#you have to believe people when they tell you they like you and your ocs and there'll be times

[the-desert-beast]

gonna throw my 2 cents in on this current Fandom Topic;

You cannot give in to resentful isolation. I'm serious.

Even if your last attempts went badly you have to keep trying. You have to make mistakes to learn from them. You have to find out who's worth your time and who you click with somehow, and you can only do that by Doing It Scared.

I fall into those mindsets, a lot. They suck. They're powerful and overwhelming and painful. I have to fight with myself and repeat over and over, No, you know your friends care about you. They've SAID that.

And I have to do this all the time. In minor and major ways.

Do It Scared. Try. If you feel like you've failed? Try again. There are ways to build self confidence but you have got to start with letting yourself feel confident any little way possible.

Don't give in to resentful isolation, that will only hurt you.

We all have bad brain days, weeks, or months.

Fandom will be waiting for you.

If you've started to treat fandom like a vending machine where lore/fanfic/art/screenshots go in and compliments come out, you should take a break.

[loderlied]

i need you all to know that the main reason (besides a general hunger for attention) niles even accepts aldori’s call is because he got caught stealing his student’s work and passing it off as his own and his reputation as a teacher was obviously ruined. lmao

[chiropteracupola]

hello! hello! who are you!

[tasmanianstripes]

Maybe it's the result of my main fandom for the majority of my life being one where canon just genuinely doesn't exist, where there are so many different canons and literally any sort of interpretation of a single character is correct and can range from a moronic maniac with a chainsaw to a depressed old asshole boss, but

Literally who gives a fuck about canon?

Especially when the character is practically a blank slate or if it's an AU

Like, I'm sorry, but if you're butthurt about a mischaracterisation of a fictional character in an Alternative Universe then I don't think you understand what an AU is

[joeloverture]

hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax. 

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing. 

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT. 

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from  — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky. 

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining. 

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down. 

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…” 

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee. 

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head. 

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.” 

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel. 

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?” 

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

 “Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips. 

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become. 

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel. 

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily. 

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him. 

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is. 

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!” 

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

[2hightocare]

PRINCESS TREATMENT ✷

“In a world of boys’ he’s a gentleman” mini series—

Synopsis: Jungkook simply does everything to make you happy..

Genre: established relationship!

Warnings: pure fucking fluff… (seriously makes me wanna jump in oncoming traffic) jungkook is a bright green flag, he’s love language is “acts of service” (can be read as a standalone but I recommend reading the first part)

a/n: we all deserve oc and jungkooks kinda love.. I’m turning this into a mini series since a lot of people enjoyed it🤍

for @ohsweetmimosa !!

Falling in love was always something that you wanted, your face has always been shoved into pages of books, wondering when it would be your turn to experience that type of love. Your mom would always tell you that your expectations were too high and that no man could ever be as perfect as a fictional man.

Until you met him.

There were no words in the dictionary to describe him. No words to describe how beautifully his eyes would sparkle whenever he would tell you he loves you, the way his thumb would caress you whenever you would hold hands, or the way he would kiss away the tears that would escape your eyes.

You a hundred percent believed God made men, and sent Jungkook as an apology.

“When did you learn to braid hair…?” You curiously ask, with a slight hint of jealousy in your tone, making Jungkook laugh behind you as his fingers thread the three strands of hair repeatedly. “Watched a YouTube tutorial,” he chuckles, trying so hard not to pull your hair.

“What for..?” You stare at the mirror in front of you with the goofiest smile plastered on your face, watching your boyfriend with no shirt, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he carefully braids your hair with his lip between his teeth.

“You always braid your hair but then complain your arms hurt from keeping them up for so long soo… why not make myself useful.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

Your heart did a cartwheel, might have exploded in your chest from how fast it’s beating. But nothing new. You were so accustomed to the feeling of butterflies flying in your stomach whenever he would do or say something to you.

He drops the most beautiful phrases anyone has ever told you so casually, like it was normal. But that was your normal since you met him.

You would hear your friends talk shit about their boyfriends, how they did something or what they didn’t do, but you really just never had anything bad to say about Jungkook. He basically took "Princess treatment" to another level.

You never had to ask for flowers, never had to pull out a chair, never had to open a door, never had to enter a car freezing... because Jungkook being Jungkook went out twenty minutes earlier to turn on the heater before you would get in.

Never had to worry about leaving your wallet at home when the only thing in your bag is lip gloss. Never having to turn on your brain whenever he was around.

Locked doors? Where are the house keys? Did you leave your curler on? Jungkook got it.

“That’s so much better than mine,” you point to his ice cream as your eyes widen from how the creamy flavors melt into your mouth. “So bo—mb!” You muffle out from the mouthful of ice cream shoved into your mouth.

“Let me try yours,” he opens his mouth, waiting for you to send a spoonful of your cookies and cream into his mouth. “Here comes the airplane! Brrr,” you try making airplane noises as your hand does a weird twirl before inserting the spoonful of ice cream into your smiley boyfriend.

“Mhm,” he nods his head, humming loudly, watching you smile at him.

“I actually like yours better, baby. Let’s trade?” Jungkook hands you his small cup of ice cream as you nod happily, while you hand him yours.

Jungkook watches with the biggest smile on his face while inserting another spoonful of the creamy content as he watches you eating the new ice cream flavor enthusiastically, hearing you rave about the new book you have just finished reading and how dumb the main character is.

Jungkook's heart aches, sizing double its size, beating hard in his chest. Your cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold outside the car. You both didn’t care about eating ice cream in the middle of cold December; you guys took it as a challenge on who would get sick first.

He laughs at the lighthearted jokes you threw at him, while you take another big spoonful of the chunky ice cream that was his not so long ago.

Little did you know that he really didn’t like your ice cream flavor.

When Jungkook first met you, he knew from the start that he was a goner. The way you smile at him, how your eyes will have a small glint on them whenever you look at him, or the way you would scrunch your nose if you found something funny or cute.

It took him by surprise when you pulled the move on him, thinking you found something disgusting when you first did it.

“I will literally eat you right now!” You scrunch your nose at your smiling boyfriend who’s slightly kneeling for you to be able to see your initial carved into his haircut.

“So that means you like it?” Jungkook stands up and spins to face you. You stare up at him, his dimples on full display looking down at you with your cute outfit he helped you pick on FaceTime.

“I fucking love it baby!! I have the urge to crawl inside your skin,” you bite your lip containing the laugh you’re trying hard to contain, failing miserably when Jungkook raises an eyebrow with a smirk on his face. “That’s… cute,” he replies before kissing off the little nose scrunch he loves so much off your face.

“Is that like your ‘cutie mark’?” You quip, your arms wrapping themselves around his shoulders. “Cutie mark?” He asks, a hint of interest in his voice while he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“You never watched My Little Pony?” You fake gasp, eyes widening.

“I’ve heard of it, but me sitting down to watch ponies with superpowers… yeah, no.” Jungkook squeezes your waist as he explains.

“You suck,” you roll your eyes playfully sticking your tongue out before entangling yourself off his arms and making your way to the couch.

“Come big baby, we are watching My Little Pony.” You pat the empty couch space beside you.

He watched every season... all nine seasons with you.

Jungkook just wanted to make your life easier; you were always known for being “Miss Independent” in your family and amongst your friends, but here you were letting a man put your heels on for you.

“Too loose or…?” Your boyfriend looks up to you from his kneeling-down position in front of you.

“You look really good on your knees, sir.” You say instead with a sly smirk on your face, ignoring his question. “Pshh,” he rolls his eyes as he chuckles, tying a bow on your lace-up heels.

“Since when do you not flirt back?” You pout watching your boyfriend repeat his actions on the other foot. “Since we are late... and can’t be any more late.” He looks up with a mischievous grin on his face.

“Psh, okay.” You blow out in defeat as your boyfriend chuckles underneath you.

“Come on princess, let's go!” He stands up, giving you a hand for you to stand up off the bed.

The long rides to your guys' destinations were your favorite; Jungkook had given you the “passenger princess” award ever since you set foot in his car. He even installed a light-up mirror on your sun visor whenever you needed to fix your hair or makeup in the car.

Jungkook would listen to your little playlists. He still remembers when you explained to him that each playlist has a different emotion, which made him laugh. Now, anytime you played a song, he would ask you what emotion you were feeling right now.

“What emotion are you feeling right now baby?” He squeezes your thigh as he stops at a red light. The reddish hue illuminates your guy's face. “In love,” you turn your head to the side, staring at your boyfriend who’s already looking at you.

His eyes twinkle as he stares at you, a big smile adorns his face. As you mirror his actions before leaning in and giving him a kiss on the lips, his eyelids immediately flutter close.

“‘Cause I got my mind on you... I’ve got my mind on you.”

Plays softly from the car speaker; you smile into the kiss. “I love you.” He whispers softly. “I love you.” You whisper back.

[chunghasweetie]

𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄 | J.JK

— part 2

— pairing | fem!oc x dealer!jjk

— summary | always giving out free shit to his favorite customer

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

smut, bickering, cussing, drugs🍃, plug jk, dirty talk, belittling, pussy eating, protected sex, porn making, friends with benefits(?), etc

— word count | 2.09k words

— song suggestion | everyday — ariana grande

“I can’t believe this man is really out here waiting outside like this.” Y/n groaned to herself.

She was meeting him once again for pre rolls, some dispos, and enough weed for her and her best friends.

Usually for anyone else it would be a bit strange for a plug to show up at their front door but Jungkook seemed very comfortable doing so.

Unluckily for her, she was very close to the plug.

He had been pulling up to her place everytime she wanted something. And he was more than happy to do it.

She was wearing a pink low cut top with a matching mini skirt. Her makeup was done up nice and her hair was curled to perfection.

She didn’t have much plans for the day. However, knowing that she was ordering from Jungkook, she knew she had to look somewhat presentable.

It’s not like she had to try too hard, she was gorgeous naturally. She had a body people would kill for and a face many would pay to even resemble.

“Hey mama.” The man bit his lip, checking her out at the doorstep.

“I don’t see anything.” Y/n looked at both of his hands and his front pockets. “Jungkook I swear if—“

“You’re already bugging.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “I have it. A ‘hey’ would’ve been nice.” He stepped into her home.

“And it would’ve been nice to ask to come in.” She shut the door behind him.

“You’re so so pretty but your mouth—“ He exhaled. “You’re annoying.”

“Yet I’m your favoriteee customer.” She teased.

“Hell no. You’re not my favorite.” He shook his head, walking over to her counter, tossing everything he brought on there.

“Oh really?” She cocked her eyebrow. “You’re such a liar.”

“Psh- Why would I lie?” He looked over at her. “You’re honestly my least favorite.”

She could laugh. “Least favorite?”

“You heard me mama.” He shook his head. “You’re so annoying, rude, and you don’t even pay me.”

“I don’t pay you because you’re always tryna fuck.” She rolled her eyes at his insults.

“Trying to?” He laughed. “You act like I’m not successful every time.”

Wasn’t a lie. He was even laying it down when she didn’t order from him.

“You’re so annoying.” She groaned.

“I’m annoying? You texted me to drop off your shit and gave me attitude the second I came in!” He argued.

Also true.

That was their dynamic. Always having petty arguments as their way of flirting with each other. It was annoying but also very entertaining for the both of them.

“Oh my gosh. You’re already starting something.” She shook her head. “Go fucking change so we can watch a movie.”

“No way.” Jungkook fake gasped, touching his heart. “You’re letting me spend the night again mama? I’m so honored!”

“I hate you.”

༊—

“No way.” Jungkook’s jaw dropped at the sight of the scene on TV.

Jungkook and Y/n had been sharing a blunt on her couch and were heavily tuned into That 70s Show.

They had been watching the show together since the beginning of him coming over.

The two were cuddled up, Y/n stroking his hair as they watched the show.

It was the scene in which Jackie and Hyde had been secretly hooking up over the summer, and no one was as shocked as Jungkook.

Y/n had watched the series more than once, and seeing Jungkook’s reaction had her weak with laughter.

“That was so unexpected.” He announced. “But honestly, I’ve been thinking they looked good together.”

“Told you.” She shook her head.

“You didn’t tell me shit!” He turned over to her.

“Whatever.” She took another hit of the shared blunt.

“Pass it to me.”

“No.”

“Damnit woman.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re so fucking irritating but you’re so hot.”

“Awe. You’re such a sweetheart.” She answered sarcastically.

“Keep fucking playing with me.” He stared her down. “Been giving me attitude all night. I’ll straighten that out so fast.”

“The fuck you will.” She replied with an attitude once again.

“Oh wow.” Jungkook turned his attention to the TV, chuckling to himself.

“Okay.” He rubbed behind his neck. “Put the blunt down.”

“But—“

“I said put it down. You got your high. Just being greedy.”

She obeyed him after noticing his demanding tone of voice. He grabbed her remote, turning up the TV.

“Kiss me baby” He leaned in, easily earning a kiss from her.

“Pretty lips.” He pulled away before grabbing the back of her neck with his tattooed hand, crashing her lips back onto his.

She kissed him back willfully, smacking her lips repeatedly against his.

“So pretty.” He mumbled against them. “But that mouth is disgusting. Gotta fix that.”

He spit in her mouth, going back in and kissing her more aggressively.

Moving the couch pillow behind her head, he laid her down on the furniture.

He slid up her skirt, moving her panties to the side with his teeth.

“Not even apologizing,” He made a ‘tsk’ sound with his mouth. “I got some for you.”

He used his left hand to grab onto her breast, and used his right hand to hold her hips down.

His face was immediately hovering her cunt. His mouth was already watering at the sight, spitting and drooling on it.

Although it made her feel good, eating pussy was one of Jungkook’s main sources of pleasure.

Especially hers.

He’s never craved something so badly.

They weren’t dating. They never discussed anything of the sort. They were young and didn’t want to waste time with the labels.

But he would be damned if he had to share this woman.

The two did have their rocky and dysfunctional relationship but he was very happy to be around her.

Always smirking to himself whenever she texted. Hoping she’d ask him to stay longer. Following her on his damn plug account.

He had some other customers that were attractive women, but from the beginning she’s been his favorite. No one else got all the perks like she did.

She was a whiny moaning mess. Jungkook hadn’t even tasted her yet.

“Jungkook, please.” She begged. “Can’t wait like this.”

"I know, baby, I know. It's been too long." He leans in, his breath ghosting over her skin for just a moment before his lips press against her clit.

Her legs immediately squirmed at the feel of his mouth. She could hardly move due to him holding her down.

Grinning, he moves his tongue around her clit, sucking and nibbling at it.

He moves one of his arms to keep her leg in place, while the other one moves upwards, slipping two fingers inside her.

"All that attitude for what?" He asks through muffled groans.

He smirks against her skin, moving his fingers in and out slowly. He starts flicking his tongue over her clit faster, adding a third finger as he matches the rhythm with his tongue.

“You’re bitching at me the moment I get through the damn door. Now look at you.” He chuckled against her clit. “Apologize.”

“I— mm— Fu— I’m”

“Can’t speak?” Jungkook suddenly stopped, pulling out his fingers and moving from her heat since he knew she was close.

“Jungkook!” She groaned. “You can’t do me like this right now.”

“I can’t?” He laughed. “Oh I can. You can give me attitude all damn day but you want me to reward you by letting you cum already?” He scoffed.

“Ugh!” She groaned in frustration.

“Turn around.” Jungkook was already tearing a condom open with his mouth. “Ass up face down.”

She got into position like ordered. Jungkook moved the hair from her face so he could have a better view of her.

“Oh fuck yes.” Jungkook had the sight of her ass all to himself. “Don’t even know how you made it fit in that tight little skirt.”

He was checking her out. He did this everytime. Her body was perfection and way better than any of the models he had seen on Instagram.

“Can you do me a favor mama?” He leaned forward, “I wanna to do something with you.”

“What is it?” She asked, desperate to get fucked already.

“Lemme record.” He tapped her ass, almost fainting at the recoil. “Please?”

“Yeah.” She reached over, grabbing her phone and handing it to him.

“My dirty girl.” He chuckled. “Knew you’d be down.” He took a hit of the dispo the two had on the couch.

He doesn't hesitate as he opens the camera app on her phone and starts recording. He positions himself behind her, lining his cock up with her entrance.

“Oh fuck.” He cussed as he slid in, the camera flash capturing their synchronized gasps as he slid inside her.

“Fuck, you have to watch this video later.” His mouth hung open at the sight.

“Mm— Jungkook” She hummed, “Fuck baby”

“Come on mama.” He slapped her ass. “Make this video good yeah? Bounce on this dick for me.”

She fucked herself on his cock, making her eyes rolled back with each bounce.

He grips her hips as he starts thrusting in and out of her, picking up the pace as he fucks her hard.

“Always so fucking tight” He groaned. “But you’re so fucking wet. How does that work?”

“Mm” She whined. “Jungkook you’re too fucking big.”

“You take it don’t you?” He slapped her ass. “So fucking pretty. Especially when you’re high.”

Her ass clapped against him, the sounds of her moans and her ass driving him off the edge.

They were panting, equally putting in the work to get each other off.

“Been dying to fuck you since you texted me this morning mama.” He spoke to her. “Huge tits, fat ass, and pretty face is just what I needed.”

She could cum with his words alone. She loved how he smoke to her and how vocal he was.

“Fuck” He groaned, pulling out with a loud ‘pop’ sound.

“Jungkook!” Y/n whined in irritation.

He stopped filming, shutting off the phone and tossing it to the side.

“Sorry mama. Gotta fuck you missionary.” He apologized, smacking her ass before flipping her over on her back. “Wanna cum while I look at your face.”

“Can I take it off mama?” Jungkook pouted cutely, pecking her cheek. “Pleaseee”

“No. I still don’t trust you.” Y/n shook her head. “Over here tryna bend the rules.”

She was very strict on Jungkook wearing a condom. She heard all sorts of rumors about the women he had been with and she was not taking any chances.

“I don’t know why. You know rumors aren’t always true.” He shook his head.

“Do you want pussy or not?” She threatened.

“Fine fine” He gave in.

He wanted her to know she was the only girl he was with but, it was too soon to deal with the sappy shit when all they were doing was fucking.

He slipped back in her, stretching her out once again.

He went back to his pace, snapping his hips inside of her while she arched her back at the impact.

Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at her breasts bouncing up and down as he fucked her.

His shaft throbs as he watches her come undone on his cock, tits bouncing wildly. He's almost there just from the sight.

“Mm fuck Jungkook.” She moaned out his name repeatedly.

Their energy was lower because of the weed but their sexual urges were at an all time high.

Jungkook reached over, circling over her clit with his thumb. “Feels good huh mama? You take it so good.”

He was growing closer to his edge.

The double stimulation with the weed still highly active in her system made her go insane.

“Look so fucking pretty like that baby.” He cooed. “My prettiest and favorite customer for sure.”

His thrusts become more frantic, his balls slapping against her ass with each one.

“Jungkook I’m— I need to cum” She whined desperately, barely able to let out a single sentence.

He rubbed her clit more intensely before she came all over his cock, panting at the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Jungkook came shortly after, pulling out pumping himself until he came all over her stomach.

The two panted together, staying still for a moment to catch their breaths.

“F-Fuck. I’ll clean us up.” He said, still trying to get to his breath.

“Let’s just run a shower.” She replied. “P-Please”

He agreed. He cleaned up what he could before the two stood up of her couch.

“So…” She trailed off. “You admitted I was your favorite customer.”

“Goddamnit Y/n.”

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Mafia Ringleader x GN Reader

What? I'm sick of these classic Mafia husbands trope yet we all know damn well that part of us is digging real deep into it. So allow me to hand you one of my Mafia OCs.

One of the nation's biggest threats has yet to be your lover, wagging his imaginary tail as he rested his face on your lap. We are so desensitized to how immoral a mafia is due to the romanticization of it to the point you just straight up ignore all his crimes!

Because of his work, the two of you can't really have a private date somewhere out there. Sure the bodyguards are not in sight but you know better than to think that they are not lurking around to keep you both safe from his rivals.

"Won't you gimme a smooch'aroo?" "... In front of your men?" "*Pouts* Pretty please?"

You love it when he throws all cold facades away and shifts himself into a touch-starved puppy! Who would have known this guy just sent one of his enemies their men's heads as a lingering threat to not exert themselves~

While your lover is not involved in the human trafficking side, it doesn't justify his actions for being the largest drug dealer in this nation. Whatever type you are looking for, junkies, he has it all stored for you, with a price of course.

But if you are a junkie reader then he'd be quite worried. You see, he may be dealing drugs but that doesn't mean he's doing drugs. He likes nicotine but would rather not indulge himself in yet another addiction okay? And that goes the same way to you! Please stop it.

And may I tell you that Kaspar enjoys ranting to you about how his day(s) has been, how he wants you to comfort him as you praise him for surviving yet another day? Empty plates are not filled with him just sitting around and he has to fight every day to not remind himself of the old days?

"Oh yes, have my beloved eaten? You are not going through another silly diet, right? Trust me, food is meant to be enjoyed and not over-calculated!"

There are also times he'd rant non-stop about this certain lawyer that he's working with. Of how one of the nation's biggest threats, has been reduced into an errand boy for his spouse! Can you believe that, babe?

Overall Rating? 9/10. Where did the 1 one go to? Your dead friend that insulted you and his punishments. Ehe.

Look, he has a problem with people who dare to look down on him and you, he has grown up in a rather unfortunate background in which he fights teeth and nails to break free so how DARE someone patronize him or you?

Yeah, it sounds romantic but not so cute when it's your literal bestie. He spares no mercy in how he deals with them too, the only mercy he's offering is one chance and nothing more.

Another dark side of him would be his... punishment. Ehe. Due to his upbringing as a ringleader, he is used to disciplining his men, rough. Sure he doesn't give you the same punishment as he does to his men but that doesn't mean it saves you from how unpleasant it is.

The worst punishment that wrenches his heart would be making you skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner! He doesn't have the heart to but he has to! (Honestly, in your opinion, there is literally worse punishment than this, not gonna name it.)

Yeah he is a Beelzebub at heart (Gluttony)

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 14 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mentions of alcohol, a creep at the gym, mentions of Lisa and what happened in the last chapter, cursing, oc and jk finally talk and it hurts, jk gets punched in the face, explicit content: hickey, breast/nipple play, jerking off, oral sex (male and female receiving), hair pulling, ass slapping, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid), big dick!Jungkook, creampie

☆word count: 12.2k

☆a/n: someone said more angst? but this time with a true side of hope (maybe). Hope you guys like it <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Wednesday, October 7th

Days have gone by. Weeks, actually - September giving way to October. You’ve been in a daze, going through the first month of the semester in slow motion. You’ve been focusing on classes more, studying in all the free time that you have, when you’re not going to the gym.

You’ve started going to the gym on a regular schedule. Three to four times a week, most of the time accompanied by Yoongi. It’s easy to know why - Yoongi’s got a crush on the guy who works at the reception of the gym. You think it’s good. Yoongi’s allowed to move on from Hoseok, to finally find someone else who is worth his love. 

It gives you hope that one day you’ll get that for you too. But you’re not there yet - far from it. You’re still feeling the repercussions of that Friday evening when you foolishly believed you and Jungkook were fixable.

Now you think the whole world lies between you and him, and you doubt anything will ever fix that. 

He’s texted you once, since that Friday evening. A few days later, he asked if you wanted to talk. You ignored the message - it was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but it had to be done. Too much pain stands between you and him for you to be able to be with him.

At least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. Like a mantra - you’ve been repeating to yourself that you can’t be with him because he’s Taehyung’s best friend, because it would ruin his friendship. And Jungkook deserves his friends, deserves to move on with Lisa if that’s what he wants to be doing.

You know he’s not. You know that night was the last time he saw Lisa outside of their friend group gatherings. You know because last week you were at the bar with Ria, and you’d somehow ended up at Taehyung’s table. You’d felt Lisa’s scalding gaze on you the whole time, yet she’d remained nice to you, polite like she’d always been.

Jungkook has broken more hearts than just yours after all.

You know they have stopped hanging out because Sera asked Lisa where Jungkook was that night. She answered that she didn’t know, that they’d stopped seeing each other. She’d said so looking at you, as if trying to throw the blame on you, but it’d gone unnoticed to the table.

Perhaps because they were drunk. You wouldn’t know - you’ve stopped drinking since that first party of the semester when everything came crashing down.

You take a long sip from the water bottle you always carry to the gym. You’ve been stretching on the black mats, in the smaller room in the corner that some people also use for yoga. Right now it’s just you and some guy you’ve seen around a couple of times before, and you’ve been trying to ignore the way he keeps looking at you.

You wish there was a gym nearby for women only, but there unfortunately isn’t, so you suffer the stares once in a while, though they aren’t as frequent as you initially thought they would be. Maybe because most of the time you aren’t alone - you think maybe you shouldn’t have come alone today.

Luckily enough you’re almost done, so you just move on to the last stretch, the muscles in your back straining for a few seconds before they relax as you take a deep breath. Once you’re done you stand up, heading to the cleaning station to get some paper that you spray with the cleaning spray, and then you walk back to the mat you used to clean it. 

A second later you’re out the door, walking quickly to the women’s locker room. 

A glance to your left makes your heart clench in your chest, so hard you think you might be about to go into cardiac arrest. 

Jungkook is standing by a squat rack, gaze lowered, yet it’s like he senses you watching. His head immediately raises, and he meets your gaze for half a heartbeat before you look away, walking even faster just so that you don’t have to be in his presence anymore.

You could have chosen another gym. But this one is the cheapest and nearest option from your college, so you decided to still come here, even though you knew you’d see Jungkook once in a while. Luckily enough for you, you’ve been able to figure out his approximate gym schedule, and you’ve avoided the hours that he usually comes here.

Hell, he usually comes in the morning, and it’s almost nine pm.

Though you know the true reason why you’ve chosen this gym. Not that you would admit it to anyone - it just feels reassuring to see Jungkook once in a while, to know that he’s doing okay.

Even if the dark circles under his eyes tell you he might not be doing all that good at all. But you’re not close enough to him anymore to be allowed to care, so each time you just disappear the second you catch sight of him, hoping he doesn’t see you. 

Your heart beats out of your chest the whole time you change in the locker room, and you tell yourself you’ll make a beeline for the front doors as soon as you’re out. It’s not as reassuring as you wish it was, and you have to take a few deep breaths before you walk out of the locker room.

A saccharine smile welcomes you outside, and you startle at the sight of the man who had been in the yoga room with you. He’s leaning against the wall, but the second he sees you walking out he pushes up from the wall, folding his arms on his chest.

You hear the distinct sound of alarm bells at the back of your mind as he says, “Hey.”

You swallow, searching for salvation as you glance around the gym, but there’s none to be found.

Jungkook’s not even by the squat racks anymore.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to sound polite.

“I see you here all the time,” the man adds.

You almost gag - you’ve never noticed him before, and the thought that he might have been staring at you multiple times makes you shudder.

“Oh,” you let out.

He smirks, and this time you gulp as you once again scan the gym.

“What’s your name?” the man asks.

Hell, he has to be in his early forties - aren’t there any women his age he could be hitting on instead?

“Sophie,” you reply as quickly as you can, saying the first name that comes to your mind.

“Well, Sophie, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink with me?”

You gulp. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you that makes you feel small, like he’s undressing you with his gaze, and you feel infinitely vulnerable in front of him.

“Huh, sorry, I’m busy tonight,” you say.

You make to walk past him, but he steps to the side, blocking your way. “Come on. I promise we’ll have fun.”

Ew.

“I am busy,” you insist as adrenaline flushes through you.

“Clearly,” the man drawls. “Come on, doll, I promise I’m a good time.”

“Excuse me?” you say, unable to help yourself.

The man laughs, but before he has time to say anything, an arm wraps around your shoulder, and you’re pulled into someone’s side. Your first reaction is to punch, but your hand stops midway as you meet Jungkook’s gaze, and everything fades away until it’s just you and him.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

Your eyes dip to his mouth. Fuck… He’s so close, and you’ve missed him so much, and your heart is reaching out for him, searching for him like it’s been doing for weeks.

“Yes,” you answer, and you don’t dare look at the man as Jungkook pulls you even closer.

“Hey, I was busy here,” the man comments, once again blocking your way.

“Well, this is my girlfriend, and we have plans tonight,” Jungkook says, levelling a glare at the man that you wish to never be on the receiving end of. “So respectfully fuck off.”

You wince, thinking that might aggravate the man. But when Jungkook tilts his head to the side with murder in his gaze, the man rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath that awfully sounds like ‘Fucking bitch’. You have half a thought to punch him for it, but Jungkook steers you away, and despite the weeks and months between you, you feel yourself leaning against him.

The early fall night is warm outside, summer days clinging to October like you’re clinging to Jungkook’s waist right now. You don’t even know when you snaked your arm around his waist. You just know you’re holding him just as much as he’s holding you, and though you don’t talk, you hear thousands of confessions lingering in the air.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks softly when you’ve walked away from the gym, towards where you assumed he must have parked his car.

You surprise yourself by blinking back tears at his words, at this revelation that he still cares for you like you care for him.

“Shit,” you let out.

Jungkook lets go of you like he’s the one hurting you, and your arm falls at your side aimlessly as he steps in front of you.

“I’ll make a complaint against him,” he softly reassures you. “So that he can’t work out at this gym anymore.”

You nod, blinking away the tears. You succeed, and you take a deep breath before you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

You don’t think you were ready for the softness, for the yearning that his gaze holds right now. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He smiles, infinitely sadly. “Of course, Y/n. Do you want me to drive you home?”

You’re almost foolish enough to tell him that you already are home, here with him.

“Please,” you say.

He nods. “I’m parked this way.”

You follow him, clutching the straps of the duffel bag you’ve been using for your gym clothes. He’s parked closer than you thought he was, and just a minute later, you’re sitting in his car, and he’s driving you towards the dorms.

The silence is heavy in the car - filled with memories of you and him, and of the breaking that followed. You look at his profile as he drives, and he’s careful not to glance your way, like doing so is admitting maybe you both are still vulnerable for the other.

And you want to speak, want to voice the words haunting you. But you can’t. Not when you chose to not reply to him when he texted you weeks ago. Not when all you can picture is Lisa coming out of the bathroom wearing his shirt, while he stood there, mute, his head hanging low.

So you remain silent, as does he, up until he parks in front of the dorms. You swallow a lump in your throat as you lay a hand on the knob, ready to open the car, but he clears his throat, and your eyes snap to him.

“Do you…” he trails off, toying with his piercings. “Do you think you’ll ever move back home?”

The question is treacherous, a dagger that stabs right through your beating heart. 

“I don’t think I can,” you answer in a whisper.

He nods once, not glancing at you. “Okay.” He wets his lips as he takes a deep breath, and then he finally shoots you a quick look. “I’m sorry.”

He truly does look sorry, apologetic, his big doe eyes once again filled with sadness and yearning and so many regrets you think he might be drowning in them.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you offer him a tentative smile. “It’s fun to experience the dorm life a little.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Ria is a fun roommate.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m glad she is.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds longer, and you see he means so much more. You see the longing - it’s reflected in your own eyes. But you can’t be with him, not after all that happened. So you open the door, looking away from him even though it costs your soul to do so.

“Thank you for driving me,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he answers, voice heavy with emotions you don’t want to interpret.

Not when they might crush you with no chance of survival.

“I’ll see you around,” you add as you pick up your duffel bag from where you’d left it at your feet.

“See you around,” he echoes.

You take a deep breath, offer him one last tight-lipped smile, and then you shut the door, turning away from him before he can see the tears pooling in your eyes. Before you can let your heart break again, before you decide to go home with him after all.

Before you can accept that there were tears pooling in his gaze, too.

Thursday, October 10th 

You like your Thursdays. You only have a class in the afternoon, and it’s your easiest class this semester, with a professor who genuinely loves what she’s doing and who teaches it grandly. It’s an engaging class, where she makes everyone participate, and though you usually hate those, she always manages to make everyone feel comfortable enough to actually participate.

You wish all your classes were like this, but alas, most of them suck.

But yes, you like your Thursdays. Maybe the sun shining bright on your walk home through campus contributes to it, the slowly-changing leaves in the trees beautiful in their multitudes of colours - some still green, others red, yellow, orange and brown. It makes for a pretty picture, and the warmth from yesterday still lingers around, so much so that numerous students are lounging on the lawn in front of the college, sharing snacks or studying or just taking in the sun while they still can.

Your heart was heavy all night yesterday, keeping you up almost till dawn, but the sun rays are healing today, so much so that the thought of Jungkook doesn’t hurt quite as much.

You get to the dorms with a smile tickling the corner of your lips. You usually head home with Nabi, but she said she wanted to go see Namjoon first, and so she went to his office after your class. So you’re alone when you push the door open, and you’re convinced you’re alone when you close the door behind you, kicking off your shoes.

You only realize Ria is hiding under a pile of blankets when she peeks through, startling you. You jump, ready to throw a punch if needed, and she starts laughing as she pushes the blankets off.

You laugh with her as your heart races in your chest, and you lay a hand on the beating organ to try and calm it.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you let out, and you put your backpack down next to Nabi’s bed - your bed for the last month.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, but you doubt she really is. “I needed this though.” 

You slightly furrow your brows, and you only then make out her red nose and puffy, blood-shot eyes. It’s evident that she’s been crying, and your heart sinks in your chest at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, immediately moving closer to her, sitting on her bed close enough that your thigh touches hers through the many blankets.

She shifts to give you more space, and you climb on the bed properly.

“I don’t know, man,” she says, and her voice wobbles as tears fill her eyes again.

You tug her into a hug, and she cries against your chest. You’re mortified - you’ve never seen Ria cry, and there’s something wrong about it, like the sun just rose in the west instead of the east, or like it’s raining upwards. You hate it, and you rub her back soothingly, holding her closer as sobs rock through her.

“I just,” she lets out between two sobs. “He started seeing someone else.”

Oh.

You had an inkling it had to do with Seokjin, but now the confirmation breaks your heart for your friend, for the feelings she refused to admit to herself.

And now she’s too late, much like you were that Friday night when you ran home to Jungkook, hoping you’d be able to confess your love for him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper.

She raises her head long enough to wipe her cheeks and meet your gaze. “You said this would happen.”

And then she’s sobbing again, and you hold her close, not caring that she’s currently staining your shirt with her tears. 

“And the worst part is that she’s so pretty,” Ria continues. “Clearly super smart too. Like obviously she’d be his type, you know.” 

She pulls her phone out of the pile of blankets, and the screen turns to life as she angles towards her face. She then hands you her phone, and you see that she’s on a girl’s profile.

“Look at the story,” Ria says.

You click on it, and the picture that comes up is one of Seokjin looking to the side, laughing at something. He looks annoyingly perfect like that, his eye crinkling at the corner in joy.

The picture was also posted only twenty minutes ago, so you know this is fresh.

 “How did you find this?” you ask.

Ria plops on her back, sighing dramatically as she looks up at the ceiling and at the glued fluorescent stars that you placed there the week after you moved in. 

“He told me he was going on a date,” she admits, her lips jutting out in the hint of a pout.

“Oh?” you press.

“I know,” she grumbles. “Yes, we’ve started talking again.”

You think it’s progress, but you don’t mention it, not wanting to scare her when she’s finally admitting her feelings to herself.

“And he just told you he was going on a date?” you ask.

She nods, and tears well up in her eyes again, though this time she successfully blinks them again. “Yeah, we said we’d be friends? And yesterday he told me about the date, and about who he was going to go with.” Ria pulls one of the blankets over her face, shielding herself from the world. “Fuck, I even helped him pick out what to wear.”

You wince, and you’re glad she can’t see it. “You want to be just friends with him?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I just know that I’ve been stalking the girl obsessively since yesterday, and I saw the story as soon as she posted it.”

“Yikes,” you let out.

“I know,” Ria whines. “I’m such a mess.”

You pat the top of her head that still sticks out from underneath the blanket. “I think this is good.”

She pulls the blanket off her features, glaring at you. “How can you say that?”

“Because you’re finally realizing you have feelings for him, no?”

Her mouth falls open, but she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at you as her waterline increasingly becomes wet, and then tears fall onto her cheeks again. You quickly grab a tissue on her bedside table, and then you gently wipe her cheeks as she just keeps staring at you, clearly realizing that you are right.

That she’s in love with Kim Seokjin.

“Shit,” she lets out after a while. “What am I supposed to do?”

You offer her a gentle smile. “You tell him. You tell him before it’s too late and things go any further with the girl.”

“He did say he wasn’t going to stay with her late”, Ria says. “He’s got work at six.”

“So then text him at six, and ask him if he wants to hang out.”

She widens her gaze. “I can’t just do that,” she says.

You tilt your head to the side. “Why?”

She shrugs. “Because I am a fucking mess right now,” she grumbles.

You laugh, patting her head again. And though you agree she does look a mess, you know it’s fixable. Ria is easily the most beautiful person you know - even when she’s crying.

“Then let’s get you ready. Let’s eat something good, do your makeup and all that shit.”

She scrunches up her nose, yet a smile slowly tickles the corners of her lips. “And what do I tell him?”

“You tell him how you feel,” you say, and the parallel between your situation with Jungkook hits you so deep you think you almost fall off the bed. “You tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”

“What if it’s already too late?”

What if you get there and he’s already with someone else?

“Then at least you’ll have tried,” you say. “And I’ll be here to comfort you if needed.”

She takes a deep breath, like she’s amassing all the courage in this world, and then she nods once curtly as she sits up. “Then at least I’ll have tried,” she echoes. She smiles, a smile that starts with her eyes and then trickles down to her lips. It’s a smile of hope, of sun after the storm, and you can’t help but reciprocate it even though your circumstances are so much more dire.

Even though you were too late.

“Let’s do it.”

*****

You sit outside, the last of the warmth of the day clinging to the edges of campus. The early fall smells of wet leaves and dirt and lingering sun rays, and you take it all in. It’s relaxing, calming, even though you’re aware you likely shouldn’t be out at this hour of the evening alone.

But Seokjin told Ria he’d come over, and you weren’t going to be the cockblock to their conversation.

You don’t know what you’re doing here. You’re in the park you had to go through last year to get to your apartment, the one where you’d fallen in a puddle of mud on Valentine’s Day, before you’d gotten home and Jungkook saved your pants from the stain.

Before your very first kiss with Jeon Jungkook, the first of a long chain that was only leading up to catastrophe.

Your conversation with Ria keeps replaying in your head. You’re aware her situation with Seokjin isn’t exactly the same as that of you and Jungkook, yet the parallels strike deep tonight, as you sit there in the park that saw the beginning of whatever it is that you and Jungkook were.

You were too late. At least that’s what you’ve been repeating to yourself for hours. Indeed, when you’d gone home that Friday night, he’d been with Lisa. It’d been proof that he was moving on, that he might have liked you one day but doesn’t anymore.

But then again, you’ve seen him wither - from a distance, obviously. You’ve heard what his friends say about him. How he’s been isolating himself, playing video games and just focusing on college. Because he has to live up to his father’s expectations - at least that’s what Jimin said when you were at the bar, and you learned that Jungkook and Lisa were over.

But you’ve seen him wither like a flower in the fall. His eyes growing heavier, his back never fully straight anymore like he can’t bear the weight that was placed on his shoulders. Or maybe that’s the effect that you have on him, and when you’re not around, he’s okay.

You really hope he is. At least then one of you wouldn’t be dying, breaking and breaking all over again whenever you think about everything that went down between you and him.

You wish he’d told you about Gabrielle. You wish he hadn’t held that promise, but then again it shows that Jungkook will do anything for those he cares about.

Like intervene when some creep is harassing you at the gym. Like driving you home to the dorms even though the atmosphere was tinted with bittersweet pain, with the memories of when you’d laughed in that same car on the way to New York.

Memories of when you’d given him a blow job after that party because you couldn’t keep your hands off him.

Then again, you reckon the memories of you and Jungkook aren’t confined to his car. They’re everywhere, because for months he’d followed you around everywhere, always in your heart.

Not that he’s left your heart. There’s still a hole shaped like him where he used to be, and nothing you’ve done has been able to do anything about it.

No, everything always leads back to him - even your friends falling in love anew leads you back to him, to the memories of when he’d whispered sweet nothings against your skin in the middle of the night. Of when he’d told you to sleep in his bed if you missed him - did he ever notice that you did? That you slept in his clothes, that you clung to him even though you’d told him that you were over?

Your heart breaks anew, always. It shatters like you’ve barely repaired it, and you know you haven’t. Hell, he’s always haunting you, like he’s the ghost haunting the hallways of your life. 

You know he is. Because everything always leads back to him. Every conversation that you have reminds you of him, and you wish you could be Ria. Wish it wasn’t too late for you, wish Jungkook wasn’t Taehyung’s friend.

You wish that you didn’t care about all of that, that you could just go back to your apartment right now and tell Jungkook every secret you’ve carried in the nights you spent with him. You wish you could just say everything without holding anything back. Not because you wish that he was yours - no, only because you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move on if you don’t get the closure you never got with him.

Because there always were more words lingering in the air, more truths untold that hid in the deepest corners of your hearts, both yours and his.

There always were, but should there still be?

Can you just go up to him tonight and say everything, not caring about the consequences?

Isn’t that the advice you just gave to Ria?

You’re up before you’ve fully registered the thought. Before you realize that you’ve come to a certain catharsis sitting there tonight, as your friend confesses her love to the one she might be too late to have.

Your feet know the way, following that same trail you’ve walked a hundred times before, if not more. And your steps are sure, confident, like you haven’t spent months breaking yourself over him.

But you’re done breaking. You want healing, you want the sun to pierce the clouds that have been covering the land of your mind. You want some happiness, you want, like Yoongi, to be able to move on. You foolishly want, like Ria, to be able to tell Jungkook how you feel.

And so what if it impacts his friendship with Taehyung? You have a feeling the friendship’s already been impacted by Jungkook’s shattered heart.

You owe him to be able to heal, too.

You’re in front of the apartment, standing at the bottom of the short flight of stairs, all of ten minutes later. Looking up at the door, remembering when a paradise of you and Jungkook awaited you behind it.

Now, you think it’s hell on Earth awaiting you, but maybe there’s solace to be found in confronting the reason for the jagged pieces of your heart.

It occurs to you then that Taehyung and Ariane might be home, that they might end up being witnesses to something you so wish could be just yours and Jungkook’s. 

You’ve had enough of Taehyung being at the back of your mind whenever it comes to Jungkook.

“Y/n?”

You startle for the second time that day, though this time you jump so high you think you might have jumped out of your skin. 

Jungkook is standing to your left, gym bag in hand, and he looks at you with questions in his eyes, like he too can’t believe he gets to speak to you again in just a few days.

“Hey,” you let out.

He chews on his piercings, big doe eyes not leaving you. He doesn’t even blink, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he does so.

“What are you doing here so late?” he asks.

You smile softly, and your heartbeats don’t hurt as much as they usually do. Like this is where you were supposed to be tonight, after the gentleness of the afternoon.

Before your conversation with Ria, that is.

“Are Tae and Ari home?” you ask, not replying to his question.

He takes it in stride, taking a few steps towards you, though he stops at a safe distance from you. “No. Everyone’s out to the movie theatre right now.”

“Right now?” you echo. 

He nods once. “They’re going to the ten pm show because Sera was working at the library until nine.”

Which means you have hours of blessed alone time with Jungkook to talk to him. You can’t help it - you look up to the sky, and watch the blindingly bright moon that reigns up there. 

“Good,” you say.

He takes another step towards you, and you meet his gaze again, offering him another smile. He looks at it like it’s foreign, like he hasn’t spent months tangled up with you in his bed or yours, in New York City or here.

“Why are you here?” he asks again, his voice lower this time. Softer, gentler, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

“Can we talk?”

His gaze widens almost unnoticeably, and his lips part like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what to say. He closes his mouth, gulps, and then says, “Sure, let’s go in.”

You end up following behind him, as he already had the keys in one hand. The apartment hasn’t changed at all since the last time you were here - since that Friday night Lisa walked out of the bathroom - and it’s just as warm and homey as you remember it to be.

Even more so as Jungkook kicks off his shoes, putting his gym bag down by the door as he eyes you carefully.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks.

You reckon you could be fully honest right now. You could tell him how you feel, you could say you fell in love all those months ago despite the odds working against you. You could say everything, yet you don’t want to jump into it right away. You want to enjoy this moment with him - it might be your very last after all.

“How have you been?” you query as you take your shoes off.

He pulls on his piercings and then glances to his right. “Do you want to sit while we talk?”

You nod, and a moment later you’ve moved to the kitchen, and you’re pouring a glass of water for you and him from the filtered pitcher in the fridge.

You put his glass down in front of him, and he looks at it like it too is foreign to him. Like your kindness is a stranger, and you think maybe it is.

Maybe after telling him you were over in Paris, your kindness died in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, and he takes a long sip of water as you sit down next to him.

In the chair to his right, much like you’d been on Valentine’s Day.

“So?” you ask, and he cocks an eyebrow in question.

Gosh… the circles underneath his eyes seem darker, and there’s a hollowness to his cheeks that you didn’t really notice before. Maybe he hasn’t been eating enough, the heartbreak stealing his appetite much like it’d stolen yours.

Did he really care this much about you?

“So what?” he lets out.

“How have you been?” 

He doesn’t like the question. You can see it in the way he tenses, in the way his shoulders hunch forward even more like he’s trying to protect himself.

“I’ve been okay,” he replies.

You get it. You don’t deserve the truth, not after all the distance between the two of you.

“You?” he adds after a few seconds.

You take a deep breath, looking away from him to glance down at the glass on the table between your hands. “I haven’t been doing all that great,” you admit. “Not too bad, but not too great, you know?”

He looks apologetic when you meet his gaze, yet he nods his head in understanding. “Yeah.”

There’s a silence, like maybe the crevice really is too large for him to hear you from your side. But you don’t want it to be that way - you’ll leap over the crevice if you have to, but you want to tell Jungkook everything.

You need it, or you’ll never be able to heal.

“I…” you trail off, and you take another deep breath, trying to find the courage that invaded you while you were at the park.

It seems like it left you empty now that you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and you hate it.

You hate everything that made it so that it’s now awkward between you and Jeon Jungkook.

“You what?” he presses gently.

You take a sip of water. “I wanted to talk about us.”

Your words fall between you and him, so loud you think they might have pierced your eardrums.

Jungkook just looks at you in silence and then looks around himself. “What if Tae comes home?”

“Jungkook, I don’t care if Taehyung comes home right now,” you say, and you find yourself fighting sudden tears. “I’m so tired.”

He murmurs your name, and some part of you yearns for the way he’d used to call you peach, teasingly yet softly like it was the most beautiful word in his dictionary. 

“We never told each other how we felt,” you continue, realizing that you maybe should have rehearsed something before deciding to come here, if only so that you wouldn’t look stupid right now. “We spent months together and yet…” You pause, and he too remains silent, like he’s so startled by the conversation that he’s entirely mute now.

“Yet we never said anything about how we felt,” you add. “That’s why I came home that night.”

You hope he knows which one you’re referring to, and it seems like he does. His big doe eyes fill with the same sorrow you know is in yours, and he says, “I’m so sorry.”

It hurts. It hurts far too much for you to be able to breathe, and you look up to the ceiling, furiously blinking away tears. “For what?” you ask.

“For not telling you about Gabrielle,” he says. “For thinking that my promise to her was more important than what you and I had.”

“It destroyed my trust in you…” you admit, voice smaller than the drop of condensation rolling down your glass right now.

“I know,” he answers. “I’ve been hating myself for it for months.”

You hadn’t expected this much truth from him, so quickly. Not when months have passed without you exchanging more than just a few surface-level sentences.

Not when just a moment ago, he’d lied and told you he’s been doing okay.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

“Don’t tell me what I should do or not do,” he fires back, so softly you barely hear him. “I’ve been going insane, Y/n.”

“Jungkook…”

“You want to know how I felt?” he asks, and there’s sudden anger in his tone, dripping from his every syllable. “You want to know how it felt when I was in Paris and had to pretend that I wasn’t in love with you so that your brother didn’t get upset?” You barely register the confession - he barely leaves you time to register it as he adds, “I was fucking ruined. I hate lying, and I had to lie about you to my best friend because you asked me to.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off. “I just wanted us to tell him together.”

“And it led to that fucking shitshow with Gabrielle,” he says, ignoring your intervention. “If I’d been able to tell her we were together, she would have never kissed me. And she only did it because she didn’t want people to know that she’s gay.” He scoffs. “Which is frankly stupid because we’re in 2024 and if her parents don’t approve of her then they can fuck right off.”

You don’t say anything to that, mostly because you think that’s a conversation he has to have with her, and not with you.

“And then you dumped me, you refused to trust me, and I fucking got lost in Paris until I had to call Gaby for help. And I told her everything then, because what was the point of holding back?”

It’s like there was a dam inside of Jungkook, and you coming here tonight burst it open, words cascading out of his mouth like they can’t be stopped.

Like he took the time to rehearse what he wanted to tell you if he ever got the chance to.

“I didn’t dump you,” you say when the silence stretches for a few seconds. “We were never together.”

“Right.” Jungkook chuckles so dryly that you think you might have just fallen into the Sahara desert. “Because of your brother, right?”

“Why are you so mad?” you ask, feeling your own temper flaring despite the fact that you’d meant to come here and tell him about the love that bears his name in your chest.

“Because, Y/n, I’ve been fucking miserable for months,” Jungkook says, voice raising. “Because I went back to New York to have my whole family laugh at me when they realized we weren’t together anymore. Because I was forced to officially become the heir of JJS because my brother chose to open his own company. Because the one time I thought maybe I should try to move on you decided to come barging in and you saw everything.”

“You’re blaming me for coming here that Friday?” you ask in disbelief. “Fuck, Jungkook, I lived here.”

“You were already out,” he points out. 

“So that gave you the right to just fuck another girl?”

He rolls his eyes, sighing deeply. “See, it pissed me off when you ignored the text I sent you after that, but now I realize that it might have been for the best.”

You don’t answer anything, not when your heart aches so fiercely. You don’t think there’s any fight left in you - there barely had any to begin with. You didn’t think you’d fight with him tonight, didn’t plan for it to lead here, yet here you sit, watching his features contorted in rage he must have kept bottled up for weeks.

It occurs to you then that Jungkook doesn’t love you anymore. That the feelings festered, turned to a much uglier feeling you don’t want to name right now.

“Why?” you ask. “Why was it for the best?”

“Because we can’t fucking be together, Y/n. Because it never was about Paris, it never was about Gaby and Lisa.” He pauses as silver lines his gaze, but he blinks it away. “Because it’s always been about Taehyung, right? You never would have dated me because of Taehyung.”

“You know,” you let out, and you scoff, shaking your head. “I was coming here tonight to tell you that I fell in love with you last semester. But shit was I fucking wrong for that.” Your voice becomes louder as you keep going until you’re practically screaming in his face. “Yes, because of Taehyung. Yes, you’re right. What happened in Paris never mattered. It was always about how we couldn’t be together because of Tae.”

He’s stunned silent, and he just looks at you as you clench your jaw, taking a deep breath. You’re trying to staunch the flow of your anger, of the tears that threaten to spill on your cheeks, but it quickly occurs to you that you’re not going to win the fight.

You get up so quickly the chair almost falls behind you, and you storm out of the kitchen as the first tear falls.

“Y/n,” Jungkook says behind you, and he’s up and out of the kitchen a second later.

You try to put your shoes on, yet they blur behind the tears in your gaze.

“Y/n,” Jungkook says again, louder this time.

Maybe because he’s closer, or because he actually spoke louder. You don’t know, don’t care.

All you want is to flee the scene before he sees the ugliness of your broken heart.

You manage to put your first shoe on, but Jungkook bends down and picks up the other one before you can put it on.

“Give that back,” you say, and you angrily dry the tears on your face with the back of a hand.

“No,” he says.

“I fucking hate you,” you practically scream, and Jungkook drops the shoe.

He smiles softly. 

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t know who makes the first move. Don’t know how or why or when, but Jungkook cradles your face as you grab a handful of his sweater to hold him close. His lips hit yours so hard you think you taste blood, and he pushes you back against the door to deepen the kiss.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth to play with his piercings once, and he grunts as he drives his knee between your legs, then thinks better of it and picks you up. He holds you up against the door, his mouth moving in time with yours, languidly. It’s soul-destroying, like he’s wiping everything you were clean so that you can start anew.

You want it to be that. You want this kiss to be born of feelings and not anger, of the love you both had for each other.

You want it to be born out of the love you were so afraid of that you kept finding reasons to keep it locked away. Because he is right - you always used Taehyung as an excuse to keep Jungkook a safe distance away. 

Not that he was any better. He was doing the same thing, up until he wasn’t. Up until he told you he’d tell Taehyung everything in Paris, and suffer the consequences. You were the one then to tell him to wait, and today you know it was a mistake.

Today, you know you shouldn’t have waited before calling Jeon Jungkook yours. Because it allowed him to slip through your fingers, and you don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself for it.

Jungkook’s tongue meets yours, and you let out a breathy sound as his hands rove your body, up and down your sides like he can’t choose a spot to linger on. Yours are lost in his hair - you’re already pulling at the strands just the way you know he likes. And he’s quick to react, to suck on your tongue, teeth teasing it. It steals a moan from the confines of your chest, and Jungkook grunts as he pulls away.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll let you leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Your hands move down until they cup his cheeks, and you gently swipe your thumb on his soft skin. “Kiss me again,” you whisper.

“Fuck,” he curses and then adds your name at the end.

His mouth is ravishing yours again a second later, and this time, you know nothing will stop you. Nothing can stop you - not when you’ve been craving his touch for so long.

Jungkook carries you towards his bedroom, disconnecting from your lips so that he can look where he’s going over your shoulder. He’s about to push the door open when you have a flash of Lisa here, and you tense in his hold.

He immediately stops moving, glancing at you to meet your gaze.

“Can we go in my room?”

He nods yes, and you peck his lips once before he starts walking again.

Your room is dark and cold when he pushes the door open, yet he drops you on the bed all the same. You watch as he bends down to plug the string of fairy lights into the outlet, and a second later the room is bathed in a soft glow that reminds you of nights with him, of falling in love until you didn’t make sense without him anymore.

You don’t. You don’t make sense without Jungkook.

He takes off his sweater, revealing planes of honey skin you’ve missed far too much, his tiny dark nipples perked from the cold. That reminds you of the power outage, of the first time you’d been with Jungkook like this, right in this room.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

He doesn’t say anything, yet you know that he missed you too. It’s in his eyes, in the way he looks at you so adoringly, and in the way he climbs on top of you so that he can kiss you again, slower this time.

Like tonight, time has stopped, and you can enjoy him eternally.

You kiss him back, putting all the feelings in your chest in the motion of your lips against the softness of his. Your hands find his warm skin, and you caress his back as you kiss and kiss, as his tongue gently traces your mouth and finds your own tongue.

He pulls away a few seconds later, only to move down until he’s sucking a mark on your neck. It takes you by surprise, and you moan as you pull at his hair. He resists for a few seconds, keeps sucking on your skin until he’s sure to have left a hickey behind, and then he finally meets your gaze.

The darkness in his eyes hints at barely concealed lust, which you reciprocate as you wrap your legs around his dainty waist, forcing him to grind on you.

You’re not surprised in the slightest to find him already hard.

“I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight,” Jungkook says, voice low. “You’ve driven me crazy.”

“Don’t be gentle,” you challenge. 

He doesn’t need to hear more before he’s crashing his mouth on yours again, with none of the previous softness. It’s rough, claiming, like he wants you to know that you’re his, and that you’ve always been his. He pulls at your bottom lip, sucks on it as he runs a hand down your side and under your shirt, and he brings it up until he cups your breast, searching your nipple through your bra.

He lets out a frustrated sound when he doesn’t manage to find it right away, and he pushes your bra up until it lies over your breasts and his digits finally find the sensitive nipple.

He pinches it, hard enough to earn a pained moan from you, and he moves his head to your neck, lapping at the mark he already put there.

“Tell me to stop anytime and I’ll stop,” he says, voice gravelly and husky and so unlike the softness that clung to him earlier.

It turns you on far more than you thought it would.

“Okay,” you say.

He smirks against your neck, and then he nibbles at your earlobe before kneeling between your legs. “Take off your shirt.”

You nod, sitting up as much as you can. He helps you get rid of the fabric - it’s a college sweater you got last fall - and he throws it to the floor.

Your bra follows soon - you think he’s about to kiss you again when he stills, eyes going wide as he looks at your exposed breasts, and then up at your face.

“You’ve been wearing the necklace?” he asks, and the softness is back in full force, making you think that it might have actually never left.

“I haven’t taken it off once,” you admit with a small, vulnerable voice.

“Fuck…” he trails off. “Fuck, Y/n.”

You wish he’d called you peach, but you think there might be another moment for it, a better moment.

You think this might not be goodbye.

He kisses you again, soft for a few seconds before he claims your mouth again. A few more seconds later he’s moving down your frame, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples while he plays with the other. You moan softly, hands looking for purchase on your bed until you decide better and lose them in his silk-soft hair again.

He circles your nipple with his tongue, flicks it once before sucking, and then moves to the other one, giving it the same treatment. He teases your breasts like that for a little longer, like he’s trying to remember every curve of you, and then he goes even lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen up until he reaches the band of your pants.

He hooks his thumbs in your pants as if he might try to rip them off your body, but he lets go instead, kneeling between your legs.

“You know,” he lets out, and he palms himself through his pants. “I want to feel you tonight.”

You reach between the two of you as you prop yourself up on an elbow. “I want to feel you too.”

His fingers run up your side, finding your bird tattoo. He traces it lightly, then meets your gaze and says, “You got a new tattoo.”

You nod.

“I love it.”

You don’t have time to say thank you before he’s crashing his lips on yours once more, stealing the words from your mouth. He doesn’t linger there for long - a second later he’s kneeling between your legs again, unbuttoning your pants. He helps you out of the fabric, dropping it on the floor with your sweater. He leaves your panties on - his eyes darken with lust at the wet spot you know already stains the lilac fabric between your legs.

“Shit,” he curses lowly, and he runs a thumb over the wet spot. “You’re so wet.”

You gulp, holding his gaze as you nod once. “Do something about it.”

He smirks, tilting his head to the side. “Oh, don’t worry, I will.”

You watch him as he gets up, taking off the rest of his clothes. Soon, he stands in all his glory, fisting his dick a couple of times as you take in the sight.

“Come here,” Jungkook says, motioning for you to sit on the side of your bed.

Your bed is low enough so that his dick is almost at eye level, and he taps it on your lips as you look up at him.

You know what he wants. Yet you resist, your hands gripping his thighs hard enough for your nails to dig into his skin just a little. He winces, tapping your mouth again, and you feel some of his precum on your lips.

You lick it clean, and then you give a tentative lick to the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Actually, I don’t even think you should-”

You interrupt his sentence by taking his dick in your mouth, sucking hard as you tease it with your tongue. Jungkook moans out a curse, and you don’t give him time to say anything else before you grab the base of his dick so that you can jerk him off in time with the back and forth of your head.

It’s sloppy, drool slipping out of your mouth and dripping from your chin. You don’t care - you use it to jerk him off better, faster, and Jungkook throws his head back, the muscles on his abdomen shifting under his skin.

You cup his balls, massaging them with a light touch as you keep on sucking him, your eyes slowly watering every time he hits the back of your throat. Jungkook just lets you do it, doesn’t take control, and your pussy drips and drips, soaking your panties.

You’re so horny for him, even with all the history between you.

Even though you’re not sure if this is goodbye.

Jungkook suddenly pulls your head back by the hair, hard enough for your scalp to burn. A string of spit still connects his dick to your mouth, and you lick it clean as he looks down on you, breathing heavily.

“Get on all fours,” he orders, and he lets go of your hair so that you can move.

Though you’re usually a brat, you don’t dare disobey right now, so you move until you’re positioned like he asked you to. He slaps your ass, and your skin tingles as he massages the spot, bending down to press a kiss on your spine.

He moves between your legs now, pushing your panties to the side so he can lick a long stripe from your clit to your entrance, dipping his tongue inside once before he straightens.

“Think you can already take me?” he asks, and he rubs his tip on your clit.

You moan unabashedly loudly, hiding your face in a pillow. He keeps rubbing his dick on you, never sliding it in, and you eventually look back towards him.

“Just be slow at first,” you tell him, heart beating out of your chest with all your desire for him.

He massages your ass again. “Don’t think you can take it?” he teases.

You swallow, letting out a breathy sound as he rubs on your clit again. “I just…” you trail off, and you grip the sheets as if that’ll help you concentrate. “I haven’t had sex since April.”

Jungkook freezes behind you, his cock still pressed on you. You meet his gaze and fall in the depths of his eyes.

You’ve always been falling for him anyway.

He bends down, finding your mouth despite the awkwardness of the position. You kiss softly, yet you’re painfully aware of his tip nudging your entrance, yet never sliding in. And though you’re also painfully aware he hasn’t put a condom on yet, you reach behind you, grabbing his dick to hold it in place as you push back, until he’s finally sliding in.

He’s huge. You think he’s even bigger than before, and you moan out his name as he slips in slowly, one inch at a time. You feel every vein, every ridge, his dick spearing you open until you’re full with him, stretched so wide open you see stars.

You both don’t move once he’s fully embedded inside of you, your walls clenching around him by instinct. His breathing is ragged, and he leans his forehead on the side of your face, pecking your cheek once as he gives you time to adjust to the impressive size of him.

“Let’s stay here forever, mmh?” he murmurs.

“Kook…”

“You know,” he whispers softly, and he slowly pulls back only to push back in roughly, his balls slapping on your clit. “I’ve been imagining fucking you raw.” He pulls back, pushes back in. “A whole fucking lot.” Another back and forth of his hips, and he hits so hard you move forward on the bed. “And I gotta admit -” skin slaps against skin - “that the real thing doesn’t compare to my imagination.”

He straightens, and then he starts pounding into you so hard all you can do is hold onto the sheets and moan his name.

He’s right though - you feel him a thousand times more than you’ve ever felt him before, the lack of a condom rendering the act oh so sinful. And though you’re aware it might be a dumb idea, you too just want to feel all of him. To be just one - your bodies linked in the most intimate of ways.

Jungkook pulls out, flipping you on your back. You’re dizzy for half a second, but then you meet his gaze, right as he thrusts forward in one swift motion, impaling you on his cock. You moan as he grunts, his eyebrows bunched together over his eyes in what you know is pleasure. He’s sucking on his piercings, and he looks so hot you just want more of him.

“Harder,” you beg.

He laughs lightly, sounding out of breath. “Fuck.”

But he gives in to your desire, fucking you hard enough so that he’s the only thing you can think of. Your room is filled with the squelching sounds that your pussy makes each time he thrusts forward and with the slapping of his skin against yours; his grunts and your breathy sounds form a melody meant for your ears only, and you feel a knot slowly tightening in your core. Your hands have shifted to his muscular thighs at some point, and your nails dig into his skin, making him hiss.

He leans forward, locking you between his arms as he slows down the rhythm, yet keeps it just as rough. His lips find yours, and you taste the light sheen of sweat on his upper lip as he kisses you languidly, his tongue easily finding yours.

You think the kiss slows time. It slows time until every moment feels like forever, until each of his thrusts last a light year. You feel infinite - you are infinite, as long as he’s with you. It’s a beautiful feeling, one that swells in your chest gently until your heart bursts with warmth for him, with all the feelings you’ve been trying to repress for months.

With all the feelings you’ve been trying to repress since that first time you saw him, running into him outside of the apartment. Since that first time he called you peach - and all the times following that.

You’ve been in love with Jeon Jungkook for a lot longer than you ever wished to admit to yourself, but there’s nothing scary about it. Not when you know he feels the same. And if this is goodbye, if this moment is to be your last, you know it will always be your favourite ending.

Because if the world was ending now, you know you’d die happy.

Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. Your nails trace idle forms on his back, digging in whenever he thrusts forward, and you’re full of him, oh so full of him.

“I missed you,” he whispers. “I missed you so fucking much.”

The revelation steals your breath, as does the rapid rhythm he establishes next. The new angle feels sinfully good, the weight of his body on yours is entrancing, and the knot that was slowly forming in your core tightens to a breaking point.

“I’m going to come,” you whimper.

“Come for me, peach,” Jungkook urges you on, and you moan, hiding your face in his neck.

You come the second he reaches between you to press circles on your clit. And you come hard, vision flashing white as you let out a broken moan, clinging to Jungkook for dear life. He’s a grunting mess, cursing under his breath.

“That’s it, peach, you’re doing so good,” he praises, and his voice is breathy, whiny, the only indication that he’s about to follow you and climax too.

Your pussy clenches hard around his dick, and Jungkook stills deep inside of you, his dick twitching. But he’s not coming yet, like he’s trying to keep it in.

“Where do you want me to come?” he asks.

Your hands climb up his side, nails scratching him, and then you lose them in his hair again, lightly tugging on the strands. Your orgasm steals your thoughts, your words from your brain, bliss sweeping through you and leaving you on a cloud of ecstasy. “In,” you breathe out.

“I don’t think -” his words are cut off by a soft moan as your walls clench around him, your orgasm not fully done yet. “That’s a good idea,” he finishes.

“I have an IUD,” you remind him, even though it’s hard to form sentences when your mind is swimming in such bliss.

You bite at his neck, lightly, and then suck on the spot. Jungkook doesn’t need more to resume his hard thrusts, and you think you’re insane.

You and him. Both of you have gone insane, and he’s coming a second later as he pushes all the way in, moaning in your ear as you praise him softly. He paints your insides white, shooting spurts and spurts of cum deep inside of you as he clings to you and you cling to him. His climax lasts for a long time, and he’s shaking by the time he’s done.

“Holy fuck,” he lets out, and he chuckles lightly as he pecks your neck.

“Felt good?” you ask, your arms tightening around him.

“Fuck yeah.” He sucks on your neck lazily, earning a breathy sound from you. “You?”

“It always feels good with you, Kook,” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply anything, but he nuzzles his face in your neck, the proximity and the intimacy of the action meaning more than words. You gently caress his back, feeling his muscles shifting under his skin as he takes a deep breath, and then he lifts his head to meet your gaze.

“I think we still need to talk,” he says with a gentle voice. “But thank you for this.”

You swallow a sudden lump in your throat, nodding once. “We do.”

He seems conflicted for a time, like he doesn’t want to move but knows he has to, and you cup his cheek, swiping your thumb over the small scar he has there. It brings a soft smile to his lips, though you aren’t fooled.

It doesn’t meet his eyes.

He sighs, and then he glances at your night table, clearly looking for some tissues. There’s none in sight, and he meets your gaze again.

“Huh…” He chuckles again. “What should we do…” he trails off, his eyes dipping downwards between your two bodies.

“Right,” you let out, and your cheeks burn. “I can try to put my hand?”

He nods. “I’ll go get toilet paper.”

Once you’ve both agreed to the plan, Jungkook slowly pulls out of you. You immediately feel his cum dripping out of you, staining your sheets even though you try to stop the flow with your hand. Jungkook just looks at the sight, the tip of his ears reddening, and then he quickly puts his pants on so that he can go get something to clean you up with.

He comes back a moment later with toilet paper, and he starts cleaning you up, eyes solely focused on the task at hand. His moves are sweet and caring, and your heart feels far too warm for your own good. Indeed, his shoulders are too tense to mean anything good.

Or maybe he’s regretting blowing up in your face earlier. You don’t mind it - you’re glad he was able to get the words out, as they’ve clearly been weighing on him.

Jungkook finishes by wiping your hand as clean as possible with the toilet paper, and then he throws it away in the bin near your desk. He sits back down on the side of your bed, glancing at you as you remain lying down, not truly processing everything that happened yet.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Jungkook asks.

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “What time is it?”

“Ten forty-five.”

Which means you definitely still have plenty of time left before Taehyung and Ariane come home.

“Yes, I’d love to take a shower,” you say, accepting his offer with a soft smile.

He reciprocates it, but it still doesn’t meet his eyes.

Have any of his smiles reached his eyes in the last few months?

The question spins in your head incessantly as you shower, Jungkook next to you. There’s heaviness surrounding him - it’s in the way his motions are slow, subdued, and in the way he doesn’t look you in the eyes, fully. It’s in the lines on his forehead, between his eyes, and the sadness that lingers on his features.

You haven’t been doing too good in the last few months either, but you had your friends. And you realize then and there that Jungkook isolated himself from everyone, some part of him likely always feeling like Taehyung was responsible for your falling out.

You can imagine the resentment he feels towards Taehyung for it, and how difficult it was to remain friends with him.

Jungkook wraps you in a thick towel once you both finally step out of the shower, and you take a moment to dry yourself, enjoying the silence preceding the conversation you know you need to have. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind it, like he too wants a moment of calm before the storm.

And you know the storm is about to hit hard. It’ll likely break you, throw all remaining pieces of you to the four corners of the Earth.

But you don’t care - the storm can hit as hard as it wants, as long as you’re with Jungkook when it does.

“I can’t believe you’ve been wearing the necklace,” Jungkook whispers.

He was quicker than you - he’s all dry, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants. He hasn’t put a shirt on, and your eyes travel the planes of his body, heating up your cheeks.

“I haven’t taken it off once,” you admit. “I’ve kept the letter, too.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I was embarrassed about it for a while,” he admits, and his gaze drops to the floor. 

You’re done drying yourself, and you hang the towel behind the door, before facing Jungkook again. He hands his shirt - a white flag waved between the two of you - and the familiarity of the act makes tears pool in your eyes.

You hesitate for a few seconds, but then you grab his shirt, putting it on. It’s just as comfortable as it was months ago when you’d worn it to sleep every night, and you want to reach for Jungkook, to hold him close and never let go.

“Thank you,” you say, words choked by the lump you force down with a swallow. “Why were you embarrassed?” you ask.

Jungkook pulls at his piercings, meeting your gaze for a few seconds. “Because I thought you might text me. I hoped you would, honestly. But you never did.”

Your heart aches, and you have to shut your eyes to prevent it from burning into ashes. “I’m sorry.”

You are. You truly are - you’d just believed then that the letter meant goodbye. That you had to let Jungkook go at all costs, even if it meant shattering your heart and his in the process.

“Ah,” he lets out, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s okay.”

But you know he’s lying. It’s written in every defeated angle of his body, and you want to take all of the months back, to save your relationship before it went up in flames.

He sighs, meeting your gaze. “Do you want to sit in your room to talk?”

You reckon it’s a good idea - you don’t think you want the bathroom to be the scene of this conversation. So you nod your head, and Jungkook reaches for the doorknob, pushing the door open.

Pushing the door open to reveal a wide-eyed Taehyung, who looks between Jungkook and you a couple of times while you just stand there, the shirt you’re wearing way too incriminating.

You watch the storm as it hits in real-time. And it hits harder than you ever imagined it could, Taehyung’s fist colliding with Jungkook’s face before you’ve even truly had time to register that he was about to punch Jungkook.

Jungkook staggers back as you shriek, “Tae!”, but Taehyung’s already readying for his next punch. You immediately pull Jungkook behind you, standing between him and your brother as Taehyung’s cheeks turn red with rage.

“You’re fucking my sister,” Taehyung hisses, and it’s a statement, the dots irreparably connected in his head.

Jungkook touches his cheek, and you look over your shoulder just long enough to see that it tore from the force of the blow, and blood is slowly seeping out.

“I’m not fucking your sister,” Jungkook replies, his voice flat.

Taehyung chuckles bitterly, but you speak before he can, “I’m an adult, Tae, I can fuck whoever I want.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Taehyung drawls. “So you had to fuck my best friend, huh?”

“We’re not fucking,” Jungkook says again, and you slightly frown as you glance at him over your shoulder.

But he isn’t looking at you, eyes fully focused on Taehyung. And then you understand, pain crashing all of your nerves like lightning just struck you.

Jungkook is choosing Taehyung over you.

“Is that why she’s wearing your shirt?” Taehyung asks, and he shakes his hand, the only indication that his knuckles likely hurt from the blow to Jungkook’s face. “You really think I’m fucking stupid or something.”

This time Jungkook remains entirely silent.

“Tae, it started last semester,” you say, scrambling for words to tame the storm before it destroys everything. 

That makes Taehyung laugh, though the sound is scary, dangerous. “Last semester? So I ask you to take care of my sister, and you start fucking her?”

“I was taking care of her,” Jungkook replies in a similar icy tone, putting emphasis on the ‘was’.

Because you are a construct of the past now, aren’t you?

You shudder with the realization, the pain overtaking everything. You barely hear Taehyung as he tells Jungkook to fuck off, that he can’t believe he ever called him his friend. All you feel is your heart as it shatters, all over again. As Jungkook tells Taehyung to calm down, that they can talk it out.

But Taehyung is having none of it, his face mottled with red from his anger.

“Stop!” you scream as they just keep going on and on, and they both surprisingly fall silent. “Fucking stop, will you? Who cares if Jungkook and I slept together?”

You. You do, but you can’t say it.

“Jimin knew,” Taehyung says, voice low. “Jimin knew and you fucking gaslit him.”

“I did what your sister asked of me, and clearly she was right if that’s how you’re reacting,” Jungkook fires back.

“Stop,” you add, though this time it’s more of a beg. “Stop, the two of you.” You face Taehyung, nails digging into your palms as you clench your fists. “I fell in love with Jungkook. I just did, and it happened naturally, and it was reciprocated.” You don’t dare use the present tense. Not when you’re coming to the conclusion that the story truly ended last semester.

What happened tonight doesn’t change that. Because Taehyung is here now, proving every insecurity that you ever had. 

“And yes, we had something, but it ended last semester too,” you add, and you hope you won’t shatter too much of Jungkook when you conclude, “Tonight was a lapse of judgment.”

You feel the cold radiating from Jungkook behind you the second the words are out. You don’t even dare look at him as Taehyung says, “Jungkook, I think you should find somewhere else to stay for a couple of days.”

“Tae, come on,” you let out. “Can we just be adults?”

“Sounds good,” Jungkook replies, ignoring you.

He walks around you, and you try to grab his wrist, but he’s quick to shrug off your touch.

“Jungkook,” you say, tears pricking at your eyes. 

He doesn’t look back on his way to his bedroom, and you follow after him, knocking your shoulder with Taehyung’s on the way.

“Jungkook,” you repeat, and he disappears into his bedroom, though you’re quick to walk in as well. “Jungkook, stop.”

He doesn’t glance your way. Just grabs his school bag from where it was on the floor, and puts it on his bed before heading to the drawer you know houses his underwear and socks. 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to go, you live here,” you add, and a tear slips free, spilling on your cheek.

Now he does spare you a glance, and you watch the silver lining his gaze. But it’s the look in his eyes that silences you, until all you can do is watch him as he packs some clothes. He’s done in no time, and he throws a sweatshirt on before brushing past you to head to the front door, next to which Taehyung is still standing.

“Jungkook,” you let out, and it sounds more like a sob than anything else.

It’s the sound of breaking hearts, something you and Jungkook have grown far too familiar with.

He grabs his keys from the table by the door, puts his shoes on quickly, head hanging low like he doesn’t want Taehyung to see the tears on his cheeks. But you see them - you know them. 

You’re the reason behind them after all.

Jungkook finishes putting his shoes on, and he lays a hand on the doorknob, yet he hesitates before turning. Long enough for you to try again, “Jungkook, please.”

He meets your gaze, and his eyes clear of the tears as he blinks a few times. “I’ll see you around,” he says in a whisper, and you know it for the lie that it is.

He���s not planning to ever see you again, is he?

Prev | Chapter 14.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I promise the angst is nearing its end :') I hope you guys liked this chapter! Let me know what you think!:)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - pt II

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc (Valerie) (i know first part is x reader... i'm sorry for changing to an oc but it makes more sense in a multipart series)

playlist, part I, part III

DISCLAIMER!: this is fanfiction (note the word FICTION), this is not a true depiction of what i think paige is like, this is purely fiction for entertainment purposes

Warnings: toxic!paige, language, some sexual thoughts but no smut in this one (sorry guys), paige is an asshole fr

Wordcount: 4.9k (sorry)

A/N: i got so much love and so many people asking for more after the first part <3 ty all i'm so grateful! this will likely be around 7 parts so please buckle up lol. ALSO I'M SORRY FOR NO SMUT but let me cook guys it'll get good. the point of this part is to get inside paige's head and understand why she is the way she is, things will speed up in the next part i swear. OK GO READ ILYSM MWAH

-

It’s hard being Paige Bueckers. Not every 23-year-old had to deal with the kind of pressure I did. Most of the time it felt like the whole world was watching me, waiting for me to fail. It used to bother the shit out of me but after all the injuries, everything I’ve been through, I thrived on it. I knew I would prove them wrong - prove that I’m great, that I’m me. Just like my dad would tell me, over and over again. I knew I was great, so greatness was expected. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t come with a great deal of pressure. I always said pressure is a privilege. But sometimes when I lay in bed alone after a game, even a win, the pressure consumed me. I didn’t like to be alone. So I went around different girls’ beds, like they meant nothing. Because they didn’t - they were just a distraction from my own mind. Like I said, it’s hard being Paige Bueckers - hard being me.

“You okay babe?”

I’m shaken out of my thoughts, returning back to earth, back to the small bed I was lying in. The brunette next to me nuzzles her nose into my arm, watching me with that look I knew too well. Like she wanted something from me. I hated when girls looked at me like that.

I clear my throat, trying not to flinch as she wraps her arm around me. “Yeah Zoe, ‘m fine,” I murmur, letting her press herself to my side, her body sticky from our prior activities. Zoe was a cuddler, so she was usually last on my roster. It’s hard to plan your escape when a girl clings to you like a koala and worst of all, wants to sleep like that all night. I never got that, cuddling while sleeping. It gets hot, sweaty and cramped, I find it hard to believe anyone actually enjoys it. People just think they do because they’re in love or something. And I can’t afford to be in love. I had a natty to win.

Zoe’s slender finger brushes through my blonde hair and I can feel that claustrophobic, uncomfortable tightness inside me. Like I had to get out. Her dorm was dim and the air was heavy and slightly humid from the second round I had insisted on. The sheets stuck to my skin uncomfortably and her bed made this annoying sound everytime I moved or even breathed.

I turn my gaze to Zoe who’s looking at me, all googly eyed. Oh God. She smiles wide and presses a kiss to my cheek. The scent of her shampoo lingers in the air, the smell of banana and some kind of citrus. I had never liked banana scented things.

“Uh, anyway that was fun,” I mumble, and sit up on the bed, forcing her off me as gently as I could. “But I got practice early,” I add, reaching for my t-shirt and throwing it on.

I don’t notice the offended look on Zoe’s face. I grab my phone from the floor, checking my texts urgently.

Yo you tryna do a lil sum tonight?

I know ur not workin sooo we could have a lil fun like we did the other day

Valerie?

I sigh, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten as I stare at the read receipt underneath the texts. I tap on the back of my phone case impatiently, wondering if sending a fourth text would make me pathetic. Maybe I should just call her? Nah, I must be trippin.

Since I met her at Ted’s, Valerie was the first I called when being in my bed alone was tearing up my mind. But it didn’t mean anything, she was good in bed, good at making me forget who I was when I needed to. Also, I liked how she smelled, like coconut. And when she tangled her legs with mine I didn’t shutter or pull away. Sometimes I even wrapped my arm around her, pulling her into me. Not because I needed her. But because her body felt good against mine.

“Aw baby really?” Zoe whines in an overtly soft voice, wrapping the blanket around her as she scoots up on the bed. Her plump bottom lip, swollen from the rough kissing earlier turns into a pout. I quickly avoid her gaze, my eyes landing right onto the floor looking for my pants. “I wanted to cuddle.” Figures.

“I know baby, me too,” a lie, she would never know that though. “Can’t keep my hands off you if I stay tho and I need some sleep.” I lie more, never looking at her. She buys it though, like she does every time. It’s not like I liked to lie, but I also didn’t like disappointing people. Especially girls that looked at me like that. It would kill her to know I texted three girls after Valerie didn’t answer, and the only reason I was here was because Zoe was the fastest to reply..

I leave Zoe like that, naked in bed, pleading with her eyes. Sometimes I felt bad, because I could tell she really liked me. But then I remembered how hard it is to be Paige Bueckers, and I didn’t feel so bad. My job was to be great on the court. Everything else was just background noise.

-

I sit by the court, my chest heaving, throwing my head back to down some water. The squeaking of sneakers echo all around me, blending in with the sound of Geno’s voice screaming at some of the girls working on plays. Coach had been killing us today, not happy with how the last game had went. We had still won, but that was merely a reason to celebrate in his eyes. 

All day I’d been missing shots that should’ve been child’s play for me. I couldn’t help but beat myself up. I was distracted, unfocused. I had been killing myself on the court, hoping it would bring me to my senses. Geno had been the one to tap me on the shoulder and force me to take a break I wipe the sweat off my face into the inside of my shirt, and grab my phone.

Bro are u alive?

I’m gettin worried lowkey

i’m fine paige

Five days. For five days Valerie hadn’t texted me back anything but that. I clench my jaw in frustration, shaking my head to myself. It made no sense to me - yeah we had a falling out but that’s what we did. We bickered and then we kissed and made up, and that’s what we had been doing for months so why was she acting like this now? Well… maybe calling her a psycho bitch last week hadn’t been the best move on my part.

I don’t know why the things she did bothered me so much. When she didn’t laugh at my joke, when she didn’t answer my texts. I don’t know why I felt a constant nervousness swirl inside me when she was mad at me, I had no reason to care. I guess the pussy was just that good, it was tricking me into thinking I did.

“Va-le-r- oh that’s the girl from Ted’s!” KK slams her hands on my shoulders, coming up from behind me, peeping at my phone screen. In a panic, I lock my phone, hiding it from her view.

“Bro, you heard of privacy?” I complain, shoving her playfully as she sits next to me on the ground. KK snickers, her nose scrunching a little as she does. 

“Not since you started peeing with the door open,” the shorter girl next to me argues and I scoff loudly, my mouth wide open.

“One time! And I was drunk!!” I groan, my voice rising a little and eyes going wide. CD quickly turns around and shushes us, shaking her head. Me and KK quickly shut our mouths, my cheeks turning a little red from the scolding.

KK looks at me with raised brows, and then at the phone, and then at me again. Most of the team knew how I kept myself busy when I wasn’t training, but KK was the one who had joined me those countless times at Ted’s and sat with me at the corner table as I watched her. Valerie. There was something so intriguing about her I just had to keep coming back. I always thought once I’d get her to my bed and have my way with her, I’d be done with her, which is how it usually goes. Before I realised that one time turned into five, which turned into me being in her bed getting her right, not even caring about my own most of the time. Getting her off got me off. Just thinking about the way she looked when she came, the way her back arched, her perfect mouth fell open - I really had to stop thinking about her. Why was it so goddamn hard?

It won’t be hard to find another Valerie if she’s gonna keep this difficult act up.

“Girl trouble?” KK asks, her tone more genuine and I roll my eyes, looking at her sideways.

“Yea right,” I chuckle sarcastically, leaning my elbows to my knees. “Just need to find a new one is all.”

KK lets out a small laugh, sipping her water bottle. “The five you got not enough?” She jokes.

I smirk a little glancing at her. “Four,” I correct, as if that made it better somehow. “Just need someone… new,” I mumble, knowing it was the best bet to get my mind off Valerie. I’m sure eventually I’d find someone who was just as hot. Someone who also smelled like coconut.

“Then what do I say to Zoe.”

“Wh- Zoe?” 

KK nods and grins at me. “She texted me asking about your shoe size or sum, wanted to get a gift for you.”

“She- she what?” My voice is full of shock and I can feel the claustrophobic tightness quickly grow inside me. I had never given her KK’s number. She was doing too much. KK just nods, clearly finding the situation amusing.

“Bro…” I groan quietly, as to not piss off CD again, and lean my head forward, resting my forehead against my arms. Zoe clearly hadn’t understood what “just fucking around” meant. Sometimes shit slipped out of my mouth, sure, but I never let her think I liked her. I had to be careful with her.

KK kisses the her teeth and is still nodding. “Yeah… probably time to let her go huh?”

“That bitch is crazy I swear,” I murmur and KK laughs out loud again. I punch her arm, reminding her to keep quiet - an impossible task for KK. Before I can stop myself, the words just slip from my mouth.

“Ted’s tonight?” 

KK looks at me pointedly. “Valerie workin’?” she teases but I shake my head sternly.

“No man, fuck Valerie.” The words tasted bitter in my mouth. “Just need to find a new one, k?”

“You sure you’re not just gon’ ogle at her all ni-”

“KK.” I say sternly

KK nods. “Ok,” she repeats but I can tell from her tone she doesn’t buy it. She shuts up though knowing she could tease me about anything but anything about Valerie got under my skin. Truth was Valerie was working today. I just needed to see her just for a second. Just to know if I was overthinking it, or if she was really icing me out.

-

The Friday night had brought many other students to Ted’s as well, the bar pretty packed and the chatter loud over the music. KK had convinced Ice to join us so the three of us made our way in. The best thing about crowds was it made it easy to blend in, even for us. We push our way through to the bar, my eyes immediately searching for a glimpse of Valerie’s golden brown hair or her wide eyes. All I needed was to see her, I told myself. Even for a second. Then the twist in my stomach would straighten out.

“What can I get you?” The perky voice of the redhead asks over the buzzing crowd. I think her name was Natalie or something. Ice looks over the flyers on the bar, advertising a range of new drinks.

“Let’s try some of these,” Ice suggests and I grab the flyer from her hand. I didn’t really come here to drink so I couldn’t have cared less what we ordered. Especially now I realised Valerie wasn’t even here.

“Uhh yea can we get three Aperol Negronis,”

“You won’t like it,” a stern, but sweet voice interrupts the conversation. I’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Valerie steps out from the back, pinning her hair away from her face and for a moment our gazes meet. Her dark, wide eyes make me let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. For a moment I want to jump over the bar and touch her, to make sure she was really there and not just a mirage of my desires.

“W-why not?” I ask, my voice uncharacteristically shaky. Only with her I got like that. Suddenly my throat felt dry and the nervous twist in my stomach was turning into something you could only call butterflies. Of course I knew it couldn’t be butterflies, because that would mean I cared. I couldn’t afford to care. I didn’t have the time for distractions. I had a national championship to win.

Valerie scoffs looking away from me, ignoring me as I chase her gaze. “Because I know you won’t,” she says. The way she thought she knew me that well irked me. Still, I’d be lying if I said a part of me wasn’t beaming at the fact that I had her attention after a week of trying to chase her down.

I can’t help the pout that forms in defiance. She’s still ignoring me, pouring drinks for a group of boys clearly ogling at her - which only irked me more.

“Well… I want three of them,” I say matter of factly, trying to prove a point.

“Whoa Paige, maybe we should just get a shirl-” Ice chuckles but I shake my head.

“Three Aperol Negronis,” I dictate. Valerie’s stern eyes finally look at me. She looks almost a little scary, not pleased with my tone. “... please.” I add urgently, not wanting to get on her bad side. I guess some would say I already had.

Wordlessly, Valerie rolls her wide eyes and gets to mixing the drinks. I allow my eyes to wander for a moment, noticing how the white shirt of the work uniform hugged her body, the curve of her breasts making my mouth water. Just seeing her was enough to ignite the fire deep in my abdomen. The things I would do to leave with her tonight and take her to my bed, like I had so many times before. I would even settle for just some kissing. Just wanted to let my hands wander down her body, squeeze and feel where I wanted, with no urgency. I needed to feel all of her, wanted to drown in her.

“By card orrr…?” Valerie asks, clearly waiting for the payment. My eyes had gone glassy, and my lower lip had a small dent from the way I’d been biting down on it. I blink stupidly at her, struggling to calm myself down.

“I got it,” KK murmurs and slides her card to Valerie. I grab my drink, and the smell is enough to make my face scrunch up in disgust. I swear it smells like battery acid, and as I take a sip I notice - it also tastes like battery acid. I swallow the orange liquor, it burns on its way down making me cough a little. Valerie was watching me amused. I hated when she was right.

“People actually drink this and like it??” Ice asks, her voice hoarse from coughing as well. KK nods agreeing but I’m too stubborn to admit defeat.

“I actually like it,” I lie with a straight face, my fingers twitching around the glass as I try to get over the bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

“Oh right,” Valerie says, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turns to another group of customers. I can’t help reach over the bar, my hand grabbing her arm. She turns back to face me, icier than I had ever seen. It shocks me enough that I let go of her, taken aback.

“What?” she asks, her voice filled with annoyance.

“You seen my texts?” is all I ask, and it comes out a little too desperate for my liking.

“Yes,” Valerie says matter of factly. I wait for her to continue but she doesn’t.

“Uh… well thought we’d link up or something,” I add, shifting on my feet as I do.

Valerie sighs in frustration and takes a deep breath to compose herself.

“I’m good,” is all she says and flashes me an ice cold smile. I feel a strange pang in my heart. She had iced me out before, but not like this. Usually seeing her face to face was enough for her to forget our petty little arguments, enough to get her on me again. “I have work,” she adds before finally returning to serve the other customers.

I stand there for a moment, astonished. An uncomfortable ache that had been wavering in my chest was growing too intense for me to ignore anymore. Maybe it was all my fault after all. I had told her I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else and in the moment I had meant it. But then I remembered the stakes. Last year to win a national championship, last year to prove my greatness. I wasn’t going to mess it up just because of some girl. A relationship would be nothing more than a distraction, an unnecessary responsibility. I had enough on my plate. Valerie was selfish for wanting me all to herself. She didn’t understand what she was asking for. Maybe calling her a psycho bitch wasn’t so far off.

I feel someone bump into my back and turn around to find a girl, cheeks blushed and apologetic. I see her eyes widen in recognition - it was always that moment when I knew I could have this girl if I wanted. 

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m a little drunk,” the girl giggles and I offer her an easy smile. I consider taking this girl home, imagining the way I’d lure her into my bed, just a little bit of sweet talk and a smirk would be enough, a hand on her waist, thumb rubbing her skin and soon she’d get this look on her face like she had to have me. It would be so easy, and I wouldn’t have to think about Valerie at all.

But the pain in my chest doesn’t go away, even when I let my mind wander further, how this girl would look underneath me, whimpering while I fuck her. It did nothing to make the pain go away.

“‘S fine,” i murmur and decide to ignore the way she was blinking at me, biting her bottom lip. I grab my drink from the bar, and push past her, finding KK and Ice sitting at our usual table. They both look at me, but don’t ask where I’d been. They both knew better. I sip my drink, cursing to myself in my head about ordering it. With sheer stubbornness I finish it quickly, finding that easier than taking small sips. 

“You’re never picking what we drink again,” KK scoffs, copying me, her face scrunching involuntarily when she finishes her drink. But I barely register her words, as I lean back in the chair, head tilting back to watch Valerie.

She’s giggling with Natalie, throwing her head back in amusement. The chatter in the bar is deafening, but I swear I could hear her laugh in my head vividly. Like my brain had memorised each tone of her voice. There was something different about Valerie, she always shined the brightest in every room she was in. Even the dingy bar was lit up by her. She wasn’t even necessarily extremely lively. It was her mere presence that just made everything better. 

I noticed it the first time I ever saw her, early september. All she did was walk past me on campus, talking lively into her phone. It was her voice I had heard before even seeing what she looked like. Her voice had been enough to make me have to see her. Of course she hadn’t even looked my way, not even a glance. That was the moment I knew I had to have her.

“You enjoy it?” Valerie asks KK and Ice, fully ignoring me as she walks to our table to clean up. I watch the golden bracelet she always wore dangling on her wrist as she grabs the empty glasses. I lean back and tilt my head to look up at her, needy for her attention. Licking my lips I look her up and down, that usually worked enough to get her naked. But now, she didn’t even glance at me. Annoyance grew within me as she chatted with KK, laughing at her jokes.

It was then when my eyes moved from her lips to her neck that I saw it - a dark bruise underneath her ear, right on the spot where she liked to be kissed. I knew, because I had left many bruises there and gotten scolded for it. But this wasn’t mine. This was someone else’s.

“Okay well see ya around,” Valerie smiles and turns to take the glasses to the back. I feel the pang in my chest quickly flip, turning into anger. I was furious. Who did she think she was? Sleeping around with someone else, not answering my texts, letting someone else mark her like that. I felt my body turn hot, and without a word to KK and Ice I get up from my seat, nearly knocking it over as I take quick strides to reach Valerie, following her into the back, ignoring the STAFF ONLY sign on the door.

My steps are heavy and loud as I reach her, standing by the sink, handling the dirty glasses. I was shaking my head to myself, trying to control my anger. But it was getting the best of me.

“Staff only plea-” Valerie starts and turns to me, unable to miss the redness of my face, the clenched jaw and the way I was biting on the insides of my cheeks. “Paige?” she asks, furrowing her brows, confused.

The pounding in my head grows and I let out a scoff, not feeling in control of myself. My brain was moving faster than I could follow, I felt lightheaded. I felt furious. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my voice loud. I didn’t really care about being overheard.

“Huh?” Valerie asks, clearly bewildered, but already getting defensive in response to how I was acting.

“What, you don’t text me, call me or nothing? Because you’ve been too busy fucking some other bitch?” I yell, my hand pointing to her neck. Valerie’s eyes widen in realisation but quickly turn angry too. 

“I- WHAT?” She yells back and takes a step towards me.

“Don’t play dumb. So who is it?” I say sternly, grinning bitterly at her, my eyes looking down at her.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes shaking her head which only infuriates me more.

“I said. Who. Is. It?” I repeat, grabbing her arm. She pushes my hand off her, anger growing on her face as her brows furrowed further.

“How is it any of your business who I sleep with Paige?” She argues.

She had a point. We weren’t exclusive. Matter of fact it was pretty hypocritical of me to be so angry when I had a roster of girls on my phone, ready to answer my calls at any time of day. My anger had taken over though, and the little sense I had when it came to Valerie, was completely gone.

I throw my head back and chuckle bitterly, provoking her further. “See I knew you’re a lotta things but didn’t know you were a slut too,” I hiss, the words slipping out without much thought. I couldn’t think of anything but how furious I felt.

Valerie laughs loud, but it’s not the sweet laugh I was used to. It was a bitter, angry laugh.

“Me?! You’ve slept with every girl that swings your way on campus and even some that don’t! You’re the slut Paige!” she screams, her wide eyes burning with anger, her finger coming up to point at my face. It pissed me off, the way it was assigning blame, like all of this was my fault. Like it wasn’t she who slept with someone.

“I don’t owe you anything!” she declares, her voice revealing a hint of hurt, the way it cracked slightly. “I’m done with you. I’m serious Paige. Done,” she adds, her voice calmer, but more authoritative. “Now get out of my bar.”

My face was hot and red, my chest was heaving and my head spun. The hurt in her voice made me waver, made my chest ache more. I blink at her stupidly as she turns back to the dishes, already missing having her attention. I was fine with the yelling, the fighting, as long as it meant she was looking at me, or talking to me. But now she’s done with me? Fine, so was I. Wouldn’t take me longer than a day to find a new Valerie.

“Pshh whatever,” I murmur and storm out of the back, heading fast towards the exit. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my chest felt tight and I could taste the bitter Aperol on my tongue still. It made me nauseous,

I’m gasping for air once I feel the chilly breeze of february hitting my skin. The silence outside was overwhelming, forcing me to realise the rapid pace of my own thoughts. My mind was swirling with flashing images of Valerie, on top of someone, looking down at her like she did at me, the idea of her moaning someone else’s name made me sick.

“Fuck!” I shout, unable to control myself. A group of girls near me turn to look at me but return to their conversation when I sit myself down on the curb. What a standard I was setting for student athletes everywhere right now.

My eyes burn and before I notice, a tear rolls down my cheek. I bury my face into my hands and rub my jaw, my anger easing with each exhale. I didn’t know why I was crying, I didn’t understand any of this. I couldn’t believe the things I had said, the way I had acted. I was supposed to be disciplined, in control, but I felt so out of control when it came to Valerie.

“Paigey…” KK murmurs and suddenly I realise her and Ice are standing in front of me, looking down at me sympathetically. Embarrassed, I wipe the tears away and try to steady my breathing.

“Uhh sorry just gimme a sec guys,” I sigh looking at the ground. They sit on either side of me, wrapping their arms around me. I lean into Ice’s shoulder and I’m grateful how they don’t pry, or talk. We just sit there in silence for a while.

I take a deep sigh and lift my head back up, chewing on my bottom lip. I glance at both of the girls sitting next to me, grateful for the friends I had. At least I got one thing right.

“I dunno what just happened,” I sigh, shaking my head thinking back to my behaviour. The shame I felt made my cheeks turn a shade of red.

KK chuckles softly and ruffles my hair affectionately. “I do,” she mumbles.

I furrow my brows and turn to look at her. She looks back at me like whatever was about to come out of her mouth was obvious. KK and Ice glance at each other before KK opens her mouth to speak.

“Bro you have feelings for her.”

Oh?

Oh.

My mouth parts in realisation as I move my gaze from KK to the pavement. It’s just us now, sitting in silence, the sounds of passing cars and the muted sounds of the bar the only noise in the chilly evening.

“C’mon P boogers, let’s go home,” Ice says, standing up and reaching a hand down to lift me up. 

KK hops up and nods. “You need some Tru Fru,” she adds.

With a nod, I let them pull me up, following them to the car. I had feelings for Valerie. Shit. I'd just have to find a way to get over it - I couldn’t afford all this. Not right now. Not with the world watching, waiting for me to fail. Not with a national championship on the line.

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @mandyvivic @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch @taylynbueckers44 @mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @tndaqlifwy @justliketoreadsowhat @oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her

NEXT ONE WILL BE HOTTER I PROMISE

[penkura]

No One Better

Note: Ahh I didn't know how to go about this, but here it is! It's another in the OP Men as Dads series, but this one is ONLY Zoro and his son. I just had this idea after seeing this OC template on Pinterest, and I had to do it, I couldn't not. I have thoughts floating around for other characters in this same vein of calming down their children, and I will post them separately like this most likely! For now, please enjoy Zoro being a wonderful, soft dad to his little boy. 🥹 I want to have his babies so bad, where is my irl Zoro omg

Your son may be Zoro’s child too, but he’s a big crybaby when either of you are missing from his sight. He could be happily sitting in your lap or on Zoro’s chest, but when Keitaro notices one of you isn’t around, he immediately pouts and begins to cry. At first it’s legitimate tears, until he learns that he can get you with crocodile tears because that’s your baby boy, of course you’re going to run to him when he cries! You figured it out quickly when he instantly started to smile and coo at you the first time he cried crocodile tears to get your attention, Zoro didn’t believe you for a few weeks until your ten-month-old did it to him too. He just loves you and Zoro so much, he wants you both around him all the time.

Zoro is able to calm him down very easily, just by talking to Keitaro gently. An older woman on an island you stopped at was surprised to see how easily Keitaro calmed down and went from nearly sobbing to happy little giggles when Zoro just took him from you and started asking him what was wrong, why was he so upset all of a sudden (he couldn’t see Zoro standing nearby, that was the problem). The woman was highly impressed and said her own husband hadn’t been that good with their children, it made you smile and thank her for the compliment, since you knew Zoro would never.

Keitaro is big enough to sit up on your lap during a party between your crew, the Heart Pirates, and the Kid Pirates when the three of you run into each other. Members of your (now permanently) allied crews coo and fawn over your son, the youngest of all the crews, and he adores the attention he receives from all these new people. Once everyone goes back to drinking and playing games, you choose to stay to the side with Keitaro, keeping him from the alcohol and making sure he stays happy while everything goes on, and he does, looking around at everyone and giggling when he sees Luffy do something funny.

Keitaro is happy and calm until he realizes he doesn’t see Zoro anywhere, making your nearly year old son start to pout and fuss. You try your hardest to calm him down when he really starts to cry and kick his legs because he’s frustrated, quietly speaking to him and placing kisses on his little head to help.

“Hey, little guy,” you feel beyond relived when Zoro comes over, resting his arms on your thighs and getting nose to nose with your son, which starts to calm him down, “What’re you crying for?”

Keitaro slowly calms down, looking at Zoro cross-eyed at first before his eyes fully focus on him, starting to smile and coo again as he puts his tiny hands on Zoro’s face. It makes Zoro smile in return as he takes your son from you, intending to give you a small break.

“Let’s give mama a few minutes to enjoy the party too, yeah?” Zoro gently tosses your son in the air a few times, Keitaro letting out squeals and giggles in response.

You slip away to the girls for a while, Ikkaku giving you a smile and telling you how lucky you are with Zoro, causing you to look back at them with your own smile. Keitaro has his thumb in his mouth as he lays against Zoro’s chest where he can see you, content and slowly falling asleep, while your husband rubs his back to help him relax.

“He’s really the best dad to Keitaro, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

[hoseoksluna]

THE BALL OF LIGHT, ii. | jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc

genre: angst

word count: 4.2k

summary: inside jeongguk's apartment is where you meet the possibility of life.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: mentions of smoking and vaping, described nudity, oc feels a lot of emotions and she's overwhelmed, guilt.

note: i really enjoyed writing this chapter and it opened my eyes actually to where it's going. i hope you like the chapter as well. writing about jungkook is my biggest comfort. i feel at home. i love you, guys. happy reading. don't forget to tell me what you think. i'd appreciate it if you tell me ur expectations. <3

side note: i also want to update my taglist because i feel like most of the people i tag haven't allowed themselves to be tagged on this app. if you want to be tagged in my works, let me know. in comments below or my askbox.

It seems as though Jeongguk is still turning your words over his heart once you arrive at his apartment and the sullen grayness of his personal space greets you. A certain pensive look, embellished with a wrinkle between his brows, paints him in the shades of stark reclusiveness, the unapproachability of that façade the blue highlights that make the current inertia of his usual hyperactivity uncannily animated. It’s an oxymoron, the stillness of his being, despite the fact you very vividly sense the turmoil happening inside his chest.

Turmoil must be second-nature to him. Almost like a friend.

You don’t know what to say. The downturned corners of his mouth are so engraved into your vision that when you look away, you can still see them. Sad and pouty, caused in most probability by the truth you uttered. War happens, Jeongguk, if Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our home. Those were the most heart-felt, authentic words that were flung out of the chambers of your heart because—yes, if Yoongi were to know that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy with a nicotine-addiction, a motorcycle and a tendency to go back to people who have spread agony down his lungs like the white fumes of his cigarettes, he would get up from the kitchen table and grab the nearest knife, start a war for your dream that, according to him, got interrupted by temporary, meaningless things.

But Jeongguk isn’t meaningless. You thought for the longest time that he was temporary, but his lingering presence through high school and now through uni convinced you of the opposite. You believe now, now as he bends at the waist to place a pair of pink, fuzzy slippers with a yummy fried egg on top in front of your icy-cold, socked feet, that he has more shape—the eyes of an angel born wrong, born human, the mouth of a saint that fears to say the wrong thing—than your dream does.

Your dream doesn’t have a face.

Your dream doesn’t have a meaning, either.

Yoongi knows this, pretends he knows the contours of that dream when he tells you to go study. Pretends he knows the color of its flesh, all the greens, purples and blues, when the only words he throws your way are of commanding nature. Come eat. Go shower. Go study. Don’t. You can’t recollect the last time you had a genuine conversation with him that did not include those very words.  

It’s exhausting. Your bones are burdened by it—by being treated as a student and not as a human being. But you ignore this because you respect him, hold him in high regard because of his own burden, laid heavy across the length of his shoulders that have become too thin, too skeletal, that have once been broad, beautiful and ogled by those, who had the luck to encounter him. 

He doesn’t go to the gym anymore, to fill the mass of his muscles with exercise. He works long hours doing food delivery to fill your tummy instead. 

And it’s hard—balancing your respect for him and your ostensibly inner desire to go in search of the things you read about in your books. You can’t help but expect to dig them out, selfishly, in Jeongguk. The kind, now somber, boy who has been by your side for so long. With words and simultaneously without. 

Would Yoongi understand? Doesn’t he, also, have a need for company? 

You push those thoughts away and focus on the clandestiny. On Jeongguk’s frown, on his adorable pout, on his emotions. Because perhaps in it you shall find your destiny. 

Jeongguk walks forward and you swell with the guilty need to fix what you’ve broken, to glue back the pieces that put together his traditional cheer. The tree in you shivers in cold. Your own bones are still frosty like that bus stop you both escaped from. But glancing at the span of his shoulders, drooped and rolled forward, the guilt expands, making you think that maybe you shouldn’t have said something, despite the fact the truth made a dent in the birdcage you have been dwelling in since the death of your parents. 

He empties out his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a pink, fat vape that you’ve never seen him smoking before. He places those essentials on the kitchen counter, stretching his hands backwards and ridding himself of his beige hoodie. The T-shirt he wears underneath rides up, exposing the smooth and muscled skin of his back, and your throat dries up at the sight. The tree stills, pacified by the movement of his shoulder blades. It puts a spell on you, this innocent yet consumingly heated view of a male’s body, one that continues burning down your body even when he grabs a hold of the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it down. 

Somehow, the act made it hotter. 

Your fingers wrap around your throat, a habit of yours that helps you compose yourself, ground yourself in the severity of the moment. Jeongguk reaches his hand towards the kitchen counter again and as you swallow with great difficulty, he fills his lungs with that scented fume before discarding it.

It isn’t until your breath comes out in pathetic staccatos that he turns around. Large eyes heavily lidded, clouded by that white smoke as he exhales. He purses his lips, dimples on full show, in order to make the smoke thinner. And that, the eye contact while blowing out the fumes, his full attention on you, the element that you’re here—in a boy’s apartment, all alone, for the first time, that warms up your bones, the frost melting away. You feel your body form little pearls of perspiration, overwhelmed and so suddenly overheated by his boyish beauty. 

He’ll never know—just like Yoongi. He’ll never know what he does to you. 

“I’m gonna make you some tea so you can get warm,” he says, softly, and shuffles his feet towards the brightly lit kitchen. You hear the water running, the clapping noise of the kettle being shut and then the boiling bubbles, but you’re frozen—red-hot and frozen—in the place you’re standing, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to be a normal human being. “You’re free to take a shower if you want.” 

A headache pierces through your undeveloped frontal lobe. Nothing about this is normal to you—being over a guy’s place, using his shower and his towel, drinking his tea. Being at home all the time never prepares you for this and while you feel so out of place, it also evokes the feeling of thrill. 

This is thrilling. 

And it should stay feeling that way, but your guilt eclipses it so quickly. Your guilt and your self-pity. Due to Yoongi, due to the fact that this should feel normal and that you should act normally. How many girls must’ve been in your place and how well they were able to talk to him and accept his kindness and hospitality without being weird about it. 

You run a hand down your face. Feel like crying. Feel like screaming. Feeling like slapping yourself so you snap out of it and act normal. Yoongi flickers in your chest, however, and you’re reminded that you should let him know where you are. Usually, at this hour, you’re settled in your cage. Right there in the corner, the only warm spot because you sit there all the time. But you’re not there. You fit your body through the slivers, your feet rubbing against the different, more warmer floor than the one inside your birdcage, while your wrist remains chained to the center. 

Your bus, the number 59, never came. Jeongguk’s, number 60, was the last one that came due to the thickness of the snow and he said that you should get on with him so you don’t freeze on the bus stop. I’ll drive you home on my bike, he promised. I got a helmet for you. And you agreed, despite the fact your thumb was ready to dial Yoongi’s number, because it came natural to you to follow a male’s order. 

You scratch your fingernails through your scalp, waking yourself up from the stupor, and you take a deep breath. You’re here and you’re safe. Jeongguk is the safest person you can go behind Yoongi’s back with. These are the words you internally repeat to yourself as you lift one leg and the other, watching where they take you. 

You wind up at the very edge of the counter where all of Jeongguk’s essentials lay scattered. You go to study all the charms hung over his keys when your fingers, somehow instinctively, take a hold of his pink vape. Light and pink, fitting just right in the palm of your hand. Your clandestine habits are invariably seen by Jeongguk, however. 

“Don’t puff on that,” he says, pouring the boiling water inside the kettle over your cup of tea. A Christmas-themed one, evidently for adults only. The taupe Gingerbread man has a raging, bare boner that sticks out to the side whilst his hands are lifted, cheerfully, in the air. Your mouth parts, blush coloring your cheeks in dusty pink, and your brain, bizarrely, connects the Gingerbread man’s emotion to Jeongguk—both emotions, in fact. So bizarrely that anger begins to grow in you because a picture of Jeongguk’s own happy boner pops up before your eyes. Big, hard, leaking. Your stifling heat descends to your lower regions and you have to rub your eyelids in order to stop seeing it, your cheeks scalding, embarrassingly hot. “It’s not good to mix it.” 

Without asking, he places one spoon of sugar inside that obscene cup, stirring it diligently. And the clinking noise rams a clapping monkey inside your brain. 

You’ll die. From this headache, from the heat, from how irresistible this boy is. 

You’ve never felt this way before towards him. Never seen him in this lustful light before. And you don’t know what to do—it’s towering you, so much bigger than you and you have very little strength to stand up to it. 

It’s not good to see your so-called friend like this. 

Jeongguk brings the cup over to you, placing it before his stuff. The Gingerbread man faces you, smiling ever so gleefully, and the blush of your cheeks deepens within this proximity. Jeongguk takes his vape from your hand and puffs on it—and your brain remembers what he just talked about. 

“But you mix it,” you say, your words dripping with confusion, and Jeongguk places the device back into your palm, the tips of his fingers brushing against your flesh. You regard it as intimate, that brief physical contact, and it speeds up your heartbeat. 

That touch-starved you are. 

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” he responds, his pretty eyelashes static, unblinking, those macadamia chocolate pools of his penetrating your pupils. “I try to stick to just one from time to time, but my nerves are asking for more.” 

You look down at the pink device, imagine it’s his hand that you’re closing your fingers over. Think his explanation has zero backbone, and so your confusion drips on. 

“Nerves?” you inquire, a wrinkle appearing between your brows akin to his, even though his has been smoothed out. It seems his act of service to you is slowly easing his sombreness. 

Jeongguk doesn’t want to elaborate, though. He flicks his eyes towards the cup and nods, just once, encouraging you to drink. You let out a quiet huff of a scoff. Consider it strange that he’s so unwilling to expand on this matter when he has shared with you in the past the reason behind his smoking habit. Trauma from his relationship with Ka-eun and the difficulty of his field. What else is behind those nerves of his that you can’t know about? 

You follow the trace of his gaze towards the cup, feeling smaller than you are. Incompetent, inexperienced for the vivacity, immensity of his life that looks nothing like yours. Your pointer finger pokes out, clicking against the emerald green handle. 

“Am I supposed to really drink from this?” you murmur, meaning it as a joke that would fix what you cooked in this situation, but it comes out much sadder than you planned, the hollowness from all of your lacks coating your vocal cords. 

Jeongguk scowls and turns the cup around, his brows springing upwards as he glances at the naked and aroused Gingerbread man. You begin to anticipate his laughter that would make you feel worse about yourself, but it never breezes through. 

Actually, Jeongguk apologizes. Makes a big deal out of it. 

“My God,” he sighs, adding your name, running his fingers through his hair before he puts the cup away, but you stop him by enveloping your fingers across the warm, naked skin of his forearm. His eyes widen en route to yours and he holds the misting cup in his hand, immune to its hot temperature. The good ones don’t get burned, your mother would say with hatefulness whenever your fingers would get burned by steaming cups and hot running water in the sink, and she proves you right in this moment. You bet she smiles in her grave, seeing from the afterlife that you are indeed bad while the others are good. “I didn’t notice. I have one just like this, but he’s dressed. I thought I’d pulled out that one. I’m sorry.” 

But you’re not scandalized by it. As a matter of fact, you like the little Christmas man—there’s something oddly comforting about his own comfort in his sexuality, smiling as gleefully as he is. What you said was a stupid joke, one that shouldn’t have left your mouth. 

“No, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It was just a joke,” you say, hurriedly, sweeping your eyes over his in the same pace whilst he remains calmly staring at you, a steady stream of thoughts filtering through those features of his that you wish you knew the contents of. 

You always said you’d die for knowledge, and right now you’d die to discover what he’s thinking about, looking at you the way that he is. 

He flattens his lips. “I’ll make you another one.” 

He turns around and you yelp your disagreement, cupping your hands around his. And the greater intimacy of this physical contact consumes you whole. 

The heat grows, your spine wet with perspiration. Jeongguk swivels his head back, the shorter pieces of his hair swooshing past his forehead, landing on those pretty, pretty eyelashes. And it’s his turn to part his mouth, for blush to creep up his pale cheeks, and your heart—it melts. 

You’ve never held hands with a boy before. And right now, you’ve come very close to doing it. In fact, the tender grip bears the resemblance of hand holding and you can’t take it. 

A pained, indistinct pout quivers on your lips. A characteristic expression of yours, which conveys that something has hurt you. Your mother would give you a hard time because of it and that’s how you learned that you do it. That’s how you learned how to fleetly hide it, too. 

This is the closest you’ll ever get. 

Tears rush to your waterline. You blink it away, stretching your lips into a little, neutral smile. The scent of cinnamon and cloves from the tea hits your nostrils and from the edges of your palms, you feel how hot the cup really is. It sobers you up quite rapidly. 

“It’s hot, set it down,” you breathe and don’t let go of his hands until Jeongguk complies, the pensiveness back to shadowing his face, but he’s not unapproachable, not at all. The entirety of his dispirited and contrite aura is welcoming, pastel blue instead of that grayish undertone, and he looks at you as if you held the entire world in your palms and he was content with just being near it, silently hoping you show him grace and give it to him. 

But that’s not you. You’re too small to cup this world. Too stupid, too unfledged. 

It’s him who’s flown around it, deeply acknowledged with it. Who’s smart, who’s a full-fledged bird, unlimited and unhindered. 

It’s you who should be looking at him like that and drinking from his vulgar cup. 

And you shall. 

“I’ll drink it, it’s cute.” 

He doesn’t trust it, though, and that’s the scar Ka-eun carved into the flesh of his mind. You brush the pads of your fingers across it, however, when you take the scalding cup to your lips, blow on it and take a small, hesitant sip of it. And the wintry taste of cinnamon and cloves, it is the sap to your tree. 

You hum in delight, taking another sip, even though the temperature burns the tip of your tongue. You watch as Jeongguk’s brows twitch and as a certain glimmering glint of endearment laced with unbelief fills his eyes with the canvas of stars. He straightens his spine while you swallow, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly but surely. 

It is a sight to behold, the entirety of his boyish beauty. And you hate that you regard him this way, that your forced visit caused this because you’ll walk out of this door with a longing entwined around your heart.

A longing for him to be yours. 

You set the cup down, cradling it in your palms, your sweat clinging to your body. Jeongguk averts his gaze and rubs his chest, roaming his eyes everywhere but on you, landing on the pink vape you placed on the counter before almost-holding his hand. 

But he doesn’t take a puff of it. Not this time. 

And you want to heal that scar of his even more. Only because he pushed you very close to the things you read in your books and always wanted to experience. 

“I think the tea tastes so good because you made it in this cup,” you chirp, tenderly, giving him a genuine smile, one that Jeongguk doesn’t reciprocate. That one corner of his mouth doesn’t lift, the long cleft of his dimple doesn’t appear. Your heart trembles for a brief moment. In a foreign kind of emotion that feels like fear but isn’t because the turmoil in him rages on and you’re useless. Completely and utterly useless in your efforts. 

His stare is deadly, marked by the depth of his thoughts. 

“Why did you say war happens if you and your brother see each other outside?” he asks, his tone low and grumbling. 

A frightening question. Because no one has ever asked you that. Because you’ve never had the chance to answer such an intimate, personal question. Because no one has ever cared about your home situation. 

The trembling of your heart reaches your entire body and you hide your hands behind your back. Lament that you can’t cradle the cup. Lament that you can’t drink it and postpone your response. Lament that you don’t have a normal life. One worth talking about happily, that is. 

You don’t know what to say. How to begin, how to string the words together in a way that he would understand. And it’s not that you fear that he will judge you; it’s that you fear that the way he looks at you, regards you will forever change. 

You were never the cool girl and you never were the weird girl, either. Somewhere in the middle you stand, solitary and detached, regardless. 

You open your mouth, willing the words to spring out of you on their own, without any careful thoughts to cover them. 

“Yoongi wants me to live a life that doesn’t look like this,” you start, mirroring his tone, unable to look him in the eye. You sense the demons of your guilt and your ungratefulness cornering you, coming closer and closer—and you can’t walk away, you can only speak.

Jeongguk, however, is quick and curt with his following question.  

“Like what?” 

The pearls of your perspiration thicken on the planes of your throat, which constricts. You blink, thinking that you don’t wish to offend him with any formulation of your sentences. So you go around it, hoping he understands. The demons inch closer—and you can’t breathe. 

Jeongguk doesn’t blink, focused intently as he is on the emotions written on your form. It creates a delicate, yet protective ring around you that keeps the demons outside. And he lessens your strange fear owing to that.

“He wants me to focus on school and focus on my dream while he takes care of everything else. It was a deal he made between us. I study, he works. Nothing else,” you continue, and Jeongguk bites his lip, nodding in understanding as he glides his eyes down your face to your sweat-coated neck. For some reason, that little act of his acknowledgement dispels those demons—and you no longer feel guilty, you no longer feel ungrateful because Jeongguk validated those emotions, didn’t scrunch his nose at them. And that heals, little by little, your wounded, flightless bird wings. 

“What does your dream look like?” he asks once again, and you wonder at the formulation of his question. It’s not what’s your dream; he’s asking for a description of the biggest mystery of your life. 

And you chuckle, humorlessly. Jeongguk flicks his gaze back to your eyes, seemingly not knowing what to expect.

“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what it looks like, and Yoongi doesn’t know either.” 

The roundness of his eyelids spasms, as if the truth you just uttered irks him. The validation grows and buds of blossoms sprout open, in the middle of this sunless winter, upon the twigs of the tree within you. 

“He doesn’t know what your dream is and yet he decided how you should live,” Jeongguk scoffs, shaking his head, and you marvel at the light bursting in your sternum. It is the sun to your growth, to your tree’s growth. 

A moment of bliss that is too brief, for you begin to sense an uncompromising responsibility to stand up for your brother. He means well—he’s doing it out of the love and kindness of his heart as the root of this declared problem is literature. 

And literature is your life. It’s all you know. 

You begin to say these words, but Jeongguk interrupts you. 

“I understand, but you need to live a life that you want to live,” he rasps, standing taller than he was a minute ago, greater and powerful than he ever was. That confident and assured he is in his opinion and you gawk at him as if he were a cult leader, about to change the course of your life. Maybe, just maybe, the cinnamon tea was the kool aid—and you want to drink again, but you’re ashamed of the trembling of your hands. “And if you feel like you’re indebted to him, you shouldn’t. You’re an adult. It’s your life, it’s not his just because he’s older.” 

Your throat dries and you risk it all, enveloping your fingers around the cup. Jeongguk’s all seeing eye notices your movement and his powerfulness drops. He sighs, rubbing his eyes. 

Bare, bare you are all for him to see. For anyone for the first time in your life—and at this point, you don’t even know how it makes you feel. 

Where light and so many emotions were inside you, emptiness falls like fine dust. You’re reminded of that one sentence in White Nights and, quietly, you reflect on it while your fingers tremble on. 

My God, a moment of bliss. Why isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime? 

Jeongguk makes space, like the ring of protection he created around you, by taking a few steps back and leaning against the counter. He crosses his arms over his chest and simply looks at you, reads your body language, and lingers at your hands. At the fact you don’t drink. At the fact you don’t speak. At the fact that nothing will ever be the same after this conversation. 

When he asks his last question, he softens his voice. His demeanor, too. Allows his arms to plummet down to his sides. Sags against the counter. 

“He doesn’t know we’re friends, does he?” 

Something that resembles a cry leaves your mouth and you’re so shocked by the freedom of your emotions that your hand leaps to cup your mouth, as if to hold back any more outpouring. That is your reaction. 

Jeongguk’s is more earth-shattering. 

By his instinct, he lengthens his spine and his hand… his beautiful, strong and veiny hand jerks towards your direction, as if to catch your hand, prevent it from hiding your outpouring—or as if to catch your outpouring alone. 

And it is so heartbreaking to you that you mutter the first thing that comes to your mind and run away. 

And you don’t realize where you are until you get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. A mascara tear stains your cheek in blackness, and the smallness of the bathroom encloses around you. 

You want to wash it away. Feel like the decision is yours to make, a right one at that. Feel like it’s the first step in the new way Jeongguk bestowed over your life by his wise words. And so you undress. 

And you don’t lock the door. 

And you don’t hear your phone ringing ten minutes later. 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | BACK to series masterlist

[girlashfur]

fuck it. warriors ask game except the questions are all weird and niche as hell

👴 : fav elder?

❓️ : fav total background character (im not talking minor characters like say. whitewing or moonlight, i mean cats with like...3 lines tops)

📖 : fav comic page from any of the mangas and why

👶 : how old were you when you first touched a warriors book? howd it happen

💢 : what scene made you the most irrationally angry upon first reading

💧 : how many times have you cried over this wretched book series? any favorite memories

💋 : is there any ships out there you absolutely hate for genuinely no good reason at all. like its not problematic in the slightest, if anything it's one of the better ones, you just cannot bring yourself to enjoy it

🐾 : have you ever named a cat after a warriors character OR given a cat a warriors styled name? if so, tell us the story

1️⃣ : was warriors your first animal based fantasy series? if not, what series was?

👑 : when roleplaying (if you ever have roleplayed warrior cats), did you used to power play? be honest.

🗺 : first map you ever watched?

🖼 : first amv/pmv you ever watched?

🖌 : when did you make your first warriors oc? (if you say you've never had OCs, i dont believe you)

📝 : if commanded to, without warning, approximately how many paragraphs could you write about your favorite warrior cat before you ran out of things to say

💔 : have you ever lost friends over warriors related topics?

🌈 : what's the most 2010s wcforum era esque fandom opinion you still hold onto and will fight people over (things like scourges collar color, dovewings eye color, etc)

🆕️ : are you still up to date / reading the new books? if not, when did you stop?

📱 : were you ever on warriors amino? (if you were, i'm terribly sorry)

🏠 : about how much do your family know about warrior cats, if anything?

🎶 : give me a song you're surprised you haven't seen turned into a warriors pmv yet - and what character(s) you imagine it to

🎥 : fav warriors related youtuber?

❎️ : what's the weirdest crossover au involving warrior cats that you've made? (if you haven't made any, then what's the weirdest one you've seen?)

🗳 : if you could make any cat leader of any clan right now, who would you pick?

🌟 : would you hypothetically go to starclan or the dark forest?

🤔 : what's the biggest series plothole that's bugged you?

😱 : how many people have you blocked over innocuous, not at all important warriors related takes?

☯️ : what dynamic between two cats has got you up at night pacing for hours? (romantic, platonic, familial, etc)

🌫 : what's a cat you genuinely forgot existed until recently?

[seulszn]

Listen I love TLOU and the fandom very much but a lot of people (not calling anybody out) need a reality check and need to grow up. I wanna say my two cents on things that bother me in this fandom.

1. Boycotting for Palestine

I have seen multiple times on multiple occasions where people would sit on their phone and complain about why writers are “flooding the tags with this boycotting bullshit” and honestly all I have to say is your super childish you can’t take a hour or a week out of your day to raise awareness on a important topic that is affecting millions of people? Your so horny so down bad for pixelated characters that you don’t care about the innocent children, women and men that are dying in Palestine? The boycotting isn’t gonna stop just because you want your needs filled, the boycotting isn’t going to stop because you think it needs to, it’s not gonna stop until Palestine is free. And if you wanna read things that bad then read nobody is stoping you but a take into ignition that if a writer is spreading awareness then don’t be ignorant and say stupid shit

2. Less Sex and more angst or other genres.

Listen I love Abby and Ellie just like everyone else and I read a lot of smut about them but does that all y’all see when y’all look at them? As sex objects? Like I’m not saying that you should stop writing smut for those characters but write other things to that don’t involve smut, like angst I see a lot of people under that tag say how they wish writers would as write other things that isn’t just smut and majority of the time when they say that they get hated for it. It lowkey gets boring reading fanfics where the whole plot is smut, smut, smut. And again I’m not saying to stop writing smut but please for the love of whatever you believe in write other genres.

3. Black inclusivity

As a black writer and a black person TLOU tag isn’t inclusive enough. I know you must be thinking “Why are we speaking about this again?” Because I’m honestly so tired of how uninclusive the fandom is like I said before Ellie dates WOC if you don’t know what WOC is it’s Women Of Color all of Ellie’s girlfriends where WOC now I’m not saying you can’t write for Ellie as a white person and I’m not saying that never did all I am saying is once again all of Ellie’s girlfriend where POC

Riley was a Black African American who Dated Ellie

Cat the girl who wasn’t mentioned alot but is in the game is Asian American who also dated Ellie

Dina is a Jewish (Mexican, Middle Eastern ) American who dated Ellie

Also yes we know when the reader is white coded so don’t try a put that you don’t mention when race mentioned cause you do and we can tell when you do “She’s Petite and cute with her long blonde hair” or whatever you bitches be saying we know when you guys aren’t inclusive the whole point of fanfiction writing is to be inclusive is to make sure that readers can see themself in your xreader so if your putting all these “white things and then labeling your story as “the readers race is not mentioned” or that OC stuff that y’all do then just label the story as a white reader or a OC reader

4. Futa, trans and masc

Now here I’m gonna discuss two or three things starting off with Futa and Trans. Now I don’t know when “Futa” or “Trans” Ellie and Abby came from but a lot of you readers need to understand and learn the difference between the two because they are both very different things.

Futanari: is the Japanese word for hermaphroditism, which is also used in a broader sense for androgyny. Beyond Japan, the term has come to be used to describe a commonly pornographic genre of eroge, manga, and anime, which includes characters that show primary sexual characteristics from both females and males. In today's language, it refers almost exclusively to characters who have an overall feminine body, but have both female and male primary genitalia (although a scrotum is not always present, while breasts, a penis, and a vulva are). The term is also often abbreviated as futa(s), which is also used as a generalized term for the works themselves.

Transgender (often shortened to trans) is someone whose gender identity differs from that typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth. Some transgender people who desire medical assistance to transition from one sex to another identify as transsexual. Transgender is also an umbrella term; in addition to including people whose gender identity is the opposite of their assigned sex (trans men and trans women), it may also include people who are non-binary or genderqueer. Other definitions of transgender also include people who belong to a third gender, or else conceptualize transgender people as a third gender. The term may also include cross-dressers or drag kings and drag queens in some contexts. The term transgender does not have a universally accepted definition, including among researchers.

Mind you I am not transgender I am nonbinary but I see a lot of transgender people speak up about how offensive it is to write a character as Transgender but it’s not really transgender but a Futanari remember a Futa is a character who is assigned a gender at birth but just has extra sexual parts like a penis.

Now another thing that bothers me is how y’all Masculinize Masc Lesbians as if they still aren’t women themselves like every time I read a fanfic with Ellie or Abby or even Vi and Sevika from Arcane you guys like to ignore they fact that they are also women themselves like it’s not gonna kill you to give those characters feminine compliments there shouldn’t be a reason why your calling these women “handsome” or other Masculine compliments and also a lot of Masculine women where makeup it’s not just a feminine woman thing. Masc Lesbians are women they aren’t men so stop treating them as if they are men and ignoring the fact that they are women

5. the Innocent childish reader gotta stop.

They title says enough I don’t think I need to say too much but a lot of y’all get innocent and corruption mixed up but a corruption kink is When you find the idea of "corrupting" someone, mostly in a sexual way, like taking virginities or introducing people to stuff like bdsm etc. It's the idea of having someone "pure" do "bad" things under your influence. And innocent is not corrupted or tainted with evil or unpleasant emotion; sinless; pure. not guilty of a particular crime; blameless. (From the dictionary)

Y’all need to understand yes not everyone knows what sex is but everyone knows what a vagina is what a penis is, what a orgasm is and what sex is but they may not knows what happens when you have sex so making the reader what y’all call innocent isn’t innocent it’s honestly to me perverted cause the only one who would say something like “my cunny feels weird 🥺” or that “what is sex 🥺” is a child. Children don’t know what sex is children don’t know what pleasure or orgasms is and when y’all say “the reader is a Bimbo” is also funny cause Bimbos know what sex is as well yes they may be stupid but they aren’t slow so before you make a innocent reader please think “am I making my reader act like a child or am I gonna make her really innocent like how regular grown ass adults act?” so don't get not knowing and "innocent" mixed up

6. The stories where they have sex inside a church also gotta stop

Now I’m not a Christian but these stories are honestly really bad and are Blasphemy a lot of people have come out and said that they don’t like the fact that people are writing stories about church in a sexual way like their shouldn’t be any reason why your characters are fucking inside a church, that’s like stomping on someone’s dead grave. You guys do shit like this and then wonder why Christian’s don’t like us. Religion isn’t something to be sexualized it’s not something to be playing with either this idc how much you hate Christianity you can be a Atheist, or Catholic or Jewish but please for the love of whatever you believe in don’t sexualize people’s religion.

That’s all I can think of at the moment if I think of more I’ll of course make a part two to this but don’t take anything I said here to heart it’s just my blunt honest opinion on things in this fandom and if I get hate for this 🤷🏾‍♀️

[biapascal]

I have a request pretty pls 🙏 could you maybe write a lil sumn about the reader/oc being married to acacius in a diplomatic marriage to prevent war and show that her country surrenders and they sent her as like a prisoner of war/hostage princess situation. the reader/oc loves Marcus but doesn't think he'd choose to love her over roman beauties and Marcus doesn't want to force her into anything bc of the politics. With like whole lots of yearning, jealousy, angst and oh, more yearning, and the delicious most happiest of endings pls pls pls

Hi honey! 🫶🏻✨ I hope this is enough 🪶

Duties

Tw: forced marriage, loss of virginity mentioned.

First, they killed your soldiers while destroying your city. You saw the streets you walked in your childhood reduced to ruins. The houses were graveyards. They have taken everything and everyone away from you, even from your family. When they brought you to Rome, you were apparently too pretty to be killed. You could have been a slave, but the emperors had other plans for you. You became the general's wife. As your husband, your life was his property as well as your body. In Rome, before the wedding, the girl is supposed to leave everything from her childhood home behind. You couldn't do that because you had nothing left. They took care of you on your wedding day. You had to be a pretty thing for your future husband, nothing more than a doll, like one of those you used to play with as a child. During the ceremony, Acacius was stoic. You were forced to smile and had the impression that he knew this, but couldn't tell what he thought about it. It was almost as if marriage to a beautiful woman was a duty and not a gift from the gods. You were then taken to the house of Marcus for the last rites that would lead to the loss of your dignity. Paradoxically, your husband should have cleansed you with spring water. Meanwhile, the thalamus was prepared. Crocus flowers, considered by the Romans to be a powerful aphrodisiac, were scattered on it. After these rites, you were undressed by an older maid, who also removed ornaments and jewelry that could be dangerous to your husband. you were naked, shivering, your eyes colder than your body. Your sight was blurry and you tried not to look at him. "Can we blow out the candles?" you asked the maid. She shook her head. "You have to see him, now I'll leave you two alone." You finally looked at Marcus and you didn't care that he was a trained general, you would never let that man deflower you. You would rather be killed than to have to carry his child. "Just kill me already, because you are not taking me tonight" you spat. He didn't react. You reached for something to cover your shaking body and jumped when you felt his hand on your arm. "I'm not going to take your virginity tonight." Your expression hardened. "Be a good wife, do as I say, go where I suggest, but know that I won't rape you.” He seemed so serious, you almost couldn't believe it. Then he also covered himself. "Now lie down” he ordered. You slowly did as he said. "Tomorrow they will ask you what happened tonight. Lie, tell them it was painful" you nodded, holding your breath. You fell asleep crying, but you were glad he didn't touch you. The next day, as expected, everyone asked about the first night of marriage. Lying wasn't hard, the other women believed you right away. Life in Rome was depressing. You missed your hometown, the way your people used to act, the typical food. You missed your family, the laughter of the children, your own laughter. Every night Marcus was aware of it and heard you sobbing. He knew it was his fault. The emperors wanted a Roman world, without borders. He was forced to kill and take things from people, but he was not used to it. With you he was gentle, you found yourself searching for him more than once, and you hated yourself for it. "Can I talk to you?" You were in the garden, praying to your ancestors. You nodded and he sat down. "The Romans are greedy. We don't want freedom, we want power."

"We?" you caught him off guard. "No, actually I don't care about power, but I don't expect you to believe me" you gave him a lame smile. "I have to do what the emperors want, and what they wanted back then was your city.” He apologized and you couldn't forgive him. But you felt he was being honest.

February came, the month of rebirth, the Romans had to pay homage to the god Lupercus, and you were still a virgin. the passage to adulthood and the fertility of women was celebrated. Rome was chaotic and several women and men approached you. It was clear that you wanted Marcus to be with you. You couldn't find him and were pulled into the middle of the crowd. He had always given you the impression of being a man true to his own integrity. But you did not know if he was in a brothel on this occasion. "The General's wife!" Two men grabbed your hand and you tried to free yourself. "Come on" they dragged you away from the crowd, and you begged them to let you go. "You should be used to this" one of them said. They were beginning to get irritated with your stubbornness. They were in a hurry to have a look at you and consume you. “Let me enjoy my wife” Marcus arrived. “Won’t you share her with us?” He kissed your cheek and shook his head. "No, I won't share my treasure." You felt strange, you really enjoyed that touch. After that night, you began to soften and you began to know your husband more and more. He was tired, he didn't care about expanding the empire, he just wanted to rest. He was kind to almost everyone, except the emperors. He was wise. He taught you about his ancestors, and you gained the courage to tell him about yours. The nights became your favorite time, you spent hours talking and learning from each other. This was your yearning for intimacy. One night you felt like there were other things you wanted to know, other ways to know him. "I have to be honest with you, Marcus" he nodded. "I'm glad you're my husband. You told me to follow your instructions, but what you have done these months is let me grieve, you have even protected me. Am I still a gift of war or something else?" He approached, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt your cheeks burn crimson. "No” he looked at your lips. "If I may, I'd like to kiss you." You nodded and then felt it. The fear was gone, the mourning was done.

[planetallure]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fic recs

CW: these works contain explicit content intended for those 18+. make sure to read the rules of the writers before interacting.

@peterthepark : coming back to this blog made me realize when exactly i started back reading fanfic fr. the moment that was eddie mf munson, touched something in me. reign was one of my first intros that really stuck with me. it kinda blew my mind and scared me at the same time because i was like…how do i move on…what’s better than this??? brilliance. creative genius. like what more do you want from me? reign, i miss you. <3

i rec literally anything she’s written about eddie or tasm!peter parker.

@ohcaptains : i really don’t know what to tell you man. leah. is. HER. she simply does not miss. funny story: when i first started my old blog, it was ageless so i ended up getting blocked. so i pm’d her basically begging to come back home because i knew what i had lost. i’m not ashamed.

"dealers choice" - if you happened to miss the moment that was eddie munson or you miss his character or you were never really into him, this lil universe is for you. <3

"learning in public" - carmy x fem!reader. he needs it. he wants it. he has to have it. a man on his knees. enjoy.

"don't you dare fall in love" - heads up this one was discontinued and will not be continued (so don’t go harassing her about it) but the last part has an open ending so don’t let that stop you. college student/dealer!ellie x fem!reader. it’s beautiful and perfect. enjoy.

also ALL of her frank castle, abby anderson, tasm!peter parker fics. thank youuu

@inknopewetrust : this woman is a W R I T E R. the beautiful angsty things that come from her brain need to be cherished. thank you for your service.

“hoping i’ll find [a glimpse of us]” - when i tell you this shit was so fricking good!!!!!?! another piece of LITERATURE that i couldn’t believe i got to read for free on tumblr. i am such a sucker for a angsty slow burn and this still lives in me head rent free to this day. the tension had me giggling and laughing and biting my nail and crying. i need to spin back. i need to feel something!!

“secret” : now this one was a sexy forbidden romance. eddie’s our man who isn’t our man but is and oh m gee the angst in this one got me too, though it wasn’t as much. preppy!reader x eddie munson iykyk.

@etherealising : the absolute sweetest person i’ve met on here. every interaction i have with her just makes me smile. on TOP of that she’s a beautiful writer and storyteller. vee you have my heart.

“all i ever knew only you” - the best carmy x oc fic i’ve ever had the pleasure of reading on here. i’m so emotionally attached to this series, its characters and i think it has such re-readablity . the characterization is also so well done carmy x baby 4life. it’s currently discontinued but she is currently doing a rewrite and it’s going really well! in the meantime, please don’t let that stop you from reading the original while it’s still up. you won’t regret it.

“a buried and a burning flame” - vee single-handedly has me looking a richie different now. like…wait a minute :)) the bickering and banter is so fun. tension? check. spice?? check.

“flew like a moth to you” - a continuation of the one above. babyyyy!!! yes, yes, uh huh 🙂‍↕️ these two? LOVE EM. he’s officially in my heart.

@totheblood : star is so kind and super creative. she has created some of my favorite ellie williams smau’s on here.

"the hard way" - rockstar!ellie williams x ex-gf!reader smau. you guys are brought together again to solve the mystery that is the anonymous account blackmailing the two of you. mmm, nothing like the takedown of a shady mf to bring the girls together again :)

@cherriesxinthespring : another sweetheart with a beautiful mind. ik people get the characterization/true nature of ellie so wrong, but not rosie. she gets it.

“wasteland, baby!” - the wlw true enemies to lovers slow burn i’ve been dreaming of. tap in. right now.

@elliesbelle

“nobody compares to you” : a deliciously angsty slow burn second chance romance (ex!ellie x f!reader)

all the text convos for abby and ellie.

@newasskid : this blog makes me so nostalgic. THE first fic series that i read and rebloged when i started my first ff blog, came from this writer. i honestly feel it was my first time reading fanfic that wasn’t a silly little wattpad story or imagine and i was honestly gagged. i was like, “this…this is literature.” what can i say? i love good ass characterization! and this one was no exception.

“hard knock life” - like i said i was gagged with how good it was. i read the first two chapters back in 2022 and i still remember the feeling i felt reading them. this new blog i’m making is a fresh start for me and a chance for me to get back into old fandoms. will be revisiting this one soon.

@lovelettersfromluna

"one of your girls" - biker!ellie/roommate!ellie/camgirl!ellie x f!reader ALL rolled into to this ridiculously sexy little universe!! i love these two so much :’(

"compass" - vampire!ellie !!!! my new favorite thing. the way luna writes her feeding on reader ALONE is the most erotic and intimate thing. my god this was hot.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

sending all of this beautiful writers my love and respect y’all are amazing and so important. <3