#BYE 4 LIFE LMAO

[minglana]

maybe i exaggerated a bit by bringing my coat w me😩

[userblaney]

that was AWFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TEN

masterlist | kofi | notifs | *spongebob narrator voice* 4 months later. well, i'm not gonna bore you all with excuses, god knows most of you have heard what's been goin' on with me at this point lmao. but yall have been so patient and lovely and i really really appreciate it. i hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a little bit of bliss before things get... interesting. there's still more to come (about four chapters or so) and i'll try to update much sooner next time but please remember i'm only one person & i write this for fun (and for free) in my spare time!!! ik it can be frustrating when there are long periods between updates but i'm trying my best, please know that. k love u bye 💕 chapter summary: you & joel enjoy your little weekend getaway, far from the prying eyes and ears of your parents. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age gap (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 50s), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink (joel has a big dick), tummy bulge, deepthroating (or...attempted deepthroating), cum swallowing, fingering, pussy kisses, ridiculous amounts of fluff, namedropping one of my fav songs of all time because i can, the tiniest mention of sexual assault (aka noah) word count: 12.9k ao3

You think you might finally understand what it means to experience happiness.

Not the feelings you've faked for most of your life, not the plastered-on smiles and faux giggles, autopilot prayers and forced gratitude. No - real happiness. That tingling sensation of nothing but pure bliss, safety, love, and peace, something that's felt far out of your reach for most of your life. It swells in your chest, makes a home in your heart as you nuzzle into fluffy pillows, warm bedsheets, and feel yourself drift in and out of consciousness, completely and utterly relaxed. Happy, you can't help but think to yourself, I'm so happy.

You're aware of Joel's presence, fading in and out here and there as he wipes a damp cloth between your legs, across your stomach, down your thighs - taking care of you, making sure you're comfortable. Afterward he cuddles in behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, buries his face in the back of your neck and inhales deeply; you wonder if he's feeling the exact same way you are right now - god, you hope he is.

"That felt so good," you murmur to him softly, eyes still closed, "Felt so good, Joel."

He kisses your neck, holds you tighter in his embrace, "I know, babygirl."

"Can still feel you inside me," you breathe, "It's like you're still there."

He chuckles softly, "Not to burst your bubble but that's probably cum. Couldn't get all of it with the cloth." The words that should be dirty - should seem shameful - do nothing but send a warm tingle down your spine, a sleepy smile to your face. You know he's right - you can still feel something warm deep inside you, a slow trickle making its way to your opening, but there's something else. You're still pulsing every so often around the phantom of a shape, an echo of what was still there only a few moments ago.

"It's not just that," you shuffle in the sheets, nuzzling your face further into the pillow, "it's like... like you're still in there, spreading me open."

He groans and his grip around you tightens, fingertips pressing into the malleable softness of your belly. He leans down to press a small kiss to your ear, "Can't just say stuff like that, angel. Gonna get me hard again." You shiver.

"Good," you whisper, "'Cause I want you to do it again."

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets as he pulls you in, scruff nuzzling against the bare skin of your shoulder, "We'll wait a little bit," he murmurs, "You're gonna start feelin' a little sore soon, if you don't already."

"I don't," you breathe, and you mean it. "Doesn't hurt at all, really. It... it didn't hurt. I always thought it would hurt."

You can almost feel his frown against your skin, "S'not supposed to hurt," he murmurs, "Woulda stopped if you'd been in any pain."

You smile, "I know you would've."

He hums into your hair, strokes his hand down along your arm, "S'good," he mumbles, and you're suddenly aware of the heaviness in his voice, the way his lips wrap lazily around the words.

"Are you sleepy?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, "M'sleepy."

You smile at the adorable admission, then lean back into his embrace and settle in. The sun is starting to go down, casting the room in long orange and blue shadows, warm and comforting. Your eyes close again and you focus on that blissful feeling, on the weight of Joel's naked body behind you holding you close, the sound of his breathing, his smell. On the fact that you've never felt more safe in your entire life.

"I'm so glad it was you," you whisper, and you don't mind if he's already fallen asleep.

--

You're not sure how long you both nap, but you wake up soon after to a completely dark hotel room, save for the flickering lights from the traffic below and the warm glow of the buildings outside the window. Your eyes flutter for a few seconds as your brain reconnects you to the present, and you're suddenly very aware of a dull ache in your groin, an unpleasant throb that hadn't been there earlier.

"Ow," you mumble incoherently, reaching blindly for the blankets and pulling them back to peer down at yourself, but the room is so dark that it's difficult to see anything properly, "Ow."

"S'wrong?" you hear Joel mumble beside you, stirring from his own slumber.

You wince in embarrassment, shaking your head, "It's nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y'said 'ow'," you feel him sit up and reach over to turn on the lamp, "You okay?"

As soon as the lamplight floods the room your eyes cast downward, half expecting to see some medical emergency, some horrific reason for the vacation to end early, to ruin everything before it's barely even started - but thankfully it's none of those things. You're just a little swollen - puffier than usual - and aching, but not in a good way. You bring your hand down and cup yourself gently, hissing a bit when your fingers brush against your opening; it feels almost like a bruise.

"Oh, honey," Joel murmurs, and you turn your head to see his brows furrowing in concern, "Y'sore?"

You wince, biting your lip, "Um, a little."

He frowns and pulls his own side of the blankets back, and you can't help the warmth that floods your cheeks when you see his exposed body; the dark hair wisping across his tan skin, his soft belly and strong thighs - and his cock, soft and heavy and impossible not to look at. You've seen him naked several times at this point but every time still somehow feels like the first, like it's brand new. You watch as he crawls downward and gently places his hand on top of yours.

"Lemme see," he murmurs softly, and you allow him to pull your hand back, exposing your sore pussy to him. His brow furrows, "Aw baby, you're all swollen."

"Is that normal?"

He nods, eyes still trailing up and down, "It's normal," he assures you, "It's probably worse 'cause - well," he smiles sheepishly, peering up at you.

"'Cause you're so big," you finish for him, your own lips turning up into a smirk, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, that." You watch as he brings his hands down and very carefully thumbs your outer lips, pulls them apart to assess what's inside. He groans, and you're about to ask what's wrong when you see a thin stream of his cum dribble out onto the sheets below.

"Fuck," you both whisper at the same time, and when your eyes meet you can see that his are suddenly dark, glassy. You feel yourself begin to throb beneath his touch.

"Still full o'me," he murmurs, eyes trailing back down to where you're dripping, "Messy girl."

Your own eyes go hooded as you watch him lean down and press a small kiss to your clit; your hips buck up, a whimper slipping past your lips as his whiskers prickle deliciously against your sensitive skin. He smiles against you, kisses your clit again and darts his tongue out to taste, just for a moment. You whine.

"I know what you need, babygirl" he whispers, nosing your mound and closing his eyes, "I know what'll help."

Your mind races with possibilities. "Wh-what?"

He suddenly pulls back, crooked smile lighting up his beautiful face, "A bath. It'll help with the soreness." Oh. He presses another kiss to your clit, "If I can bring myself to stop kissin' this perfect pussy."

You giggle softly and he opens his eyes to look up at you again, smiling tenderly. He reluctantly pulls himself off you and climbs off the bed, reaching down to grab his discarded underwear from the floor. "I'll start runnin' the water," he tells you softly, pulling them on and taking a step forward to brush your hair out of your face, "You just relax, sweet girl. Don't move a muscle."

The bath is warm and inviting, lit candles lining the counter and floor and dousing the room in a warm glow; it's hard to believe only a few hours earlier you were on the verge of a panic attack on these very tiles. Now you lean back against the cool rim of the claw foot tub, eyes closed as you submerge yourself in the hot water. There's no panic or anxiety in your body anymore, just warmth and comfort and the welcome ache in your groin, the smell of vanilla in your nose.

"Good temp?" Joel asks softly nearby, and you hear his hand breach the surface of the water, testing the heat. You smile.

"Perfect," you breathe, eyes still closed, "Thank you."

His hand brushes lightly against yours under the water and he squeezes it gently, then murmurs, "I'll give you some privacy."

Your eyes snap open, "No," you cradle his hand in both of yours as your brows furrow, "Stay."

A smile breaks across his face, charming and boyish as he seats himself down next to the bathtub with barely any hesitation, like he'd been hoping you'd say that. He keeps hold of your hand beneath the water and tilts his face toward yours - you press your forehead against his and breathe a long sigh of relief.

"Feelin' okay?" he murmurs, "Emotionally?"

You nod, sighing contentedly, "More than okay," you whisper, "I... I still can't believe it actually happened." Your lips twitch upward and you press a soft kiss to his cheek, closing your eyes, "Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again beneath the water before pulling out and bringing it upwards to cradle your face, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes are still a bit sleepy, hair sticking up in all directions and that beautiful smile still lighting up his face as he thumbs your cheek.

"I should be thankin' you," he breathes, "For trustin' me like that, bein' so vulnerable with me." He leans in to kiss you tenderly, but his words send a sudden flutter of insecurity through your body and you pull back to look at him again, unsure.

"Was I... was I good at it?" you ask quietly, "Did I do okay?"

"Oh, angel," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to cup both your cheeks and brush his nose gently against yours, "You did so good. So, so, so good."

He ends up washing your hair, a small but significant gesture that makes the feelings from earlier bubble up again, the warm fondness and tenderness and love. You lean back in the tub, eyes closed, lost in the sensations of his big hands deftly applying the shampoo and conditioner, massaging it into your scalp and making your eyes roll back. It's ridiculous how even this makes you throb beneath the surface, the ache dissipating a bit in the hot water. So much so that when he caps the conditioner and rinses your hair once again, you reach up to take his hand and squeeze, eyes still shut.

"Touch me," you whisper, voice already desperate, "Please."

He doesn't need any convincing, inching toward the side of the tub and reaching inside to cup your pussy in his big hand again, softly rubbing your clit. You whimper and tremble, gripping the edge of the tub for support and whining when he speeds up, circling and rubbing it exactly how you like it.

"Poor little pussy," you hear him murmur, "Just needs some relief after gettin' fucked like that, doesn't she baby?"

"Mmhmm," you manage to hum, squeezing the sides of the tub and nodding furiously, "Y-yeah."

"Took so much cock in this little hole," he whispers, and that's enough to send you over the edge, eyes snapping open as you shake and shiver in the hot water. You see him sitting there, smiling at you with a devious glint in his eyes. He knows exactly the effect he has on you.

--

"What do we do now?" you ask him softly from the couch a little while later, carefully scrunching a towel in your hair and watching as he changes the bedsheets upon your request - you'd felt a bit embarrassed asking, but you'd really rather not sleep in a wet spot. He'd been more than gracious in honoring your request.

It's late, but the nap and the bath have left you feeling wide awake, and you have to admit that you're feeling a bit hungry too despite the full meal earlier. Does sex make you hungry? You file it as a question to ask Tasha.

"Whatever you wanna do, darlin'," he says with a smile, turning down the sheets and gesturing for you to join him in bed again, "C'mere."

You give your hair one last squeeze and pad over to the bed, clad in Joel's Grateful Dead shirt from earlier today. You don't care in the slightest that it's not necessarily the cleanest article of clothing to be wearing after a bath - it smells like him, feels like him. You just can't get enough of him.

Insatiable.

You both climb back into bed and he pulls you in immediately, tugging you close and wrapping his big arms around you. You lean back into him and feel yourself grinning without even really thinking about it, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of his chest moving back and forth against your back with every breath.

"Always look so pretty in my shirts, babygirl," he whispers in your ear, and it sends tingles down your spine, a rush of warmth to your heart. He kisses you gently and you listen as he inhales deeply, nose buried in your damp hair. His hand travels downward and you both watch as he cups your pussy yet again, warm and soft.

"Feelin' a little better?" he asks quietly, thumb trailing gently up and down your outer lips, "Still sore?"

"Better," you reassure him gently - and you mean it; the warm water did help to ease the ache.

He hums and continues to trace your soft lips, nosing your ear and breathing deeply again, and fuck, you could get used to this. This casual intimacy, being touched without any expectations, any fear or anxiety. Feeling safe and wanted and cared for in his embrace, no worrying about getting home early, no time limit looming. Just you and him.

I love you, you want to whisper.

Your stomach growls.

He removes his hand almost immediately. "Room service," he says with a chuckle, and your eyes snap open again as he reaches over and grabs the menu on the nightstand, placing it in front of you both, "Pick your poison."

Your eyes are drawn almost immediately to the dessert section, followed by a short wave of guilt. You're craving something sweet, but you can't help but think back to being a kid again, asking for treats and being denied, feeling as if your desires were unimportant, childish, silly.

But no, you're not that scared kid anymore. You're not. You won't be.

You bite your lip, "You know what I could really go for right now?"

"What?"

"It's silly, but-"

"It ain't silly, babygirl," he murmurs, and his big hand travels down to squeeze your thigh gently, a comforting gesture, "Whatever it is, it ain't silly."

Less than a minute later he's on the phone with room service, ordering you a hot fudge sundae.

You spend the rest of the night nestled in the warmth of your hotel bed, flicking between channels, legs tangled together beneath the sheets as you take turns scooping heaping spoons of ice cream back and forth. Your mouth and fingertips are sticky, chocolate lining your lips, dribbles of melted vanilla dolloped on your chin which Joel wastes no time in delicately lapping up with his tongue.

"God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he whispers to you, kisses you softly, darts his tongue out to taste again. You hum against his lips and try to keep your emotions at bay; he tastes like chocolate and vanilla and safety.

--

Waking up is different with the morning sun shining brightly through the hotel windows, but that's not the only thing that's different; you notice as your eyes flutter open that the ache in your groin is gone, replaced by a growing hunger and arousal in the pit of your stomach.

Oh, wow.

Joel's arms are around you, wrapped strong and solid, and when you turn within them and see him sleeping next to you, the hunger only grows. God, he's so handsome like this - the grey in his hair sparkling in the early light, jaw soft and lax with sleep, cheeks flushed. Almost angelic in his own way, gentle and peaceful.

Until his eyelashes begin to flutter delicately against the streams of sunlight, brow furrowing in sleepy confusion at your sudden movement; he's awake.

The desire in your belly burns.

"You look so cute," you whisper without even really thinking about it, and his eyelashes halt their fluttering to give you another look of confusion.

"Cute's not exactly a word I'd use to describe myself," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, "S'all you."

"Well, I would," you reply with a smile, watching as he closes his eyes again and nestles his face into the pillow. You reach forward to gently thumb one of the lines at the corner of his mouth, deep-set and soft beneath your touch. His eyelids twitch but he doesn't open them, "You're so soft too," you admit quietly.

"Again," he breathes, lips turning up slightly into a sleepy smile, "Not a word I'd use."

"Cute and soft," you repeat, thumb moving downward to trace the shape of his bottom lip, "And mine."

He chuckles under his breath, face smooshing a little more into the pillow, "M'yours," he murmurs, "all yours."

All yours.

You lean in even closer and inhale deeply, nose trailing up and down along his temple. Your eyes almost roll back at the scent of him, the masculine and heady aroma of his sweat alighting your senses. You're wide awake now, pussy throbbing somewhere below as you press a kiss to the apple of his cheek, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

His eyes open halfway, eyebrow raising as he sleepily watches you work your mouth up and down the side of his face, breath coming quicker and more frantic as your legs wind around him under the sheets. Obliging your desperation, his big arms tighten around you and he rolls the both of you, allowing you to settle on top of his large, warm body.

You stare down at him, hunger clear in your eyes.

"You were inside me," you whisper.

His mouth turns up at the corners, "I was."

"It felt really good."

"It did."

You lean your face down to trace your nose along his cheekbone again, eyes hooded, voice needy.

"I want you to be inside me again."

He peers up at you, sleepiness already fading from his expression as he watches yours with mirrored desire, "Yeah? You want me to be inside you right now?"

You nod, "Yes, please."

"Then turn over on your side, angel."

A little confused but certainly not opposed, you do as he says, rolling back over onto your side and resting your head softly against your pillow. You feel his hand dip downwards beneath the sheets, then his fingertips glide smoothly along your abdomen. Your heart hammers in your chest when he lifts up your - or rather, his - shirt and thumbs your tummy gently.

"Are y'still sore?" he murmurs, "How d'you feel?"

"M'wet, Joel," you whimper, grinding back against the blankets and trying to feel him, "M'really wet."

"Lemme feel," he breathes, hand trailing downward even further. His fingers dip into your soft, soaked centre and a low groan rumbles in his throat, "Oh babygirl, so wet for me."

"Put it in," you whimper, not caring how pathetic and needy you probably sound, "Please, Joel, put it in me again."

"Christ," you hear him mutter, arousal burning in his voice, "Okay baby, hold still, I'll put it in. I'll make you feel better."

Seconds later you feel the heat of his tip crowding the space at your entrance, already wet and sticky. A soft moan falls from your throat at the sensation, eyes closing as you feel Joel's hand cup your leg and pull it upwards, holding you open. He hooks it in the crook of his arm, shuffling forward a bit and pushing the head of his cock inside your heat.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, head falling backwards. You feel his nose in your hair again, feel the stretch of your pussy and the widening of your thighs as he pulls your leg up even more.

"Yeah, there you go," he murmurs, pushing inside further. He goes slow, takes his time, until he's fully sheathed inside of you and your eyes are rolling back on their own accord, quiet whimpers tumbling past your lips. "Yeah, look at you takin' that cock."

As if by muscle memory your hand reaches downwards to cup the protruding shape of him at the bottom of your tummy, a low whine in your throat. He's so big inside you, nestled perfectly within the deepest parts of your body just like he'd been last night, large and warm.

"Feels so good," you manage to gasp out, other hand clenching into a fist against your pillow, "So good, so good." It's almost a mantra, voice breathless as you squish your face against the cotton and push back almost lazily against him, his balls settling heavy and warm at the base of your ass. You can feel every twitch of his shaft, the way the tip pulses against that special spot within.

"Yeah, you like bein' full like that, don't you baby?" he murmurs, "Don't even need me to move, do you? Just like feelin' it in there, huh?"

And you almost hate how right he is, how just the sensation of being so full of him already has you on the edge of an orgasm without any stimulation. Because you want more, you want what he gave you last night, want him to fuck you even firmer, deeper, without holding back. You want it to last hours.

But you know it's too much before he even starts to move, that familiar ache in your groin returning as your walls constrict around the long shape of him. He pulls out slowly, takes his time, pushes back in at a snail's pace. You feel a tickling sensation against your clit, his pubic hair pressing deliciously against the wet skin as he fills you - and without any warning, you start to come.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you cry out into the sunlit hotel room, trembling in his arms, legs shaking. You can tell in his body language behind you that he's taken aback by your sudden release, hand suddenly dropping from your calf so he can palm your sternum and pull you against him.

"Oh, honey," he groans, simultaneously tender and aroused, "Are you comin', baby? You comin' just from bein' stuffed full like that?"

"Yes," you grit out, voice a high keen as your body shakes and your release stretches out before the both of you in quick spasms, "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Nonono, no sorries," his voice is honey in your ear, fingertips grazing your nipples as he lays his palm flat against your chest, "You're a good girl, angel. You're such a good girl."

You continue to spasm on his cock, legs quivering and pathetic whines tearing from your throat until your orgasm has passed and you're just leaning back into his embrace, eyes closed. You breathe deeply, lashes fluttering when he noses your jaw and presses a soft kiss to the space beneath.

"S'alot for you," he murmurs, "I know it's a lot, babygirl. Don't ever gotta apologize for comin' too fast, not to me."

You hum softly, still extremely aware of his girthy size stretching you out somewhere below. Your eyes open and you peer downwards, brows scrunching in wonder and pleasure when you see where you're joined, where his flesh meets yours. You really are full, the base of his cock barely visible beneath your folds, the pubic hair that had caused your early release still pressed against your outer lips.

"How does it even fit?" you ask softly, almost by accident, but he just chuckles.

"The human body is a hell of a thing," he murmurs, kissing your cheek and pulling you in even closer, shuffling you on his dick just a little bit and making you wince a bit with oversensitivity, "You want me to pull out?"

"No," you shake your head and readjust yourself in his embrace, taking a breath, "No, I want you to keep going."

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't need telling twice. Within seconds he's resumed his slow and careful thrusts, almost rhythmic in their presses and pulls, filling you and emptying you in melodic succession. You reach down and take his big hand in yours, squeeze his fingers and let him fuck you like he had last night - tender, soft, comfortable. It almost doesn't feel real; how are you in a hotel room in another city, wrapped up in bed with a man three times your age, his cock buried to the hilt inside your body while you whimper and twitch in his arms? How did you get here?

"Y'know, women are a bit different than men in the orgasm department," Joel says gently behind you, stroking your hand with his thumb, "You might be able to come again if we try."

Your eyebrows go up, "Really?"

"Mmhmm," his hand slips from yours and he reaches it downward to carefully prod one of his fingers against your sensitive clit. You buck in his arms but don't protest, watching as he temporarily halts his slow thrusts to rub you softly. Your eyes go hooded, body melting like jelly in his arms as his his thick fingers slowly begin to work against the already swollen bud.

"Feel good?" he whispers.

"Yes."

He continues his careful circling, presses a kiss to your shoulder and resumes fucking into you. The sounds are pornographic in nature, surrounding your senses and filling the room with the low slap of his hips against your ass and the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his palm. But it somehow doesn't feel dirty or shameful - in fact, it's hard to imagine anything that feels more right than this.

"Joel," you breathe shakily, face twisting against the pillow again, heart pounding.

"I know, feels good doesn't it, babygirl?" he noses your skin and breathes you in, hooks your leg under his arm a bit more and groans softly, "God, you're so fuckin' tight. Such a tight fuckin' pussy."

It's your pussy, you want to breathe, it's yours. I'm yours. But you can barely get any words out as his thrusts pick up speed, as the sounds get louder and his fingers against your clit become firmer in their movements. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the fire in your belly burning hotter than ever as you let him crowd your space as much as possible, let his body push yours further and further until your eyes are rolling back and all you can feel is the steady thrust of his big cock and the girth of his fingers against your pussy.

"I'm coming," you moan out weakly, "M'coming again, Joel."

You don't hear what he says in response, ears muffled as if you're underwater, pleasure spreading throughout your body and hitting you at full force like a hurricane as he fucks you through it. You're barely aware of the sounds you're making, high pitched and almost feral as his hips slap against yours a few more times. And then you feel it, the hot pulses of his cum painting your insides, filling you up as his cock spasms and twitches deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, voice thick with pleasure and sleep as he buries his face in your hair, hips stuttering, "Fuck. Take it, there you go."

Yeah, you could get used to this.

--

You'd been pretty sure you wouldn't leave the hotel room this weekend, just like you'd told him a few days prior. The thought of staying wrapped up in bedsheets, warm bodies pressed up against each other, sharing soft kisses and quiet whispers and tender looks...it'd be more than enough for an enjoyable getaway.

But it's hot, way hotter than you'd anticipated before arriving - and the pool is calling your name.

Or maybe something else is calling your name.

You stand in the bathroom and stare at your bikini clad form, a smile curving your lips as you assess the thin straps and baby pink frills. To think you'd tried to return this to Joel, briefly refused to wear it. Now you're about to don it in front of a hotel pool full of people like a normal woman, like someone without shame, without guilt, without a mother who'd skin her alive if she saw her wearing it.

Your smile falters.

You'd texted your mother after getting out of bed, apologized once again for missing her calls last night and told her you had a "busy" day at the festival ahead of you, that you'd let her know when you leave tomorrow. All she'd said in response was Ok.

You'd climbed back into bed defeatedly, finding a home against Joel's naked form, "She's mad at me," you'd murmured softly against his bare chest, squished into his side with his heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

"Don't think about her right now," he'd whispered, carding his fingers gently through your hair, "Think about this. How this feels."

He'd peered at you so softly, so full of warmth and affection. Those three words had been on the tip of your tongue again, so close to tumbling past your swollen lips - but you'd held it in.

It hadn't stopped you from texting Tasha though:

we had sex and i love him.

UM!! UMMM!!!! DETAILS????

monday!!! i'll call you

🫡 ok slut just leave me hangin i see how it is. AT LEAST TELL ME HE LIKED THE LINGERIE.

oh he liked it :)

queen shit

"Hi, pretty girl," Joel's voice says suddenly, and you're snapped from your reflection in the mirror to find him leaning against the doorway, clad in a pair of swim trunks and a Bob Dylan t-shirt, "Look at you."

You pose a little bit, hand on your hip, "Think the pool boys will like it?"

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, "I don't doubt it, but they might have some competition." He holds out his hand for you and you take it, stepping forward to let him pull you in close.

"They couldn't hold a candle to you," you whisper honestly, and he kisses your forehead with a smile, thumbing the corner of your mouth.

"Wait 'til you see my breaststroke, that'll really get you goin'."

You snort and slap his arm playfully, "Lead the way, pool boy."

--

Joel may have just been teasing about his swimming ability, but he certainly hadn't been wrong about it getting you going. You watch from the comfort of a lounge chair as he whips back and forth across the broad expanse of the hotel pool like a bullet, kicking off from end to end without much effort at all. His arms are strong and lean, body fast and nimble as the water splashes around his broad form. Every so often his face peeks up from the water and you catch a glimpse of his drenched scruff, the way the greying locks of his hair curl down his forehead into his eyes. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

You're laid out in your bikini just watching, letting him expel some energy before you join him. He'd told you he likes swimming but doesn't get to do it as much as he'd like, what with his work responsibilities. You wonder if he'd ever want to swim in your parent's pool...

You shake the thought away as soon as you think of it. There's no feasible way that could work, no option that wouldn't involve an obscene amount of risk. But still... the thought of watching him from the comfort of your own backyard, just completely alone without any bystanders or hotel guests...

"You gonna join me or what?" Joel suddenly calls from the water, and you blink the thoughts away and throw him a grin. He wades near the shallow end, arms coming up to lean against the concrete edge as he peers at you. "Don't keep me waitin', baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, unable to help but glance back and forth to see if anyone is watching, listening. Everyone else seems to be minding their own business, lost in their own conversations, their own fun. Nobody cares that you're here with him. Nobody cares what you're wearing.

Slipping from the lounge chair, you totter over to the edge where Joel resides and slowly sink down onto the concrete, kicking your legs over the side to seat yourself in front of him.

"God, these legs," he almost groans, immediately taking one in his hands and massaging your calf, your knee, your thigh, "Look at you."

"Stop acting like you haven't seen me naked," you tease, though you still feel a bit shy underneath his gaze as he moves his attention to your other leg.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop admirin' this body," he seems lost in his own movements as he caresses the space behind your knee, "You're so god damn beautiful." His hands suddenly wrap around your waist and without much warning he's carefully pulling you down into the water, moving you in close. On instinct your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"How the hell am I here with you right now, huh?" he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose gently against yours, "How're you even real?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply a little breathlessly, "I've been asking myself that since we got here."

He slowly turns your bodies in the water, peering down into your eyes like you're the only people here - and you might as well be. You're unable to stop yourself from leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, from letting your tongue dart out to gently explore his mouth; he tastes like toothpaste and chlorine.

"Y'gonna swim with me?" he asks after you've pulled away, pupils blown a bit wider, "Gonna put that little swimsuit to good use?"

"I think I'm putting it to good use right now," you breathe, inching closer so your breasts are pushing against his chest. You're genuinely surprising yourself at your own boldness, especially in such a crowded place - it's almost like you're a different person here, the person you're supposed to be, confidence coursing through your veins. You stand on your tiptoes beneath the water, bringing one of your legs up to wind around his waist.

"Hmm," he hums, and his face is still dripping with water, the wrinkles in his skin peppered with little droplets that make you crazy, "You do have a point there, darlin'."

You lean in again to kiss him, feel a burst of pride in your chest when you see the sudden hunger and arousal in his expression. Just before your lips touch however, you pull back from him and throw yourself into the water, turning back to toss him a cheeky grin.

"Gotta catch me first," you giggle, then speed off in the opposite direction, leaving him standing there with a look of surprise etched on his face - followed quickly by a look of determination.

"Oh, I will," he practically growls, diving into the water in the same manner and reaching out to grab your ankle.

Time passes quickly in the pool, Joel chasing you back and forth, catching you time and time again until you're a giggling mess with tears streaming down your face and his fingers pinching your sides. You can't remember the last time you had this much fun, felt so free and light. You suppose your night out with Tasha had been a fun experience for the most part, until you remember the vague feeling of an unfamiliar body pressed against you from behind and the smell of alcohol crowding your senses on the dance floor.

No, don't think about that.

Before long you've exhausted yourselves, settled back near the edge of the pool where you started and just softly talking to each other. His big hands are all over you beneath the water, palms wide on your bare hips and tummy, caressing your thighs and your back, touching everywhere he can reach. You feel almost lightheaded with desire, eyes hooded as you peer up at him and tighten your arms around his neck, pull him closer and silently beg for more. You can feel the shape of his hardening cock through his swim trunks, pressed wet and heavy against your thigh. It makes you salivate.

You suddenly hook your chin into his shoulder, bury your face in his neck and whisper, "I wanna suck it, Joel."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, hands exploring your back and holding you tighter against him, letting you rut softly against his bulge, "You wanna go back to the room and suck on it, babygirl?"

You nod ferociously against him, "Yes. Please."

It doesn't take long at all for you both to be out of the pool and making your way back over to the chairs to grab your towels. It's frantic the way you rush to dry off, slipping back into your flip flops and shaking the water from your hair as quickly as possible. Joel follows suit, ruffling his own towel through his hair and making your body burn with need, lost in how sexy he looks with water droplets cascading down his large and strong form, dipping down his sternum and into his belly button. All you can think while you look at him is how badly you want to lick, to taste.

You're making your way back toward the entrance together when a woman runs up behind you, calling out, "Wait, hang on!" You both turn, confusion in your expressions as she reaches you and holds out something in her hand - your phone.

"I think you or your dad left this behind, sweetie," she says with a smile and places it in your grasp, "Gotta be careful!"

"Th-thank you," you manage to stutter out, eyes wide as she nods and turns away from you to head back toward the pool.

You stand there dumbstruck for a moment, thoughts muddled.

You or your dad.

Your dad.

You turn to Joel then. He's looking at you with what you can only describe as apprehension, lips downturned into a frown as he stands and waits for you to say something - anything. You stare back, words failing you.

And then you burst out laughing.

His apprehension turns into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs along with you and squeezes your hand in his tightly - as if to say, this isn't wrong, what we have isn't wrong and you know that. And you do, which is why he has to practically drag you back inside the hotel as you double over and heave out laugh after laugh, tears in your eyes.

"Silly girl," you hear him mumble under his breath fondly as he leads you to the elevator, and all you can do is keep giggling.

--

"I love your cock."

Your knees dig into the plush rug of the hotel room, ass sitting atop the balls of your feet as you kneel between Joel's wide legs. He's sitting comfortably on the couch, one hand resting to the side while the other strokes circles into the apple of your cheek. His cock is out of his swim trunks, heavy and hard in your palm as you slowly stroke him up and down, up and down, heart pounding in your chest.

You've done this to him before, you remind yourself, and he said it was good.

But not like this, another part of you argues, not properly.

"Yeah, you love it?" he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts. With his words his hand drops from your face and joins yours on his shaft, helps direct it toward your cheek so he can press the tip ever so gently against it, "What d'you love about it, baby? Tell me. Wanna know."

"It's so big, Joel," you practically whimper, brows furrowing together at the sensation of his warm stickiness on your face, "So big and so thick and long."

"I know, baby," he coos softly, smearing it along your jaw in a way that has goosebumps rising all over your flesh, "Bigger than your pretty face, huh?" At his words he delicately lays the length of his cock against your face from base to tip, lets it rest there as you close your eyes and try to calm your breathing. You're so fucking turned on.

"Big," you repeat, as if no other words can find their way to your brain, as if your brain doesn't even exist; all that exists is this. The feeling of his warm dick laying heavy across your face, precum leaking out onto your forehead.

"And what's it taste like, babygirl?" He's suddenly moving it downward, towards your mouth, and you happily lean forward to lap at the tip. It pulses against you, leaks onto the pink softness of your tongue. "Tell me what it tastes like."

"Kinda salty," you whisper, peering up at him with big eyes, "But good, it still tastes good to me." Your nose scrunches and you peer up at him sheepishly, "Tasha said it's not supposed to."

He laughs breathlessly, taps the tip against your bottom lip, and when more precum dribbles out you allow it to drip into your mouth. You swallow, eyes never leaving his, then swirl your tongue all around the head before slowly taking it into your mouth and suctioning carefully.

"God, you make me fuckin' crazy," his voice rumbles in his chest, eyes hooded, "Look at you suckin' on my cock." After a few seconds he pulls it out and taps your lips with it again, hissing a bit through his teeth, "Fuck, this mouth. And those eyes," his head leans back against the couch and he groans, low and deep, "You gotta stop lookin' at me like that, angel. M'not gonna last."

"How am I looking at you?" you ask shyly, a smile playing at your lips.

"Like... you're just so new to everything."

"But I am," you say with a breathless giggle, "It is new to me."

He smiles fondly down at you on your knees in front of him, so vulnerable, "I know," he tells you, "It makes me want you so bad."

"You have me," you whisper, leaning forward to mouth at the head of his cock once again, "M'yours, Joel."

His lids go heavy as you suckle gently on the tip again, reveling in the masculine taste of him and the way you can feel his heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. You suck it the same way you did last time - like a sucker or a popsicle - and you hope it feels good to him, hope you're doing it right.

"That's so good, baby," he murmurs, and you whimper at his praise.

You pop him out of your mouth and take a deep breath, peering up at him curiously, "Can...can you..."

His brow furrows, "Can I what, angel?"

"Can you show me how to... how to take all of it? Like, how to put it in my throat?"

The expression on his face is hard to describe, a mix of disbelief and untamed arousal. His mouth opens to speak but he doesn't say anything, taking a few seconds to formulate a response before clearing his throat and giving you a weak - and slightly wrecked - smile.

"Y'sure you wanna try that?" he asks you, ever the gentleman, "That's....it's a lot to take in your throat, babygirl."

"I know," you breathe, sincerity in your eyes, "But I wanna try."

He reaches down and thumbs a stray hair from your face, pushes it behind your ear, "You're probably gonna gag," he murmurs gently - a warning. "It might be uncomfortable for you."

You raise an eyebrow, "So... you don't want me to?"

He laughs breathlessly, "I... I didn't say I don't want it. But I don't want you to try something you don't feel ready for," he frowns, "Don't want you to feel any pressure with me."

"I don't," you admit honestly, "I don't feel any pressure, Joel, I promise. I just...really wanna try it. I want you to show me."

He takes a deep breath, strokes your cheek gently and then reaches down to hold the base of his cock again. Your hands fall to his thighs, still clad in his swim trunks.

"Lemme just see how far you can go without gaggin' first," he tells you softly, patiently, "Want you to stop when you feel it in that spot, okay? Don't go any further than that."

You nod, already beyond excited that you're learning something new, something that'll make him feel good. You open your mouth to take him back inside but he touches your face again, stopping you.

"Deep breath," he advises quietly. You do as you're told.

He helps guide the fat head of his cock past your lips, watches as you very slowly ease yourself down. You close your eyes, all your focus centered on this singular task, fighting to push past the slight discomfort of having your mouth stuffed so full. It takes barely a moment for you to reach the point he was talking about, when you feel the head of his cock brush ever so slightly against your gag reflex. On instinct, your eyes snap open, your entire body freezing in place.

"Right there?" he asks quietly, but you know he's not waiting for an answer, knows you couldn't talk even if you wanted to, "That's so much baby, good girl." His praise send throbs of pleasure to your pussy, warmth to your cheeks. Your eyes meet his and you can see how turned on he is, see the way the corners of his mouth twitch with pleasure. "Let go when you're ready, honey."

You hold yourself there for a few more seconds, eyes watering a little bit as you hold his gaze, just testing the power of your lungs and the strain of your jaw. When it becomes too much you pull your mouth off him and find yourself gasping for breath, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as drool spills down your chin.

"How was that?" he asks, thumbing your cheek again with one hand and stroking himself with the other, working your saliva up and down his length, "Uncomfortable?"

You shake your head, "It was good," you whisper, voice a bit crackly, "I wanna try and take more, can I?"

He nods, smiles encouragingly and taps his swollen cockhead against your bottom lip again, slow and tantalizing, "Course you can, babygirl," he murmurs, "Deep breath."

You inhale deeply again, gathering as much air into your lungs as possible before sinking your mouth down onto him and allowing his thick girth to fill you all over again. This time when you feel him reach that spot, you let yourself keep going just a little bit further, allow the head of his cock to push more firmly against it and slip the tiniest bit into the back of your throat.

You gag immediately.

It's very loud; a dry wretch that you can admit sounds absolutely horrific in the current circumstance. Before you can even really process what to do next, he's tugging you off his cock, voice suddenly worried, frantic, "Okay, no, that's too much," he says quickly, and you look up to see him shaking his head, "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"M'fine," you try to garble out, but you're shocked when just talking suddenly sends you into a coughing fit. You bang on your chest and squeeze his thigh with your other hand, feeling more drool cascade down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"Angel," he says soothingly, leaning forward to pat your back, brows furrowed again in concern, "I'm sorry, honey."

You shake your head, "I-I'm okay," you splutter out, "Just gimme a second."

"It's too much," he repeats, almost pleading, "Please, baby, I don't wanna see you struggle, that's not fun for me."

As much as you hate the idea of giving up, you have to admit that he's right. That wretch had not been pleasant, and while you think you could eventually learn to take all of him, maybe forcing yourself to do it when you're supposed to be having fun on vacation isn't the best time.

"Okay," you mumble defeatedly, sitting back on your knees, "But I still wanna suck it."

He laughs again, relief flooding his features as he leans back on the couch and smiles crookedly at you, "You can still suck it, darlin'. Just take your time and don't push your limits, alright? Promise me."

"I promise."

You spend the next fifteen minutes or so playing with Joel's cock, stroking it with your hand, kitten licking along the shaft and head, just touching as much as you can without any time pressure for once. He pets your hair as he watches you, thumbs your cheeks and dimples, small groans tumbling past his lips, face scrunched in pleasure as you explore. You take as much of him as you can in your mouth, bob up and down slowly with your eyes trained on his face, feel the way his thick length twitches and pulses against your tongue.

It's almost feral the way you drink him down, hollowing your cheeks and basking in the way his body responds to you. You're so wet, aching to touch yourself but wanting this moment to be just for him, a thank you for this weekend, this hotel, for everything. Instead you palm his balls, roll them in your palm and revel in the desperate sounds he makes.

"I love your cock," you whine, repeating your earlier statement as you fist it up and down with spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, "I love it so much, Joel." You can feel yourself dripping in your bikini bottoms, feel your own slick gathering on your inner thighs.

"I know, baby," he gasps out, running one hand through his hair and the other through yours as his belly tenses and untenses, as his thighs tremble, "I know you love it, s'all yours, baby. S'your cock."

"My cock," you echo, almost a whimper, "Mine."

"Yours, it's yours," he moans loudly, hands curling into fists as his head hits the back of the couch, "Shit, I'm gonna come."

"Come in my mouth," you tell him immediately, wasting no time in sinking back down onto his length. He doesn't ask if you're sure; he's too far gone to be a gentleman anymore, and you love it. You watch as he suddenly sits up on the couch, reaches both hands forward and cradles your head in them firmly. He helps you move up and down, groaning as he does, and then-

His cock pulses on your tongue, thick and heavy, bobbing against the roof of your mouth. You feel a burst of cum hit the back of your throat, then another, and another, all the while Joel moans and holds your head in place, toes curling into the rug. Your eyes roll back as he fills your mouth, overwhelmed by the salty taste and thick texture, and - without really meaning to - you swallow around him to make more space. He practically whines at the sensation, pulsing once more to release one final burst of his spend.

And then he's falling back against the couch, cock popping out of your mouth, expression dazed. Without thinking about it you swallow the rest of his cum, eyelashes fluttering at the odd sensation of it all slipping down your throat. So much, gone in an instant. It's only then that you actually realize what you've done.

"I swallowed it," you say, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach, "Was I supposed to swallow it?"

He laughs softly, covers his mouth with the back of his hand, "It is perfectly fine that you swallowed it, darlin'," he smiles wide and opens his arms, "C'mere."

You clamor off your knees and crawl into his lap immediately, straddling his thighs and pressing your wet bikini bottoms against the slope of his belly. He lets out a little groan, pulls you in and strokes your hair.

"You did so good," he praises you softly, kisses your temple, "So good, baby. Made me come so much."

"There was a lot," you tell him, nuzzling into his neck and letting your breathing slowly even out, "S'why I swallowed it, I was trying to make room."

"Was it okay? It didn't make you gag, did it?"

You shake your head, a pout on your lips, "Felt good in my mouth," you whisper, "I liked it."

He hums, hands trailing from your hair to your bare back where he unclasps your bikini top and lets it cascade to the floor, then reaches down and tugs at your bottoms. You lift up carefully, let him slip them down your thighs and watches as you kick them off, leaving you fully naked in his lap.

"So pretty when you're bare like this," he whispers, and it sends more slick to your folds, oozing down and making a mess on his tummy. He cups your pussy in one hand and slides two fingers easily inside of you, thumb rubbing circles against your clit. You grip his arm, eyes falling closed and pitiful little sounds slipping from your mouth. "My good girl deserves a reward for suckin' my cock so good, swallowin' all that cum, don't you think?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and letting him fuck you with his digits, eyes rolling behind your lids.

"Yeah, you do," he answers for you, "You deserve it, angel. Always."

He makes you come easily, leaving you a messy, twitching heap in his lap as your arms wrap around his neck, body going lax and loose. After a few moments he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, helps you into the shower, smiles when you peer blearily up at him through your afterglow.

"Just close your eyes and lean against me," he tells you softly as the water falls, removing his swim trunks and getting in to stand behind you, "I'll get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

--

You nap after your shower, exhausted and sated in every possible way. Joel wakes you up around two o'clock with more room service - sandwiches and soup that you devour with bright eyes and light conversation side by side in bed. It's domestic bliss the way he thumbs mustard from your lips, pours you more water, slices your key lime pie and feeds it to you with a fond smile.

I love you I love you I love you.

"Would it absolutely ruin this moment if I suggested tryin' our hand at a hymn?" he asks when you've both finished, wiping the crumbs on his fingers with a napkin and gesturing to his guitar case in the corner of the room.

You grimace, "I guess not."

"I'm just thinkin' about your parents," he places his hand on your hip - clad in another one of his shirts - and gives you a sympathetic smile, "It's probably best to pick somethin' and have it ready."

You nod. You know he's right, that your lack of preparedness these past few weeks has been pretty reckless considering it's been the entire "reason" you've been seeing him. With a sigh you slip out from under the covers and traipse over to the couch, listening as Joel unclasps the guitar case.

"I did some research," he tells you as he walks over, hooking the strap over his shoulders as he goes, "I think our best bet for an easy tune is How Great Thou Art. Pretty repetitive chord progression, only uses G, C, and D."

You make a face, crossing your arms, "I can't believe I have to do this."

He laughs, "It was either that or Come Ye Sinners, and I think that one's a little too on the nose, don't you think?" He tosses you a smile and you can't help but return it, feeling your frustration melt away under his gaze.

"Can we do that thing again where I get a reward?" you ask shyly, biting your lip. His eyebrows go up, a smirk lighting his face.

"Hmm, I think that's doable," he sits down beside you, tuning the guitar, "What'd you have in mind?" You notice the way his eyes dart toward your groin and your cheeks warm.

"I was actually thinking that maybe..." your hands play with the hem of his shirt nervously, unsure what he'll say, "maybe you could play something for me? You said last night that you've written some songs," you shrug, trying to be nonchalant, "I'd... I'd really like to hear one, if you wouldn't mind."

He peers at you for a few seconds, smirk fading briefly only to be replaced with a tender smile, eyes softening as he gazes at you. Warmth blooms in your chest. You never want him to stop looking at you like that.

"I can do that," he tells you quietly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "I mean... I can't promise it'll be good, but-"

"I don't care."

He chuckles and nods, grips the guitar again and clears his throat, "Well, alright then. Let's get started."

For the first time ever, the lesson is actually a lesson. No undercurrent of sex, no inappropriate touching or sensual glances, no teasing or filthy words. You're not sure how you're able to hold yourself back so easily, able to really focus on what Joel is saying and showing you, helping place your fingers in the right locations and teach you the strumming techniques. Maybe it's because you're tired - you did come three times already today - but it's not just that.

It just feels so... normal. So easy. You think back to that first lesson, the nervousness you'd felt and the pounding of your heart in your chest, the anticipation and the fear.

It's different now. Now that he's been inside you, become one with you, it's like your whole dynamic has changed - for the better. Of course you still feel that curious nervousness, the innocence, the electricity between you. But there's something so solid and tangible about it now, something certain. Something real.

He shapes your fingers along the neck of the guitar, praising you softly every time you play a note that sounds right, encouraging you as you repeat the G chord a few times, then C, then D. You strum along slowly, taking your time, and before you know it you're playing something that actually doesn't sound half bad.

"We definitely need to work on buildin' up those calluses," he murmurs, stroking the tips of your fingers under his thumb, "Well... If you're gonna do this long-term, I mean."

You peer at him curiously, tilting your head to the side. He looks sheepish, like he's said something he hadn't meant to.

"You think I could do this, like... for real? As a hobby?"

His mouth turns up at the corners and he nods, "I think you can do anything you set your mind to, darlin'."

Your heart is suddenly in your throat at his words, emotion bubbling under the surface of your skin. You drop your hand from the guitar and reach up to cup his face, pulling him toward you to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kisses you back just as soft, just as careful.

"Thank you," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "Thank you for saying that."

He presses his forehead to yours, shakes his head ever so slightly, "Don't gotta thank me for sayin' what's true, angel. You deserve to hear it every single day."

You finish the lesson with tears still welling in your eyes, a lump in your throat. When you lean the guitar against the side of the couch he cradles your face in his hands and gently kisses the tears away, brushes his lips along your eyelids and cheeks, your jaw and your lips, saying everything without saying anything at all.

"Okay," you sigh, taking a deep breath and opening your eyes to smile sweetly at him, "Time for my reward."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes a little, reaching for the guitar and beginning to tune it again. You watch as he twists the keys, strums a little here and there, hums softly for each note to match his voice. Anticipation rises in your chest.

"Now, uh," he clears his throat a bit, avoiding eye contact, "It's been a while since I played this one but it's, uh," he takes a breath, "It's one I wrote when Sarah was born. Used to sing it to her to help her fall asleep."

You melt at the words, smiling wider, "What's it called?"

He finally meets your eyesight, lips pressing together sheepishly, "Sarah."

Oh, duh. You nod in encouragement, leaning back against the armrest of the couch and waiting for him to begin. He takes another deep breath, dropping his gaze to watch his fingers shape the first chord. It's then that you notice his hands - usually deft and steady - are trembling a little bit, so much so that he has to readjust his position on the strings a few times.

He's nervous.

He stares at his hand, takes another deep breath.

You wait.

"Sorry," he mumbles under his breath, "Sorry, just gimme a minute."

"It's okay, take your time." Your voice is barely a whisper, awestruck by the sudden vulnerability you're witnessing. He'd agreed to the reward so quickly, you'd been sure he didn't mind. But now as you sit here waiting, you're not so sure. You watch him take more deep breaths, watch as he closes his eyes and seems to center himself.

"If you don't want to-"

"I want to," he says immediately, shaking his head, "I want to, I've just... I haven't sung in a while."

Your brow furrows, confused, "You sang yesterday in the car, didn't you? And you sang Tangled Up In Blue when we first met, and that other one, the one from the eighties."

His lips turn up at the corners, a welcome smile, "Take On Me."

"Yeah, that one."

He sighs, tightening his grip on the guitar, "It's not that I haven't sung I guess. Wrong wordin'," he bites his lip, "It's moreso that I haven't sung this one. Or any of my originals. Not for a long time."

You frown, "How come?"

"I guess... I just..." he searches for the words, staring at the floor, "No one's really asked me to. And it's not like I'm playin' gigs or tourin' or any of that pipe dream stuff I thought about when I was a kid." He laughs humorlessly, like the concept is ridiculous, "So I guess I just kinda... stopped, after a while."

You feel a sudden sadness that you can't really explain, picturing that bright-eyed little version of Joel, stuck in a household that wouldn't let him grow, wouldn't let him be himself. All those dreams and big ideas, dashed before he was able to get out and make his mark. Life getting busy, too busy, other responsibilities taking up all his time until the thing he loved most became nothing but a memory. A pipe dream.

It makes your heart ache.

"D'you mind if I just..." he meets your gaze again finally, eyes soft and a little sad, "Could I maybe just hum it? Instead? I know that's kind of a cop-out, but-"

"Of course you can," you breathe out, hand coming down to rest atop his knee, "Of course you can hum it."

"I'm sorry, baby, I know you wanted -"

"It's hard being vulnerable, Joel," you interrupt him again, shaking your head and stroking your thumb against his skin, "God knows it's been hard for me, and you've been nothing but patient." You give him a watery smile and he returns it, "Please take your time. I can be patient too, I promise."

You can tell how much he appreciates it. He reaches down and picks up your hand, presses a gentle kiss to the back of it before setting it back down and taking one last deep breath.

"Well, here it is," he says with a little more confidence, a smile playing at his lips.

You've heard him play before, obviously; you've already seen the way his fingers work the strings like it's just second nature, the way his thumb strums out the chords effortlessly. But this time is different. Knowing what he's playing is completely original, born from his own creativity out of love and devotion, a father's affection and protectiveness, it just sounds special. New. He begins to pluck out a soft, slow, soothing melody that immediately puts you at ease, makes you lean back further against the couch and loosen your body. It's tender, quiet - a lullaby.

He hums softly, voice crackling a bit in his throat at first but then settling into a smooth and comforting sound. It's almost like a waltz, the way the chords change back and forth, in and out, slow and steady. Of course you wonder what the real words are, what his quiet hums are substituting, but you find that it doesn't really matter. What matters is the look on his face, eyes distant, as if he's picturing his daughter as she was when she was little. You try to picture it too, thinking of the photograph in his house, the one of him pushing Sarah on the swing. Just a father and his little girl, against the world.

It isn't a very long song. It fades out relatively quickly, and as soon as he strums out the final chord you sit up on the couch and clap ferociously, tears stinging in your eyes all over again.

"I'd usually, uh, play it a couple times for her," he says awkwardly, "'Til she fell asleep."

"It was beautiful," you tell him earnestly, "It was so beautiful, Joel."

He shakes his head with an embarrassed laugh and swivels around to go place his guitar back in its case. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. You know how he feels when you spot the tips of ears, tinged pink, warm from your praise.

--

The rest of the day passes in what feels like a warm, luxurious, passionate blur. You go to dinner that evening and order lobster, revel in the way it practically melts in your mouth with sips of champagne and bites of blueberry cheesecake. Joel tells you a little more about his life, tells you everything you want to know about his daughter and his ex. It's not a difficult or uncomfortable conversation like you'd been worried it might be. Instead, you feel closer learning these things about him, feel even more connected to him than you did before as he tells you about Mish and Sarah, their relationship, the arrangement.

"I think I understand it better now," you tell him thoughtfully, "Now that I've actually..." you peer at him shyly, "You know... done it."

He chuckles, "Sex is a powerful thing, it really is. And when you find someone you're compatible with it can be really easy to keep goin' back to 'em. Settle into it, you know? Even if the other parts of your relationship don't work."

"It's like...friends with benefits, right?"

"Exactly. And it really does work for some people, worked for Mish and I for a long time," he shakes his head and reaches across the table to take your hand, "But that's over now, I need you to know that. It's over. You're the only woman in my life and that's how I want it to be. You believe me right?"

His eyes are soft, warm, loving, sincerity practically glowing in his expression.

"I believe you, Joel. Of course I believe you."

You have sex again when you get back to the room, slow and intimate and tender and perfect. You claw at his back as whimpers and cries tear from your mouth, writhing in pleasure beneath him on the bed as he fills you over and over, murmurs filth in your ear and presses down on your clit with his thumb. It's like you've died and gone to heaven, this feeling of permanent bliss and satisfaction, the sensation of being so full and so connected. It's the closest you've ever felt to real inner peace; who would have thought that sitting on a cock instead of in a church pew would be the thing to bring you closer to godliness?

I pray at the church of Joel Miller, you think to yourself as you recover from your fifth orgasm of the day, laying there with fluttering lashes and heaving belly, mind foggy and eyes bleary. Joel is kissing your thighs somewhere below, whispering praises, humming against your skin as he wipes a warm cloth over your twitching pussy.

"I keep thinking about how many sins I've committed in the last twenty four hours," you mumble to him, sleep quickly making its way into your psyche, "And then I remember that I don't care."

His laugh is the last thing you hear before you drift off.

--

Sunday morning is bittersweet. You spend most of it wrapped in Joel's embrace, tracing the freckles and scars on his skin, drifting in and out of consciousness while he peppers kisses all over your face and neck. You have to leave the hotel by noon, get back on the road again and head back home, but the bed is so warm. He's so warm. Everything is warm.

"You never fucked me in the shower," you whisper to him softly, so quiet you wonder if he can even hear you, "Or on the floor."

"I still can," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep, fingers trailing delicately through your hair, "We have a little time."

You nuzzle into his warmth and close your eyes, sighing contentedly, "No," you breathe, "I just want you to hold me."

So he does.

--

The drive home is quieter, but not in a bad way. You're still tired from your escapades and find yourself dozing every so often, vaguely aware of Joel turning down the volume or switching the song to something more chill when he notices you starting to drift. His hand is ever-present on your thigh, stroking the skin over and over like it's just habit at this point. You know you should be forcing yourself to stay awake, to enjoy these last few hours before life goes back to normal, but he really did a number on you.

It's only when you stop at a gas station - the same one where you first saw the playlist you weren't sure you were meant to - that you finally start to feel more awake.

"So tell me about this Angel playlist," you say with a smirk, waving his phone at him as he gets back in the truck, "Can we listen to it?"

A look of surprise crosses his face, but he doesn't seem upset, "How did you even find out about that?"

"I'm in control of the music, remember? It's your spotify."

He groans, cheeks flushing as he pushes on the gas and pulls out of the station, avoiding eye contact. "You were not supposed to see that."

Intrigue floods your brain, fuels your grin, "So it's for me?"

He takes a moment to respond, thumb stroking the wheel as he eyes the road, lip between his teeth. You can tell he's debating whether or not he should answer you, but his silence says everything. Impatient, you practically bounce in your seat, "Can we listen to it? Pretty please?"

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Who is this girl sittin' in the front seat of my truck?" He squeezes your thigh, "You're gettin' bold, darlin'. I like it."

"Enough to let me listen to the playlist?"

He sighs, but you know he's not mad, can see the smile tugging at his lips, "...Maybe. At least enough to listen to one song. Will that tide you over?"

"Yes, it most certainly will," you're already tapping Angel, eyes alight with curiosity, "Which song?"

"Northern Sky by Nick Drake, should be the first one there."

You turn to him with a raised brow, "How do you know that's the first song?"

"'Cause I made the damn playlist."

"And you listen to it a lot?"

He laughs again, eyes rolling fondly as he turns his attention back to the road and grins at your words, "You're somethin' else."

You've still got a shit eating grin on your face as the song starts, the soft strumming of guitar filling the small space. Oh, this is pretty. You playfully nod your head to the chords and he rolls his eyes again, strokes your thigh and keeps his attention focused on the road.

And then the lyrics start.

I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky

Your grin fades almost immediately, realization blooming on your face as the reality of what this playlist actually is begins to dawn on you. You'd thought maybe it was songs he wanted to share with you, songs he wanted to teach you how to play. Just random tunes that he compiled together with you in mind.

No, that's not what this is at all. As the lyrics continue, the melody growing more steady, more beautiful, you realize that these are songs that remind him of you. An entire playlist dedicated to the way he feels.

You stare at the road as the song plays out, not speaking. Your eyes are stinging with tears but you can't bring yourself to say anything, to even look at him. You feel him squeeze your thigh again, a comforting and reassuring little gesture. As if to say, l know, I'm here. As the final chords fade out you frantically reach for his phone and press pause, out of respect for his privacy but also because you're completely unprepared to hear another song like that. You catch him peering at you in your periphery, and you will yourself to look at him with watery eyes.

"Satisfied?" he asks softly, giving you that gorgeous crooked smile.

All you can choke out is a "Yeah."

--

Arriving back at the parking garage hurts. Joel pulls his truck in beside your car, still in the same spot you'd left it, and takes the key out of the ignition with a long sigh. You look over at him, emotion burning in your throat.

"I don't wanna go home," you whisper.

"Oh, babygirl," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "C'mere." He holds his arms open and you clamor over the center console to settle into his lap, burying your face in his neck. He holds you tight and rubs your back, hushes you softly when you start to cry. How is this weekend already over? How are things just supposed to go back to normal now?

"I don't want you to go back there either," he breathes, "If I had it my way you'd be comin' home with me." You feel him press a kiss to the spot just beneath your ear, "But you're strong. You're stronger than you think you are and I know you can get through this. Whatever they have to say, whatever they do, you'll get through it. We'll get through it together."

You don't say anything else, just melt into the warmth of his body and let him hold you, comfort you, until your cries and hiccups fade into even breaths. You pull back slowly and peer at his beautiful face, long to say the words you've been holding back all weekend - but you know there's a reason you've been holding back, know this isn't the right time, not yet.

Instead, you kiss him. It's soft and sweet, a tender goodbye. Temporary, fleeting. You know it's not forever, know you'll probably sneak over tomorrow night to see him again under cover of darkness, find yourself in his bed, get wrapped up in him. But it's a goodbye nonetheless. A goodbye to this - the simplicity, the sense of normalcy and lack of time constraints, the domestic bliss and the thrill of the escape. A goodbye to the bliss.

Driving away from him a few minutes later, watching his truck fade into the distance in your rearview mirror - you think it might be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

[captainfern]

me, patiently waiting for any marigold updates because i can’t get enough of dbf!price: :3c

(in all seriousness tho i love your work so much you have converted me into a price slut and i am eternally grateful)

(live laugh love barry sloane)

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Marigold pt. 4

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price is deployed for over four months. photos and phone calls aren’t enough. when he gets home, you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 6.5k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship?, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], exchange of explicit photographs, phone sex, mutual masturbation through the phoneeeee, unprotected piv, oral [f!receiving], fingering, praise, light degradation, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, breeding kink [yk fern be serious when it's in bold], creampies, strong language, fluffy at the end, porn with a bit of plot i guess, um... i think that's it omfg i need to take a breath after typing this

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the longer dbf!price fic i told you all i'd write

*rings little bell* dinner is served whores

Deployment was never easy for Price. Even when he didn't have anyone waiting at home for him, leaving the safety of what was familiar to him was stressful enough. He never showed it, though. He had a taskforce to captain. He couldn't afford to get homesick during missions of life and death.

But now...

Now, things were different.

He had you waiting for him. Sure, you weren't waiting for him in the sanctuary of his home— like he wanted you too— but you were still waiting for him.

So this deployment was especially hard for Price. The night before he left, he popped around to your house to say goodbye to your dad. They talked for a while as you listened in from the top of the stairs. When it was time for Price to leave, he stood at the bottom with his arm resting along the bannister, looking up at you.

"Say bye to Price, honey." Your dad said.

"Bye, Price. Stay safe." You said politely, your dad smiling gently at you.

Price's jaw ticked before he nodded in return. "Thanks."

He wanted nothing more for you to bound down the stairs and launch yourself into his arms. He wanted to hold you tight to him as you whispered in his ear. He wanted to litter your face in kisses and run his hands along your back and arse. He wanted to mutter into your ear, telling you he'll be back to you in no time. Back to you.

Instead, he turned on his heel, your dad offering him a hearty slap on the back as he walked Price onto the front porch. You watched them go, your heart in your throat. Your eyes stung with tears, chest beginning to heave. So, before the emotions could bubble to the surface, you retreated into your bedroom in search of sleep.

You didn't see Price look over his shoulder in search of you.

•º•

Price texted you when he could. Which, to your dismay, was not a lot.

A couple times every week, maybe, if service was good. Most of the time, it was a short burst of conversation. A couple of exchanged words before he was back into the thick of his mission. Even more common, he'd text you a huge paragraph before he went dark for several days, leaving you to reread the heart-warming message over and over again with tears in your vision.

A month passed like this.

During this time, the mission was critical for Price, so you understood why his attention was elsewhere. But, after about six days of anxiously waiting for a text, you got one.

————Hey, sweetheart. How've you been? alright. work sucks as usual. how are you?———— ————Not bad. I miss you. i miss you too. oh my god don't make me cry————

You managed to talk a bit more, before he was gone. With a simple goodbye, and a couple of x's, no more messages came through. You found yourself rereading the conversation over and over again, your stomach knotted with anxiety.

You lay back in bed, snuggling beneath your blankets. It was late, and you had work in the morning, but you doubt you'd be getting much sleep. Your stomach was a swirl of nerves, and sadness continued to simmer in the back of your mind.

You grabbed hold of the neckline of the tee you were wearing, bringing it up to your face and inhaling deeply. It smelt like Price. Your favourite cologne of his, too— all rich and masculine, with a hint of cigar smoke. You whined into the shirt.

You missed him so much.

•º•

Another entire month passed.

Price was on edge, too.

The 141 boys had noticed it. Price was a bit shorter and snappier with them. He smoked an extra cigar each day, too, and would smoke it right to it's last dying embers.

He was still doing his job really well— as soon as they were out on the field, Price let nothing distract him. But, in the solace of a safe house, or other place away from the fighting and shooting, Price's emotions were altered. He found himself checking his phone, despite having absolutely no reception where they were. He spent hours before missions checking, and re-checking the equipment, muttering meticulously to himself.

Gaz tried to ask what had Price so worked up. Price dismissed him, stating it was nothing. Gaz wasn't convinced, but didn't want to get in Price's way. Soap poked fun at his captain, but that didn't last long after a scolding from both Price and Ghost. Ghost would give Price a look when the captain would check his phone for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Something on your mind, captain?" Ghost asked.

Price shook his head. "Nothing, mate."

He was a goddamn liar.

He pulled out his phone again, opening your messages. It had been two weeks since your last conversation. You had been the one to sign off. The time differences were not helpful.

————ok, talk to you later :) stay safe! miss you x

He felt his throat go tight.

Fuck.

He missed you so much.

•º•

Two more months ticked past.

Four months since he'd left.

It was absolute torture for both you and Price.

Luckily, Price and the 141 found themselves hunkering down in an area with reception. Price was ecstatic when he saw those bars appear in the top left corner of his phone screen. Throughout the entire day, he felt as though his phone was burning a hole through his pocket. He was itching to text you. To talk to you.

It was like a shadow, looming over him— the temptation of stepping aside and pulling out his phone so that he could text you.

He wanted to tell you that he was alright, and that he'd be home soon. He and the boys were safe. More importantly, he wanted to know if you were safe— how were you? How was everything at home? At work? What had you been up too? Where have you been recently?

By the time the 141 reached the next safe house for rest, it was late at night. Pitch-black, the taskforce dragged themselves into the house and separated almost immediately, chasing sleep while fending off exhaustion long enough to find a bed or couch. Price found himself across the house, tucked away in one of the rooms as he pulled his phone from his pocket while he kicked off his shoes and prepared to get into bed.

Immediately, his phone screen lit up with numerous text messages from you. He smiled wide, his heart soaring. With a trembling hand, he opened the messages, his heart beating excitedly against his ribcage. The thought of you made his heart race.

————captainnnnn i miss you so much ––––four months is too long i'm going insane ––––i miss you more than anything

Price chewed on his bottom lip, clearing his throat as sadness swelled there. He turned off his phone and blinked into the darkness for a moment, before switching it back on. There was a break in the messages by about an hour, Price noticed.

————fuck price i need you ————open this alone [image] x3

His smile dropped at the most recent text messages, sent just seconds ago. He blinked at the three photos, his mouth dropping open in shock. The shock was quickly replaced by need as his cock hardened in his trousers and he let out a low groan.

You fucking tease.

The first photo was a selfie of you from the waist up— you were wearing his t-shirt, which pooled around you. You were propped up in bed, face shiny with moisturiser, skin dewey with the aftereffects of being fresh out the shower. It was tame, but your nipples showing clearly through the cotton of the shirt made Price's eyebrows quirk in intrigue. A smirk settled on his face, and he spent a good five minutes just looking at your pretty features.

When he swiped to the next photo, he muttered a "fucking hell" out loud. A mirror selfie, with that floor-length mirror you had in your room. You were twisted half away from the camera, with your arse to the mirror and your upper torso towards the side. You wore a tiny fucking thong, the curve of your arse on full display, making Price release a shaky breath. You still wore his shirt, too, but hoisted it up with your free hand, exposing your abdomen and a small sliver of skin from your tits.

Price hands shook as he reluctantly swiped to the next one, his cock painfully hard in his cargos. He quickly unbuckled his belt with his freehand as the last photograph illuminated the screen.

"Christ." Price hissed, dipping his hand into his boxers and pulling his cock out.

You, wearing absolutely fucking nothing, standing in front of your mirror in such a way that Price groaned into the air, tossing his head back. You looked so good, so fucking good. Your bare legs, your hips and thighs, your tummy and waist, your tits. Fuck, you looked so pretty.

He gripped his cock firmly, hissing out a breath, eyes taking in every inch of your body. He quickly spat into his palm, before stroking himself, paying careful attention to the underside of his tip, just like you would.

He groaned lowly, careful not to disturb the rest of the task force across the house. Teeth biting into his bottom lip, he fucked his fist in the darkness, his phone screen illuminating his face in a soft white glow. Your photo on screen, he could imagine the hot suction of your mouth on his cock— the purposeful movements of your tongue along the one prominent vein running up the lefthand side; the cheeky skim of your teeth when you pressed your nose into his hair, tip of his cock at the back of your throat.

"Fuck, pretty girl—" He whispered, dark hooded eyes on his phone, his thumb flicking between each photo.

He could imagine more, too. The tight, wet grip of your cunt around his cock, taking more and more. He choked on a low moan at the thought. Your pretty cunt— always dripping for him, soaking your best underwear as you rode his thigh; the tight heat as you rode his cock, tip slamming into your cervix with soft wet sounds.

Price spat onto the head of his cock again, trying to imagine it was you doing it. The speed of his hand sent wet clicks through the room, paired with deep, hushed grunts and groans. Price had dropped his phone onto the bed next to him, propping it up on the pillow so he could still see your photos. But pleasure was quickly taking over his body, his free hand at his balls as he fucked his fist to the thought of you, you, you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He whispered, movements desperate.

Swiftly, he grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted it up, biting it between his teeth to expose his abdomen. Groaning around the fabric, he came up his stomach, white splattering along the soft ridges of muscle. He whispered your name as he stroked himself through it; stroked himself until his hips twitched in overstimulation, and his cock softened in his hand, slick with his release.

He breathed hard, hand sticky.

Thinking in an exhausted post-nut haze, he grabbed his phone and snapped a couple pics of himself. Of his cum splattered up across his abdomen, through his happy trail; and of his cock in his hand, painted white.

He wanted to roll his eyes. He felt like a horny fucking teenager.

Price sent you the pair of photos before he made quick work of hurrying to the bathroom and cleaning himself up without waking anyone. When he returned to his room, his phone was illuminating again with more messages.

————holy fuck price oh my god ————fuck you're so hot i can't

Price couldn't help but smile as he settled into bed.

You started it, sweetheart.———— ————yeah. did you like them? I think the photos I just sent make it obvious.———— ————you wanked to my photos captain?

Price laughed. Of course he did. He had a whole collection on his phone, photos and videos, of you in varying states that he fucked his fist too each night he missed you.

Of course I did, pretty girl. Just look at you.———— ————price... You're so fucking beautiful.———— ————price don't make me horny. i have work 😭

Price smiled softly at your messages, his breathing calming. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride in the way you talked to him; how you texted him and called him; how you still called him Price after all this time. Your Captain Price.

Call me later if you can, sweetheart.———— ————i will. miss you so much I miss you too. Have a great day at work.———— ————i'll try. stay safe, old man x

•º•

A week went by. Just one more week until Price was home free. Four and a half months away was brutal.

His emotions were slowly becoming harder and harder to ignore. He found himself thinking of you constantly. He missed you so much it was making him worry— worry about you, about his boys, about the end of the mission. Fuck, his mind was going a hundred miles an hour, but his main thoughts were all about you.

The week didn't have as much contact with you as he would've liked. He found himself fucking his fist to the file of saved videos he had of you— wet cunt taking his fingers, his cock, your mouth whimpering his name, his rank.

Goddamn it, he felt like a teenager. Constantly horny for the pretty girl who sent him nudes. Wanking to said nudes almost every night. What had gotten into him?

He kept thinking about how there was one week until he was home. That kept him going. One week until he could hold you in his arms, hug you, kiss you, absorb your presence. One week until he could shove his cock, his tongue, his fingers into your tight cunt.

He screwed his eyes shut. What the fuck, Price.

It's like you knew he was thinking about you.

Price jolted when his phone vibrated on the table beside his bed. He leaned over and grabbed it, leaning against the headboard and smiling as he saw your name flash on screen. He answered, trying to keep his excitement to hear your voice at bay.

"Hey, pretty girl." He drawled, and he heard you whine softly through the phone, making his smile stretch tenfold.

"Hi, Price," you whispered, and the sound of your voice alone had Price's stomach erupting in butterflies. You sounded tired, as though you'd just woken up.

"Did you wake up to call me?" Price asked.

"Mm... maybe," you replied. "But it's okay. I wanted to call you."

Price chuckled. "Okay, sweetheart. How've you been?"

"Good... mostly..." You said, words stretching out.

"Mostly?"

"Mhm. I miss you."

"I miss you too." Price whispered his reply, throat growing tight. He cleared his throat to try and dislodge the tight, burning sensation.

"Mm... tell me about your day." You said.

Price did. He talked about the mission, and the things that had been happening these past few months. He explained how this week was closing everything up before he'd be home.

Then, silence followed. Price listened to your breathing, wondering what was going on inside that pretty head of yours. He was about to ask, too, when he heard you release a high-pitched whine. This was followed by the rustling of sheets, and a shaky inhale of breath from you.

"You alright?" Price asked, and your response was a low moan.

Price's cheeks flared red as he listened to the soft sounds filtering through the phone. Then, he pressed his tongue to his bottom lip, smiling as he listened to you.

"You touching yourself, pretty girl?"

"Fuck—" You whispered. "Y-yeah. Miss you so m-much and you sound so g-good."

Price chuckled lowly, at the right baritone that made you whimper. Price continued to smile to himself as he dipped his free hand into his boxers and pulled his hardening cock out, giving it a couple of strokes before he began speaking to you.

"Tell me what you're doing," he whispered as his cock hardened more, your noises music to his ears. "Be a good girl and tell me how you're touching yourself."

You moaned. "Ah... 'm using my fingers."

"Yeah?"

"Y-yeah... two."

Price spat into his hand and gripped his cock, spreading it along his length.

"Imagining they're yours," you breathed. "But... fuck— they're not big enough, Price— fuck— s'not you."

You were almost sobbing now, and Price could hear how wet you were. Loud, slick sounds. Hell, it felt like Price was there.

He listened to the way you fucked your fingers into your cunt, the way you sobbed out for him, breathing erratically.

"You sound so fucking wet, sweetheart," Price muttered, fucking his fist. "Such a perfect cunt. Come on, add another finger."

Price heard you sob out a moan as you added another finger into your aching core. Price imagined your body trembling against your bed, hips shunting forward to try and notch your fingers deeper. But they wouldn't go deeper. They weren't Price's.

"Captain—" You moaned sweetly, and that made Price's cock jerk violently in his hand. He cursed as you fought to spit out a sentence through a moan. "Feels so good."

"Yeah? I bet it does, sweetheart. Good girl, keep fucking that pretty wet cunt with your fingers. That’s a good girl." Price whispered deeply, listening to your sounds.

He was breathing hard, too. Grunting and groaning into the phone, making your cunt clench around your fingers. You released whimpers and whines in response as you tried desperately to chase your release using your fingers, imagining they were your captains.

Ultimately though, it was his words that were sending you closer to release.

"That's it, that's it, such a good girl," Price said. "Fuck that pretty cunt. When— ah, fuck— when I get home, I'm gonna stuff you full, sweetheart. Stuff that pretty cunt with my cock. You want that? You want me to fill you up? O'course you fucking do, my perfect girl."

You bit your lip, moaning. "Price, m'gonna—"

"Cum for me. Cum 'round your fingers like a good girl."

Price listened to your orgasm with his mouth agape, fastening the pace of his hand. He whined your name under his breath, breathing hard, no doubt loud where your phone was pressed to your ear.

"Coming, sweetheart," Price panted, lower stomach tightening. "M'coming—"

He came in hot spurts all over his cock, thighs, hand and upper arm. Residual splatters went up his bare abdomen, too.

He breathed hard into the phone. "I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you when I get home."

He heard you laugh. "What a way to ruin the mood, captain."

•º•

When Price got home, he didn't even bother unpacking. He dumped all of his shit in the hallway, kicking off his boots while pulling up your contact on his phone. He sent you a text, telling you to come over, and your reply was instantaneous.

Come over.———— ————you're home??? Sure am. Don't keep me waiting.———— ————i'm on my way

Excitement built inside him as he smiled down at your message. Never had he ever felt this way about a person before.

He moved around the darkness of his home, turning on the lights and drawing the curtains. He sighed to himself, finally making the effort of taking his bags upstairs and putting them in one of the spare rooms. He'd sort them out tomorrow.

With excitement to see you still heavy in his body, he had a quick shower and scrubbed away the remnants of his deployment. Afterwards, he got dressed, pulling grey sweatpants [lol hehe] over his boxers just as he heard the engine of a car in his driveway. His heart fluttered and, not bothering to put on a shirt, he hurried downstairs.

When he threw open the door, you had a fist raised to knock. You squeaked in surprise when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it, before pinning you against it. He slotted his mouth to yours, and you gasped into the kiss, before wrapping your arms around his bare shoulders.

Price pulled out of the kiss after a long moment, breathing deeply as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Hello to you too," you joked, smiling. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," Price replied. "So much."

You leaned in and kissed him this time, taking the lead. He groaned happily, putting both hands on your waist and pulling your lower half into his. You hummed into the kiss, tongues smoothing together, as he nudged your legs apart with his knee and settled it at your already aching core.

"Remember what I said to you on the phone last week?" Price asked, as you peppered his face in kisses. He fought off a smile.

"That you'd fuck the shit out of me when you get home?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah, I remember," you smiled, nipping his earlobe. "You gonna do it, or no?"

"Cheeky..." He muttered, kissing you one last time before spinning you away from the door. He pushed you away from him with a smack to the arse.

He nodded to the stairs. "You know where I want you."

His words went straight to your core.

With a building ache between your legs, you shakily kicked off your shoes. Then, you bounded up the stairs, wiggling your arse as you went. You giggled when Price groaned, following just a few steps behind.

You practically skipped into his bedroom. You turned around just as he walked in, pulling you closer to him straight away. Hands on your hips, he kissed you hard, his tongue pushing against yours, exploring your mouth. The kiss was full of longing and desperation— all of Price's pent up emotion from four months apart.

Price guided you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. He lay you down on your back, shifting you so you had your head on his pillows. He followed, crawling over top of you, continuing the kiss. You tugged at his hair with one hand, the other moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. You skimmed a fingernail over the elastic.

Price broke the kiss. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of you.

"Impatient, are we?" He queried as your fingers pulled the waistband of his sweatpants down, exposing his boxers and the imprint of his hard cock.

You cupped his bulge and he grunted.

"It's been four months, Price. Of course I'm fucking impatient." You quipped, squeezing lightly.

He cursed, eyes shutting, hips canting into your touch. After a second, he opened his eyes and battered your hand away from him. He slunk downwards until he rested between your legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows, cocking your head to the side as he took off your trousers and your underwear.

The scene was oddly tender. He placed kisses along the bare skin of your legs as he pulled your trousers and underwear away. He tossed them across the room, resuming the trail of kisses along your thighs and knees. He kissed right past your most sensitive part, and you blew out a breath, as his lips pecked over your hips, navel and tummy while he pushed your shirt up.

You helped him pull your shirt over your head.

"No bra?" Price remarked, hands automatically cupping your tits. "Naughty girl."

He tweaked your nipples, making you whine.

"Price, please..." You begged, voice trailing off as he pinched at your sensitive nipples.

"Hmm? What do you want?"

You felt your face heating up. "Want your mouth on me."

"Yeah? My pretty girl wants my mouth on her?" Price drawled slowly, edging back down your body until he was settled comfortably between your legs. He gripped the plush flesh of your thighs in two large hands, squeezing and groping.

You whined, feeling his breath fan across your dripping core. "Please, sir."

He hummed, content. "You always ask so nicely. Such a good girl for me, sweetheart."

You and Price both moaned when he sealed his mouth over your clit first. He circled the bud with his tongue, your hips bucking, hands fisting the sheets at your sides. The vibrations of his moans made your mouth drop open.

His facial hair tickled your inner thighs as he sucked on your clit. He skimmed his teeth along the top of the sensitive bud, and you cried out, shooting one hand down to grab his hair. He grunted when you tugged. He then dragged his tongue down your folds slowly— so slowly you thought you might have a fucking heart attack at the sensations— before circling your soaking hole.

"Such a needy fucking cunt," Price mused directly into your core. "Always so wet for me."

Price licked into you, making you bite back a scream. Four months without his mouth on you had driven you to the brink of insanity. You gripped his hair, urging him closer as the solid muscle of his tongue moved in and out of your core. The sounds were slurping wet, echoing loudly in your ears. They played amongst a chorus of Price's grunts and groans, and your whines and whimpers, producing an orchestra of sounds.

His beard scratched the sensitive skin. Not that you minded. It only added to the tight coil in your lower tummy that was twisting tighter and tighter, your body shining with sweat.

"Price, I'm so close." You sobbed as he continued to lick into you, his eyes watching your facial expressions change.

Price dragged his tongue in a zig-zag motion up your slit, sucking your clit into his mouth as he watched you squirm. "Ask nicely, sweetheart."

You keened, your climax building so aggressively that your legs trembled in his hold and you felt a thin layer of sweat building on your lower back, still pressed against the soft blankets.

"Please, sir, can I..."

His teeth skated across your clit again, and you moaned loudly.

"Fuck—! Please, sir, p-please, can I cum? Please, please—"

He seemed satisfied with that. He dipped his tongue back into your cunt and stuffed it inside, humming confirmation that you could let go. The hum seemed to punch you straight in the fucking uterus, and you came with a mewling moan. Price lapped it up, pressing your thighs tighter around his head.

He sucked you through your high. While you trembled, he massaged your thighs, tongue moving in and out of you lazily. Just when you were on the verge of overstimulation, Price pulled back. His facial hair glistened with your arousal, sparkling in the semi-darkness.

He tutted at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hadn't realised tears were streaming down your face.

"Mmmfeltsogood—" You whimpered out in one jumbled word, a couple of tears running over your lips. "Missedyousomuch—"

"My poor girl," Price crawled over you. "My poor, needy girl."

He licked the tears off your lips, before kissing a few off your cheeks. He kissed you deeply once you caught your breath, and you tasted your arousal and the salt from your tears. The arousal on his face smeared onto yours, leaving sticky residue across your chin and cheeks.

"You alright now?" He asked gently, voice soft.

You nodded.

"Good. I'm going to fuck you now, okay?"

Fuck, well okay then.

You nodded again. He chuckled behind a close-lipped smile while he shoved his trousers and boxers down his legs, kicking them onto the floor. You whimpered at the sight of his cock— hard, curving towards his abdomen with a reddened tip leaking ivory beads of pre-cum. A prominent vein ran down the left side, from tip to base, dipping into his pubic hair. His dark happy trail crawled up towards his navel, skimming the base of his abs. You were fucking salivating.

He situated himself between your legs, which you wrapped around his hips as he sat back on his heels. He gripped his cock, hissing as he stared at you. So pretty. All for him.

"Condom?" You joked with a coy smile, watching the copious stream of pre dribbling down his length.

He huffed an amused laugh, leaning over you. Drips of pre landed beside your navel. "As if you don't enjoy me filling this tight cunt."

He wasn't wrong.

He kissed you as he notched his cock at your fluttering entrance, smearing your slick around while his tongue probed against yours.

"I missed you so much," he whispered against your mouth as his head pushed into you. "I missed you so fucking much, sweetheart."

The stretch was still difficult to get used too.

You exhaled a breath, his cock sliding in. "I missed you, too."

Eventually, his cock hit the base of your cervix and you whimpered. He shushed you with another kiss before he moved his face away, eyes darting across your features. He ground his hips into your pelvis, and you whimpered again.

"My girl's so sensitive." He uttered, pulling his cock all the way out. Then he thrust back in, and his brutal pace began— your moans of pleasure his starting gun.

His cock rammed against the plug of your womb repeatedly as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. He had one hand on your hip, the other beside your head as he fucked you into his bed. Your hands ran up and down his back, feeling the smooth planes of muscle. Your hands moved to his chest, squeezing his pecs. You smiled, fingers scraping through the coarse hair. Your hands continued lower, running over his sternum and abs, rubbing over the top of his happy trail.

He grunted, using one hand to snatch both of your wrists. Before you knew it, your hands were pinned above you. Price used one hand to keep your arms in place before his thrusts grew heavier— fucking his fat cock into your soaking cunt. He was fucking the shit out of you, just like he promised.

"That's my girl, just take it," Price grunted. "Take my cock. That's a good girl, sweetheart. That's a good girl. Let this needy cunt take my cock."

You whimpered, chest heaving, sensitive nipples brushing against his chest. The bed creaked beneath you, headboard tapping the wall. His cock continued to bruise your cervix in a way that had your entire body shivering in pleasure.

"Harder." You moaned.

"Harder?" Price chuckled, but obliged— the weight of his thrusts increasing, slamming into the spot within you that had your back arching. "You want it like this? Want it rough? Fucking hell, sweetheart, such a naughty girl."

You bit your lip, hiding your whimpers.

"Yeah, such a naughty girl," Price muttered, eyes zeroed in on where his cock entered you. "Naughty, naughty girl. Letting your dad's best friend fuck you like this. Letting your dad's mate fuck this tight cunt."

That made you moan really loud. His eyes found your face, a vulpine smile developing over his mouth.

"Yeah, you like that? 'Course you do. Needy fucking slut, aren't you, sweetheart? Just love this cock, don't you?"

His words made your core clench. You mewled, a pathetic little sound. You were one more bit of dirty talk away from coming all over his cock—

"Can feel this cunt squeezing me, pretty girl," Price said. "You wanna cum? Go on, then. Cum 'round my cock. Show me how much of a needy slut you are for this cock, darling."

Fucking hell.

You came.

A lot.

You squirted all over his fucking abdomen, and you felt it. Felt the wet gush, felt the warmth. But, above all, you felt the pleasure— tummy tightening, cunt fluttering, legs trembling. Usually, you'd moan his last name. You always had done— Price is what you'd called him since you could remember. Hell, it's what your dad would call him, too.

But this time was different.

"John—!" You cried, and Price smiled as he continued to fuck you.

"Good girl, good fucking girl, there you go," Price moaned through his smile. "Such a perfect girl."

His brutal pace continued, and you were quick to realise that, holy fuck, your third orgasm was looming, pooling in the base of your tummy.

"John..." You whispered.

"John? Thought that made me sound old?" Price mused, pounding into you. "You like that I'm older, don't you, sweetheart? Guys your age can't fuck you like I can."

You mewled again, barely able to keep your eyes open. You were doing your best to watch him. Watch the way he hovered over you, pinning your arms above your head. The way his hips surged with each thrust, slamming himself inside you. You felt the subtle vibrations of his chest against yours as he grunted and groaned.

Your third orgasm reared its head within you, and you felt breathless as the weight of the pleasure pushed moan after moan from your lungs. Price watched you, and the way your mouth dropped open in a continuous harmony of sounds.

His thrusts were becoming sloppier. He was panting, too, as he watched your body grow tight, your cunt constricting his cock in such a way that he grit his teeth to suppress a whimper.

"Come on, beg for me," he whispered, rutting into you desperately. "I know you're close, sweetheart, I know, I know. Just beg for it."

You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes as the pleasure mounted, burning hot inside your tummy. You felt dizzy, too.

"Please, sir, please let me cum, please, I'm s-so close... n' feels so g-good."

He groaned, pleased. "That's my girl. Cum for me."

You did.

You came around him for the third time. You arched as best as you could in order to feel his chest against yours— feel his body, his warmth, his presence. Tears slipped from your eyes as you moaned, and you finally allowed your eyes to flutter closed as you did so.

Your brain was fuzzy and warm and you felt so good. He made you feel so good. The solid weight as he lay over you, the heat of his bare skin, the slight scratch of his light, coarse hair. He stuffed you full, his cock reaching a place far within you that ached each time he spoke. Maybe it was your heart he was reaching, maybe not with his cock— although it surely felt close— but with his hands. His voice, too, and his words, his personality, his mind. Captain John Price had a firm grasp on your heart, and that sent more hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I love you." You sobbed, and he released your hands at just the right moment. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

He groaned, deep and melodic, his arms either side of your face. He leaned down and captured your mouth in a soft kiss. It was slow and passionate, full to the brim with emotion.

Price pulled away slightly, speaking against your lips. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, John."

"Fucking hell," he kissed you again, rutting into your tight heat without any discerning rhythm. He was chasing his high. "I love you too."

He kissed the tears off his cheeks, before his head dropped into the crook of your neck. He nipped at the flesh, sucking a bruise.

"I love you, I love you," he repeated. "And m'gonna fill this pretty cunt with my kids. Breed you nice and full, sweetheart— ah, fuck— mhm, get you nice and full... all fat with my kids. Ah, ah— I love you."

He came inside you with a quiet moan, your name following like a mantra. You felt him, hot and thick, flood past your cervix. You whined, rubbing his shoulders.

Price dragged his cock out of you, bringing a wave of fluids with it. Embarrassment zapped up your spine as your arousal and his cum seeped out of your hole. Price ignored your whimpers, gently gathering his cum that had leaked out. He pushed two digits into your cunt, stuffing his cum back inside you.

"Don't waste it..." He whispered, more to himself than to you.

You whimpered under your breath at the feeling of his fingers inside you. He wiggled them around a bit, ensuring his seed stayed right up inside you.

"My perfect girl. I love you." He whispered again.

This time, it wasn't to himself. It was directly to you.

•º•

An hour or so passed and, after a couple more rounds, Price cleaned you up. Ever the gentlemen, he turned on the shower and helped you into it. Behind you, he soaped your body, running his hands along every dip and curve. He exited the shower first, grabbing a warm towel and wrapping you in it.

Little words were exchanged between the two of you as he dried you, then dried himself. You basked in each others presence. He then dressed you in his boxers and his shirt, kissing up your legs as he pulled the boxers up, and littering your face in pecks as he pulled the shirt over your head. He put on his boxers too, before guiding you back into his bedroom and yanking back the covers.

Price hopped in first. He held the blankets open for you to clamber in, nestling yourself against his chest. He settled the blankets back over you, hugging you tight to his body. He breathed deeply, nose to your hair.

You listened to his breathing for a moment.

"Price?"

"Mm?"

"I meant it, you know."

"Meant what, sweetheart?"

"That I love you."

He hugged you tighter. "I love you too."

You sighed into his chest. "This... I'm going to be in a lot of trouble with my dad."

"Yeah. Same."

You laughed at his nonchalance, leaning back to look at him.

"I'm serious," you muttered, fending off a smile, tapping his chest with your fingers. "I'm in love with his best friend."

He grumbled something.

You chuckled. "What?"

"If he has a problem, he can take it up with me."

"That is the problem, Price. He will take it up with you."

"True," Price said, and you laughed. He hummed, thinking. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, sweetheart, okay?"

"Okay..." You breathed, snuggling yourself back against him.

Comfortable silence followed. Then—

"Price?"

"Mm?"

"Do you really want me to have your kids?"

He choked on his saliva after inhaling to quickly. Shocked, probably. He coughed lightly, and you waited for him to soothe himself.

"Yeah, well, uh— okay, look, I mean—"

You pat his chest, echoing his words. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, John."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

let me know what you thought x

[here2bbtstrash]

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet. 

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 3

a/n: omg thanks again for all the love on the last two parts! i'm probably going to make a masterlist to make all the parts more accessible <3 i feel so special when i see y'all's comments so don't be afraid to share your thoughts! this chapter is a little shorter but only because that's just how the events are playing out! btw, this one starts out with a flashback, it can be a lil confusing hehe but anyways enjoy! (also none of these are proofread LMAO so ignore mistakes)

part 1, part 2, part 4

word count: 3.0k words

warnings: ANGSTTT, language, drugs, alcohol, smoking

It was finally time to depart from your first summer at Saltburn. School was going to start in a week, and you wanted to spend some time relaxing at home before the chaos of your penultimate year in secondary school. 

The summer had been a wild yet fun time. You had so much freedom to do whatever you pleased, and you didn’t really know how to spend your time, since you were usually so focused on your academics.

You warmed up to the Catton family quite a lot. You understood you didn’t really fit in, but it was nice to pretend you did. Elspeth had even gifted you one of her old necklaces that probably would have paid for a car if you had sold it.

You and Venetia spent countless hours together; by the poolside, in your rooms, doing each other's nails or makeup, and playing tennis. Although she was a few years older than you, she was like the sister you never had.

As for Felix, your friendship only grew. You were thankful for him, for being so kind to you and welcoming you into a world you had never known before.

And Farleigh. Your relationship with him was… complicated. One moment, you would hurl stupid and immature insults at each other, and the next, you would be having a peaceful conversation. But the latter usually only occured when you were alone with him, which didn’t happen often. He let his guard down when he wasn’t around his family, which you found strange, but you never questioned it.

You were going to miss this place. You had to return to your normal, everyday life as a student with a normal house and normal parents. 

“We’re going to miss you dearly, love. We hope you visit again next year,” Elspeth remarked as you all sat around the breakfast table on the patio.

“Yeah. Felix, invite her again,” Venetia nudged her brother as she whispered loudly. Felix grinned and looked at you from across the table.

“So, what’s been your favorite part about your stay?” Elspeth questioned, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Honestly, I can’t even pick. It’s all been amazing. Really.” You said. You meant every single word. But you could’ve actually picked a favorite part, you just didn’t want to admit what, or who it was.

A while later, you were standing at the large front doors with your packed bags in your hands. 

Venetia embraced you tightly and you dropped your bags so you could hug her back. “See you next year, hopefully,” She said with a smile after releasing you.

“Yeah. See you.” You nodded and then looked over to Felix who was now also coming in for a hug.

“Bye, mate. I’ll see you at school, alright?” He patted your back as he pulled away and you smiled with a nod. 

Farleigh stood farther away, watching the goodbyes at a distance. You stared him down, trying to will him to come over. 

“Bye.” He simply said, expressionless. “Bye, Farleigh,” You smiled softly at him. You weren’t sure when the next time you would see him would be. He blinked at you and held your gaze before you turned away as Duncan was opening the doors for you. 

“Your cab is waiting outside the gates, miss,” He informed you. You nodded and picked up your bags.

~~~

2 YEARS LATER

It was your first evening at Oxford. You had just arrived and gotten most of your things unpacked, and then you and Felix were headed to the dining hall.

You remembered a few months ago when Felix told you Farleigh would be going to Oxford as well. You didn’t really know what you thought about this. Part of you was interested in seeing him in a different setting, not just at Saltburn during your summer holiday. Was he nicer to people at school? Did he even care about schoolwork?

“I told Farleigh to sit with us,” Felix mentioned as you walked next to him. You nodded. “Okay. How has he been?” You asked. You knew better than to care about him, since the feeling was clearly unrequited. You don’t think he would care if you died a sudden death.

But it was harmless, and only in a friendship kind of way. Or whatever complicated relationship you two had. 

“Good, I think,” Felix said. “You know, his mom went to Oxford. In a way, he’ll be able to connect with her. By being here, I mean.” He explained. You could tell it was his attempt at being philosophical. You just nodded and pretended to follow what he was saying.

You both walked into the large dining hall, mini lamps placed on top of the long tables to light the dim, high-ceilinged room.

You found some empty seats and sat down. A few minutes later, Felix had already spotted Farleigh and was waving for him to come over. You followed Felix’s line of sight and saw  Farleigh’s familiar coiled hair, and it seemed that maybe he had let it grow a bit longer than usual.

He was actually smiling for once, and it was such a rare sight you had to blink to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

“Hey,” He grinned as he took the seat on the other side of you, pulling it closer to the table.

You had seen Farleigh earlier this month when you were still at Saltburn, but for some reason, he looked different. Like he grew up, or something. You couldn’t put your finger on what had changed, though.

Sure, he had recently turned 18, shortly before you did. But the whole aura radiating from Farleigh felt different and more mature. Or maybe it was the new designer clothes you had noticed, or the new necklaces and rings he was sporting. 

“Hi,” You smiled. You realized you must have been staring, and you quickly glanced away to survey the rest of the students filing into the hall.

You spaced out during the small talk and stared into space, pondering how your first day would go tomorrow.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” Felix nudged you. You glanced up. “Uhh… What party?” You hated seeming clueless, but when it came to this kind of thing, you were.

“You know, to welcome all the first years. Us.” He nodded as if to gesture to everyone else.

“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I want to get some good sleep before tomorrow.” You replied while inspecting your nails and picking away at them. 

That statement was half true, half not. You did want to get some well-needed rest, but you were also just terrified of parties and large social gatherings. You could be awkward sometimes, and you were scared of what a real college party would include. Drugs, alcohol… It made you uncomfortable to think about.

“C’mon, please? For me?” Felix gave you the puppy eyes and you sighed. “It’ll be fun,” He reassured you. You looked over to Farleigh. “Are you going?” You asked him.

He looked offended by your question. “Duh,” He answered. You didn’t know why it mattered if he was going or not.

“Ughhh, fine.” You rolled your eyes and facepalmed. Felix grinned brightly. “Yesss,” He whispered.

You couldn’t deny that you were having a good time at the party. You made a few new friends and you were gaining some confidence.

The only problem was that Felix promised you he would stay with you the whole time, since he knew how weary you were with even going in the first place.

And where was he? Nowhere to be seen. You guessed he had run off with some girl already. Hell, within the first ten minutes of you three entering the function, about four girls were already up on him, desperately flirting and twirling their hair.

You were standing in a dark corner when you saw Farleigh approaching you. He had a glass bottle of beer in each of his hands.

“Hey, you want one?” He offered you one of the beers. You were bored out of your mind, so you shrugged and took it. The glass felt nice and cold against your hand.

“Have you seen Felix?” Your eyes darted around nervously. Farleigh shook his head. “Nope. Saw him leaving with some red-head chick, though.” He raised his eyebrows up and down which made you laugh.

He moved to stand next to you against the wall, observing the neon-lit dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He peered down at you.

You shrugged. “I guess? I’d rather be inside sleeping, though.” He groaned. “You’re so boring. You know why you’re not having fun, right?” He leaned down slightly. You shook your head. “No, enlighten me.”

“You’re not high enough,” He said, a smirk forming on his face. “Farleigh. I’m not gonna get high with you.” You scoffed and took a swig of your beer, wincing a bit at the taste.

“Some guy was giving out joints. It’s weed,” He explained, drawing a small plastic bag of rolled joints out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna just smoke weed from some random guy.” You blew a strand of hair out of your face.

“They’re legit, I swear.” He leaned down to your height and whispered, “I already tried one.” 

You shook your head again. “I don’t smoke, you know that.” He stood up straight.

“Just try it. Look, I’m not dead yet. See?” He twirled around and you giggled. “C’mon, we can go out here.” He nodded to the side door.

You just wanted him to stop bothering you, so you let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” He excitedly spun on his heel and led you both over to the door before holding it open for you.

You stepped into the warm and dense air of the night, glancing around nervously like you might get caught by someone. But who are you kidding, pretty much everyone here smokes and probably does worse.

“Okay. I’ll light it for you. Do you wanna share it?” He asked, pulling out his lighter and flicking it on.

“Yeah.” You didn’t want the commitment of having it all to yourself. He lit the joint and you watched him take a hit. He made eye contact with you the whole time. It seemed simple enough— a short inhale and then exhale.

“You try,” He handed you the joint and you eyed it suspiciously before putting it to your lips. You took maybe too long of a hit and immediately began coughing, smoke billowing out of your mouth. 

“Woah, easy..”  Farleigh chuckled at your reaction and you felt his hand on the small of your back as you tried to catch your breath.

“You make it look so easy,” You cleared your throat and looked up at him with watery eyes. He smiled smugly at your words.

“Just takes practice,” He told you casually. “Smoking weed is something I’d rather not practice.” Farleigh laughed at your remark and took the joint to take another hit.

“Do you like Felix?” The question came out of the blue and you turned to him.

“What do you mean…?” You lifted an eyebrow as he passed the joint to you. He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Like, do you actually enjoy your friendship with him?” He asked. You actually considered the question for a long moment.

“Well, he’s like… the only close friend I have,” You said hesitantly. “I continue to be friends with him because I don’t have a reason not to,” You explained before taking a small hit from the joint.

“And you like the wealth and title that comes with him, yeah?” Farleigh’s words hung in the silence. You knew he was being too nice. It was too good to be true.

“Yeah, I like the summers at Saltburn, but that’s not the reason why I’m friends with him.” Or was it? No. You refused to let yourself get gaslighted by Farleigh. But you began to question your reasoning when you said it out loud.

“I mean, what else does he have to offer?” Farleigh asked as you exhaled the smoke. Why was he suddenly turning against Felix? You thought Farleigh loved Felix. Maybe you had it all wrong.

“He’s nice to me,” You flashed him a glare and he stared back at you, drilling his gaze into yours. “I’m nice to you.” He said in a harsher tone.

“When you want to be,” You shot back, pressing the joint to your lips again, staring out into the darkness.

“What do you have against Felix, anyway?” You broke the short moment of silence and turned to face him.

“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything,” He raised his arms up as if to defend himself. “No, you can’t say weird shit like that and then expect me not to question it,” You handed the joint back to him and headed for the door to go back in. You planned on drinking as much alcohol as possible to show him that you don’t need him to teach you how to have fun.

“Do you even know how to get back to your dorm?” He asked, his brows furrowed. “What do you care?” You scowled at him before going back inside. 

Sooner or later, you had downed your whole bottle of beer and then you were doing shots with some random group of girls. You didn’t remember the rest of that night, but at least you ended up in your bed by the morning, even if you had a horrible hangover.

~~~

Sunlight creeps through the window and knocks impatiently on your eyelids. You groan and sit up, opening your eyes to the bright sunrise shining through your curtains,

Memories of yesterday flood back to you. Your drama with Felix, the car ride and visit to your parents with Farleigh, and telling Venetia all about it when you got back.

Felix didn’t get back from London until late last night, so you were waiting to talk to him today.

You don’t want problems between the two of you, but sometimes he’s just so ignorant and out of touch. 

A little while after breakfast, you make your way to Felix’s room. He seemed hungover during breakfast, so you wonder if this is going to turn out well.

You hesitate before knocking. “Come in,” He calls. You twist the doorknob and carefully enter. His expression softens slightly at the sight of you. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with a book in his hands.

“Hey. Can we talk?” You ask quietly. He nods, setting the book down.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was in a mood, and I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” Felix starts before you can.

“Okay. But you know why I was mad, right?” You don’t want it to be that easy for him.

You can see the gears turning in his head. “Erm… because I couldn’t give you a ride?” He looks up at you, and you can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or not.

“No, it wasn’t just that. It’s the principle of it, Felix.” You shake your head. “The principle of what?” He asks, standing up.

“It just seems a lot like you care more about your popularity than you care about your best friend,” You explain, your voice shaking a bit. You don’t really like confrontation.

“No, that’s not true. I just-“

“Yes, it is. Ever since we got to Oxford. It’s always been this way. Leaving me alone at parties to go fuck some random girl, or multiple, for that matter.” Your voice is raised now and you can feel the anger rushing through your veins. All the things you’ve always wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“You know what, you should be thankful I even became your friend. Look what I’ve given you.” He gestures to what you’re assuming is the estate as a whole.

You scoff and laugh at his statement. “What you’ve given me? Are you kidding?! I’m not some stray animal off the street, Felix. I’m not homeless. I have parents. I have a home.” You feel tears welling up in your eyes already and that lump in your throat starting to form.

“Then why are you here?” This is the first time you’ve ever heard Felix really raise his voice. You both freeze in the silence and let his words hang in the air.

“You want me to leave? I can leave,” The tears are now falling down your cheeks as you blink. “No, wait-“

But it’s too late. You’re already storming out of his room and back to yours, which is just down the hall.

You see Farleigh standing near the end of the hallway, trying to eavesdrop. He notices your tears and is immediately heading over to you.

You try to get into your room and lock the door before Farleigh can get to you, but you fail. 

He guides you into your room, his hand pressed against your back firmly before closing the door with his free hand.

He embraces you in a gentle yet tight hug as you continue to sob. He rests his chin on your head and smooths some of your hair out. He holds you and lets you cry.

Farleigh was right about him. Felix thought he saved you from a horrible life. In reality, you would be fine without him. He was just a simple addition to your life.

You hardly realize the intimate moment that you’re in with Farleigh right now until your sobbing subsides.

You push away from him slightly, hands on his chest as you gaze up at him. You sniffle. “I got stuff on your shirt,” You laugh weakly and point at the wet spot on his shirt.

“It’s okay.” His arms return to his side and you find yourself missing the comfort of his arms around you and embracing you.

“Did you hear what he said?” You ask, wiping your eyes and sniffing again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He nods. “Are you going to say I told you so?” You smile softly as you wipe the rest of your tears away.

“Do you want me to say I told you so?” He grins down at you, his brown eyes bright with amusement. You shake your head. “No way.” You both laugh, and you think you’ll be okay.

[lcvejoy]

i want you to stay

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw: crying? breakups? angst? hurt/comfort maybe ig kinda? very abrupt ending.

word count: 1,068

a/n: this is my first fic so be very gentle with me lmao. it’s angsty tho! we love angsty! angsty is so fun! sorry in advance this prolly isn’t the grandest, but it’s a start!

it’s been 4 months. it’s meant to be easier by now.

the breakup had been mutual. you thought that mutual breakups were supposed to be easier to cope with but these 4 months have proven otherwise.

you wish it had been messy. that there was a catastrophic argument, a slammed door and car headlights.

instead, it was mutually agreed upon that you and wil were just at two very different stages of life. with his music and your studies, you both ran out of time for eachother.

at first, you and wil spoke often. you texted daily, he called weekly, each conversation still ended with a rushed “i love you”.

but that faded out. it got quiet. it got still.

and now it’s been 4 months, and you’re sitting on your couch watching a re-run episode of a comedy show that hasn’t aired in 7 years while eating leftover take-out.

there’s a quick knock at the door. you rush to answer. you’re met with a mop of brown hair, eyes that hold so much glimmer you’d mistake it for a galaxy, and an all too familiar khaki coat.

“wil?”

he’s out of breath, leaning slightly against the doorframe with one hand while puffing out his cheeks as he takes in dramatic breaths.

“i leave tomorrow… f-for america” he takes a breath in, standing upright now, “i just wanted to say goodbye. i’ll be gone a couple months” he finishes, waiting.

“oh” you splutter, “okay”.

“okay” he agrees. he’s searching your eyes as he pauses. the pause feels too long. there’s a feeling of wariness, both of you are unsure exactly what to say.

“well… b-bye” you finally mutter, looking down at your feet.

he lets out a breath. “bye” he whispers, and begins turning around to walk off your front porch step. you stay planted where you are, refusing to watch him walk away but listening to each step he takes.

he stops abruptly. you can hear his shoes plant themselves under pebbles, can hear him taking long inhales and shaky exhales. you wait.

“ask me to stay.” his voice comes out shaky. you look up, he’s facing away from you, looking down at his feet as he plays with the hem of his coat.

“what?” you ask, though it sounds more like a plea coming from your lips. “please” he mutters, turning around to face you. you lock eyes for the first time in months. you realize you can no longer read his expression. you can’t tell what he’s feeling just by looking at his eyes. it breaks you a little more.

“a-ask me to stay. please, just ask me to stay” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear it, like it’s a secret he’s been keeping. his eyes are glossed over. you feel your own begin to well-up with tears.

“i’ll stay if you ask” he shakes his head, looking back down at his feet. “i-i’ll do anything you ask. i’ll call off the whole tour. i-“ his voice breaks, he looks back up at you, both of your cheeks wet with tears. “please” he begs.

you shake your head, closing your eyes to force yourself not to look at him. he waits for you to answer, to think, to feel. he’s always been patient with you.

you open your eyes to meet his - “i cant” you whisper, “you want this too badly, wil”.

“i want you more” he responds quickly, with a firm but wavering voice, “i want you more” he repeats, as if convincing himself it’s true. you shake your head again, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a sob. the tears are pouring now.

“i-i cant ask you to drop your whole tour just for me, wil. even if you want me to, i couldn’t-i cant do that” you pause to take a shuddered breath, looking at him once again. he stands there, staring, tears streaming down his cheek like a waterfall. “i would never do that” you finish. you stare at one another, both of your tears never falter.

finally, he breaks.

his knees buckle from underneath him as he falls to the ground. sobs wrack his whole body. he brings his hand up to his eyes to shield you from seeing his face as it crumples.

“wil?” you start, edging toward him slowly.

“wil?” you try again, slowly lowering yourself in front of him to match his height.

his breathing is sporadic as he tries to calm down his sobs, desperately wiping his tears on his sleeve.

“im sorry” he chokes out, as he continues to fall apart in front of you. you place a hand on his shoulder in a desperate attempt to comfort him. “i just-“ he continues “i just really fucking miss you” he looks up now, his face red and splotchy from the tears, his nose running, his hair messier than ever. “i miss you and i-i would do anything you asked of me if it meant i get to come home” he whimpers.

your chest hurts - as if your already shattered heart has just been smashed into a million unfixable pieces. you look at him desperately, like you’re asking him how do i fix this? tell me how to fix it. how can i take your pain away?

“you can come home” you whisper, new tears gather in your eyes, “i-“ you take a deep breath “c-can you stay the night? i haven’t been sleeping well”.

his eyes widen with an almost childlike astonishment.

“just for tonight” you state “and tomorrow you’ll go on tour as planned. and we’ll call everyday until you come back home. y-you can tell me about how awful america is through each city”

he laughs wetly, wiping his remaining tears on his sleeve once more. you do the same.

he grabs both of your hands in his and begins to stand, causing you to follow his actions. he grips tightly, almost hugging your hands into his chest. “okay” he whispers.

you smile lightly at him and begin leading him into the front door, where you both have countless memories and you both hope to make countless more.

you lead him to the bed that never quite felt like yours without him in it, and, like muscle memory, you lay together like you had once done every night.

you don’t have much trouble sleeping that night.

[taeriilight]

taerii back at it again brrr

⭒ִׄ☆﹝ manifesting an SP

sp stands for 'specific person'. it can be a partner, a friend, a neighbour, girlfriend/boyfriend etc.

- you may have checked out several posts about this topic but imma break all that info down and share how I manifested lots of people 🤭 ( new students/classmates/a k-pop band )

𖤐 creating an SP //

- have a clear picture in your mind about what you want your sp to be like; their appearance, status, age, personality, background story, how you meet them, when do you meet them, where do you meet them, your relationship with them etc.

basically mentally prepare a whole wattpad scenario of how, where and when everything takes place etc. !!

try to visualize about them whenever you're free, don't worry and KNOW that they're on their way to you <3

𖤐 self concept xx //

- I highly recommend working on your self concept because often people that manifest their sps become insecure and start questioning if their sp will like them or not !!

so you need to work on your self concept about love, accept yourself the way you are, love yourself and know you are deserving of love <3

- try to change the way you *THINK* the world views you, flip those negative thoughts around

if you're worried that your sp might not feel the same way towards you then remember that everyone is you pushed out. your sp will think of you the way you think they will, so a good self concept helps a lot !!

- if you think you're unattractive then affirm "I'm attractive and pretty in my own way and everybody loves me the way I am"

- if you think you're not good enough then affirm "I am perfect the way I am, they will change their standards to love me and I don't have to change myself because I'm amazing"

basically know that you deserve love the way you are ^^

𖤐 know that your sp is yours //

think, assume, decide and persist.

decide that your sp will appear in your life the way you want, know that it's not impossible to manifest an sp.

you can listen to subliminals, affirm, visualize etc. but know that it's not needed once you know exactly what you want <3

let the law do it's thing and ry not to stress over it, trust the process ;)

𖤐 personal success stories //

͟͞=🦷 ˚⁎⁺˳ if you think manifesting an SP is impossible, then I'm here to share how I manifested 2 SP's and a wholeass k-pop band 💀

- a few years back when I DIDN'T even know about the law of assumption, I always wondered what it would be like to have a new boy in our class; and finally have a boy bestie !! I even made up a whole backstory of where he's from, when he meets me etc.

and guess what. guess TF WHAT.

that *exact* imaginary person took admission into our school in the exact year I had imagined-

I didn't notice at first but when I found out that HE WAS LITERALLY FROM THE EXACT PLACE I IMAGINED MY SP TO BE FROM

I WAS *SHOOK* ( beyond shook 💀 )

rn we're really good friends exactly the way I had imagined 😭

time taken: around two years ( *only because I had imagined him meeting me after two years from that time* )

method: visualising ( more like daydreaming because I didn't know loa was a thing back then )

- I remember when I was a 9 year old I always imagined a band of 4 really pretty and talented girls from *another* universe and basically they could travel between different universes and shi + they had their own animated avatars/show thingy too

and after a couple of years aespa debuted 💀👍

like the members are exactly how I imagined they'd be bye

time taken: 4/5 years ( I wasn't manifesting this I just liked to make up random scenarios lmao )

- here's a *really* quick one,

one morning I got on the bus and on my way to school, I randomly thought "it would be so fun if a cute new boy took admission in our class lmao" ( I swear the thought only lasted for like 5 seconds and then I completely forgot about it ) AND DUDE WHEN I REACHED MY SCHOOL THAT VERY DAY I FOUND OUT A NEW BOY TOOK ADMISSION IN OUR CLASS-

this was very surprising because we rarely get like 1 or 2 admissions in years 💀

time taken: 30 minutes

methods: just thought of it once, listened to a subliminal the night before ( my god mode sub 😭 )

YEA SO JUST KNOW IT'S NOT IMPOSSIBLE, I DID IT AND SO CAN YOU

goodluck manifesting

xoxo,

taerii 💋

[ecogirl2759]

Mako2; Electric Boogaloo

-Note-

All of these photos are from the Danganronpa 4コマ KINGS series. I do not own any of the drawings, but these photos are mine. All credit goes to Spike Chunsoft for the characters and the books themselves.

Check out part 1 here! Now away to part 2!!

(Lon g)

HE- JUST-- HIM--

He's just a smol boi lookin for love <3

*squish*

NO THAT'S WRONG!

Thonk

He's constantly worried about the status that is the goings on in his life

BANG :D

More fever dream Makoto. I still have no idea what's going on lol

LOOKIT HIM KICKIN HIS LITTLE FEET

He eepy, but he mad lol

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HIS FACE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY

BE HAPPY PLEASE :(

LMAO he looks like he's choking on something

NOOOO SOMEONE HELP HE'S TURNING 8-BIT!!!

"Haha, I'm in danger!"

Makoto is just so done with life.

He bumped his head :(

What even is this

And he's off! Say bye to Makoto :D

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

(Okay it's technically tomorrow but it's only midnight so it's fine)

There are so many pictures of him that by the time I was taking pics of the fourth book I realized I only had two spaces left until I reached my limit :(

But here he is! Makoto 2! Isn't he adorable :D

That's not a question, that's a threat :)

I wasn't planning on making this post so soon, but it was requested, so you shall receive!

Hope y'all enjoy another trip down Makoto lane lol

Next up: Celestia Ludenburg!

Contents || <-Previous : Next->

[spinnysocks]

incorrect lion guard as snapcube quotes

if you haven't watched snapcube then i'm sorry if this is really out of context LMAO but that's kinda the point :)

Makucha: See ya, cheetah!

Fuli: Huh? He's faster than Fuli. He's faster than Fuli. What?

Janja, annoyed: What is it this time Ushari?

Ushari: Janja, you found my You're A Bitch Degree!

Janja, after one of Scar's meetings: ...Something just happened.

Nduli: When was the last time you washed your paws? I haven't washed mine in four days. I've also been eating rocks-

Tamka: Rocks?! Nuh uh uh, that's not food!

Nduli: What about grass-

*Butterfly lands on Tamka's nose* Tamka: This is food Nduli!

Nduli: It's beautiful, I love your new hat! I'm gonna name him.. Mwamba!

*Butterfly starts flying away*

Tamka: You scared it away! :(

Nduli: Bye Mwamba! :)

Tamka: Bye Mwamba..

Janja: Hey, you know what this place looks like? Looks like the Pridelands! *starts singing Tonight We Strike*

Janja, to the skinks: Are you in on this conspiracy to?!

Shupavu: Everything is a conspiracy, haven't you ever seen the Circle of Life?

Janja: Wh-What?!

*waiting for Scar's meeting*

Reirei: Are we just doing this now? A bunch of assholes standing in a line? Congratulations!

Janja: Ah fuck, she got us there guys. Well.............

Ushari, while Janja's Clan are hysterically laughing: Alright, I think we need to figure out what we're going to do about this-

Kenge: It's not important that we lost! Look at who's responsible! *points at Janja*

Janja, pointing up: I'll point at you also.

Kenge: I'm not the sky, hyena.

Janja: We're doing Nne's plan? We're all agreeing that Nne came up with this right?

Cheezi: Yeah... 2, 3, 4, 5, 6- Here we go! :D

Janja to Reirei: Sorry that sounded like I wanted to kill you, I didn't mean that. *whispering to everyone else* I do wanna kill her don't fucking tell- I don't wanna kill you, don't worry! I wanna kill her so fucking bad! I didn't say anything to them just now. You know what I said! I-I gotta go, uh, think about some stuff!-

*Battle for the Pridelands in a nutshell*

Scar: Heyyyyy~ What's uppppp?~ It's meeeeeeeee~

Kion: STOP! >:(

Scar: I don't know how to impress upon you that you cannot defeat me.

The Guard: Kion!

Scar: Oh, your friends are here!

The Guard: We're here to help you!

Scar: It's really cute that you're going to defeat me with the power of friendship and all, but then again I am Scar from the Lion King, so-

Kion: You didn't let me finish, Scar!

Scar: Mhm, go ahead.

Kion: I have-

Scar: Yes, yes, yes, yes. I don't care. I do not care! You don't understand. I came back here to destroy the Pridelands. This means nothing to me! Alright? You mean nothing to me! You and your little friends are fucking annoying! This is why I stayed down in lion hell. This is why I punish Pridelanders. I'm the good guy! Do you not realise? I am the good guy here! I am the true King of the Pridelands! Mufasa goes up and he plays with all his little friends like "Oh look, are you watching over the Pridelands?" Yeah, whatever. Fuck everybody.

Kion: Ah!

Scar: I get to kill people! I get to command my army all day! It's great, give me the Pridelands! You don't get it. You watch your stupid little privileges. Fuck you. Idiot.

*The Guard yells*

Scar: Go to hell! *makes the volcano erupt* Look, I can do this! Anytime I want! This is nothing to me! You are nothing to me! I hate you! I HATE YOU! THIS IS MY BIG FUCKING VOLCANO!

Bunga: Oh my god, he's fucking losing it entirely!

Chungu & Cheezi: All around me are familiar faces, work out places, worn out places- IS THAT WHAT A HOUSE LOOKS LIKE? Oh my stars! This place is amazing! Where am I, the Pridelands?...... Worn out places~ (thanks to @devilsrecreation for that one 😭)

feel free to reblog with additions, there's too many quotes to put in here </3

[anonzentimes]

This is mostly repeating something I said on twitter in a more proper way because bless tumblr's practically lack of a word limit lmao.

I don't think I've ever loved a show as much as I love murder drones before, like I enjoy a lot of shows like the owl house, friends, etc, and they're all wonderful of course but they're not something I'd want to rewatch entirely constantly only specific episodes while murder drones for me is that special thing where It's so rewatchable I want to watch it all the episodes and repeat the dialogue with it and love it forever lol. I do this with Disney movies especially Nightmare Before Christmas and The Hunchback of Notre Dame and I'm able to recite some english voiced Nagito lines as well.

Murder Drones is so special, it has so much to love it is unbelievable. The animation, characters, music, lore, humor, visuals, voice acting, just everything is so unbelievably great about it and I can't wait to see how they end the show. Endings mean a lot to the overall experience and I truly hope they stick the landing, I don't have any doubts in my mind that they will but there is still the unexpected anxiety of never knowing until it happens.

I don't think there will be a season 2 based on how Glitch words things in the new promotional video's description which is really sad but if it's anything like gravity falls' writing where everything is planned in advance then I'm sure one season will be enough for this wonderful show if that's what it's aiming for.

N is going to be so traumatized in the next episode thinking Uzi is dead and V being dead he's had everything striped away from him and not to mention the toxic relationship with Cyn she's taken everything from him, his memories, his loved ones, his life, everything. But it's not even entirely Cyn's fault either it's the absolute solver and that's such a cool concept. The scenes of Uzi being possessed and the even MORE trauma N is going through and seeing is so much. I'm glad they had a moment where N snapped and had a moment where his self esteem and how he views himself was evident people are starting to realize more how amazing of a character he really is.

I love this show so dearly tomorrow I plan to watch it with friends lol. It's late (4:50am sheesh insomnia) I'm gonna sleep now bye bye!! tip of the day go watch murder drones

[dbear2]

okay non tickle related lore post because all I do is post about tickling, so if yall want to know anything more about me, here it is :)

hi, im Derek, im 21, from nyc :) (tickle people in nyc hit me up <33 ) I am an Indian cisgendered man, and I think im bisexual? I’ll find out eventually. Also, 5’4 if yall care.

I’m on tumblr to connect to people with the same fetish / interest as me. I will generally keep things sweet and sfw but from time to time you might see me reblog a titty?? Or a peepee??? Or a vagina??? We’ll see.

I am very into body worship, feet, overstimulating, and physical touch in general, aside from tickling, but again, keeping things sfw here.

Please do not interact if a minor. I will curbstomp you :))) also, if you are against the liberation of Palestine, bye bye! If you are racist , homophobic, or hateful and bigoted, byebye! Fuck, if you’re a Republican or on the right , BYEBYE!!!

I am a film student, and I’m usually always working on set. Writing teases is my cope <3 as well as DMing the many beautiful ticklees I like to tease.

Talk to me about…

- movies! I’m always keeping up. Not always watching all of them, but keeping up!!

- jujutsu Kaisen!!

- one piece!!!

- blue lock!

- haikyuu!!

- Pokemon!!!

- film production!!!

- books! I want to hear what you’re reading and if you like it <3

- wellness, could always use more health advice.

- your life! Just because. I can usually lend an ear <3

My top songs atm are…

- lil yachty - drive ME crazy - so groovy <3

- move me - ridge racer 4 - scratches the best itch in my brain

- What A Day - Tyler the Creator - just hits hard tbh

- Fight Alongside - JJK Season 2 Soundtrack - goes SO hard

- From the Start - Laufey - she is an angel.

Current movies I think of…

- Poor Things

- The Last Black Man in San Francisco

- Nope

- La Haine

- The Iron Claw

I need to see Bottoms so bad!!!!

Some hobbies I want to get into are reading more, drawing more, and learning the piano!!! But, as an intensely driven film student, I have little time for things that would otherwise be healthy lmao.

Anyways, talk to me, love yall!!! <333

[familyofpaladins]

You ever just get stuck by the silliest au idea and then suddenly its consumed your mind?

Anyway TMNT Princess Bride au

Most characters taken from the 2003 series, but personality of turtles might be closer to Rise series

(I wrote this in the notes of my phone so forgive typos and weird thought process lol)

Casey is buttercup. April is westly (Originally, and what inspired this whole thing. Was that karai was buttercup and Chapman was westley lol)

The turtle bros work for stockman (bishop?) Because he says he has he will help them find their father's killer. A man who has 3 scars along his chin.

Casey just a simple farmer (oh my god. The farm house) with April there to help feed chickens and milk cows and such and such (Would she only say as you wish?? Would she be that submissive? Idk. Maybe she would as long as he promised not to call her babe lol) (LMAO HER PHRASE IS DONT CALL ME BABE INSTEAD OF AS YOU WISH LOLOLOL)

Eventually she goes off to maybe get soem schooling or soemthing. But her ship gets [sunk/destroyed] by the Dread Pirate Krang. April doesn't return and after years Casey believes she died.

Then the local royalty happens to pass by and the princess (karai)(who is told needs to find a husband so she can finally become queen) decides to make Casey her groom.

Casey still in a depressive gloom doesnt do much to reject her.

One day when Casey is out on a run (one of his few joys) he gets kidnapped by 4 demihuman turtles . :D

But then. A stranger begins to follow them. A (wo)man in black

I've mostly been going from 03 inspiration of character. But the turtles might be a little more Rise based.

Leo is inigo foil. The master swordsman. And the banter. "You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you" "you seem a decent fellow. I hate to die" I am not left handed. He Asks april "ever seen a man with 3 scars along his chin?" "Do you ask everyone that question?

Raph is Fezzik . Big. The muscle. (Kind) Mikey doesnt have a direct foil. May have his own individual fight with april or possibly works with raph. The muscle and taunting words and stuff idk

Stockman is arrogant and thinks hes the smartest around. Accepts April's challenge.

Don is there to keep a hold on Casey. (He plays the game a long in his mind that it doenst actually take any posion). Once stockman is dead, Don just asks for th truth about what happen to the rest of his brothers, April tells him they are just knocked out and will be fine. He says he doenst really care about keeping casey as they were just doing it to work with stockman and well he's dead so no point. Bye crazy smart lady and sad prince to be. And he leaves to meet up with his brothers.

Cue april trying to lead casey away and him being like. Oh you're the pirate that killed the love of my life! Blah blah blah so you can shove it babe!

*falling down hill* doooon't caaaaaall me baaaaaaabe! Oh my sweet april ehat have I done!? *throws self down cliff*

They go through the forest (lmao splinter as rous) (not actually but the image is funny)

And Karai and her advisor Oroku Saki meet them and casey begs her to let april go instead of killing her.

April notes that the advisor has 3 scars a long his chin. That's right. Shredder is what's his face and killed splinter. (Sorry splints. You had to die in this au)

April is taken to Bishop who experiments on his death machine. Just doing his job and having fun with his toys.

BUT

shredder shows up when he learns about the demihumans and asks too many questions about the demi humans shes ever encountered. (Theres a small but decent population in the kingdom) but especially that turtles she encountered last. April doesn't care (she does but more concerned about casey) and asks instead about casey and telling him shes never going to stop.

Karai may or may not visit April… idk. But honestly she doesnt really care about marrying casey but she needs to in order to get the crown.

Anyway its shredder who throws a hissy fit and cranks up the machine "killing" april

Meanwhile the turtles have regrouped but leo is super depressed because he failed and now theh have no lead on their father's killer. Brothers eventually pull him out of it.

They hear aprils cry?? They want "the woman in black" to help them??

Idk they go look for her

("Father guide my sword" is SUCH a thing Leo would do and the humor of it hitting the tree then opening the door is peak tmnt.)

Oh no shes dead

Enter miracle max. I mean the ancient one."she is only MOSTLY dead"

Tang shen: "I'm not a witch! I'm your daughter!" (Maybe. This might change)

They all have to push raph on the cart to break into the castle. Hun is the door keeper lol

Leo goes after shredder. Raph is hauling April around. Ikd what mikey and don are doing exactly. Maybe they split off to look for karai and/or casey

Leo: RAPH!! RAAAAPH. HE'S GETTING AWAY! RAPH

Raph: sighs and puts april down carefully and goes knocks down the door for leo. Comes back to everyone gone. "Now whered everybody go??"

April somehow gets to Casey's room. Casey is thrilled.

Karai shows up… idk. Ask why she really is doing this. Is it what she really wants? Or is it just what shredder has convinced her she needs to do (marry become queen go to war and take over other kingdoms)

Karai seems to consider it (maybe) but still cant have her groom just be carted off. April says okay let's fight then. I've taken on demihimans and been dead and came back, you really want to fight?

Karai considers and concedes. They tie her up so it doesnt look like she just wlt them go.

Karai let's them all leave and ends up marrying one of the chamber men[squire/stable boy/man servant] (is that a real term???) Chapman.

Leo don and mikey all catch up and somehow raph went and found them all horses to ride out on. Happily ever after

Cody is the grandson. Hamato yoshi/splinter is the grandfather

[icouldhyperfixatehim]

last twilight finale time for me and i'm going to jot my thoughts as i go and just post it altogether bc i don't want to fill the tag w nonsense to excess so lets go

4 minutes in and i'm already pissed off. 3 years my entire hole, ugh. where's that meme of a woman putting a toy out of a child's reach? i'm the woman the child is p'aof and the toy is fucking time skips

so glad mork got to fulfil his five minute dream of being part of the exploitative tourism sector decimating hawaii. cool love that for him, it's definitely better than finding healing through love and support or whatever

i hope they had fun with the mork porjai implication bait and switch, because night walked through the door and my only reaction was: well obviously -_-

and here's the man himself! aof why are you doing your stan lee cameo in THIS ep of all eps. you could have photoshopped yourself into the last twilight mountain scene like the teletubbies sun and i'd have been less fucked off w you right now

okay but i'm never too bitter to appreciate a nice little bookshop. this is cute. i hope the shelves have braille indicators or smth. would have been cool to see some practical accessibility considerations - evidence of what day has learned and how he's letting the ladder down for others. also where's his white cane? i thought he was finally using one?

the lighthearted tone of this flirting...i am being gaslit. rubbing sugar in my wounds doesn't feel any better than salt hey

i do love watching porjai get the full princess treatment though, she deserves it

their "adult" conversation over cake has me so weary. don't explain how you want me to interpret this narrative thanks, i'm a big girl with some, nay, muLTipLe brain cells. you can tell me it was all about mork pitying day and day not liking to be pitied, but i don't like being told what to think. it's a disservice to these full, multifaceted characters to turn them into informed-storytelling puppets

porjai is my ep highlight so far for real. namtan, the actress that you are and the beauty that you have in the bridal get up. nightporjai are so dark horse special to me. THIS. THIS is what i wanted for mork! to do the growing and the healing IN SUPPORT AND WITH LOVE TO STAND FIRM FROM AGHHH, not on the arse end of america for no reason at all

ah, the classic romcom airport dash, except i'm mad lmao butWAIT PORJAI DOING A GRIFT FOR LOVE SHE IS THE EP HERO!!!

oh christ. oh christ they're not are they?

no

no they are...oh my god. oh i'm. i've written this whole thing pissy over the relationship thing i didn't even. oh my god. i'm heartbroken.

"the worst page in my novel" i'm. i actually feel a little sick. how horrible. what an absolute reversal. they waited until the last 15 minutes to make my worst fear on seeing the very first trailer come true, they waited until my guard was down

to all my disabled buds out there, wherever you fall on the spectrum of weary to deeply hurt by this narrative decision: your happy ending is in no way reliant on you someday "getting better". you do not have to "get better" to be whole, to be worth loving, to find meaning and joy in your life. you are not incomplete.

this is so busted. i'm so incredibly disappointed by this turn. they cocked this up massively, i need to go make mashed potatoes bye

[lincolndjarin]

Farewell, Best Kept Secret.

with chapters 26&27 taken care of it's time for me to finally prepare to say good bye to my first ever fic. bks has been incredibly important to me for the longest time now, i've been working for over half a year to put a story that i love into words.

i want to do something special to mark the end of this story so i've planned a full week of content (rather self indulgently) to do so. Also if you're interested, send me an ask for a wrap up Q&A I'm gonna be doing that week!! I'm hoping to save up a couple to put into one big post!! anyhow... here's my plan for the release of the final chapters of bks <3

I put a lot of this in my 2023 wrap up post but this post is just for bks week stuff. schedule under the cut.

DEC 1 : BKS 28 : a place for us

this will be the 'last' chapter of bks!!

DEC 2 : BKS Q&A

once again please send me any questions you might have about bks (preferably by december 1st) so can make sure to get to them!!

DEC 3 : Bound in Beskar - 500 follower celebration

should have gotten to this sooner btw that's my bad. this will be a little drabble of the scene that bks!reader reads in chapter 20!!

DEC 4 : BKS what ifs

(i had to come up with 8 days of content ik this is lame but i needed a filler LMAO) this will be just a little post of story lines i changed during my writing process.

DEC 5 : Best Kept Secret Art

i commissioned a few artists to illustrate some of my favorite scenes for this very purpose and i'm so excited to show you guys, they're absolutely phenomenal and every artist has been a delight to work with

DEC 6 : Secrets Best Kept - 1,000 follower celebration

a one off (this is what life and death is to twilight) vaguely inspired by bks but with a role reversal, Din Djarin is the new (reluctant) leader of Mandalore, surprise surprise, he doesn't get along well with his new advisor. I hope you guys are excited about brattamer!reader because I sure am.

DEC 7 : A love letter to Best Kept Secret.

gross & mushy. that's what this is going to be.

DEC 8 : BKS 29 : the best kept secret (epilogue)

the epilogue, and final main update for best kept secret

And that's all!! I'll see you all then!! until then expect an oh honey update and possibly a one off if i finish all my prep for this!!

[coffeelovesdramasalatte]

LITA Ep. 4 Rewatch Thoughts Pt. 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6

Rain really said boy BYE

Did y'all notice that Phayu smacks his lips and looks at Rain's lips like 30 times during this one minute of conversation?

Ok wait he's going for it!

KISS ALERT HE'S REALLY GOING FOR IT!!!

Rain was SO READY too - he closed his eyes as soon as Phayu's lips touched his. infinity/10 sweetest first kiss. It looks very aesthetically pleasing with the blurred out, neutral background.

Instant replay from another angle, just to drive in how comfy Rain looks to be there

I ADORE this "just been kissed" look on Rain - I like that both actors repeatedly showed us just how into each other Rain and Phayu are

I think we're on the 10th lip touch? Are you obsessed or something Phayu?

Phayu says thank you to Rain here. At first, I thought he was thanking him for the kiss, or for coming to see him. Now, I think it's probably for everything - thank you for meeting me, thank you for making me like you, thank you for not running away, thank you for meeting my expectations, and thank you for liking me back. And then we barely get time to recover from the sweetness of that kiss before Phayu is giving us this adorable face (which is my second favorite of Phayu's faces)

Including this shot bc I love Sky

It's Rain's turn!! Ahh it's so cute that he was so nervous at first but then he remembers that Phayu is supporting him (plus kiss!) and his confidence is restored! Also the background + Rain's tie is giving us some more yellow + navy blue. Cute!

vs.

This teacher panel is so funny - person on the left looks so done, middle dude looks like he's paying attention with the intention to rip the presentation apart when Rain's done, and person on the right looks like he's having the time of his life

Rain does so well! Even the teachers said so!! I knew he could do it :) Except Phayu isn't going to find out for a while bc this dummy forgot to charge his phone. Don't you know Rain's waiting for you?

Listen, I know this shot is for dramatic purposes and that Rain looks truly beautiful in the rain, but you can't tell me that he and P' Saifah haven't exchanged numbers yet. Rain totally could've waited in the house or even in his car, which he definitely drove there in. My dumb son

It's ok, Phayu is here though!! And Rain gets to tell him the good news!! Phayu seems more concerned about how wet Rain is though, and for good reason. He's probably watched a few BLs so he knows that the male leads often have the constitution of sickly Victorian children when it comes to the rain. He's rightly concerned for Rain's health.

Also we get the switch from Pum to Rain (the way Rain refers to himself) during this convo! I did not notice this on my own and will try to find and link the person's post who did. To my understanding, this is a more personal way of referring to oneself and it's yet another way Phayu and Rain are closer now! They're about to get real close tho ;)

Rain's death-grip on Phayu counter is probably up to 10 now too. I don't think I've said this before but Noeul has really nice hands. They're good for holding a certain someone's face and neck:

This screenshot doesn't do it justice but... this LOOK that Phayu gives Rain right before he drags him inside. Bff is ready to DEVOUR his man (we've all waited long enough lmao)

I was going to tell you all a story here and make you wait a bit longer, but I'll post it separately. As for these two, they literally did not wait any more. From here on out this is entirely self-indulgent. Enjoy!

I absolutely ADORE how they framed this scene with the curtains and the rain and the soft blue lighting that looks like moonlight. I also really like Phayu's hand placement in this entire bathtub sequence. Additionally, Rain gets a good amount of active participation in during these kisses (BossNoeul said dead fish kisses whomst?? we don't know her). It's another indicator of how happy and comfortable Rain is to be there

Another thing I've already mentioned is that I completely am in love with the way BossNoeul portrayed the way that PhayuRain look at each other. I have never been as convinced that the on-screen couple is in love as I am with these two. Also I am counting this as a headpat even though it's more of a cheekbone stroke :)

Again, they look so comfy and I love how softly their eyes slip closed when they kiss. Also reiterating that I love Phayu's hand placement here - it's like he's cradling Rain in his palms

New nickname alert!

How am I supposed to cope with this? Also I'm serious, where did Noeul learn to look like that? AND PHAYU'S HANDS send help

Wait I accidentally paused after Rain told Phayu to let him go so he could take a bath and this is so funny - Phayu's like babe did you really think I'm gonna let you go now??

Ok yeah sure Phayu, you're here bc you want a bath and not because Rain's lips are magnets to your eyes. Sure.

When I first watched Phayu pull Rain close to whisper in his ear, I'm fairly sure I gasped harder than Rain

Something happened to my brain chemistry here too

Rain looks so soft right here omg (I know the whole script is literally written into our brain grooves at this point but if you don't remember, this is when Phayu is apologizing for making Rain wait in the rain bc his battery ran out)

Onwards to the final parts for the sugar, spice, and everything nice <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6