I did to you was foolish, anyone can see it"

You let your stubborn attitude subside as you listen to him

"There's was something and everything about you"

You take out a shuddering gasp as your eyes burn from the threatening tears

"You can blame it all on me, I was wrong, baby, I-I just can't live without you"

He could've done this before

Take the responsibility of his actions and not to sugarcoat every word and have the guts to hold the accountability of his mistakes

"Steve, you gotta move on-" you lie what you truly feel, what's stopping you?

"Baby come back, come back to me, please"

"S-Steve, I don't know if I can trust you-"

"I didn't realized what I had when you're were mine!"

Your guarded demeanor has shunned off as you let your arms dropped to your sides

"I-I confronted my dad after one month ago when we go on our separate ways, I-I know this is unbelievable but I removed everything that you didn't like with me, my friends, my title, all of it, and it did helped me to become a better person"

He looks straight into your eyes, he never looks away as he tries to make you understand

"And I'm so very sorry that pulling up that fucked up shit that I did before just so I can improve myself and to have a character development was utter bullshit, hurting you was never right"

You purse lips together as you shake your head in disbelief

"What I said back there was still true too"

"What do you mean?"

"That no matter what you do to me, whatever happens to the both of us, I'd still love you"

He cries, his face glows so red as he takes in every feeling that he's receiving

You're the first one yet again to kiss him

He yelped as he brings you closer to him, your hands went through his hair as you throw your arms around him, he dives in deeper earning a moan out of you

He breaks out of the kiss, your face went pale but he shuts off your thoughts with the words

"You sure, you want to do this?"

"Steve, yes, I do, I want you like you want me, I need you like I need you-"

You're about to dove back on him aggressively but something feels so different on his touches, it's not foreign but it's making you want to bawl at how he is so soft with you

His eyes crinkle in awe and delightment as he couldn't get anymore happier

He carries you upstairs as he puts you onto the bed carefully

He removes his shirt and his pants, you get out of your shoes and when you're about to remove the straps of your dress, he beats you to it as he slowly takes it off but not without kissing your neck

His hands goes under your skirt as he plays with the garter of your panties

You spoke his name so decadent that he nearly melted down on you

You held onto him by the shoulder blades as he finds the zipper on the back your dress, he unzips carefully and lovingly as he takes his sweet time to adore and treasure every single moment of you

This is not just sex, he never looked at you like the one from before only filled with lust

This is love and admiration and it touches your heart so deeply that it might've been stop beating for a few moments

It's unreal that he is doing this to you, it's also unreal that you let him do this to you

When all of it's left is your paired black lacy undergarments

You both stare together for a while as you held his cheeks as he rests on it

He smiles so wide that it actually hurts and so are you, your smile lingered everytime he looks at you

You raise yourself using your elbows as he unclasp your bra, he threw your bra across the floor somewhere, he can't help but to kiss you again, you mewl as you fall back down on the mattress, you grind yourself against him as he groans when felt how wet you are

You kept grinding yourself onto him as he grants your wish as the friction increases more

Next thing to remove is your panties, you whine, when he licked a stripe into your cunt

"Steve-"

"Yes, baby?"

"I wanna feel you"

You don't need him to ask him twice as his boxers flew off somewhere

He carefully enters your sopping aching hole as you both moan in pleasure

Your jaw falls slack as your furrowed brows crumpled up even more as you adjust to his size

He kisses every part of your body, worships it while you're losing your mind of how it feels so fucking good just like before

"F-Fuck" he curses, praising you as he kisses your jaw

He watches how your cunt clamps sucking him inch by inch, he grunts when you start clenching around him

You're drooling, your eyes are fucked out, you're brain is mashed up

You're a fucking goner

He kneads your breasts as you moan even louder, the squelching sounds that comes in and out of you is music to his ears

"S-Steve, pleas-e move!" you squeal and your voice becomes so tiny that you bit your lip

He spreads your legs far more wide as he grabs your hips harder

You arch your back when he picks up the pace and hitting the spot were you're mostly addicted

"Oh!"

Your eyes roll backwards as your mouth hangs "0" shapes as Steve watches your expression contorts in pleasure

Breasts are jiggling, he goes faster and faster, he places himself on the crook of your neck as he puts lovebites all over it

You locked him in place as you can't keep your suppressed screams any longer

"Steve!"

"Christ-"

You scream his name so loud that his brain shortcircuit as you both came undone

He peels himself off of you but you held him close

"No, don't pull out just yet"

You tap him by the shoulders as you switched positions, he let out a sharp gasp at the angle that you're on top of him

Despite the overstimulation, you grind yourself onto him

"Woah- baby, fuck-"

"Yeah?"

"Don't give me that look- I'm gonna bust"

You giggled as you close your eyes at the sweet sensation as your brows pulled together and you moan when you start to bounce on his cock

Holy fucking shit, you rocked up his world

His hands are everywhere literally setting you on fire, he brings you closer as you continue to do your job as you look at him with blacked out eyes

His eyes got even more darker as he copies your move making your head fell onto the side allowing him the access to kiss your neck

You both went off to one another as you both entered another climax

You fell asleep together after 3 years

The scenario you'll never thought you could experience again

You woke up in a cold empty bed as you look around in your room, you can't see his clothes anymore, maybe he's in downstairs

The last night events flashes right before your very eyes as you bring your knees up

A tinge of pink on your cheeks as you try to remember every detail happened last night you were so beyond elated and in a complete bliss

You wore your dress again as you went downstairs only to find Robin

"Robin?" You ask in confusion, not that you don't want her here but it's just so random

"Hi" she waves awkwardly as she scratches her head

"What are you doing in here? Where's Steve?" You look for him again but it seems like he left

"Don't freak out-" She breathes out

You raise both of your eyebrows as you motion for her to continue

"He's at the airport" She says as she starts following you making you stay focus but she has no power to control you

"What?" You take your car keys as you went inside the vehicle and turn on your engine

"Wait- stop! He didn't told me the reason why! He just said he'll be at the airport!" She shouts out loud as she rests her back against your front door

"Okay, I'll be here at your house! Steve and his ridiculous lovelife- I swear to god- I'm gonna kick him in the ass" she slumps down in defeat as she mutters words under her breath

Why would he leave you?

Fuck, no- did he regret it again?

Tears well up in your eyes as your stomach began to churn as you fighting for your dear life to get into the airport as fast as you could

No, Steve wouldn't- stop overthinking- maybe, he has a reason

He won't just leave you like this, you felt how soft and he made you feel like you're the only person on his life

He made you think that the both of you had a future

So, why would he leave without a word?

You ran as your feet can take you, but when you saw the airplane takes it flight, you rest your head against the window and sobbed

The familiar voice calls your name and you look around a bewildered Steve who is now walking towards you

"Baby, what are you doing-"

"I thought you left me" you hold him tight as you looked at him in the eyes

"You're not going to leave me? Are you?" Your voice sounds so small that he doesn't want to see you crying anymore

"Honey, I'm here, I would rather jump off a cliff for leaving you all alone again, okay?" He reassures you as your worried features decreases but there's still uncertainty on your eyes as he takes a deep breath

"Robin is in the house, I don't-" he cuts you off as he tuts

"Ah-ah, let me speak- the airline called me in the morning and told me that the schedule that I booked in for is going to take off and of course, that would be a disaster since I used half of my expenses for the flight right? So, I made a decision on the spot- I called Robin to accompany you because you were peacefully asleep, baby, I don't wanna wake you and I was about to come back to you and tell you that you're coming with me" he held up in front of your face of two airplane tickets

Your unsureness totally fades away as you look at the ticket, you read aloud what it says

"Chicago?"

"Yeah, I'm going to take you with me while I study for college"

"I actually want to take master's degree too"

"Yeah? We can go together"

A big smile grows on your lips as you step forward to him as he closes the gap and gives you the most promising kiss

"We better start packing up soon"

"We sure are"

"I love you"

He kisses your cheek, "I don't think I could love you more, baby, I love you more than anything"

•

special mention to @savage-aespa, this person here is the main reason why I made this fic! literally giving me an idea that there's a possibility for them to be together and I hope I did my job alright! I'm sorry, it took me a month to finish this up and if you made it here, thank you so so much for reading, your support and your kindness will always be appreciated! take care always! 🥹🫶🏻✨

[just-mary-ann]

Sneak peek of my newest showtime fanfic about TADC Harlequin AU.

Sequel to my other work on ao3 "Purple"

TADC Harlequin AU BY @tadc-harlequin-au

Lilac

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ A liiiiiiitle suggestive talk between two personalities.

____________________________________

Caine and Pomni were cuddling in the Puppetmaster's bedroom. Since Pomni's mind had short-circuited, causing her to behave like the Performer Harlequin for a while, they had grown closer. However, Pomni still struggled to accept her feminine side. And now, she was dreaming of her dark subconscious.

"This... is Caine's office." Harlequin looked around.

"It's comfortable here. And there's something to read." The voice from the sofa reached Pomni's ears.

Harlequin drew her sword and pointed it at the source of the sound. Performer Pomni lay on the sofa, reading a book.

"You? B-but how? I killed you!" Pomni shook her head in denial.

"You dispelled me, yes." Pomni closed the book and stood up. "But no matter how you look at it, I'm a part of you. From now on and forever. So..." She awkwardly spread her arms and smiled.

Combat Pomni's right eye twitched, and a yellow light flared up in it.

"GO TO HELL!" She lunged at the second personality with her sword. Performer Pomni easily and gracefully dodged. "What? How did you dodge?"

"We share skills and motor memory." Pomni began examining her left hand. "So predicting your moves isn't hard. Plus, I have access to your memories."

"I already know that last part," Combat Pomni sheathed her sword. "You showed me a memory of a battle in the smoke back then."

"Yup. I love playing with the past." Performer Pomni placed her hands on her red cheeks and wiggled her hips. "And I have a special fondness for how gently Caine hugs us."

Combat Pomni blushed, trembling with rage.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DIGGING THROUGH MY MEMORIES?"

"Oh, cut me some slack." Performer Harlequin put one hand on her hip and waved the other dismissively. "You won't let me enjoy his touches. Let me at least drool over them."

Combat Harlequin cooled down a bit. The angry grimace left her face.

"So if I give you access to the body, you'll stop rifling through my memory card?"

A purple eye sparkled. Performer Pomni playfully ran her hand through her hair, letting it flutter.

"Oh. Is a deal in the making?"

"I haven't promised you anything!" Combat Harlequin pointed a finger in Performer Harlequin's face. "But I'm willing to listen to you. By the way," Combat Pomni crossed her arms. "what should I call you? Just 'slut' isn't an option."

"WHY DID YOU GIVE ME SUCH A NICKNAME?!" Performer Pomni's turn to get angry came. But she took a deep breath and exhaled, pressing a finger to her cheek. "How about Lilac? A shade of purple, like my eye."

Pomni nodded.

"Alright, Lilac, I'm listening."

"Okay. For starters," Lilac thought, her cheeks burning bright red. "I want to spend hot nights with Mr. Puppetmaster."

"Go to hell. Any other requests?" Pomni said absolutely neutrally.

"Oh, come on. It's the same body! He won't notice the switch!" Lilac stomped her foot in frustration. "Well. Either you let me have fun with him once in a while, or I'll keep digging through your shared memories and enjoying the view." She haughtily raised her nose.

"Argh. Fine. One night in one lunar cycle." Pomni showed one finger.

"Not fair. That's too little. I want once a phase." Lilac showed four fingers.

"Deal." Pomni agreed through gritted teeth. The two personalities shook hands. "Then sit tight and don't bother me until the new phase starts."

"Actually," Lilac covered her mouth with her fingers, "tonight is the new moon."

Pomni's mind short-circuited. Right. How could she forget?

"Well, it's already started, so it doesn't count. Wait until the end of the first quarter." Pomni felt something between fear and awkwardness for the first time.

"Nuh-uh." Lilac wagged her finger side to side. "Don't you dare refuse me. We agreed. So tonight, I'll be enjoying the Puppetmaster's warm and pleasant touches."

Silence hung between Pomni and Lilac.

"Fucking nympho." Pomni broke the silence.

"Look who's talking!" Lilac retorted indignantly.

to be continued