#Chilli level baby hairs

[snackugaki]

tmnt au hanfu edition

[residenthughes]

opera house - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, oral sex (m on f), dirty talk (if you can call it that?), no mention of y/n, pet names (baby, princess)

summary: reading is your favourite pastime. jack makes it harder than anticipated.

notes: so...🫣 this happened. it's a small little thing that started out with me just wanting to write about how pretty jack is only to turn into the respectful pile of filth. don't write smut much so apologies if this isn't to your liking, but hopefully i'll be back with something better. also, the sentence in italics is a quote from the book mentioned in the fic. much love! <3

As the cold November climate nips at your flesh and colours the sky in hues of grey, you nestle in the cosiness of your home, warm and sheltered with your treasured fuzzy socks on as you curl up on your bed with one of the books you’ve been meaning to read. Jack says it’s a bad habit of yours: buying books that collect dust on your shelf, to which you quickly argue that he’s the one enabling your ‘bad habit’ by constantly buying them for you - your Goodreads profile bookmarked in his phone for safe keeping. An endearing act of service, all of which he is no stranger to - gifting said books in the form of a bouquet every time he leaves for a long road trip, taking out the trash because he knows it’s your least favourite chore, curling up with you now, sweetly bundled in between your legs as you two find peace in the silence you share. It’s like a warm hot chocolate on a chilly day like today, your connection smooth and comforting, wrapping you in the warmth of its embrace.

You peer beyond the top of your book, catching an eyeful of the back of Jack’s head and his loose curls, the soft clicks of his gamer control sounding as his eyes focus on the TV screen a few metres ahead. Your sugary thoughts of how endearing your long-term boyfriend can be - always is - overflow like lava, the smile on your face terribly enamoured as your fingers card through his hair, curling the soft locks around your index finger.

Like clockwork, Jack leans into your touch, slouching further into his position in between your thighs, laying a chilly cheek against the flesh of your thighs.

You squirm against the brush of his eyelashes against your skin. “That tickles.”

“Uh huh,” he absently answers, tapping away at his gamer control. “Does this?”

A delicate kiss marks you, Jack’s head going back to laying against your thigh as he directs his attention to the game set out against the TV.

“No,” you blush. “But, that was nice.”

A huff of amusement sounds from Jack and instantly, you know what position you've put yourself in by saying that. “Bet it was. Aren’t you busy with that book of yours?”

You bite back, the muscles of your thighs tightening their grip around your boyfriend. “Sometimes a distraction is necessary.”

The clicks of his gamer control halt and silence envelopes the room, your eyebrow raised as his on-screen character dies as a result of his negligence. 

Jack clears his throat, his body shuffling against yours as he readjusts his position, restarting the game. “Maybe you’re right about that, baby.”

A pout remains settled against your lips as your eyes squint at your partner, your suspicion towards his action not enough to distract you from the habitual motion of your fingers as they thread through Jack’s hair. You raise your opened book back to eye-level, not batting an eyelash.

It’s when you’ve gotten perhaps three sentences into your book that Jack breaks the silence. “What’s the story about?”

“The book I’m currently reading?” Jack hums in reply. “Oh, it’s a spinoff of a series I’ve been meaning to read. It’s basically a college romance story about a girl aspiring to be on the national ice hockey team and her getting help from this guy she met years ago, called Ryder. Unexpectedly smutty, 10/10 would recommend.”

Jack laughs with you at your nasty comment, body vibrating against yours as his chuckle courses through him. You lower your book again.

“You and your smutty books,” Jack snickers to himself, eyes trained ahead of him. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “In what ways is it unexpectedly smutty?”

Despite how long you’ve been with Jack and the comfort you've established living alongside him, the question does make you a bit flustered, crimsoning as you look away, avoiding any view of him. “Well, it’s pretty raunchy up front. Like how they’ve done some naughty things in the shower - quite tame, but I’ve also just read that Ryder did some things when they went to go see the opera.”

“What things?” Jack asks, point blank.

Now, it’s time for you to clear your throat. Cheeks tinted. “Do I even have to say, Jack?”

The pause screen displays itself against the TV, the clicks of his controller no more as Jack shifts once again within your grasp, body turning as he lays his stomach against the comfort of the mattress, pools of azure staring into yours. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“Yes, I wanna hear what things you’re reading,” he says easily as if he isn’t inciting violence in your chest right now, the corner of his pink lips curved softly as he tilts his head against your thigh. “All of it.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room escalates from toasty warm to scorching hot, a familiar flame in the pits of your stomach igniting as you’ve somehow found yourself in such a predicament - backed into a corner and at a loss for words.

“He,” you stammer, averting your eyes because all Jack’s eyes do is look at you, his burning gaze elevating the heat that dances against the surface of your cheeks. “He fingers her in the opera.”

You whisper that last part but Jack hears you judging by the faint chuckle coming from him. “He fingers who at the opera?”

He accents his point with a kiss against your thigh, this time the gesture conjuring a polar opposite sensation as goosebumps riddle your skin. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t known you were holding, looking again at your partner to still find him looking right back at you, eyelids heavy and eyes dark. You have to look away.

You gulp. “Gigi - her name is Gigi.”

You finally muster some sort of courage you’ve had to find within your situation when you hear Jack shift again, eyes capturing your boyfriend’s arms coming up to circle around your thighs, eyes never leaving yours as his hands find purchase against your skin, thumbs absently caressing the surface much like you did earlier with his hair. 

“Is that short for something?” Jack accents his question with another kiss, his touch searing. 

“No,” you gulp, voice foolishly unsteady as your eyes study Jack’s movements with caution. “I mean, Ryder jokes that her name is Gisele, but that’s-”

“Guys like to tease,” he kisses a little higher against your thigh as if to prove his point. “Especially with girls they like.”

“I don’t think that’s appreciated, Jack.” 

You’re talking about a completely different thing now - a conversation within a conversation. 

“I don’t know about that, baby,” whilst still staring at you, his teeth manage to nip at a small sliver of your skin, numbness plaguing your limbs. “Read it to me.”

Your brows knit together, puzzled as ever. “What?”

“You heard me,” declares Jack, his kisses abundantly littering the expanse of your thigh as your mind begins to spiral. “Read it to me.”

Your mind is frazzled, brain working overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of events, all the while Jack takes it upon himself to sit pretty in between your legs and touch you as if made from porcelain - delicate and tender, a sharp contrast to the emotions bathing you in lust. Jack glances up at you one more time, button nose nuzzling against your inner thigh as he gives you a knowing look, his lips preoccupied. You obey wordlessly, uneasy eyes still on him as you bring your book back upwards, its previous position altered so you can manage to steal a look at Jack out of your peripheral.

Out loud, you begin to read to him the aftermath of the opera scene, a more tame development following as you manage to get through the next page unscathed. Jack’s kisses at first, are a bit distracting and have your voice betray you, but they’re sporadic and by the time you’ve turned the page, you’re already used to the sensation. You even achieve some comfort in his touch, but that doesn’t last long because when you’re in the midst of your storytelling, you feel Jack’s fingers hook around your shorts’ waistband.

Immediately, you lower your book, a chill running down your spine. “What are you doing?”

He bats his long eyelashes, almost mockingly. “Listening to you.”

“Jack.” For once, your tone is firm, watching aimlessly as he inches the material past your hip bones.

“Lift your hips a little or I won’t be able to get these off you,” he insists, a convincing smile settled amongst his charming features that express his pleasure in this all. “Unless you wanna keep them on?”

It’s a rhetorical question, a trap set up to see if you’ll bite and despite it all, the excitement of what’s to come leads you right where Jack wants you. Lifting your hips with an embarrassing ache in between your legs as you lie in anticipation, continuing on with your reading as Jack goes back to teasing you endlessly.

“Gettin’ pretty worked up over this story, huh?” echoes Jack. “I can tell.”

To demonstrate the meaning of his words, he blows a cool breeze against you that makes you mewl and draw your thighs closer at the sensation. Heart thudding against your chest, your bewildered gaze gravitates back to Jack who kisses you through the fabric of your underwear and has you fumbling for words.

“I didn’t say you could stop reading,” Jack removes his lips, peering up at you with a look that melts you into a pathetic pool of yourself. “You stop, I stop. Sound fair?”

That sounds anything but fair, but who are you to say so? He clearly holds all the power in this situation, you dancing right in the palm of his hand. This has escalated beyond a point of no return and you’re not backing out now so you oblige, opening your mouth to read but uttering out nothing more than a moan as Jack pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers gliding through your wet folds. 

“So satisfying to tease you when your reactions are this good,” he rasps, followed by a low chuckle as his calloused fingertip circles around your clit, eliciting the buck of your hips and the waiver in your voice. “Anyways, you were saying?”

You’re grasping for straws here, trying to tie yourself down to the little sanity (and patience) you have as your frantic eyes try and find where you last left off, straying away every couple of words as Jack does nothing more than use his fingers to distract you. 

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he instructs, and it’s the sexist thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “We follow...”

“We follow..the people,” you falter, voice wobbly. “We follow the people in…”

Somewhere in that sentence, a hefty exhale blows past your mouth as Jack moves two fingers into you, the curl of them accentuating the end of your sentence with a moan. 

“Always sound so pretty with my fingers in you,” muses Jack, tone low and memorised as he works said fingers in and out of you, your slick building all around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of it.”

You do a subpar job of reading the next few lines as Jack’s fingers pick up the pace, moving deeper in you to milk every reaction you give him mixed in with your slurred words. Your attempt at remaining coherent diminishes completely when Jack’s lips find their way to your swollen clit, a light press of the lips against the hood of your clit before he’s sucking on the bud.

Your words come out in stutters, voice trembling pathetically as he wraps you around his fingers, making a mess of you in the form of kitten licks against your clit and nibble fingers coaxing your building orgasm out of you. His motions stop every time you get lost in the feeling of him sucking your clit, fingers tangled in his locks of hair. And with a whine, you compel with his previous instructions, reading along with the world’s prettiest distraction in between your legs. 

Somehow, you make it to the next page without much delay, Jack’s mouth trained on you as he laps up every bit of you, tongue drawing all kinds of figures against or around your clit. You’re clenching around his fingers more than you can forgive yourself for, body running hot as the sounds of your slick echo throughout the room, the pit in your stomach only growing.

“Just like that, princess,” he hums against your clit, the sensation drawing a tight-lipped whimper from you as your hips follow the vibration. “How many more pages until the chapter’s finished? I don’t think you’re gonna last long.”

And, it’s all true. Body twitching, toes curling and cunt spasming around his fingers that curl in you. Your brain can barely keep up at this point. “So many.”

Jack tsks, his thumb replacing his lips against your clit as he moves it in slow circles. “You think you can hold on till then?”

You answer truthfully, however embarrassing it may be. “No.” 

He laughs briefly when he hits that spongy part inside of you, your back bowing off the stacked pillows behind you as Jack continues to hit the exact spot that has you seeing stars. 

“How ‘bout a compromise?” Jack starts, your hips lifting to meet the insistent thrust of his fingers. “You tell me how badly you wanna come, and you get to ditch the book whilst I make you come. Sounds good?”

An awfully generous offer considering how your brain has turned to mush and can barely keep up with any of the inked words on the page right now. So, you agree. Enthusiastically.

“Please,” you mewl with a puckered forehead, gazing down at your beautiful boyfriend with his tousled hair and glossy lips. A sight for sore eyes. “Please, J. I wanna come.”

“How bad?” He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes challenge yours.

“So bad,” you keen when his other hand lays over your stomach, applying pressure to the spongy spot that teethers you on the very edge. “Fuck, it’s only you. Only you can…make me feel good. Please, J.” 

The begging works. It always works and with that, you drop your book, long discarded amidst the mess of the sheets as your fingers tangle in Jack’s hair as he sucks roughly on your clit again. Rocking up against his mouth, the angle of his fingers renders you completely at his mercy, uttering stuttery breaths as he brings you over the edge, applying pressure in all the right places because he knows your body better than you do, gushing slick flowing from you as you ride out your high, brain reduced to syrup. 

He doesn’t even wait before you’ve caught your breath that he sends you a flirtatious wink in between your quivering thighs. “So, opera date next week?”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Part I: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Part I: On her daily morning run, Y/N wonders if she’ll ever have someone who wants her simply company. Spencer promises her just that, the only catch: she has to wait seven years.

Rating: Eventual smut, fluff and longing

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Masterlist | Tell Me What You Think!

My Mind Turns You Into Folklore: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Running, somehow, still made her feel like a child. Perhaps there was something unadulterated and carefree about losing yourself in the pounding of pavement. When Y/N felt the wind rush in her ears and the familiar burn throughout her body, she truly felt alive.

Her entire body ached— no, screamed— as she approached her fifth mile for the day’s session. For Y/N running wasn’t about getting to the destination fastest, but about finishing the race altogether.

She wished she could apply such wisdom to very particular aspects of her life. Namely, her love life. For Y/N, relationships with men were unpleasantly predictable. From terrible blind dates with friends who she honestly can’t tell if they meant well to men with habits so strange Y/N could only plead insanity by a drunken state as to why she entertained even a second glance. Unfortunately, for her the sea of men seemed to solely be comprised of rather the unfortunate sort of men that made her skin crawl.

Her knees burned as her mind ran through the five weddings and babies that were impending. Between cousins, college friends, and even her own sister all either, Y/N never more lonely than when she was surrounded by her people. There was something particularly voyeuristic about watching those you love move along the carousel while you’re left in the dust. She was a casual observer, marooned to the sidelines. And someone where along the way she forgot to even care.

Her chest burned as she wondered where her aunt, a woman born and forged from pure spite and hefty lack of tolerance for anything progressive, would sit her at her cousin’s wedding. Y/N heaved forward imagining what would be worse; the discarded old widow’s table with wives whose husbands’ expiration date had come and passed. Or with her unruly nephews who would have to be wrestled into a tiny tuxedo and bribed with fried food and the majesty of Red40 to maintain the semblance of civility.

Being 27, husbandless, boyfriendless, and childless didn’t usually bother Y/N. She loved her peace. But somehow it put her into this plane of existence where she straddled youth and adulthood. She had one foot jammed deep into the rich, sodden earth of childhood and one toe dipping too all too calm to be safe waters of adulthood. Yet being uncoupled was as if she purchased overnight shipping to the elephant graveyard.

It was antiquated. It was downright sexist, yet there was a small part of her heart and her entire being that craved to be taken care of by a man. She wanted someone to bring her flowers just because, to hug her from behind while she stirred soup for dinner on a chilly day, to brush her hair from her face as he brought her to the brink of pleasure time and time again.

There was only so much her vibrator could do.

But a heart that ached to be loved, that problem didn’t come with a WebMD link. There wasn’t a quick and easy fix to change something that defined her on a molecular level.

She savored the sweet breeze that reminded her of summer and childhood. The houses, various shades of blue, gray, and beige blurred past as she maintained her steady pace.

Y/N rounded the corner and pounded the pavement that led to Betsy’s Cape Cod. She was the Head Librarian and took Y/N under her rather Mother Goose-like wing three years ago when she took the position at the small, sleepy library. A suburb of Quantico, many of the patrons were families in public service.

She even stumbled across someone who quickly became her best friend, Spencer. He was some sort of former child prodigy turned adult wunderkid. After racking up more diplomas than most extended families collect, Spencer worked as a special agent for the FBI. But looking at him, you would never have guessed. He was timid and shy in a boyish way that made him seem much younger than 32. He was tall and lanky, yet despite his slender frame he seemed to completely light up every single room he walked into.

Both Betsy and Spencer buried themselves into the fabric of her life. Betsy sat on the front porch, slowly swaying on the large, wooden swing. A crocheted blanket lay over her lap, keeping her warm under the brisk morning’s chill.

“Y/N!” Betsy called, as she ascended the stairs with a bright smile, “Dearie, it’s far too cold for you to run out here.”

“I could say the same about you, Bets,”

Betsy dismissed Y/N with a coy smile and a wave of her hand. “It’s good for my old bones to get a little chill. Make sure everything is in working order.”

Betsy scooted over on the porch swing, making more than enough room for Y/N to sit.

“That tall kid? Hmm, Spencer? Yes. Spencer. Was in there looking for you yesterday. Poor kid’s entire day was ruined when I told him you were on a date. Now, is there a reason why you didn’t tell me you didn’t tell your best friend?” Betsy asked, not hesitating to ask a question that went straight for the jugular.

Y/N offered Betsy a weak smile. “There wasn’t anything to tell him. He’s not interested in my love life. We talk about books. And work. And… I don’t know…”

Betsy nodded, but her pointed look pressed Y/N to continue. There wasn’t anything romantic between her and Spencer, but that wasn’t to say the connection wasn’t the most important thing in her life. When she met him three years ago he simply waltzed into her life; a tall, gangly man with a large appetite for baked goods and an excellent taste in literature.

“Besides, he has a thing for his coworker. Even though she hardly acknowledges his existence.”

From the time she met Spencer, he constantly was talking about his teammates. Growing up, Spencer didn’t have a stable family life. His mother tried her best, while his father never tried at all. He grown up not knowing what it was like to belong anywhere and now he finally found something resembling a family.

JJ was blonde and skinny and perfect and Spencer was completely enamored with her. Y/N met her only a couple of times, the first after a football game. She shared a plate of cheese fries and gravy with Spencer’s other coworker, Penelope as Spencer attempted to spout an almanac’s worth of facts about football to JJ.

“Hmm,” Betsy murmured, swinging back and forth. “Well, he said he has to talk to you about something. Maybe he’s getting to his senses, finally.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipped some of the ice cold lemonade Betsy handed her, and gave her a pointed smile.

“This isn’t a romance novel, Bets. You’ve been sneaking too many of those bodice rippers.”

She stood up and felt some relief as her weary muscles stretched. Betsy waved another annoyed hand.

“Quiet down, Missy. I’ve had my chance at love. And I fully intend on you and Spencer being an item. My Arnold, may that old bastard rest in peace, never gave me children, so you and that boy are my only chance to fill this house with grandkids.”

“Oh my God, Betsy,” Y/N groaned, her head tossed back, “It’s not like that between us. And I promise you, it never will be.”

Y/N took off before Betsy had the chance to respond. But she couldn’t shake the funny feeling tugging at her heartstrings. She thought that maybe if she just focused her mind on feeling the wind blow her hair and her body burn as the third mile turned into a fifth, she could wash away the thoughts of one or two little children sitting on Betsy’s porch, sandwiched in between her and Spencer.

***

Gary, as it turned out, wasn’t a nice guy. First of all, he showed up precisely 23 and a half minutes late and hardly bothered to greet her as he sat down at their two seater table. He barked a drink order to the waitress, who graciously threw Y/N a sympathetic smile.

“So you work at Walter Reed?” Y/N asked, attempting to make conversation with the man seated in front of her. He was a couple years her senior and an Attending Emergency Room Doctor. On paper Gary seemed wonderful. He had a nice family; older sisters were always a green flag in Y/N’s book and seemed to have a basic grasp of personal hygiene practices.

Gary mumbled as the waitress brought him his drink: whisky on rocks. He downed it in about three minutes and signaled for the waitress to return.

“Sorry,” Gary apologized, his voice so close to resembling being embarrassed, but it, somewhere along the line, made a beeline in the opposite direction, “There was some bitch in the ER today complaining about how her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she was pregnant. Took me a god damn hour to shut her up. Jesus, reminds me why I don’t date.”

Y/N felt her face freeze. It was like his harsh words poured ice water over her shoulders. Her skin practically crawled as Gary’s carelessness settled in. Wasn’t this a date? Or was this simply the means for Gary to get into her pants.

“Hold up,” Y/N said, gesturing with her hand held up to stop Gary’s rant, “I was under the impression this was a date. Is it not?”

Gary shrugged. “As long as there’s a happy ending with you, babe I don’t give a fuck.”

He was crass. Y/N was far from a prude. She enjoyed her time in college and didn’t mind the occasional quick one night stand when the opportunity presented itself, but there would be something completely debasing and revolting about sleeping with the man sitting before her.

“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” Y/N said, her words clipped and stern: there wasn’t room for Gary to mix up any bit of her message. “I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. And even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be you. We’ve been sitting here for all of twelve minutes and you’ve already drank two whiskys, been rude to the waitress, insulted a patient, and offended me.”

Gary, in a lackadaisical way that could only be described as a fuckboy with the worst case of Peter Pan syndrome, shrugged his shoulders. He downed the rest of his second whisky, “You’re a frigid bitch anyway.”

He left.

And Y/N laughed. Then she ordered two slices of double chocolate cheesecake and asked the waitress where the closest liquor store was.

***

Silently, she cursed Spencer’s charming love of buildings with character. She bounded up the steps to his apartment, the plastic bag with the two slices of cheesecake banged against her leg. Her other hand clutched the neck of a cheap, screw top rose.

Her date, disastrous, was nearly comical, and she couldn’t wait to recount the details to Spencer.

They share a sort of sadistic penchant for relaying moments for their occasional first dates. Typically, Y/N had more than Spencer. On the rare occasion Spencer did have a date, Y/N found herself trying to explain that any girl in her right mind would attempt to flirt with Spencer, but he refused to see her points.

Not bothering to knock, Y/N opted to use the spare key Spencer gave her. She figured he’d either still be working at the office or would be too engrossed in his latest fantasy novel to bother answering the door.

Spencer’s apartment was painted a dusty, sage green. The farthest wall was lined with built-in bookshelves. A prewar relic, Spencer’s style mixed perfectly with the vintage quality embedded within the walls.

Up until recently, Spencer’s kitchen was hardly used. But Y/N had taken it upon herself to teach Spencer the basics in prepping meals. He was a quick study, as with almost everything he tried. And it gave her some peace knowing he would be able to provide himself something more satiating than granola bars and frozen lasagna.

“Spencer! Spence!” Y/N called out, dipping her head into Spencer’s second bedroom. There was a queen bed in there with a cream colored quilt splashed out on the bed.

On late nights spent watching old, black and white movies or binging episodes of The Twilight Zone and The X-Files, she would crash there. It was a fight for her to even concede to allow Spencer to purchase the queen bed. Y/N claimed that she was fine just sleeping on the couch, but Spencer insisted that she sleep in a bed.

And if Y/N had been born into a braver soul, she would’ve suggested they share his bed three years ago.

Spencer shuffled out of his bathroom, eyes red and weary. He wore a tattered Cal-Tech shirt and plaid pajama pants. He wore his glasses. They rested on the bridge of his nose and made him lose at least four or five years on his already young looking face.

“She’s pregnant.”

“I brought wine. And chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N replied, kicking her shoes off. “And you better have done laundry already because I am not sleeping in this dress. I feel ridiculous in it.”

Spencer’s eyes raked over Y/N’s frame, as if he was internally debating his thoughts on her outfit. His brow furrowed. “You’re date?”

“Asshole.” Y/N said, walking into the kitchen. She plucked two wine glasses from Spencer’s cabinet and two plates. “Arrogant and only wanted a quick fuck.”

His voice disappeared as he went into his room for a change of pajamas. They were freshly washed. She continued to listen to Spencer as she shut the bathroom door and changed behind. His voice was no longer muffled when she came out of the bathroom, but she did notice how Spencer’s eyes still were heavy with something unfamiliar when he looked over her baggy, old pajama-clad frame.

“You’re not the girl for that.” Spencer commented, reaching for the corkscrew. His large hands twisted around the device and the bottle of wine made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t know that.” Y/N countered, her defiance made a crop of red appear on Spencer’s cheeks. “Besides, that’s not the point. JJ’s pregnant. With that New Orleans guy’s baby?”

He nodded. It was as if grief washed over Spencer as Y/N changed the conversation. She knew that Spencer was harboring feelings for JJ. Jennifer was nearly perfect in every way. The only imperfect thing about her was that she didn’t realize how perfect Spencer was. He would’ve adored JJ if he got the chance. He nearly did.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spencer groaned, pouring himself a healthy cup of rosé. “Unsure. It’s not like I’m going to confront her about this. She’s practically engaged to Will. And now there’s a baby in the picture? A baby who’s very well going to grow up seeing me as Uncle Spencer.”

He sounded exhausted. Y/N touched his hand and squeezed. She understood the pained loneliness that plagued Spencer’s voice. “I don’t love JJ anymore. It’s just, my whole life I felt like I was so far beyond my peers. And now? They all finally have caught up, this time the tables have turned. God, I’m excited when a girl smiles at me, let alone goes on a date with me.”

Weakly, Y/N smiled. She sipped her rose, “So it’s more of feeling like you’re far beyond in life? Despite having two PhDs and like three undergrad degrees? You’re one of the most accomplished men I know, Spencer. And we all move along at our own pace. Don’t compare JJ’s story to yours.”

He nodded, spooning a bite of the double chocolate cheesecake. “It’s just…I’m nearly 32. And now I’m watching JJ and Hotch and Morgan talk about babies and husbands and wives and houses. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get that one day. Sometimes… I think I’m too me for anyone to fall in love with me.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces as Spencer’s honest confession striked her entire system. She wanted to reach out and push away the stray curl that hooked itself in front of his eyebrow. She wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her friend that if no one married him, she would.

She stalked off the to couch, needing a stable place to sit. Her chocolate cheesecake stuck to the roof of her mouth and the bitter rosé did nothing to remove it.

“Holy shit, Spencer. Do you not realize that you’d make any girl happy? You’ll find her one day, I know it. And if you don’t, we can just say fuck it and get married. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be romantic love, but we could at least live together. Through a big fancy party and get dressed up nice and getting drunk on mojitos with my best friend. My person? Sounds fun.”

“You mean that?” Spencer asked, half in disbelief and half in wonderment. “You mean that we’ll get married if neither of us have someone…say seven years from now?”

She must’ve drank more than she thought as she waited for Gary to ruin their date. “I meant it. But why seven?”

A smile toyed on Spencer lips. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“It’s my lucky number.”

Her lips were so loose that it threatened to crack open her heart. She had a nasty habit of wearing that on her sleeve.

She gave Spencer a sheepish look as his eyes met hers. He looked half between incredulous and hopeful. His fingers ran across the rim of his wine glass as the wine sloshed around. It mirrored Y/N’s stomach.

“Is this idea like bad shit crazy?” Y/N asked. “I mean it. I mean, why not. It’s not so different from what we do now. Just all the time. And I’d be thrilled to be spiritually required to spend more time with you.”

“Should we….shake hands or something. I’m not the biggest fan of that, but I think my wife would serve as an exception to the rule. To every rule I’ve got?”

Y/N laughed. She felt the wine creep up a nice, warm flush against her skin. It matched the light and easy way her limbs felt. It might have very well been the wine, but there wasn’t much of anything that could trump laughing with your best friend. Especially when that best friend slipped and called you his wife.

Her feet somehow ended up in Spencer’s lap. His thumb rubbed gently against her ankle, barely touching her bare skin. Yet it sent shockwaves that she didn’t quite understand.

The corners of Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he reciprocated that laugh. They shared it and Y/N had the strangest desire to bottle it up. She wanted to store this moment in her mind and come back to it. One day. Some day.

“We’ll get married,” Spencer started speaking as if it was a prophecy that he could set in stone, “if neither of us has anyone, we’ll enter this rather odd, rather complex, yet completely entirely normal and simple marriage in seven years?” His sweet, yet coy smile was boyish, it only reminded Y/N just how far away 35 was for her.

“Should we draft up a contract?”

“Have your lawyers contact my lawyers. I never sign documents without the proper legal support. In the meantime, could we settle on our first stipulation: never watching a new episode of our current favorite show without the other?”

“I agree to the terms and conditions you’ve set out.” Y/N said. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch as Spencer turned off the lamp light.

“Oh and I washed the sheets in your room. I used the detergent you like. And your pajamas. The lavender vanilla one with the scent beads?” He flipped on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

She smiled from the way Spencer naturally called the guest room her bedroom. There was something very domestic and peaceful about him using her favorite detergent to wash the sheets in her room in his apartment. It resembled the exact something that she was craving: being taken care of.

She sipped her rose again, watching as her friend smiled at the gray scale painted on the screen. It was too bad she only had to weight over half a decade to feel it and not feel guilty and like she was lying to herself.

—

Taglist:

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @mrs-dr-reid @reid-ingandweeping @candlesandsoftrain @foxy-eva @queermaxwooo

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explict

Tags: ANGSTFEST, infidelity, Baratheon!reader, Targaryens always have a seat in the cuck chair, Sorry Aem you'll get big titty goth gf soon not big titty disloyal gf, pregnancy sex, WHO IS THE FATHER?, Criston’s delulu and the biggest baby in the world, tiddy sucking, lap riding, the chain and short hair is sexy, pnv!sex, crispy cremepie, crying, sad ending :(

Song in title - ‘Days Go By’, Sean Nicholas Savage

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @bambitas @elaratyrell @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @sugarpoppss2 @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

“Was it worth it?”

Criston frowned. He thought you looked at home astride his lap. Your ringed fingers ran across the chilly golden hands clasped around his neck. He shivered— as if the sigil of his station were attached to his body. Everything felt wrong in this quiet moment.

Aegon was nearly dead and forced through one dreamless poppy sleep after another. The maesters were not sure he could survive the Dragonfire. The Green army made a clear statement and killed a formidable foe at Rook’s Rest. Aemond took on the title of Prince Regent, living out his dreams of ruling the kingdom.

Yet Aemond’s fiery Baratheon wife, you, were here in Criston’s arms. Your hand didn’t move from the chain, eyes locked onto his own. Criston swallowed, guilt rising in his throat. He knew you should be attending to your husband, the Prince who was the closest thing to a son he had. Instead, you sought him out.

“I asked was it worth it?”

Criston huffed, “I don’t know…yes. We still have Vhagar, the Hightower host with Daeron and Tessarion from the south. The Westermen are trying.”

You smiled without mirth, petting his shorn hair, hand on his bearded cheek. Criston looked agonized, weary, almost fearful. His wide brown eyes flicked away. Perhaps you should be attending to Aemond. You liked him too, but you’d long fallen for the marcher between your thighs.

A brief period with Criston as your sworn sword during the engagement had linked the pair of you on a frighteningly deep level. His presence was constantly at your side, a handsome man at your beck and call. You’d grown enamored with the knight— regardless of the strife at court, his oath, and the fact you were promised to another. There was a kinship in lacking a dragon, Crownland outsiders, and mutual feelings of bondage by station.

Aemond took many a trait from his mentor— imposing warrior, sharp of tongue, and never forgot a slight. Both men were regimented and pious, devoted to their faith, and their duties. Yet they’d play dirty, and crawl outside the lines of morality to get their way. Somehow that helped you bond with the serious prince.

You languished in the engagement period, Ser Criston informing you that the prince took your maidenhead seriously. At the time you were hoping enough complaining would drive Ser Cole to action.

Aemond had discarded you after a…heavy session of kissing and petting. He ended up gasping and holding a hand out, declaring he took his vows to the heart. On the other hand, Criston folded after a month or two, sturdy hands up your dress, fingers sliding into your neglected cunt. The kingsguard was guilty and mopey, yet desperately craved your touch, as much as you desired his.

It was a vicious cycle. Feeling guilty from deviance, fucking it out, coddling each other about said deviance then ending up fucking again.

You’d thought he’d break away once you were properly wedded to Aemond, discarding you out of shame and fear. The marcher was moody for a couple of days, eventually being seduced when you knelt and swallowed his cock in an alcove after your husband had upset you. Criston was a sight with his lean thighs trembling, sculpted lips hung open with soft noises, praising you helplessly.

Aemond’s guttural grunts and muffled curses had you satisfied in a vastly different way. He did the job, rough and thorough, the possible evidence laid between you and Criston. It was the subtle swell of life in your stomach. Alas, Aemond had begun filling your womb at the break of war. Likely before the horrid death of Prince Lucerys.

Criston’s dark expression softened as one of his gloved hands palmed your stomach, covered in regal yellow velvet. You stuck to your house colors, preferring shades of yellow to green. The Lord Commander asked, “Do you think…?”

You weren’t sure. He didn’t quite do a good job pulling out before the wedding. He was jealous and angry, especially if Aemond had spent some of his time with you. The kingsguard was reassigned back to Queen Alicent, now severed from constant contact. You remembered Criston’s hands bruising your hips as you barked for the man to ‘pull out, on my stomach!’ He made it about halfway, frantically painting half inside and out of your cunt.

“You’re mine, mine, mine,” he’d half-sobbed.

“You’re changing the subject. There is no telling. Likely anyone would know until they got older. Baratheons come out with black hair. The queen has brown eyes, and Borros is the same. It wouldn’t be shocking,” you looked down at his hand, “There’s more of a chance of my babe being yours if that is what you’re wondering.”

Criston’s eyes didn’t match his slight pout. The man was proud deep down, under all those layers of remorse and responsibility. You placed your hand over his and gritted, “I fear the outcome of this war. I’d more like to end up with a dead lover and husband. A child with no father.”

He snatched your chin, brown eyes shining with unshed tears. Criston growled lowly, “Don’t speak of things like that. We shall win this damnable war. Rhaenyra and that vile Daemon shall die,” the marcher added in a softer tone, “I will be there for the child.”

“Do you not think of absconding?”

His rough hand swept back to caress your inky hair, lips twisting uncomfortably. Criston bit out, “No. Not anymore. My fate relies upon the family that saved me.” His lips moved to your neck, kissing softly, battle-worn hands holding your neck.

“I think of absconding, ah, lest they send me to a black cell.”

Criston murmured angrily against your neck, “Then you ‘retreat’ to Storm’s End. I know your father has no love for Rhaenyra’s claim. Stop. You’re going to make yourself go insane.”

“You make me insane, Criston Cole.”

“I love you,” he pouted, that delicious pity filling his pretty head. You leaned forward to kiss him, soft tits and that slight bump pressing against his loose garments. He wasn't wearing his armor— a simple shirt and dark pants. Criston sighed, head tilting, one hand in your hair, the other sliding down your back.

He groaned soft and sweet, sharing innocent kisses that turned deeper and darker as desire grew. You readjusted on his lap, annoyed with the damn bump. Custom murmured, “When I return, I'll get to see my darling doe all buxom and glowing with my child.” You shivered, pressing your lips into his, lapping into a warm mouth.

Criston’s hands wandered freely, caressing your belly, moving up to grope your tits. He pulled away to breathe teasingly, “Mm- your tits will be gorgeous, you're already blessed as is. He pulled down the hem, exposing your sore chest. You couldn't help but moan and grind on his thigh, squirming with the lavish attention.

“What shall you name the child?” He hummed before sealing his lips around your nipple. Your hand grabbed his shoulder, heaving a soft breath at the flicking of the marcher’s tongue. You stammered, lashes flitting, “Some-thing Valyrian I, fucking smith’s balls, suppose. If it’s a girl, she shall have- Criston! Shall have my mother’s name.”

The man pulled off with a wet pop and smirked, moving to the other budded peak. You cursed and moaned as his fingers plucked at your slick nipple. You gripped at that damned chain of hands, arching into his eager mouth, rutting against his hard thigh. Your shift wedged between your legs was growing damper by the second, sticking uncomfortably to your folds.

Criston groaned and squeezed to the point of pleasure-pain. His soft brown eyes gazed up, mauve lips swollen. The knight still held your tits, thumbing idly. He croaked, “You’re beautiful. I love you,” tears welled up in his eyes, “We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

You knew Criston wasn’t wrong, thumbing a tear from his pretty face. It had been on your mind too. Exhaling softly, you kissed his other fallen tear, tasting the salt. You spoke in a low tone, fearful you may cry, “I know. We shan’t. I just want you to be there.”

Both of you knew Aemond’s pride would be shattered. He was erratic enough to have both of you beheaded and then fed to Vhagar. The prince’s wife fornicating with his surrogate father. It would be another blight next to his title of ‘kinslayer.’ This had to end before they marched to Harrenhal.

“I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Then let us enjoy ourselves a final time, hm?”

Criston inhaled sharply, nosing up along your throat, hands raking up your dress. He muttered, “I suppose if the bitch did it with no repercussions, you can too. To think how much I hated her bastards.” You let him ramble on, hands working off his loose shirt, eyeing the way his gold chain and necklace glimmered against olive skin and dark chest hair.

You shushed the man as your hands grabbed the strings of his breeches. In a soft voice, you replied, “Fate has a way of coming full circle. Do come back alive at the least.” He frowned again, nibbling on his lip when you eased his stiffened prick out. “I will miss this though, do you truly think we can stay away from one another?”

The knight moaned as you pumped him a few times, index finger swiping off his pre, your lips closing around the pearlescent drop. He blabbered, blinking dumbly, “I don't know. For now, this is the last time. C’mon love, you're all wet, need you.”

You smiled as he held up the dress— your hand guided the blunt head of the cock to your dripping entrance. It was an easy slide downward as your hands clasped his strong shoulders, gasping as his cock stretched and filled your cunt.

His dark lashes fluttered, thighs flexing underneath you as he groaned long and low. He held your waist, one hand periodically resting on your tummy. You took his swollen mouth, gently lifting and dropping your hips. The pair of you panted and desperately grabbed at each other, tongues intertwined, whines leaking out of tight throats.

Criston’s hips began to meet yours at a faster pace, fucking moans out of you. He grunted, “Gods— I fucking love you. Thinking about you, us, even if from afar. I shall crawl back if I have to.” You rolled up tight against his frame, forehead plastered to his cheek.

It was barely a whisper.

“I love you too. Very much.”

You realized you were wetting his skin, tears falling as you rode him harder. Criston gently moved your head up, hips stilled while peering in concern. It was an odd occurrence for you to shed tears. His face twisted in sympathetic pain as he asked ”Doe, what are you fretting for?”

Criston’s breath hitched as he took your lips again, both hands cupping your face, calloused thumbs swiping away tears. The chair creaked as you found leverage on your knees, riding him faster and faster— escaping the pain in your heart. He cried out, lips sliding against one another.

“J-Just, don't stop, make it feel real,” came the breathless beg.

The Hand, the Lord Commander, the Knight, the steward’s boy from Blackhaven. Criston Cole sorely missed being the young Knight from the Marches right now. He whimpered at the clenches around his pulsing cock, silky cunt gripping him as you bounced. He felt the hard bump of pregnancy, cock twitching at the visceral reaction it gave him.

You tossed back black hair as Criston pinched and squeezed at your nipple, wetly panting as you took the reins. The man’s eyes scrunched shut as he whined throatily, hand slinking under all that yellow velvet to circle your button. The electric stimulation and his swollen girth had you whining and choking out his name, arms locked around the tan neck.

“Fuck…jus’ like that, close Criston,” you mewled.

He was babbling lowly, likely sonnets of praise and devotion. The pair of you were much too gone to properly kiss— more panting and pressing messy lips wherever possible. Criston bucked up as he thumbed upward roughly on your pearl. You bit down on the meat of his shoulder to keep from howling.

Only the sound of heavy breath, the chair squeaking, and the tell-tale slaps of two bodies writhing filled the room. His free hand dug into your cheek, glossy dark eyes watching your furrowed brows and flushed face. You could feel his prick twitching and swelling more, Criston was close.

You were along with the knight on that razor-thin ledge, thighs and cunt quivering. His incessant touches to your bundle brought more pricks of hot tears to your eyes, mournfully whining, “I love you, fill me up this time, wan’ it.”

“Ah- nuh- love you- oh fuck yes,” he groaned.

He snapped first, hot breath fanning over your cheek as he curled forward, hips and chest following, thick ropes of spend filling your already stuffed pussy. The feeling had you shaking and clinging to your lover, thighs given out as he thumbed you over the edge.

You came apart in teary inhales and erotic little sobs on the exhale— sharp and whiny. Criston growled under his breath as your pussy milked him some more, balls forced to push out just a little more, toeing that painful pleasure. He felt ragged, bleak, spent. He wanted to carry you to bed.

You smoothed out his hair, eyes brimming with tears, a painful smile on your face. You needed to leave now and get cleaned up before bed. Before Aemond barged in here asking to discuss the battle. It would have been better if he carried you to bed or a bath.

He took your lips once more as his bigger hands eased your frame off of his softening dick. Your lover’s molten seed leaked from your sore cunt. Ever the protector, he fussed over your state, hands fixing your dress, asking little questions. It stung like a manticore when you pushed Criston’s lovely hands to get him away.

“No more sweet knight, I need to get going. We must refrain now. I can't go around looking like this.”

Criston frowned and repeated himself, “I will be back. I promise.”

“I love you.”

He watched your trembling form exit his chambers in the Hand’s tower. He got up, stepped to the door, then stopped. Criston stifled his sob, locking the door instead. The knight would drink and sit with his thoughts. It was only right for a sinner destined to fail and take others down with him. He grit his teeth and swallowed down the nearest spiced rum bottle, fingers curled around those damn gilded hands.

[bangtangalicious]

nexus (m) part 6

pairing: jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader ft. hobi x reader, namjoon x reader, yoongi x reader

smut: taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader, some hobi x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest. after a shocking murder, a detective with a vendetta drags you into unraveling a web of dangerous lies that cause you to question who you trust, and who you love

genre: 18+ slow burn romance mafia elite arranged marriage murder mystery thriller

characters: detective jungkook, heir taehyung, ceo namjoon, arms dealer hoseok, bartender yoongi, doctor jimin, best friend/heir seokjin

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: 18+ multiple smut scenes, oral (f and m), fingering, sexual tension, like a lot of sexual tension, a lot of subtle touching, grinding, kisses, possessive behavior, tsundere!taehyung, implied bipolar disorder, angstttt, betrayal, light yandere undertones, taehyung gets his first kiss...and some other things too ;) breast play, hella teasing, did i mention sexual tension idk taehyung is hot ok but hes also scary do with that what you will, declarations of love, jungkook tryna be sweet we been knew ig, as you might imagine this sets the foreplay for loads of smut in the next part LOL, its a lot of slow burn build up and evident thirsting over this taehyung okay im not sorry

series navi | join taglist | masterlist

“I can’t lose you”

Taehyung’s words haunted you as you stared aimlessly at the tiled ceiling. The hospital room chilly, the smell of alcohol—the sanitizing kind, unfortunately—overwhelming your senses. There were other things you could be thinking about. Namjoon in jail. Jimin dead. Hobi betraying your trust.

But no. It had been Taehyung’s eyes that were on your mind—was it concern? Worry? Taehyung with emotions was a rare sighting. You were practically cherishing the moment.   

“It’s late”

The devil in question sat by the windowsill of your private hospital room, minding his own. Reading. Fingers bending the corners of a paperback novel as his eyes trailed over the pages with interest.

Even in the dark hue of the night, the faded moon seemed to hit his face just right.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Go to sleep” His answer was frank, “None of that matters until you get better”

“How can I not think about it?” You snapped. “Namjoon went to jail for me. Because I was an idiot and trusted Hobi. Bet my ass he killed Dr. Park too. I’m probably next. And if he murders me—you won’t get to, Tae”

The corners of Taehyung’s lips curled ever so slightly.

His uninterested eyes steady on the pages of his novel. Not bothering to glance your way.

“Have you ever considered just keeping yourself out of dangerous situations? Whatever it is you’re trying to prove…that you’re powerful, like your mother…that my family wronged you—all it does is show that you’re still their puppet.”

He exhaled sharply, a dismissive scoff that tore your confidence thread by thread, finally meeting your eyes.

“It’s pathetic”

You’d had just about enough of him. Fingernails digging into your palms.

“You’re an asshole Taehyung” You informed him. He shrugged.

“I’m honest” He countered. “And you’re not used to that. You’re used to being babied.” Finally setting his book aside, he walked up to your bedside, kneeling down until he was at your eye level.

“Now will you please sleep?”

The look in his eyes perplexed you. You couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed, or if he genuinely cared about your health.

Deep down, you knew he was right. Everything you’d done had been to prove a point.

Taehyung rested his head on the armrest. Watching you intently, his eyes tired, dropping unconsciously.

“You’re the one who needs sleep, idiot” You muttered under your breath, letting your fingers run through his soft, wispy black hair. “Taehyung” You nudged him. He barely opened his eyes. 

“Get in here” You shifted over, giving him space. He didn’t question it in the moment, he was probably too tired. He didn’t face you. Kept a decent distance between you both.

You were paralyzed. Aware of his every breath. Aware of the way he shifted himself to get comfortable—you could sense the intention in his avoidance of touching your skin even slightly. His scent was more prominent.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His question was so quiet, you weren’t even sure it was real.

And it occurred to you then, that you’d never thought about it. That you’d never even been asked. In the chaos of your mother’s death, your move to the Kim’s and Taehyung being sent away—you barely even processed anything. All you remembered was Jin being so patronizingly worried about you—convincing you that he was all you needed. That you moving in with him would fix everything.

You blinked wildly. Trying to piece together a coherent answer.

“I liked her” A smile creeped onto his face. Or so you thought, as you turned to see the side of his face—his eyes steady on the ceiling fan. “She’d always get me hotteok”

You watched him. Inspected the mole on his neck. The curve of his cheek. The way his long lashes merged when he’d blink. The way the night sparkled in his eyes. The same eyes that would bend your will so easily.

Young Taehyung would give you one look and you’d give him the world. And he’d known it too.

It was so quiet. But your chest was beating loud in your ears.

You must have fallen asleep despite yourself. Dreaming of Jungkook had become a standard practice. This time, he was drowning. You were him, and he couldn’t breathe. You reached out to him as he screamed for you. He was terrified. Falling. Dying.

Breathe.

You tried to tell him. Swim to the surface. Breathe. Something chained him down.

Your eyes shot open.

It was dark.

You. You couldn’t breathe.

Suffocating you, the cotton tasted bitter on your toungue. You squirmed. Thrashing, trying to grab for someone—anyone. You screamed out, for what it was worth. Scratching at the strong hands that held the pillow down over your face.

Adrenaline surged. It occurred to you to kick your legs. You did.

Suddenly the grip loosened.

Taehyung was on the floor.

Panting.

Hyperventilating.

The pillow inches from his palm.

He was quivering. Eyes shot—looking down as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

You stared at him. Trying to comprehend. Trying to rationalize.

“Taehyung” His name left your mouth in a more accusatory manner than you meant it to. Was it a question or a plea—you were unsure. He met your eyes, and you saw fear. As if he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“I—” He couldn’t form the words. He receded into himself, moving back until he was as far from your hospital bed as he could be. Back pressed against the wall as he hugged his knees to his chest. His voice was shaking, “I don’t—”

“Were you trying to kill me?” You yelped, looking around suddenly for your phone. Grabbing it you held it to your chest, ready to call for help if he tried anything. You almost wanted to laugh—thinking for a moment that you were safe around Kim fucking Taehyung.

You should’ve known better.

Taehyung’s eyes were overcome with horror. Disgust, at himself. He looked at his hands as if they weren’t a part of his own body. Then back at you.

“Princess” He was breathless, “—I swear, I didn’t mean to. I was d-dreaming, I didn’t know”

You gulped. Your fingers curling around your phone as you tried to think.

Maybe he was telling you the truth. Taehyung didn’t know to lie to you. He was honest if nothing else.

“Come back” You let your voice soften, but your body remained tense. “Go back to sleep Tae”

Taehyung gave you an uncertain look.

You rose from the bed, the hospital gown falling loosely around your curves. Kneeling down, you met his eyes at his level. Taking the pillow from the ground, you reached your other hand out to him.

“Maybe,” You sighed, “Maybe being in a hospital is triggering for you” It was a stretch, but you needed to believe there was something. Something that wasn’t that Taehyung hated your guts. Resented you, and would go as far as to kill you in your sleep because of it.

“It is”

He confessed quietly, still not meeting your gaze.

The pout on his lips, evident.

“You didn’t have to stay”

He looked at you.

He said nothing.

“Why don’t I call Yoongi, hm?” You reasoned, “He can take you home” And then you can call Jungkook and get the fuck away from him.

The phone rang.

Jungkook groaned, shoving his face into his pillow.

It kept fucking ringing.

Knowing deep down it might be the precinct, reluctantly, he put the phone to his ear.

“Hey”

Your voice was an aphrodisiac.

He felt it straight in his chest. Awake, now. Worried, seconds later.

He rubbed his eyes, checking his phone to see how late it was.

“Y/n? Baby, is everything okay? Are you still at the hospital?”

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. He could hear the tremble in your voice, “I just sent Taehyung home. Can I come to your place?”

Jungkook sighed. “Sure. I’ll be there soon”

Perks of having a police vehicle. Traffic was never an issue for him.

Entering the hospital, he noticed Yoongi and Taehyung in the lobby, heading towards the back exit. Yoongi had his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. Seemed to be reassuring him.

Jungkook wondered what happened. You called Yoongi to the hospital so late to take Taehyung home.

He got in the elevator. He knew what room you were in. He’d been the one to bring you to the hospital, before the staff kindly reminded him he was not family—or rather, he wasn’t a Kim, and therefore couldn’t go into your room.

Then Jimin’s body was found. Duty called.

Three gunshots. He didn’t see him, but the autopsy report was eerily similar to that of his own fathers.

You were waiting at the front desk of the inpatient ward. Signing what he assumed were your discharge papers. You noticed him, eyes lighting up immediately.

Jungkook placed his calloused palm against your cheek. Your eyes were so fucking beautiful it stung him just to look at you.

“You’re okay” He breathed, reassuring himself more than anything. His voice trembled softly into a chuckle as you nodded, covering his palm with your own.

“Yeah, I’m okay” His lips neared yours, not touching, but enough for you to feel his breath scrape against your nerves.

He took your hand in his, and led you out of the hospital to his car. It was a short drive to his apartment. It occurred to him that you’d likely never stepped foot on this side of the city. The streets were narrow. Crippling houses dotted his peripheral—a faint scent of smoke through his windows.

He parked on the edge of the street, in front of an average-sized apartment complex.

“The Jeon Manor” He joked lightly.

You pouted, grabbing his hand. Fingers lacing with his.

“You know I don’t care that you’re not rich”

Jungkook wanted to scoff. But he held it back. If only you knew. If only you realized what could have been his, if it hadn’t been for—

“I don’t care where we are, I just want to be with you”

You brought his hand to your lips.

“Stop” He exhaled.

“W-what?”

“Stop saying shit like that when you won’t fucking commit”

You gulped. His stare was intense as he pulled his hand away from you, running in through his dark curls.

“Jungkook” You reached for his shirt, tugging the fabric towards you but Jungkook’s jaw hardened. He turned away. “Jungkook I’m serious”

“You won’t leave Nexus for me, you told me that. You won’t fight for me”

You tugged harder. He grabbed your wrist, harsher than he meant to. Glaring at you.

You didn’t understand. Jungkook should have known. Why would you? This was personal for you. Running Nexus was a point you had to prove, he understood that. But it was the very thing he needed you to give up. If not, then you’d never forgive him for what was coming.

“I love you”

Jungkook’s eyes clenched shut, almost out of regret. He felt tears but pushed them down.

“No.” He shook his head. Shit. He had let this go too far.

For as much as he’d wanted to hear it, it was a wake up call. The two of you couldn’t be together.

“You can’t”

Then he kissed you. His heart was erratic, breathing too. A desperate kiss, fierce with need. Your body fell limp, melting into his touch. Falling into him because he was everything and all you needed.

-

Somehow, he brought you to his apartment. Kicking the door closed.

He lifted you onto the counter, not letting you breathe—not letting you think, but fighting a sweet war with your lips. You were spinning. Losing yourself every passing second—seconds which passed so slowly as the moment consumed you.

His hands which rested on the sides of your hips, crawled beneath the hem of your shirt. Delicately they explored your skin, rising to the curves of your chest. Caressing your breast, he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past yours, tangling together.

“Jungkook” You whimpered. His mouth slanting down your jaw, to your neck. Where he tasted your sweet skin and you arched into him. His fingers drawing across your nipples with intention, causing fire to pulse through you.

You could feel him pressed against you, hips locked. Rocking ever so slightly.

Your phone began to vibrate. Jungkook hissed in irritation, backing away as you answered the call.

“Y/n”

Your blood ran cold.

That voice.

“Run”

You could see Jungkook’s eyes narrow at you. The line went dead. You were too stunned to speak.

“Who was it?” Jungkook inquired, looking at your phone. Gulping, you shook your head.

“I-um—just remembered that I need to take care of something”

His fingers hovered over your waist. “Okay, I can drive you” You stiffened as he kissed your neck again. “Or we could go after 20 minutes” His voice was husky.

Run.

Jungkook’s lips dipped to your chest, pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. Leaving pronounced kisses on every inch of skin he could find.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You squinted behind him. There was an old family photograph hanging on the wall.

Two young boys. A father.

Their suits. Well-tailored. Designer.

Your breath hitched, Jungkook’s fingers slid across your slit.

“I love you baby” He mumbled as his lips returned to yours. “So fucking much, I almost hate you for it”

Two boys. A father.

Two.

“You’re an only child, right?”

Jungkook’s actions halted.

“Yeah,” He wiped his lips, “My mom died when I was young.”

“Any, other relatives…?” You slid off the counter carefully, pieces in your mind beginning to fit together.

Jungkook’s face hardened. Jaw stiff.

“Did Jimin say some bullshit to you?”

Oh God. Jimin had been hinting at some connection between Jin and Jungkook all along. You thought it had been a joke. A way to toy with Jungkook’s head.

That day. After you fucked Jungkook for the first time. Jin saw him. Jin knew him.

What if Jimin had been right? What if he had been the only one who was truly looking out for you all along?

“Did you kill Jimin?” The question had no sound. The air was still. The two of you, frozen in time.

“Come on, Y/n.” Jungkook sighed, “Jimin got what he deserved, but no I did not. He hurt you. He’s insane”

You flinched when he reached for your wrist.

He knew you figured it out.

You stepped outside the apartment. Running down the steps until you were back on the street. Outside Yoongi stood, leaning against the stone wall across the street as though he were expecting you.

“You knew” Was all you said.

Yoongi sighed, “I knew about Jungkook, but I needed to make sure if my hunch about Jin was true.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s why my mother hated Jin. Because,” You couldn’t even say it. It made you want to vomit.

“Jin is a Jeon”

You blinked back tears. “But, why would he kill his own father?”

“Unless, he didn’t”

“Oh my God. You think…” You exhaled, feeling weak again. Yoongi held you upright. “Taehyung?”

He shrugged lightly, “It’s possible. More believable that a mother sends away the son who killed her lover than a son who simply witnessed something”

You were silent.

“You need to be careful” He made his voice as soft and kind as he possibly could. “I know about Hobi, but I’m honestly more suspicious of Jungkook.”

You nodded. The sun seemed to peak out from the horizon. A new day. A new betrayal.

Then the sound of the voice on the phone hit you. Run. So familiar. Like a ghost.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah love?”

“Did you call my phone earlier?”

He shook his head. “No…why?”

“You’re back early” Taehyung answered the door, “Figured you’d spend the whole night with the Detective” His bland tone seemed to have been revived. You were too bewildered to care. You pushed past him, Yoongi following behind. Taehyung greeted him nicely. “Hyung”

You slumped into the couch immediately. Hand on your forehead as if it would ease the pounding.

Yoongi watched you, concerned. Taehyung looked to him for an explanation.

“So listen,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but we still need to stay focused on pushing Hoseok out. The shareholders will be at the casino this evening for the anniversary gala”

“Yoongi” You laughed bitterly, “I don’t want to—”

“Y/n,” He responded, adamant, “This is what it’s like. You can’t hide just because shit’s hard. You’re not Jin’s princess anymore, you have responsibilities if you want back what’s yours. Taehyung isn’t ready to handle society on his own. He needs you”

A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Get some sleep” Yoongi rested his hand on your shoulder, caressing it gently. “It’s 7 AM, you’ve got plenty of time to get yourself together” His gaze diverted to Taehyung. “Black tie formal. I’ll send a suit for you. Make sure this one starts getting dressed at least 3 hours before we leave—she takes forever”

You let out a sad laugh, knowing Yoongi was trying to cheer you up but failing epically when all you had was a broken heart and impending doom.

Yoongi left, but Taehyung remained standing in front of you. A safe distance away, he simply observed you.

“You can sit you know” You grumbled.

He didn’t react. Didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired after a moment.

“Nothing,” You chuckled, “Just another missed opportunity for you to be the cause of my misery.”

“Was it,” Taehyung took a deep breath. Pausing, considering his next words carefully, “Was it him? Did the Detective hurt you?”

His eyes seemed to flash with something you couldn’t quite read.

“No” You stood up finally, “No the Detective is just another lying, manipulative asshole like the rest of you”

You walked past him, heading towards the foyer.

“I thought you loved him”

You whirled around. How he had managed to pick that up, you had no idea.

“I’ve decided I’m done with love” You stated confidently, “I end up falling for liars anyway”

You proceeded to storm up the stairs.

You were woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. Squinting, the evening sun blaring into your room, you noticed Taehyung pacing nervously outside of your room.

He was dressed.

Yoongi must have come by with the suit. It fit him perfectly. His dark hair was styled, tousled but neater than usual. His shoulders were prominent. The tailoring was perfect for his lean figure, and long legs. A gold watch on his wrist. It looked natural. He wore it so well.

Just like his brother.

Run.

“You’re awake” Finally, Taehyung stepped inside your room.

“Get dressed” He motioned towards a dry-cleaning bag that lay on your desk.

“Taehyung,” You sat upright, wiping the drool from your lips, “You look very handsome”

He blinked at you. Then walked away.

If you had any lingering doubt in your mind that the man by your side was in fact, Kim Taehyung—they were utterly dismissed. His Kim colors were shining. Despite his typical cold nature to you, Taehyung was the embodiment of charm.

Stepping into the casino, he had been initially overwhelmed by the stimulus: the lights, the slot machining whirring with bright colors, the crowd. You could feel him visibly tense even though he remained an appropriate distance away from you at all times. Close enough that folks knew you’d come together. Far enough to show you that he hadn’t forgotten about what happened.

The first few people who’d approached you had been friends of his mothers. You knew everyone well, everyone knew you. Taehyung would be quiet, shy at first, but it was that very aspect of his personality that made him alluring. He knew exactly what to say. His observant nature allowed him to navigate the different dynamics, pick up on cues expertly.

The elders respected his aura. The young were entranced by his mystery.

Every person he talked to was ready to trust him with their life. And if that wasn’t a Kim trait, you weren’t sure what was.

The only hiccups would arise when folks would bring up the past.

“Aren’t you two getting engaged?” Mr. Lee, one of Kim Enterprises’ stakeholders, asked politely, “So tragic what happened to dear Seokjin. But have you rescheduled?”

With speedy hesitation, Taehyung slid a hand onto the small of your back, looking into your eyes. There was a genuine passing of emotion, ever so subtle. He spoke, to Mr. Lee, but really—to you.

“In time” He smiled slightly. Looking back to Mr. Lee, “We are still mourning, in our own way”

“I’m sure Jin would be so proud of you”

You felt Taehyung tense at the implication. He maintained his composure, nevertheless, but you could see the turmoil stirring within him. Mr. Lee excused himself, and you turned to Taehyung, searching his eyes.

The mere mention of Jin had been pushing him closer and closer to the edge all night.

“Tae” You sighed, caressing his arm. “Want to take a break?”

“Please” His response was curt, but you could see his other hand balled up in a fist. Jin’s name had such a radial effect on him—one that reminded you that despite his ability to play the social field, he was dangerous.

Taehyung followed you to the backrooms where a younger crowd was immersed in pool, poker, and other debauchery.

“They loved you”

Taehyung merely shrugged. “Play the man, not the game” His eyes ghosted over you, “You taught me that”

You snorted lightly, as you found a quieter spot away from the buzz, Taehyung leaned against a wall, looking at ease.

“Taehyung, do remember how to play pool?” You asked suddenly as the billiard table came into your vision.

Taehyung thought for a moment. “Not really. But I’ll learn”

“Winner makes a wish, loser fulfills it” You challenged him. You really couldn’t help yourself. Being in the casino made you crave risk. But Taehyung wasn’t ready for high stakes, you knew that.

“Fine”

You start off expertly. Taehyung handed you the pool cue, the smooth wood cool against your fingertips.

"Alright, let me show you the basics," you said, positioning yourself near the table with a practiced ease.

He watched intently, his eyes following the calculated movements of your hands as you lined up a shot.

You demonstrated the proper stance, the controlled grip, and the delicate finesse required to send a ball into the pocket. With each shot, you explained the strategy, the physics of the angles, and the importance of precision.

You hit the shot expertly. With a smirk, you put down the pool cue and motioned for Taehyung to take your place.

"Your turn, Tae."

He eyed you skeptically but took the cue, positioning himself for the shot. You stepped behind him, your hand gently guiding his.

You’d never been so close to him. Not since the day you reunited, and he hugged you. And asked: are you scared of me, Princess?

Ever since then, there were oceans between you that you could only dream of crossing. He smelled good, you couldn’t help breathing in his fresh aura. The dimly lit room seemed to fade away just for a moment, and you wondered if he was effected like you were.

"Now, focus," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, though you maintained a level of indifference in your tone.

Taehyung's breath hitched imperceptibly, but he composed himself, focusing on the game. With your guidance, he took the shot, sinking the ball into the pocket expertly.

"Perfect," you praised, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "See, you’re a natural yet again. A true Kim”

Taehyung turned to face you, his gaze intense. "Anything I am is because of you”

You stiffened. His words were both a compliment and an accusation. God, seeing this side of him made him even more terrifying, because you didn’t trust yourself not to buy into the fact that he was some pure, innocent version of his older brother. He wasn’t. Kim Taehyung was unhinged. Any second he could snap, and you were on eggshells.

“Your turn” He handed back the cue. A few shots later, the two of you were neck and neck. The ocean between you two drying up slowly with every exchange of banter.

“Done with love, huh?”

You circled him as he lined up his next shot.

“What exactly did the Detective do to make you say something like that?”

You pursed your lips. “Why, gonna go beat him up?”

With a flick of his shoulder, the ball went in. Taehyung stood straight. “Maybe. What’d he do?”

He leaned against the table, handing you the cue as you positioned yourself. “He lied. He betrayed me. And I’m tired of loving liars”

“Didn’t you also lie to him?” He challenged. You shot him a glare. “Why haven’t you told him everything?”

You hit your mark. You missed. Taehyung’s blatant honesty was always unnerving. He wasn’t one to play games. “It’s complicated. I didn’t trust him. I still don’t trust him”

“And you expected him to trust you” Taehyung shrugged blandly. He stole the cue from your hand and before you could blink, he snapped the final shot. “Seems fair”

Taehyung’s last ball went in.

He beat you.

“Well” Taehyung huffed, trying to hide his gleaming pleasure. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “I suppose that’s that” He looked at you expectantly.

“Okay Kim Taehyung, what wish can I grant you?” Cue in hand, you pretended to curtsy. Taehyung grabbed the end of the stick, using it to tug you towards him.

The space between you vanished. Only the cue between you, until Taehyung pulled it from your grip and set it aside.

There was something unrecognizable in his eyes. He licked his lips unconsciously.

“Well?” You looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height.

His fingers held your chin, tilting your face upward. Except his touch wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t painful.

Taehyung inhaled.

Your eyes widened as he closed his mouth over yours. His eyes shut—kissing you with a depraved delicateness. As if he was drinking your soul like he was the devil himself.

A touch so tender, and yet it seemed to steal away every last bit of purity within you, leaving behind a raging storm. Activating something so sinful—so wicked. All due to the decadent taste of his delicate lips.

He pushed your mouth open, deepening the kiss. And you—you were lost. Still utterly shocked that—Kim Taehyung was kissing you. The Kim Taehyung that wanted you dead. The Kim Taehyung who blamed you for everything—was actually kissing you.

It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. The two of you no longer had to get engaged, but you lived with the man. And he was gorgeous. His quiet, mesmerizing charm. Enigmatic, smoldering and yet so calm. Who knew beneath that cold demeanor there was a tsunami waiting to be unleashed? 

He didn’t give you an opportunity to question him. His lips felt too good on yours for you to care. The casino around you seemed to vortex—everything spinning: the colorful lights—until you were airborne.

Floating. Dizzy. Afraid to fall but so fucking glad you were in the sky.

His mouth coaxed out your fierceness until you began to feel impatient. You placed your hand on his pounding chest, a light push until he sat down on the bench. You slid into his lap, no longer thinking—no longer caring that you were in public. That there was a room full of people in the casino who could be staring. Taking pictures. Gossiping.

They were all dead for all you cared.

You gasped audibly, a soft moan as he pulled you impossibly closer. You were losing your breath. On the verge of fainting—overwhelmed with sensations. Everything was heightened—everything felt alive.

His hand was behind your neck, the other one on the small of your back. Both yours in his wavy black—cloud like hair.

He pulled away, finally—barely. Catching his breath. His chest rising as fast as yours, offset by his erratic heartbeat. He was nervous.

Was that his first kiss?

He swallowed, uncomfortably on edge. His eyes were dark with desire. An angry kind of lust.

You searched your mind for words. Something to tell him that he did so good. That you loved it—and you wanted more. He was searching your gaze for something, but you were speechless.

So you kissed him again. Because how the hell else are you supposed to communicate.

“Taehyung” Your hands moved to cup his cheeks. You shifted, letting your body roll against his. Grinding against him slow and sensual, letting your movements mimic those of your lips. He was hard—painstakingly so. And he felt so good tucked between your legs. Throbbing for you. Both his hands lowered to your hips, then back up your back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you—or maybe he couldn’t believe you were real.

His hold was strong—not rough. Touch intentional but not desperate. He took his time with you as if he had all the time in the world, but was still somehow starved. Drinking from you was his only salvation. You—you were his salvation. And he was your ruin.

He pushed you away, suddenly. You blinked, dizzy from the loss of touch. Sensitive and damp, heart throbbing fast. He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Fuck”

You could see the judgmental stares all around. Rolling your jaw you smirked at the crowd.

“We own this place. I’d mind your business”

The chatter dissipated. You redirected your attention back onto Taehyung.

“Taehyung?” Your voice was soft. “You okay?”

You noticed how tightly he was gripping the table. His head down, looking anywhere but up at you. Eyes wide, spiraling in thought.

“I—” He exhaled, closing his eyes again.

Was he--?

You couldn’t help yourself. You knew he’d despise you for it—but Kim Taehyung already despised you. You weren’t going to pass up a chance to feel him cum.

You shifted his chair so he was facing away from prying eyes. Carefully you snuck under the pool table, clawing at his pants.

His fingers pulled your hand away. A warning glare.

You yanked your hand away, unzipping his pants and letting his pretty cock spring free.

You clicked your tongue. Poor thing was ready to burst.

Licking your lips, you let your tongue glide from his base all the way up his length where you left a soft, sweet kiss on his tip. You slid his tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked.

Flattening your tongue, you let his cock rest there. Like a dog, you waited for him to cum all over you.

Then you looked up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours—and they were wild.

He hissed, shooting into your mouth. You drank up everything he had to give—and it was quite a bit. He bucked over, knuckles turning white. The bite into his lip released blood with how hard he was trying to stay quiet. You let him push his cock into the hollow of your cheek and spurts continued to flow out of him. You rested your hand on his knee, and his hand covered yours. Holding it tenderly—as if he were thanking you.

You cleaned him up quickly, before returning to your seat, adjusting your dress inconspicuously.

You grinned at him, but he was not amused at all. Still panting.

“Was that your wish?” You beamed at him. He chuckled softly.

“I just wanted to know what it felt like”

It was an innocent intention. Almost heartwarming.

“And, what do you think?” You leaned into him, “Did I rock your world, Kim Taehyung?”

“You are my world. There was never a doubt”

His eyes glossed over. You wanted to melt in his gaze. Unravel. Instead, you were plunged into cold water.

“Fancy seeing you two here”

The hairs on your body straightened. Chills seeping over you at the familiar voice, laced with betrayal.

“Jung Hoseok” He extended a hand to Taehyung, “Pleasure’s all mine baby boy” Taehyung skeptically shook it.

-

Hobi was extremely amused at what he had walked in on. Of course, a whore like you would take a matter of days to wrap the young Kim boy around your finger.

“Nice job leashing the puppy” He muttered, cigarette at the edge of his lips. The smoke wisping past your unamused expression.

“I should kill you” Hobi grinned at your response.

“No need,” He tapped the cigarette ash on the edge of the ash tray. He had brough you to his private booth. Leaving Taehyung for the wolves.

“What do you want, Hobi? I don’t want to leave Taehyung alone too long”

“Why?” He leaned closer to you. His hand resting on your bare thigh. Your dress was so fucking slutty, he loved it. He always loved the way you’d dress to gamble. As if your body gave you an edge—it did. He knew you crumbled rich playboy’s resolve with one bat of your pretty eyes. “Are you so desperate for dick you’d take your lover’s little brother’s virginity?”

You rolled your eyes. “I asked you a fucking question,”

“A birdy told me that you found out about Jin’s daddy”

You squinted at him. “What about it?”

“Don’t you want to know the whole story?” Hobi’s fingers hooked under the straps of your dress, playing with them. “Of the infamous Jeon family? And your mother—the woman who tore down a legacy”

His hand slid between your legs.

“Long long ago, the entire arms distribution business lay in the hands of one famous Korean gangster. Jeon Junghyun.”

He brushed against your clit. Gentle circles while he gazed into your eyes. A wicked grin. Like he could kiss you or stab you in the back.

You latched onto his arm as he lured you towards an orgasm. His face burying against your neck, breathing you in as he continued to touch you. Nothing except your soft whimpers in the air.

The heat from his body infected your every nerve. His breath scalding over your cheek.

“Then there was this clever little bitch” You inhaled sharply, edging forward towards your high. He could tell—because he pressed a little harder.

“Who manipulated her way to the top. Gained favor of everyone under him and took him out with a stab to the back” His hands roamed your body, sliding up your dress. He pushed the fabric up until it bunched up above your breasts which he grabbed at eagerly.

Thumbs rolling over your nipples, he continued “She took everything from him, leaving him and his two sons to rot. But she wasn’t cruel. She let him stay as her right-hand”

Hobi left a soft kiss against your left breast. Then another. And another. His thumb back onto your clit, he licked and suckled you. You gasped—looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Curving into his touch.

“She grew the business. An arms distribution pipeline can be used for a lot of things. She went legit. Bought out other companies with the blood money. Began distributing just about everything.”

He licked your lips. The sensation like that of slowly sinking into absolute, soft bliss. Licking down your jaw, fluttering desperate hisses across your neck.

Then, he slipped one finger in—your face heating at the sound. You clenched around the protrusion and he reached deep inside. Working you slowly, carefully—before adding in another.

His kisses trailed back up to your mouth. His breaths were heavy, swallowing your moans. It was hauntingly intimate.

“Hobi” You pleaded, gripping onto him as you shook. Orgasm sweeping over you like an earthquake. Tremors from your heart to every finger and toe in your body. He was so wildly aroused that he couldn’t look away. His fingers were steady nevertheless, pumping you through it. “Fuck, Hobi please”

“Jeon Jungkook wants you dead sweetheart” The pain from his words pushed you over the edge. You soaked over his fingers, twitching wildly. “And so did his hyung. Kim Seokjin.”

-

The brisk night air bit at your skin as you seized Taehyung's wrist, pulling him outside. People were chattering, smoking cigars, the lights from the casinos madness still polluting the air. Limousines, sleek and imposing, formed a line ready to usher the remaining guests to their destinations.

Waving down a driver, you led Taehyung inside one. The plush leather seats cool against your exposed legs. The interior lit so you could see him in front of you, clear as day.

The light shut. Instead there were light sparkles on the ceiling of the limo as it began to move. The champagne swirled in your mind as you leaned back, looking out the window. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Like a rush, you wanted to lose yourself.

Your eyes shut for a moment. Remembering the way the light danced on your fac when you were with Jungkook that night at the club. Yearning for his touch, the look in his eyes when he told you how he felt.

You swallowed thickly, heart in too much pain to go down that road. You looked at Taehyung next to you, instinctively reaching out to touch his face. Gently, you took hold of his chin, coaxing his gaze to meet yours.

Your thumb traced over his cheek. Fingers dancing over his soft, delicate skin. His eyes fluttered close as you did. Teasing the edge of his lips ever so lightly. He really was a beautiful man. His lips looked soft. Devastating, with the way his shaken breath made them tremble.

He leaned into your touch, your fingers sliding up over his ear, pushing his hair out of his face. It felt like you were getting kicked in the chest repeatedly. Every part of you feeling numb but simultaneously sensitive to even the slightest movement of air.

He exhaled. The flow of his breath wavering. Or was it a moan, you weren’t sure.

You were about to pull your hand away, until Taehyung’s over fingers gripped your wrist. He stared at you, pupils wide. It was these moments where you felt like you could see him. His soft, vulnerable side, behind those concrete walls.

To your surprise, he brought your hand up to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist.

His lips softly melted into the sensitive area. Your breath hitched.

It was furiously intimate.

Holding your hand still, his eyes blinked back up at you. Almost as though he were asking permission.

Your throat was dry. The alcohol loosening the knots on your sense of logic.  

His eyes traced over you, dipping down your entire body. The way he sat, leaning so his knees almost touched yours. The leather suddenly felt so hot against your skin. Under his flaming stare.

He inhaled, steady, before leaning into you. Tracing his nose behind your ear. You shivered. His touch making you dizzy. Needy. Quivering.

“You looked beautiful tonight”

They were plain words.

When he said them, they meant the world. Something bloomed inside you. You were spinning and breathless, mouth parting in shock. His lips barely grazing under your jaw.

He backed away, putting distance between you yet again.

-

Namjoon stood in the foyer, waiting for you to come home. The moment the door swung open, you darted into his embrace. It felt like a familiar haven, and he effortlessly hoisted you up, cradling you in a desperate hug, afraid you might vanish if he let go.

"I missed you," Namjoon murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before reluctantly releasing you. His gaze then shifted to Taehyung, pride in his voice. "You too. You look great, Taehyung. I heard you went to the casino."

Taehyung's response was measured. "Are you out on bail?"

"No," Namjoon replied with a hint of bitterness, "Yoongi blackmailed Jungkook into letting me go."

Your heart tightened at his name.

"Where is he? I want to see him”

“Absolutely not” Namjoon was firm. “We don’t know how dangerous he is. I have some of my guys looking into it with Yoongi. He sure as hell had been in contact with Jin in the weeks leading up to his murder”

Namjoon cupped your face. “But other than that, it’s over. He won’t contact you. You’re free. I don’t want you worrying about this anymore”

You wanted to laugh at the term. Free. Especially since Namjoon was already back to telling you what you could and couldn’t do.

“What about Nexus?”

Namjoon smiled, taking your hand in his. “Come with me,”

You followed him. Taehyung a few paces behind. Namjoon brought you into the garden. There were a million fireflies. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at Taehyung, wondering if he remembered your tender moment in this same spot.

Namjoon lowered onto one knee.

Fuck. It was one of those moments where everything was so still. So quiet yet extremely loud in your chest. He smiled. Eyes meeting yours. Brimming.

“Marry me”

Your mouth was dry. The moisture building in your eyes instead. It hurt, deep inside because your mind took you to a certain tattooed, mean and yet tender man who you had left behind.

“Let me give you everything, Y/n” Namjoon continued, “The papers. The stocks. The business. You deserve it all and I will give it to you. I’ve done you wrong, and I know you aren’t where I am. I know you loved someone else”

His proposal hung in the luminous space. His words echoed in your ears. His gaze held both sincerity and vulnerability. He waited for your response, standing up so his fingers could brush against the side of your face. The fireflies flickered like stars behind him.

“I hope someday, it can be more than an arrangement. Someday you might love me the way I love you. But for now, I wanted you to have the option. I will give you everything, I promise”

Tears blurred your vision, and you took a steadying breath. "Namjoon," you whispered, your voice fragile yet resolute. Suddenly, with the prize standing in front of you, waiting for your claim, you realized how serious your answer was. If you married Namjoon, you were signing a deal with the devil. There would be no going back.

"I need time."

His eyes reflected understanding, and he stood, pulling you into a tender embrace. "Take all the time you need," he murmured against your hair.

You could still feel Taehyung watching the scene unfold. His expression unreadable, he retreated into the shadows.

Namjoon walked you to your bedroom, and you kissed him goodnight. He urged you not to stress. To take all the time and he’d be there, waiting when you were ready. No rush. This is what you’d wanted.

So why was it so hard to say yes?

Jungkook’s face engraved into your mind. Your gut flipping. You needed to find him. Needed to talk to him without Namjoon finding out. Your phone began to buzz. Hope coursed through you. Maybe it was him.

You answered quickly, excited.

“Don’t marry him”

There was no way.

“You’re mine”

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

a/n: its been a fucking MINUTE. idek how to do thia anymore, please enjoy and let me know what you think !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAEHYUNG omfg come scream with me pls thanks

and thank you for reading you hawtie <3

[alana-reid-2005]

spencer reid x reader ౨ৎ you’ve been reassigned indefinitely to the bau’s nyc office; spencer helps you pack for the move

p.s. did i write this to cope with the fact that i’m moving 30 minutes away from home for college? you know me too well.

Five hours isn’t that long of a drive. If you could somehow convince Erin Strauss to let you borrow the BAU’s plane, the journey would be cut to a mere hour and a half. You don’t know if this move will be permanent, but you try to forget about that for now and focus on packing. You stuff your winter coat into your already full suitcase. You’re about ready to sit on top of your suitcase to attempt to close it. October’s just around the corner, and New York gets chilly with a capital “C,” even more so than Quantico.

It’ll be your first Halloween away from Spencer in seven years, you think morosely. Spencer knows how to celebrate the spooky season. Halloween is his Christmas as evidenced by the multiple excursions to the local pumpkin patch and trips to various haunted houses he takes you on each year. And that’s not to mention how he invites you over on the thirty-first to witness him spooking the kids in his apartment building with his various monster or ghoul costumes before treating them to king size candy bars.

You’re gonna miss that more than you’d like to admit.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as Spencer stumbles in, carrying a box full of knick knacks he’s making you choose from after reasoning with you that, “Seasonal depression is very real, and making your house a home is one small way to remedy the feelings of loneliness.”

He bumps his hip hard into your closet doorknob on his way over to you but barely seems to register it.

“Careful hon-“

“Hey, did you know that the subway system is actually way better than people make it out to be?” He sets down the box with a little huff before continuing, his hands immediately going up to make gestures as he speaks. “According to a New York Times analysis I saw this morning, there’s only about one violent crime per one million rides. And that rate is only going down as ridership increases, so I think it’s your safest bet for getting around the city, all things considered.”

You smile up at him. Here’s another thing you’re gonna miss. You’d drop all your life’s responsibilities if it meant you could hear him explain the world to you all day long.

He kneels beside you where you’re bent over your suitcase. “Anyway, I brought you some holiday decor! Pick as many as you can fit in your luggage. I’ll mail you the rest.”

He’s not quite smiling, but you can sense the joy radiating from him like steam from a thermal geyser.

“It’s barely September, Spence.” You try not to let your voice break. You just can’t muster his level of enthusiasm when you know you’ll be leaving him soon. Too soon.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He must’ve noticed you were off earlier today. Mercifully, he hadn’t mentioned it sooner, or you would’ve been bawling like a baby at eight in the morning. More than often, you feel this is the curse of your chosen profession: to always know how you and those around you feel but never how to help them or yourself.

“Please don’t cry, angel.” His arms are around you in an instant, easing your chin to his shoulder. He slides his hands down to rub your back, applying just the right amount of pressure to coax your body to melt into his.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” He tilts back, arms tightening around your mid back until you’re almost in his lap. Physical touch is by far not on the top of his list of love languages, but he needs you to know how much he’s gonna miss you.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I’m driving up to see you every weekend. And you’re flying in for Thanksgiving. I think Garcia said she’d host this year.”

“Aw, Penelope always does the best job,” you sniffle, unable to help the grin that breaks over your face.

Spencer pulls back, beaming just as bright. Once your expression softens, he pulls you in for a kiss, painfully saccharine in its tenderness.

You’re gonna miss his coffee breath most of all.

[byhees]

for my one-and-only.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 600 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship petnames mention of period, blood — more

a/n. first post after a while ><

heeseung

would give you special permission to wake him up, that is, without being all pouty or sulky afterwards; you could rouse the heavy sleeper with a simple whisper of his name, your finger gently caressing the swell of his cheek— no retaliation, no “five more minutes”, no pulling the covers over his head; instead of donning a small frown, his eyes would lightly flutter open, a little smile playing on the edge of his lips. “morning, baby”, he’d groan, sitting himself up to press a kiss to your forehead.

jongseong

would only let you play with his hair; given how much effort he’s put into ensuring each and every strand’s in perfect place, he’d absolutely hate for his hair to be ruffled, or disheveled, in the slightest of ways— well, that concerns everyone but you; he can’t quite resist the comfort of holding you close in his embrace, your fingers carding through the soft locks.

jaeyun

would let you touch his face freely; doesn’t quite fancy the thought of another person’s hands on his face— well, excluding your hands; when you lean close to cup his cheeks in your hands, he simply melts into your touch, relaxing in your hold; instead of puckering his lips into a little pout, he’d flash the prettiest smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “i missed you, pretty girl”, he’d coo, tugging you close to his body.

sunghoon

would give you full permission to borrow his things; he’s usually pretty particular about his possessions, not feeling too comfortable with the thought of another person using them— that all softens when you’re in the equation, though; “hey baby, could i borrow your hoodie for a moment?” he’d hear you say, and in an instant, he’d be appearing with heaps of hoodies draped over his arm, eyes twinkling with a pretty sheen— “of course! don’t even hesitate to take any. in fact… here! i’ve brought them all”, he’d beam, not minding whatsoever.

seonwoo

would love pampering you; to him, seeing your pretty smile is always a number one priority— knowing that you’re happy makes him happy as well; not a single word of yours goes unnoticed. if you were to crave a particular food in the middle of the night, he’d personally leave to get it, no matter the lateness of the hour; “for you, my princess”, he’d chime, a megawatt smile glued onto his face.

jungwon

would pay so much attention to the little details; takes his caring initiatives to another level when it comes to you— feeding you the first bite of his meal, offering you his jacket despite the chilly weather, helping you tie your loose shoelaces in a heartbeat; in another instance, he wrapped his hoodie around your waist to discreetly cover a small blood stain— you may not have mentioned it verbally, but he’s always there to look out for you.

riki

would be protective over you during moments of your vulnerability; wouldn’t take it lightly if someone were to talk rudely about his loved ones— when it comes to you, that all goes up a notch; you’re his girlfriend, his lover— there’s absolutely no way he’d let any of such comments slide; isn’t afraid to voice back a retort when you’re being insulted in your absence, brows harshly digging into his skin, a frown tugging on his lips; “baby, that’s the least that i could do.. they were making you uncomfortable”, he’d say, pulling you close to his side, a hand resting on the dip of your waist.

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[xhoneygirlxx]

Fool For You

Dad!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Life as a single dad but life is about to get way harder when Steve falls for his son's teacher.

warnings: fluff. slight angst: mentions of steve's childhood. steve is sad over his son's first day of school. No pronouns are used for reader but they're described to wearing fem clothing. Steve compares reader to Miss Honey from Matilda. Readers skin tone/ethnicity is not mentioned. fic is set in 91 (let's pretend Matilda had already come out by then). meet cute. mentions of being a single parent. Steve's son is named Danny. ending is rushed lmao lets pretend it's not. bad writing/grammar errors. Not proofread!! 18+ plus only, MDNI

*If I missed anything lmk!

a/n: Awe my beautiful lovies!!! we are halfway done with my wonderful birthday week :( I just want to thank each and every one of you for supporting me and showing me nonstop love. I love each and everyone of you so dearly!!!! I also wanna apologize for the late upload! I hope you guys can forgive me!

Maybe I’m crazy, but it’s hard to ignore you

And I can’t wrap my head around it, but it feels

Oh, like I loved you before.

Being back in the hallways of Hawkins Elementary felt odd. Everything has stayed the same since the last time Steve went there, the paint of the walls, the decorations, even the smell was all the same. It smelled like a chilly autumn morning and books, innocence and childhood - a smell he didn't even realize he missed so much until he entered the building.

The cinder block lined walls hold memories, locking them in place until the end of time. Now his son's will be there along with them, a new generation of the Harrington family ready to leave their mark.

Walking hand and hand with Danny, Steve feels every single emotion any parent would on their child's first day. It's bittersweet, stinging him right through the heart with sadness and patching itself up with a sense of excitement. Danny on the other hand is a ball of energy, bouncing with every step he takes, like he always does.

The small boy is nothing but big smiles, eyes darting everywhere as he takes in the new environment. His Ninja Turtle backpack is comically bigger than him, flopping off of the backs of his knees with every step he takes.

As he looks down at his son, who looks just like him at that age, a big rush of adoration falls onto the older man. Over the short five years that Steve became a dad, he's learned that you can fall in love with your baby all over again just like the first time you held them. Steve is always amazed by Danny and the amount of love that runs through his veins for the small boy, but sometimes you need a little refresher like right now.

"You excited to meet your new teacher, Danny?" Steve swings the small boys arm causing him to giggle.

Nodding his chestnut hair, he looks up at his father with wide eyes. "M'cited dad."

"You gonna make lots of friends?" Steve isn't sure if this question is appropriate but a part of him worries about his son's ability to make new friends, since Steve is the only one out of his friends that has a child.

"I fink so but they hav' to like tourtles." Danny isn't really bothered by the question too much, not when he's too focused on the bright decorations that stick all over the walls.

"Turtles, Dan." It comes out in a chuckle. Even though Steve always corrects his son on the word, he's still a sucker for the way he says it.

Making it to the end of the hall, they stop at the wooden door with the numbers 206 written over them. The memory of Steve's kindergarten years creep into his mind as they stand there, flashbacks of him holding his mom's hand as wet tears streamed down his face. He wonders if his mother remembers that or if she buried that in the back of her mind like everything else in his life.

Pulling himself out of his head, Steve knocks on the closed door and scoots back just a little to leave room for it to open. Crouching down to his son's level, he runs a nervous hand through his hair, fixing whatever pieces didn't stay down.

"Daddy, you're gonna mess it up." Danny pouts, lightly stomping his converse clad foot on the vinyl flooring.

Pulling his hand back, Steve realizes he's using his son for his anxious habits. "You're right, m'sorry. You gonna be okay?"

Danny rolls his eyes in a sassy way, the way that always makes Steve laugh. "Yesss dad."

Wow, his son is really his carbon copy.

The sound of the heavy door opening pulls both of their attention, Steve immediately springing up from his position wiping his clammy hands down his shirt.

Steve steels himself for who he's about to meet, releasing a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding. Now, Steve expected to see a middle aged woman, maybe even older. He pictured someone with a grandma type energy, sweet and welcoming. What he didn't expect was you.

Standing there in the doorway with the bright light of your classroom falling around you in a halo. A pretty floral dress hangs from your body, cinching your body just right without being too inappropriate. Your cheeks are puffed up as you smile brightly, eyes crinkled at the sides as you do.

You seem about the same age as Steve, no older than twenty five. Glasses sit on the top of your head, pushing back the front of your hair. In a way you remind him of Miss Honey, not looks wise but your aura. You're so fucking pretty and he doesn't think he'll be able to formulate a sentence.

"Let me guess," You stand with a hand on your hip, pretending to think hard, "You must be Mr. Daniel Harrington."

The little boy in question beams up at you, bouncing on his toes as he clutches his excited hands around the straps of his backpack.

"My dad calls me Danny." The lisp that he has is very noticeable when he says it. Steve can tell you want to coo so badly over the small boy, the flexing of your fingers not going unnoticed.

Crouching down to his level, you reach out a hand to Danny for a handshake. "What a pleasure to meet you Danny."

Placing his hand into yours, he shakes it in a jerky manner. His missing bottom tooth shows off with the way he smiles at you. Pulling your hand away, you stand up straight still looking at the small child.

"Danny whenever you're ready you can head right inside and find the cubby with your name on it!" Your voice is like the sun, bright and chipper.

Craning his next up to his dad, he waits for his dad's permission even though his body trembles with anticipation. Steve on the other hand doesn't want to let him go, not ready to detach himself from his baby he spent five years with.

Kneeling down, Steve wraps his son in one last hug. The sting of unshed tears hits his nose first, the lump that sits in the back of his throat waits patiently for the dam to break.

"Okay dad, I have to go!" The small boy giggles, not understanding the gravity of the situation. To him he thinks his dad is just being silly, not realizing that his dad's heart is breaking.

Reluctantly Steve pulls away, trying to remember the look on his son's face. His own flesh and blood, the boy he's worked so hard to raise by himself, and God is his heart full.

"Alright little man, go head inside." Tapping a heavy hand to the boy's head, he watches him duck into the classroom.

Popping back to his standing position, Steve tries his hardest to blink the tears away. You still stand there, observing the classroom behind your shoulder.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," You call out before he can leave and he's quick to interrupt you.

"Please, call me Steve. I feel like I'm too young to be Mr. Harrington." He half chuckles, ignoring the skip of his heart when he makes eye contact with you.

"Steve," You correct, a bashful smile on your face, "I wanted to ask if you would be the only person to pick him up or if your wife would also be included in pick ups and drop offs."

"Oh, no I'm not- his mom isn't." Lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, he thinks of the best way to say it.

"Danny's mom isn't around, so it'll be just me on pick up and drop off duties. Possibly his aunt Robin but I'd let you know beforehand." A tight smile forms on his face.

"Oh I am so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed." You rush to apologize but you're quickly interrupted with the shake of his head.

"It's okay, you didn't know." He reassures and you visibly relax.

You're just as nervous as he is and he wonders if it's because you feel the same spark he does. Or maybe he's thinking too much into it. Either way, he'd like to think it's the latter.

"Well I'm very excited to teach Danny this year, he seems like a great kid." Although liking kids is part of your job, it sounds sincere coming out of your mouth and not rehearsed.

A coy smile breaks out on the older man's face, rose tint pours onto the rounded apples of his cheeks. "Y-yeah, he's a good kid. He can be shy sometimes but he loves to be around people."

Nodding your head, you sneak another peak behind you to check on the boy. "That's okay, I'm shy too."

When you turn to face Steve again, your lip is tucking behind your teeth. You're so fucking cute it makes him forget just how sad he was to drop off his own son and he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing.

A long pause settles between the two of you, eyes becoming too bashful to meet. Steve kicks his foot at the hard floor, hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans.

"Well Steve, it was so nice to meet you but I have to get back in there." You sigh hiking a thumb over your shoulder.

Steve feels like someone just popped him like a balloon, the small amount of joy he's felt just by talking to you has now been taken away. Meeting you with a tight lipped smile, he nods understandingly.

After bidding your farewells, Steve thinks about you. He wishes he wasn't so awkward, that he had acted way cooler than he did, and how breathtaking your smile was when you spoke to him and his son.

On his drive home all he could think about was you and his son, ping ponging back and forth between the two. Steve wishes that he met you before today, maybe in the coffee shop on Main or in line at the grocery store. He wishes that he would be able to ask for your number and take you out without any consequences brought on by the school.

He doesn't know how he's going to last a full year with Danny in school and he's really not sure how he can manage to keep a professional conversation with you every morning without falling in love.

The low hum of Rod Stewart's "Rhythm of My Heart" plays through the car, the soundtrack to Steve's drive home.

Ah, the rhythm of my heart

Is beatin' like a drum

With the word's I love you

Rollin' off my tongue

"Fuuuuuuck," His voice drags out in the safety of his car, "I'm screwed."

Yeah, he was definitely screwed.

The ending feels rushed and it's not good but I hope you still enjoy! love you all :)

[toxicanonymity]

Late Night Dip 💦

2300 words, night walks!Joel x f!reader

thank you for the mood board @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

SUMMARY: Not much plot as usual. You go to the neighborhood pool after hours. Joel joins you for a late night dip and more of what you can't get enough of. A/N: CAN READ ALONE, but it’s in night walks (AU) with their dynamic established. Maybe a good chance to dip your feet. WARNINGS: I8+ mdni public, outdoor, oral f receiving, unsafe P in V in the pool, creampie / coming inside, kinda aggressive joel (to your delight), drugs (weed), references to stalking. PWP

Late one night, you text Joel to let him know you're going to take a dip. He had suggested a swim before but you hadn't taken him up on it yet. You don't exactly invite him, but his house is close to the pool and you imagine he'll show up.  He texts back, “bet you’re gonna get real wet.��

It’s after closing so the whole property is dark except for one dim, flickering light by the tennis courts, and the moonlight.  When you get to the pool, you reach over the fence to unlock it from the inside.  Some leaves are congregating in the water at the shallow end. You carefully grab the net off the fence and fish them out. It's gratifying seeing the water clear. You dump the leaves over the fence without banging it on the fence, then hang the net back up. You dip your toe and the water is a little more chilly than you expect, but not awful.  You sit down on a lounge chair, not ready to get in. You check your phone and Joel hasn't said anything else. 

Before taking your cover-up off. You unwedge your swimsuit and your hand lingers in the crotch of your bottoms. Are you as wet as you feel? You dip your finger into the pool between your legs. Yeah.

Joel's disembodied voice says, "Mm. Already?" You turn around as he emerges from the woods. "Save some for me."

"Jesus. What are you doing back there?"

"like seein' ya get all horny for me." He probably cut through from his house.  But he’s so . . . .stealthy.  He just has that air about him.  He’s like a cat, prowling around. 

"Joel," you sigh and roll your eyes. 

He lowers his voice, "say it again, baby" as he scales the fence. 

He sits down on the pool chair next to you.  He faces you and leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. “waitin’ for me to get in?” He has a joint behind his ear.

You think out loud, "how many times have you spied on me?"

He smiles to himself and reaches for your thigh.  You get butterflies at the contact.  He slowly caresses your leg, shakes his head and says, "however many gets you off, pumpkin’.” Then he teases, “Don’t bother ya, huh?” He winks and gives your thigh a squeeze.  “Gets ya hot and bothered.” 

Your face burns and he looks pleased with himself when you change the subject. “Water’s chilly.”

Joel takes off his shirt, revealing the long necklace he was wearing when you saw him out before with the blazer and low cut shirt.  You wonder if he went out tonight. 

“C’mon.  I’ll keep ya warm.”

He stands up and his crotch is at eye level.  His swimsuit is mint green, mid-thigh.  It looks good on him.  He’s barely hard if at all.  Why are you insulted? He’s been there all of five seconds.  He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone and a lighter.  He puts the phone down on his shirt, along with his chain. He sits on the side of the pool and puts down the lighter and joint.  Dozens of back and shoulder muscles all engage as he eases himself into the pool, and god his back looks nice. You have to imagine it looks even nicer when he’s fucking you.  

—--

Once he’s standing, he turns around and rests his forearms on the edge. He sticks the joint in his mouth and blocks it from any light breeze as he lights it. You take your cover-up off, but still don’t make a move to get in.  He tilts his head and checks you out, then exhales. He nods his head back toward the pool invitingly. “C’mon, sugar. Ain't that cold.” It's not, really. The profile of his messy hair and strong shoulders does something to you.  

You stand up and adjust your top. 

He raises his eyebrows at you, then mutters with a straight face, “Why bother.” 

“Why bother. . .” you repeat contemplatively as you sit down at the edge of the pool.  You wince as you put your feet in.  Joel immediately nudges your knees open and puts himself between them, still holding the joint. Your feet graze his swimsuit.  He takes a small puff and puts it aside on the cement. He reaches one hand up to touch your neck, running his fingers over the halter tie of your bikini top as he holds the smoke in his mouth. Then he slides his hand up to your head, looks at you darkly, and gets on his toes.  You dip your head toward him as he exhales into your open mouth. 

As you accept his breath, he pulls the string to untie your top. Your hands reflexively go to catch your swimsuit against both breasts and you narrowly avoid choking. Meanwhile, he pulls the string on your back.

You’re too busy finishing your inhale to say anything.  Your hands hold the dangling swimsuit to your chest.

Joel pulls back and looks you in the eye.  He reaches for your cleavage and forcefully yanks the strap between the cups, taking the swimsuit out from under your hands and tossing it aside. You turn your head and cough, then say, “What are you–” 

“Shhhh.” Your hands are still over your breasts. His hands rest atop your thighs.  You look down and watch his strong, masculine hands run up your thighs to your hips. He grabs your ass and nudges you closer to the edge. “C’mon.” 

“It’s too cold.” 

“not to get in.” He eyes your swimsuit bottoms.  You scoot forward a little, and his broad torso keeps your thighs spread wide as you get closer.  “Good girl,” he murmurs to your crotch. You feel exposed with your legs open outdoors, but it’s not like he hasn’t been between them plenty of times. 

He doesn’t waste any time. He sinks down into the pool so his head is at cunt-level and plants his mouth right above the crotch of your swimsuit. He kneads your ass and presses his lips into your clothed mound, moving his lips slow but hard. There’s something really hot about him from this angle.  His head between your legs, shoulder muscles flexing in the moonlight. He pushes his tongue against the fabric and devours you through the swimsuit. His head moves between your legs.   Suddenly the cool air is on your ass. He’s untied your suit. 

You finally let go of your breasts, resting your hands behind you. He moans into the front of your swimsuit, and his tongue pushes it aside.  Then pulls it down gently with his teeth as his hands grab your ass.  His lips latch onto your clit and he gives it a kiss, looking up at you.  Then he pulls his head back and thumbs your folds.  He gives a low whistle at how wet you are. “God damn.” He returns his head to your cunt.  He licks between your entrance and your clit, then sucks.  You finger his fluffy hair and he moans into you as he sucks and laps, then pries his head away and looks at you darkly. 

—-

You sit up straighter and his mouth goes to your bare breast.  He sucks your nipple and thumbs your clit. Then he releases your breast with a, “fuuck.”  He looks back and forth between your breasts and sighs with a pained look on his face.  Then one of his hands goes between his legs and that arm is slowly moving as he sucks your other tit.  When he pulls his head back again, his voice is low and hungry. “Get in.”  The look on his face makes you wonder how urgently he needs you and what he’ll do if you drag your feet. 

“It’s too cold,” you say. It's not really--your feet are warm now that you've adjusted. You can feel how warm he is, too.

One corner of his mouth curls up, then his face darkens. “C’mon, baby.” He palms himself. “Know you want this cock.” 

You sigh. “So why don’t you get out and give it to me?” 

He wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your chest. His scruff scratches your breast as he commands into your skin, “get the fuck in here.” His arms tighten around you and he pulls you into the pool, leaving your swimsuit behind. Your legs wrap around his waist as he falls back with you. He holds you by the ass and helps gravity pull you down against him so you feel him rock-hard through his swimsuit.  He sighs "yeah," and you whimper at the contact.  He moves you by your ass and grinds your front against his hardness and you take a deep breath. Your nipples are hard. He’s keeping you warm, just like he said. You don’t even care that you’re completely nude in the neighborhood pool. 

You’re in the middle of the 4’ section, aching for him to be in you.  Your arms are resting on his shoulders with your wrists crossed behind his neck.  He reaches between you and urgently tugs down his waistband. You look down into the water as he holds his cock straight and guides you by the ass, covering his tip with your cunt, nestling himself for entry.  He pushes his tip inside, and pulls you down hard on his cock, parting your walls in one go and bottoming out with a grunt.  He sighs “fuck yeah,” tilts his pelvis back, removing half his length, then closes his eyes with a twitch of his perfect nose.  He meets you with a sharp thrust as he pulls you down even harder and sighs. 

His voice is hushed.  “Been wantin’ it all week, right?” His mouth hangs open as he wraps his arms around you and manhandles you on his cock.  He snarls and sighs.  He breathes heavily, moving you up and down. “Yeahh.  He takes a deep breath and reads your face, sheathing himself inside you as he wets his lips.  Then his lips latch onto yours. He feeds you his tongue in rhythm with his cock.  He moans into your mouth and slowly moves his lips with yours as he fucks himself with your body.  You help with your legs pulling you onto his cock in his rhythm. You break the kiss with a moan. As many times as you’ve had it now, it still gives you butterflies all over, the way he fills you up. 

Still sheathed in your warmth, begins to slowly make his way back toward the wall.  When he gets there, he puts his arm behind you, protecting you from the ledge. He bounces you on his cock as he picks up the joint and takes a drag. You latch onto his neck and he exhales “ohhh, baby.”  Then he puts the joint down and backs a foot away from the wall.   He grabs your ass with both hands and breathes “fuck”  as he ups the intensity again. You sigh. 

 “So” He pulls you down, “damn,” thrusting hard, “hot, baby.” He’s hitting your g-spot. “God damn,” he whispers. “God, this ass.” He squeezes the cheeks.

“Fuck, Joel-”

“Turn around for me,” he lifts you off him and turns you around. You grab the ledge of the pool and it’s not even a split-second before he shoves into you from the back with a grunt and thank God you're so wet with your own slick. His arm snakes in front of you and he grabs your breast as he stuffs you with his cock.  His lips latch onto the side of your neck and he moans “Mmm” as he kisses then nibbles at your neck. Your core feels dizzy with mounting pleasure, and pressure builds with every thrust. His teeth bear down on your neck and then he sucks gently, then hard.  You wince at the thought of the mark. 

Joel’s mouth breaks away. “Relax,” he murmurs as he buries his length inside you. “God damn.”  He reaches for the joint.  He gropes your breast and fucks you a little slower, pressing his chest all the way up against you as he takes a drag.  He looks at the joint as he exhales, then he reaches around you and brings the joint in front of your lips.  You take a puff. He sets it back down and ups his intensity again. You sigh as you exhale.  He whispers, “hell yeah.” 

He brings one hand to your clit and another to your breast and fondles you as he fucks you harder. You begin to whimper on the edge of bliss and he says, “Yeah, come on this cock, baby.” He works your clit and bottoms out with each harsh thrust. “Fuck yeah, c’mon.” Your whole abdomen tightens, then your head falls back as you see stars.  You moan and he palms your breast.  He fucks you through it as you flutter around him. “God, yeah,” he pants, “Oh yeah, fuck—nngg” He groans and slams his cock into you. He begins to pulse, releasing his warm seed.  He hums, “mmm” as he slowly plunges to the hilt a few more times, emptying his balls. Your cunt spasms lighter and you sigh. 

Joel bends his knees and noses your ear.  He wraps you in a hug, still inside you. When he begins to pull out, You tighten your legs on him, trying to keep him. 

Something rustles in the dark.  It’s just a raccoon at the treeline, but you’re suddenly very aware of your full nudity.  You stand upright, letting his cock slide out of you as you push yourself up out of the water.

“Ok,” he whispers. He pulls you back onto him, pivots to the side and holds onto the ledge with one hand, letting you lay back on his chest as you both come down from your high. You lay like that for a minute or two, feeling his breathing against your back as his cock softens. 

“Up for a dip any time, pumpkin,” he says in a hushed voice as he hands you your bikini top.

----

Night Walks AU for more of this menace starting when you meet him.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed it.

----

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

nw tags on @toxicfics reblog

[brotherblaze]

double black —wednesday addams

▹ wednesday addams/gn!gorgon!reader

▹ synopsis: Wednesday’s hands are cold. They’re a pleasant balm for aching wounds and sore limbs when she follows you to the back of a grocery store to dab the blood from your nose.

▹ content warnings: mentions of violence

▹ word count: ~1,5k

▹ part 2

“Do you think your habit of flirting with girls who have partners could be because you’re afraid of rejection from the person you have feelings for? So you supplement the pain you think you’re going to feel from Wednesday’s rejection with guaranteed rejection by targeting people you know are in a relationship.”

“Isn’t that a legitimate thing called ‘rejection therapy’?” You lean back in the beige armchair. It’s comfortable. You make a note to ask where she bought it from—once you graduate from therapy. Dr. Kinbott frowns at the question you shoot back at her. She laces her hands together in her lap.

“How are things with Wednesday?”

“Oh boy.” You stand from the beige armchair, smoothing out the wrinkles in your jeans. “We’re so not doing this.”

You grab the jacket from its place draped over the back of the beige armchair and shrug it on. The collar of your hoodie strains from the new weight of the jacket and you attempt to adjust it to give yourself some room to breathe. The leather strains and whines.

Dr. Kinbott calls out your name when you turn to leave. When you turn around, fingers curled around the dark sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose, Dr. Kinbott’s eyes are already closed. She’s standing now, her body turned towards you. You let your sunglasses slide down the bridge of your nose slightly.

The horned snakes in your hair hiss, their forked tongues flicking out of their mouths. You slowly close the space between yourself and Dr. Kinbott, placing one foot in front of the other, like a predator circling its prey. A snake extends, its tongue flicking against her cheekbone. She only steels her resolve.

“How about we continue this next Monday? After Parents’ Weekend?”

You narrow your eyes at her, a displeased hum escaping your throat. The snakes withdraw to their braided position on top of your head. One pushes your sunglasses back up the brudge if your nose with the top of its head. Its tongue flicks at your cheek.

“Yeah, whatever.”

The door slams shut behind you and for a moment you consider going back to apologize. Instead, you rush down the stairs, hands frantically rummaging through your jacket pockets. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter, the sweet taste of mint-scented herbal cigarette between your lips, gray smoke curling into the air.

You step onto the chilly street.

Wednesday is standing at the cash register in the small grocery store. She stares at the baby in the stroller in front of her, her lips turned into a frown. It’s giving her a toothless smile.

The bell above the front door jingles and draws her attention just in time. You rush into the store, leaping over the low magazine rack. The thud your heavy boots make reverberates through the store and the weight tips your balance. Your shoulder collides with the wall and a broken wail escapes your throat before you take off towards the back of the store.

The bell jingles again and a small group of boys flood in. Immediately the woman at the cash register hisses at them to leave. The security guard Wednesday had spotted upon entry emerges from the bread aisle. Suddenly, there’s an edge in the room. She doesn’t hear what is said but the gaggle of teenagers leave with loud swearing.

The cashier shakes her head, adding a few choice words of her own under her breath. When she reaches for the marshmallows on the counter, Wednesday snatches the pack.

“I forgot something.”

Wednesday makes her way down the long aisles of the store. She spots a shelf of wet wipes and grabs it.

You’re hidden at the very back of the store, sitting on an unopened crate of Coca-Cola. There’s an ache in your ribs as you attempt to level your breathing and a burn in your throat from the cold spring wind. You remove your sunglasses, staring at the cracked lens with a frown. Shit. These things are expensive. The world is bathed in a dim green glow and you swear under your breath.

Wednesday stops just before she can turn the corner of a tall shelf to face you. She peers over the items stacked onto the shelf at eye-level: you’re sitting on the other side, dark sunglasses in hand, staring at the shelf like you know she’s there. She observes the faint green glow in your eyes, the tightness in your jaw, the blood dribbling from your nose. So, she leans forward enough to put the baby wipes into your line of sight. Your shoulders drop and you lean back to rest against the exposed brick wall, eyes sliding closed.

She’s clear to approach.

Wednesday places her bag on the floor and crouches in front of you. Her fingers brush the rich red blood from your lip and she takes a moment to examine it. Then, her gaze snaps to your face. A split lip, bloody nose, left cheek marred and caked with fresh blood.

“Which one of them did this?”

You sniff at the feeling of wetness on your upper lip and wince when you inhale. The scent of metal is almost nauseating and the taste is even worse, tangy and bitter on your tongue. It only spreads when you swallow.

“Some jackass thought I was flirting with his girlfriend ‘cause I asked to borrow her phone and she smiled at me. So, he grabbed all his sad little friends to gang up on me.” You shrug your shoulders. “And they call us the savage freaks—what a fucking joke.”

Wednesday stands, ripping open the wet wipes packet. She lets the opened pack drop onto your lap and leans down slightly to run the wipe over your split lip. It’s cool against your skin, or maybe it’s Wednesday’s cold hands. Either way, you breathe a sigh of relief.

Your ribs ache.

Wednesday is hovering over you, dabbing the drying blood from your nose and lips. You reach for the open packet on your lap and re-seal it. She pauses for a moment and you can clearly imagine her scowl. You grin widely, teeth stained with blood.

“It’ll dry out.”

You bet she’s rolling her eyes as she continues dabbing the blood away. Her touch is gentle, her cold fingers tipping your chin upwards slightly. A silence lingers, the only sound so far back being the shop’s radio blaring music over your heads.

“So can I open my eyes yet? ‘Cause staring at the darkness is boring.”

“I don’t know, will you turn me into stone?” You can feel her breath hitting your lips as she speaks.

“I think you’d make the most gorgeous decoration in a mausoleum. Or next to one, if you want to spend your eternity with rainwater corroding you.”

“Isn’t that the dream?”

Wednesday’s eyes rake your face again, finding a new wound on your hairline. She takes a fresh wipe from the packet, making sure to re-seal it loudly, and moves to the cut.

The snakes in your hair curl away from the injured spot and towards her, their tongues flicking out of their mouths as they sniff Wednesday’s hand. One bumps its forehead against the side of her knuckles and she pivots from cleaning to wound to scratch the snake under its chin.

She spots a snake just hanging there—right next to your ear. Another one bumps it when it approaches her for chin scratches and Wednesday realizes the body does not have a head. It only abruptly ends. It hangs next to your ear, limp and lifeless. Your hand rises to brush it behind your ear.

Wednesday tucks away the image of a limp snake to ask about later.

Rapid footsteps, the clicking of heels. You grunt, face scrunching up. More rich red blood from your nose. Wednesday presses the wet wipe in her hand under your nose just as headmistress Weems rounds the tall shelf. Her lips are pulled into a tight smile and she thanks the man in the store’s gaudy yellow shirt before her gaze settles on you.

“In my defense, all I did was ask to borrow a girl’s phone ‘cause mine died. Literally zero flirting this time.”

Larissa Weems takes a deep breath and exhales it after a few short moments. “Let’s go.”

You huff and stand, the crate of Coca-Cola groaning under your movements. The packet of wet wipes is clutched tightly to your chest, broken sunglasses hanging between your fingers. You linger until Wednesday has grabbed her bag, now slung over her shoulder, and she takes hold of your upper arm to help guide you to the car. Her hands are cold.

(You prefer them that way.)

“Hey, Larissa—“

“It’s headmistress Weems.”

“Can I go to the movies next weekend, since I don’t talk to my parents—ergo, I can’t go to Parents’ Weekend?” You lean your head back and open your eyes. The glare from the bright overhead lights hurts.

“No.”

“C’mon, it’s Morbius! It comes out on April 1st, the jokes write themselves!”

[jarofstyles]

sooo what do you think level up!harry and y/n are up to rn? i miss them sosososo much, 'level up' might be my fav fic of yours!

Hmmmm 👀👀

Patreon

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Currently, Y/N is a giggly, drunk mess. Harry was tipsy, but nowhere near as gone as Y/N. Stumbling into their apartment, Y/N gasped as she tried to look around, but it was far too dark.

"H-Harry? I think.. Think I'm losing my sight." She hiccuped. "Can't see. Should I call a Doc?" The words were slurred as she kicked her heels off, letting her purse drop to the floor.

With a chuckle, Harry adjusted his glasses and flipped the lights on, making Y/N gasp.

"Nevermind! It's back. I can see. Probably just malfun... Malfuntion." The incorrect pronouncation had him shaking his head, leaning down to pick her bag up off of the ground. Hanging it on the hook along with his jacket, he watched as she padded into the kitchen, making lots of noise as she looked for a cup.

"Malfunction, sweetheart." He corrected, greeted with a confused look on her face as she whipped around. His flannel shirt was around her shoulder, claiming she had been too 'chilly' at the bar for her bustier style top and dark wash denim to do the job. He'd handed it over, leaving him in his baby blue tee shirt. "Never mind. What do you need?"

While he was definitely a bit tipsy, Y/N was smashed. A rare sight he had only seen a few times so far, but entertaining nonetheless. She was excited and giggly and super clumsy which had stressed him out a bit, but other than that he was happy to see her let loose. The next semester would start soon and she needed the off time.

"Water. Banana. Uh..." she blinked a few times. "Oh! Chocolate chips. Please. Can I have some?" her fingers tangled in his shirt, giving him a pouty look that wasn't necessary but very appreciative. "I'll give you a blowie. Can't reach the pink cup."

"While I appreciate the offer, you aren't doing anything of the sort until tomorrow when you're sober." His large hands held her flushed cheeks, kissing the middle of her forehead tenderly. "You're so silly, baby. Sit down and I'll bring it to you."

Y/N preened, nodding as she climbed on to the stools they had at their breakfast bar- their dining table was cluttered with some of Harry's work- kicking her feet to some beat Harry was sure she was heating in her head as she waited.

His own clumsiness kicked in, accidentally knocking over one of the plastic cups they kept on the bottom. A yelp escaped him before he realized what it was, giggling to himself for the stupid scare. Righting it, he grabbed the pink cup from the top- much more carefully, he would add- and brought out the filtered water pitcher to pour her a cold glass.

Next he pulled out the large back of semi-sweet chocolate chips, pouring some into a small bowl meant for condiments, placing it back in the cabinet before finally grabbing her banana. He knew that she would need it to sober up and it would be a better scenario for her tomorrow.

"Here." he rounded the bar, sitting on the stool next to her with his own water. "Eat your snack then we're brushing teeth. Put some painkiller in my pocket to have at the bedside when you wake up." He smoothed her hair out of her face and lip gloss before she took a sip. "You're drunk."

"No. I'm Y/N. Or your Loooooveeee." She sang, wiggling her brows. "S'what you called me in front of everyone. you said, 'careful, my love.' and 'easy with the shots, my love.'. So nice. Sexy." She sighed, leaning into him slightly before popping some chocolate into her mouth. "Gonna marry you. Hope you know that. Get prepared."

"Trust me, It'll be the best day of my life." He smiled, steading her on the stool as she turned to him.

"Better than when we saw the baby penguins at the zoo?"

"Even better.

[sehyunie23]

Kiss - Minju

Y/n POV

I opened my eyes, the sunshine gives light to my room. I was about to go up until I felt a weight on top of me. Looking at my chest and saw my girlfriend sleeping peacefully.

I giggled at what I am seeing and caressed her head.

After a few minutes, Minju groaned and wiggles at my embrace. I looked at her and she looked at me. Minju then closed her eyes and smiled at me.

"Good morning Y/n ah~," My girlfriend said in her low husky voice.

"Good morning my Minjugatto~," I said and Minju smacked my chest, making me giggle and stroke her hair.

"Hey~ that's not nice," Minju said in a whiny sleepy tone.

I chuckled at the girl and patted her head.

"C'mon Minju, let me hug you," I said and the girl immediately came to my level and she hugged me tightly.

"Warm~" Minju said as she snuggle herself, sharing her warmth. My Minju is really like a baby.

"Aigoo my baby. Are you tired Minju?" I asked the Minju as she nods in response.

I pecked Minju's forehead and strokes her hair.

"Sleep more Minmin," I said and Minju shook her head.

"Nooooo~ I want to spend my time with you~," Minju said still with her eyes closed.

I giggled at Minju as her mind is persistent while her body tells otherwise.

I continue to stroke Minju's hair and after a couple of minutes, Minju slept while snoring softly. I pecked her forehead and carefully removed myself from her hug.

I then stand up and stretched to feel that good feeling and washed up to get ready for the day.

I left Minju sleeping in my room and went to the kitchen to cook some breakfast.

Thinking about what breakfast should be great today, I decided to go with some scrambled eggs. Opening the heat and put the pan above it, I beat the eggs and stir the pan. Once the eggs are cooked, I put them on a plate and decided to cook some bacon for us as well. I put the bacon on the pan as well and it sizzles instantly. I was waiting for the bacon to be crispy until...

*THUD*

I closed the heat and immediately went to my bedroom and as I opened the door, I saw Minju on the floor holding her head.

I rushed to her and sat her up, then I looked at her worryingly and Minju just groaned.

"EhHhHh~ Why did you leave me oppa?!" Minju whined. Relieved that Minju is okay, I covered her with the blanket she is in and carried her to the kitchen counter.

Minju being easily flustered, she giggles and nuzzles her head on my chest.

"Hehe, oppa is so sweet," Minju said cooed and snuggles more at me.

I chuckled at the actions of my girlfriend and let her do what she wants.

We arrived at the kitchen and put her on the kitchen counter. Minju then opens her eyes and hugged the blanket covering her body.

"Hmmm~ smells delicious oppa," Minju said while sniffing the air.

"Eggs, bacon, and toast for breakfast Minmin," I said as I removed the bacon from the pan.

I grabbed some bread and toasted it, while the toaster is doing it's thing, I portioned the eggs and bacon for us and the bread is toasted. I finished plating the eggs and bacon and then grabbed our plates and put them on the dining table.

I went back for Minju and she spread her arms like a child waiting to be carried. I just giggled at her childish antics and carried her to her seat.

Minju then removed her blanket and started to scarf her food. I also gave her a glass of orange juice to drink and Minju then looked at me with her cheeks puffed because of the food and she smiled at me. Smiling at the frog as she continued eating her food, I then take a mental picture of her eating and then eat my portion as well.

°

--- time skip | night ---

°

Minju POV

The sun has set down and the moon shines up along with the stars in the dark sky. I am now on the balcony of Y/n oppa's apartment, enjoying the nature and chilly wind. Y/n oppa then entered the balcony with a fruit bowl in hand.

My eyes were immediately target locked at the bowl and I heard Y/n oppa snicker.

"Here you go froggy," Y/n oppa then handed me a fork and I grabbed it immediately and poked a blueberry and eat a fruit right away.

I squealed in delight and van feel Y/n oppa side hugging me. Placing my head on his shoulder, I sighed in contentment.

This is what I want in life, working as an actress, having a sweet boyfriend and having a peacetime just like this.

Y/n oppa then nudged me which made me hum.

"Come on Minmin, the drama will start in a few minutes," Y/n oppa said which made my eyes wide open.

"N-NO!" I shouted which made Y/n jolt in surprise.

"No?" Y/n asked confused.

"Ah I mean yes, no," I said.

This made Y/n oppa squint his eyes on me.

"And that is because?" Y/n oppa started.

"I uh- I you don't have to watch that," I answered nervously.

"Heyyy, c'mon Minmin, I would watch everything as long as you are there. So come on, let me see how good my girlfriend can act," Y/n oppa said and pecked my cheeks which made me blush and give myself to him.

Y/n oppa and I exited the balcony and we went to the living room. I opened the television and Y/n oppa bought some popcorn. I then continue to eat the fruit bowl oppa made and started watching the drama.

The duration of the drama went well, things were on the script, and now we are nearing the scene I am hiding from Y/n oppa.

I looked at oppa completely focused on the drama and then made my move. I jumped at Y/n oppa and kissed him. Y/n oppa was shocked but he reciprocated the kiss passionately and full of love.

I then parted my lips from Y/n oppa and smiled at me.

"Why did you do it Minju?" Y/n oppa asked as he hugged me tightly, tucking me in his warmth.

I then looked at the tv screen to see that it is the scene I don't want Y/n oppa to see. I tried to distract Y/n oppa but he is hugging me tightly, making me locked in my position.

Then the scene unfolds... The man cupped my face and kissed me.

I ducked my head down, avoiding a gaze from Y/n oppa, I then felt oppa's hand stroking my head and shake at his touch.

"Hmm? Yah Minju, why are you shaking?" Y/n oppa asked which made me calm.

Y/n oppa then loosened his hug and I looked at him with puppy eyes.

"Minju, why are you nervous?" Y/n oppa said which made me look away from him.

"..."

"Is this because from the kiss that I just witnessed?" Y/n oppa asked me, I didn't answer him and just dig my head into his chest, nuzzling my head as an apology.

I heard Y/n oppa chuckle and he ruffled my hair.

"Aigoo, it's just an act Minju," Y/n oppa said which made me look at him in little relief.

"T-then you are not m-mad?" I asked and Y/n oppa smiled.

"Every time you got a drama, you always talked to me about the things you will do, like scripts, times when other actors hug you or kiss you, and other kinds of stuff. It shows me that you are worthy of my trust, then why shouldn't I trust you?" Y/n oppa asked.

I teared up and smiled at Y/n oppa's words and hugged him tightly.

"You are the best jagi~," I said and rest my head at the crook of oppa's neck.

Y/n oppa then patted my back and chuckled.

"And you are the best Minju-ya. Also, don't worry about that kiss. I know that I am the only one who can get your true love's kiss," Y/n oppa said in a smug tone which made me giggle.

I faced him and pecked his lips.

"Only a peck?" Y/n oppa asked and pouted playfully.

I giggled at Y/n oppa's actions and this time, I gave him the true love's kiss he is talking about.

Talk about blissfulness when our lips touched. The love, passion, and warmth that we are longing everytime is present. A time where we nourish and celebrate our beautiful love.

Our lips then parted after a couple of minutes because we need air but after that kiss, Y/n oppa and I connected our foreheads and smiled at each other.

"Now that is what I call a true love's kiss," Y/n oppa said to which I smiled and leaned closer to his face again, connecting our lips again to feel the that true love's kiss.

[crepe-of-wrath]

Sand 'n Surf Shouta Saturday Scenario

Notes: 18+, fem reader, more imagine/scenario than full-fledged one shot

Imagine that you and Aizawa are on a quiet--indeed, some might say desolate--beach somewhere. It is sunny, but there is an autumnal chill in the air.

Little natural bathing pools of warm water are everywhere on this rocky coastline, and he gently leads you to one. You're nervous, because deep bodies of water scare you, but you want to do this with him. He undoes your yukata, letting it pool at your feet in the rocky sand, and you don't know if you're trembling because you're about to go into the water, because it's chilly, or because he is gently tracing over your bare shoulders and breasts with his dextrous fingers.

You begin to stare out at the expanse of water, and are only startled back into the moment when Shouta whispers, "Are you ready?" You nod and his bare chest presses into your back as he helps you take the last couple of steps into the pool.

The water feels good--warm, but not as hot as an onsen spring. There's a flat rock that serves as a perfect seat. As you turn and take in your lover's gorgeous body, apparently you lick your lips. You don't even realize it, but Shouta catches it, cocking an eyebrow and simply saying, "Patience, baby" with a level of command and confidence that you're not sure you've ever heard from him in an intimate situation.

(He's also put his hair up just how you like it. The water suddenly feels warmer.)

He joins you on the flat rock, making quite a dominant show of putting his arm around you and groaning with pleasure as he runs his hand over the curve of your hip and fondles your water-slicked breasts. A gentle little wave rolls into the pool, causing you to gasp and him to hold you even closer. As the warm water laps all the way up to your neck, Aizawa pulls you in for a deep kiss.

Something about the way your wet bodies press together is indescribably pleasurable. The taste of his skin mingled with salt, the coolness of his wet fingers--bathing with him here is the most sensual thing you've ever done.

The water transforms Shouta: your normally laconic boyfriend is far chattier than usual. "We're going to kiss and fondle each other for hours," he tells you. "Then I'll take you somewhere nice and dry, with a good fire."

"And then what?" you ask.

He doesn't answer you at first. He just pulls you into his lap, and his fingers find your center. The water dulls the sensation, but you're still writhing and making little sighs of satisfaction. Just when you've almost forgotten you even asked him a question, he kisses you again--gently this time--and says, calm as you like, "I'm going to fuck you until you can't move, of course."

[crissiebaby]

Sissy's First Date: Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: This POV story contains diaper usage, forced crossdressing, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon

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The small, two-seater boat bobbed and buckled as Becca and I boarded the vessel. Planting both feet on the creaky, wooden floor, I extended a hand back to Becca. “Why thank you, my dear, Cherry,” she said, adding a bit of snootiness to her tone for comedic effect.

Playing along, I responded, “Of course, my lady,” as I helped to lower Becca into her seat. I was happy to have our happy-go-lucky energy back. My heart fluttered as I pressed my skirt to the rear of my diaper to sit, and I wasn’t certain if it was due to the overwhelming levels of girliness, the sheer amount of squishiness, or the fact that I was cozied up with Becca in a very compact space. Though, deep down, I was pretty sure it was a bit of all three.

“Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. The use of flash photography is not permitted at any time. Thank you and enjoy the tunnel of love,” said the woman operating the ride, doing her best to sound enthusiastic after repeating the same phrase for the past several hours.

*BONK!*

The mechanism holding the boat in place unlatched, casting us off into open waters. It took no time at all for the boat to reach its gradual max speed as we were shoved along the slow-moving stream. Light receded from the mouth of the tunnel behind us whilst the growing darkness of the tunnel ahead and the slight breeze of air conditioning sprouted goosebumps up and down my forearms. The chilly air had me wanting to wrap an arm around Becca’s shoulder, both for warmth and romance. However, my plans were dashed as my date beat me to the punch, nestling me under her wing and squeezing me delicately into her torso.

A sense of fuzziness transcended upon me, overwhelming me with pure femininity. How such a simple action managed to make me feel so small and effeminate I will never understand.

Before long, the pitch-black tunnel began to illuminate as we entered the first room on our journey. Soft, ambient pop music from the 70s played overhead that paired well with the decor, which looked as though it hadn’t been updated since around the same era. Countless red and pink hearts were scattered about along the walls and strung up haphazardly, giving off the feeling that we’d been shrunken down and stuffed inside a box of conversation hearts. A minor disappointment, though I can’t say I was expecting much from a county fair attraction.

It’s not like the ride itself was where my focus was anyway. Right now, all of my attention was being dedicated to the padded beauty seated beside me. Not wanting to appear too eager, I kept my head forward, electing to use my peripheral vision to steal glances at Becca any chance I could. From her luscious lips to the way her wavy hair curled around her ear, every inch of her being was a masterpiece.

“Heh, ya know, you can do more than just look…if you want,” said Becca, drawing attention to the extended silence that had existed between us since our boat embarked. It took me a few seconds to process what she said, adding a smidge of extra blush to my face once her words finally clicked. This gave Becca even more of an opening to tease me at will. She leaned in closer, placing a hand on the top side of my thigh, “Aw, was my sweet baby hoping I’d make the first move? Hehe! You really are just a sissy baby gi-”

Suddenly, a blackness far darker than the tunnel’s entrance overtook my vision. All I could feel was a surge of electricity enveloping my lips, accompanied by a foreign, yet inexplicably pleasant plushness. It was as if my mouth was pressed against two soft, wet clouds. I let out a brief, sultry moan as I squinted my eyes open, only to be greeted by Becca’s eyes a mere inch from my own.

*Mwah!*

Pulling away, I raised my hand to my mouth, unable to shake the burning tingle that lingered from our first real kiss as a couple. I was practically in shock over my own boldness. What had I just done?! “O-Oh, my Goddess! I’m sorry! I d-don’t know what came over-” was all I got out before Becca ripped my hand away from my face and smashed her kisser into mine for a second time. The tip of her tongue stabbed at the crease of my mouth, demanding to be allowed in. I obediently parted my lips and let her have her way with me orally.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t the only way that Becca planned to have her way with me as the hand that she strategically positioned on my leg finally came into play. The tips of her fingers tickled my skin as she made her slow approach toward my soft, sensitive inner thigh. They pushed another moan out of me, this one much less restrained. I could feel my squelchy diaper molding around my ripening dick as it grew and made itself known.

“Uh oh, is that for me?” cooed Becca, her lips separating from mine as she explored the rest of my face and neck with her mouth. Meanwhile, her hands were continuing to forge their own expedition as her knuckles brushed against the underside of my nappy, taunting me with anticipation.

My entire body was radiating euphoria as we exited the floating hearts room and entered a more narrow corridor with blue-painted walls that had sparkly lights twinkling all around us. Paired alongside the slow-moving stream’s reflection, it was as if we were drifting through space together. Water rippled around the exterior of the boat with our passionate makeout session acting as an epicenter. “Mmmm! Do you hear all those yummy sloshing sounds? How’s about we make a few of those ourselves?” she said, her hand leaping off my lap and mashing itself into my pointed diaper. I would’ve screamed out in pleasure if her lips hadn’t sealed themselves to mine.

Weakened by her touch, I let my spine go lax and leaned back in my seat. Becca was now in complete control, a thought that served to multiply my arousal. This gave Becca the green light to shift herself onto my legs, causing the boat to rock tremendously. Once she got settled into place, she leaned in and whispered next to my ear, “I’d say I’ve teased you enough for today. Don’t want my baby getting all pent up, after all.”

“Mhmm,” I mumbled meekly, worried that I’d be too loud if I opened my mouth for even so much as a millisecond. Utilizing every ounce of strength I still possessed, I raised my arms around Becca and began caressing her hair. It was so incredibly soft. My fingers soon got lost in her locks, never wanting to leave such a silky oasis.

Becca, however, had bigger plans for my hands. Without warning, she grabbed onto my left wrist with her free hand and pulled my hand down to her chest. The instant my open palm made contact with her spongy tit flesh, all thoughts toward resisting vanished. “Ah! S-So soft!” I stuttered, my voice echoing around the star-filled landscape.

I was lucky to have Becca above me to press her hand to my mouth, suppressing my volume. “Shhhh! Don’t want the fun to end early, do we?” she asked, prompting me to shake my head back and forth in a flurry. This made her giggle but I didn’t care. I never wanted this to end and I didn’t care how much Becca knew that.

The starry corridor eventually came to an end, giving way to the Tunnel of Love’s final room. It was a brightly lit cityscape that was lined wall to wall with dolls that were matched up in couples. Some dolls were doing the kind of things people often do on dates such as dancing, ice skating, and eating at a fancy restaurant. But the majority of them were simply holding hands with each other. It was definitely weird and a little creepy to have so many eyes staring at us amid our heated embrace. Thankfully, it did nothing to derail the sexy fun Becca and I were having, especially now that we were in position to take our fun to the next level.

Bending her knees at my sides, Becca eased herself forward onto my lap and pressed her mooshy padding into mine with her hand coddling my cock in between. Unlike our first time humping diapers, I was only wearing two layers of padding. And while the added layers did make things a heck of a lot squishier, every diaper also dulled the external sensations considerably. This meant that I was defenseless as Becca’s soggy, mushy diaper butt mooshed into my lap while her delicate fingers diddled my nappy-swaddled dick. My reaction was nigh instantaneous.

“Ooh! Fuuuuuck!” I screamed with my tongue resting on my bottom lip as I shot hot semen into my cold water diaper. My feet shot upward and kicked the wooden plank in front of me, splashing water up between the boat and the wall of the river as we ebbed and weaved. I instinctively reached down and grabbed the side of the boat, only realizing that I’d let go of Becca a moment too late.

With one hand planted on my diaper and the other struggling to cling to the fabric of my dress, Becca had nothing to support her weight as the boat continued to bounce. She attempted to shuffle off my lap so that she could steady herself better but couldn’t manage to squeeze her arm out from between my diaper and her hips before her balance was completely lost. I attempted to save her at the last second by grabbing onto her as she fell but all she ended up doing was dragging me down with her.

“WoooOOOAH!”

*SPLASH!*

In a single, swift motion, our boat capsized, sending us both tumbling into the bed of water below. The knee-high fluid quickly swarmed around us, pouring into our diapers until they were filled to their maximum capacities and soaking each of our dresses thoroughly. I scrambled to climb to my feet, aiming to help Becca do the same. Tragically, I did not account for the increased weight of my waterlogged diaper, sending me toppling over Becca and drenching us for a second time.

Laughing in bursts between surfacings, Becca was in complete hysterics over our damp predicament. She swung her arm at the water in front of me, splashing me with a faceful of murky liquid. “And here I thought today couldn’t get any better,” she joked as she staggered to her feet, revealing her supremely sodden pulp balloon to me. Seeing her lewd body in such a swollen nappy with her clothes hugging her form was the absolute definition of beauty.

“You like what you see?” said Becca, peeking over her shoulder and catching me gawking. It was as if she could sense my gaze. Giggling at me as I nodded yes with my eyes wide as dinner plates, she extended her hand down and yanked me to my feet, “Fear not, I’ll give you plenty of time to see all that you want soon enough.” She punctuated her sentence by booping me on the nose, something that I couldn’t help but notice was turning into a habit.

Leaning in close, I could already feel my body compelling me to kiss Becca again. Her lips were just too addictive. “I can’t wait,” I said tenderly, pressing my chest and sopping diapers into hers as I stared into her entrancing eyes, “But I already see everything I want to.”

A line of red emerged across Becca’s nose and cheeks as well. I loved the way she blushed. I wouldn’t get the chance to see it for long, sadly, as she immediately moved to cover up her romantic embarrassment with a fiery kiss.

“Hey! We’ve got a boat with no passengers over here!” shouted the woman working the Tunnel of Love, her booming voice perfectly audible from outside the dolly room.

Becca and I snickered through the end of our kiss. “I think we should probably go,” I said, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before an awkward encounter with the boat behind us.

“Eh, we’re getting banned for this anyway. So just kiss me, dummy,” stated Becca, ignoring the annoyance of the worker running the ride and continuing to pound her lips into mine. All the while, the only thought that kept repeating in my mind was that I couldn’t imagine anyone having a better first date than this.

THE END.

« PREVIOUS l FIRST

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SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the Tease Tidbit Tuesday tags @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sznofthesticks @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-tk - I wasn't around to do that yesterday, so I'm taking it as a starting point for WIP Wedsnesday instead, and I tag you all back for that! 🧡

This lil smutty number is from the final chapter of Where All This Love Comes From, which will be up on Sunday and I am going to cry.

"You're so good, TK! You're so good!"

"Thank you!" TK screams back, cracking into a laugh.

"I love fucking you. I love it when you're like this. I love feeling you. I love you."

"I love you too!" TK cries, wide-eyed as he looks down between them and watches Carlos quicken his thrusts.

He bends his finger.

"TK!" Carlos booms, "I'm not going come! I’m not!"

"I think you are, baby."

"Uh, babe, you brat–" Carlos chokes.

TK is smug for three seconds until the wild jolting of Carlos coming hard inside him strikes his prostate with such hammering force he screams brokenly, ejaculates all over their stomachs, and then bursts into tears.

"Baby," Carlos says, kissing his tears away. "Was it too much?"

TK nods, catching his shaky breath. Carlos gets it, because he cries sometimes from intense internal stimulation, but TK usually doesn't.

Carlos stays inside him, runs his hand through his hair, waits.

"I just can't believe it. When I think about it all. Everything that's happened. Everything I did. I feel like I don't deserve–"

"Shh, no, no!" Carlos whispers passionately, "You deserve every good thing that's ever happened you, my dude.

TK snort-laughs in Carlos' face, his eyes shining and cheeks pink as fresh tears slip heavily down into his ears. "I hate tears in my ears," he says, cutely shaking his head.

"Sorry I didn't catch those ones." Carlos brushes his fingers over TK's face as if to dry him off. He kisses his nose. "You deserve every good thing that's ever happened to you," he repeats seriously, "My husband. Come here."

TK shifts to wrap his arms around Carlos' shoulders. Carlos lies on top of him, his face in his neck. He kisses TK where his tears have streamed, tastes salt on his lips and feels his cooling come spread between them. He doesn't care if it's a little sticky, doesn't care if ordinarily he'd have got up to get a washcloth by now. It's TK's birthday, and it's chilly, and he's crying happy-sad tears, and all Carlos needs to do is warm him through with a big, long hug – his greatest power – warming him through to soul-level – and he won't stop until he’s sure he’s done his duty.

Tags above, below, and open!

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @alrightbuckaroo @goodways @paperstorm @herefortarlos @thisbuildinghasfeelings @three-drink-amy @liminalmemories21 @ladytessa74 @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @strandnreyes @lightningboltreader @theghostofashton @orchidscript @reyesstrand @redshirt2 @whatsintheboxmh @fitzherbertssmolder @louis-ii-reyes-strand @kiwichaeng @reasonandfaithinharmony @bonheur-cafe @noxsoulmate @fallout-mars @jesuisici33 @ambiguouspenny @wandering-night19 @sugdenlovesdingle @freneticfloetry @sanjuwrites @spaghett-onaplate @never-blooms @chicgeekgirl89 @inkweedandlizards - if you want to share! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[drakendaydreams]

A/N: The month is really almost over? Jesh, I can't believe we've made it this far. Thank you to everyone that's been following this journey the entire time! Now... Kenny’s having a hard time sleeping so we’re gonna help him out. 😌 The taglist is now closed, but if you want to keep up with the posts that have already been put out or the ones that are still to come you can find the up-to-date masterlist below!

Character: Ken “Draken” Ryuguji (x fem!Reader)

Warnings: smut, fingering, 18+ content, oral sex (receiving), nicotine usage, dirty talk, offensive language (swearing), squirting, pet names (pretty girl, darling, doll, sweetheart) daddy kink, hair pulling, orgasm denial, minors dni

Word Count: 1.2k

Kinktober Masterlist

He tossed and turned as you both lay in bed, every single thing that could possibly have his head spinning was what was keeping him up. Draken needed to get some peace, needed to find some way to unwind to let him finally get that rest that he needed more than anything. The man already barely ever slept, this wasn’t helping at all. Finally, he climbed out of bed, making his way toward the sliding glass door that went to the porch. He snagged the pack of cigarettes and lighter from the counter and his way by and placed one between his lips. Maybe the nicotine would help him relax a little, help him get himself level.

Draken closed the glass door and took a drag, keeping it there for as long as he could to get the best hit possible before letting it back out. The instant burn made him take a deep breath as he tried to calm himself even more. It was chilly, the small bite from the cold air helping to bring him down to earth. There was only one other thing that ever even came close to this kind of release for him, and when just a few cigarettes he’d sit and smoke didn’t do the trick he knew what he needed to do.

He made his way back into the house and sauntered to the bedroom, the sight of your sleeping figure spreading a smile across his face. You looked so beautiful no matter what you did, you were perfect to him. The small snores that left you melted his heart as he stepped closer to the side of the bed. Draken grabbed the blanket and climbed in next to you, sliding underneath it and pulling it over his head.

You stirred a little as he moved between your legs, almost waking up but easily falling back asleep when he hesitated. Draken’s hand gripped your thigh gently and leaned down, his hand sliding between your legs. As his fingers trailed against the fabric of your panties you stirred more, a small and happy moan leaving your lips. His voice was sultry and smooth as he spoke softly. “Just keep dreaming, baby girl. You’ll wake up to a surprise quite soon.”

His fingers slid past the fabric, rubbing against your clit. Your body moved more, almost arching in your sleep as your head grew light. The quicker his fingers moved the more you came out of sleep, your eyes fluttering open as they plunged into your core. “F-fuck, Kenny.”

A devious chuckle left his lips as he watched your eyes open. “I know it’s the middle of the night, but daddy just couldn’t sleep and needs some help.” He groaned lustfully as he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. “And you always tell me to wake you up whenever I need you… now is that time darling.”

You watched his face slowly sink between your legs, gripping the blanket to throw it off of you as quickly as you could. Just the thought of not being able to see just how perfect he always looked as he sucked on your puffy clit made you whimper. The way his tongue vigorously flicked over your sensitive bud had your hand flying to his hair. You tugged harshly, his unbraided hair sinking through your fingers with ease.

The sudden pull made him snarl, pulling away from you and grabbing onto your hand to take it away. His eyes were dark and menacing as he watched you. “Aht, aht. Now did I tell you that you could touch? Because I don’t remember giving you that permission, doll.”

When your hand pulled away you felt his fingers lace with yours, pushing your wrist down into the mattress. You squeezed hard, your knuckles turning white as Draken went back to the assault on your clit. “N-no, sir.” You could barely get the words out as you felt your walls closing around his fingers.

Draken pulled his fingers away, the loss of sensation sending shockwaves through your body. He denied you of the orgasm that had threatened to take over all your senses. “It’s far too early for that, sweetheart. We’ve just barely gotten started.”

You cried out in agony as you desperately grabbed for him, trying to pull him back to you. “K-Kenny, please. I can’t-”

“You can’t what, pretty girl? Can’t handle it?” He smirked at you and grabbed your thighs, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises where his fingers were. “You can and you will, you’ll only cum when I tell you that you can.”

You nodded in agreement, knowing that there was absolutely no arguing with Ken Ryuguji. “Y-yes, daddy.”

His fingers plunged back into you, pistoning in and out of you relentlessly. The smirk that painted his features was almost as enticing as the way he used your pleasure as a way to calm himself to sleep. It took everything inside of you to keep from letting go as he used his free hand to grab a handful of your breasts.

The way your cunt pulsed around his fingers made his cock twitch against his sweatpants, his hips rutting into the mattress lightly. He needed his own release at this point, your pretty, sinful noises making him near his release more and more.

He grabbed onto the back of your leg and pushed it up farther for better access. Draken’s body pressed against the mattress even farther as he chased his high, bringing you to yours at a quick speed. His tongue lapped at your clit and his fingers fucked in and out of your velvety walls.

Draken could tell you were close, the way your pussy clenched around him over and over made his cock twitch harsher in his pants. A small wet spot was beginning to form, his grip on your thigh even tighter as he coaxed you on. Your grip on the sheets was like a vice as you tugged at them. “S’too much. Kenny. P-please. ‘M gonna- AH!.”

His eyes grew lustful again as he heard your pleads. Every pretty little sound from your lips telling him that you were trying harder than you ever had in your life Draken hummed in content and nodded slowly. “Being such a good girl for me. I think you’re ready now, aren’t you pretty girl? Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart.”

His words were all it took, the instant gratification from his agreeance had your walls letting go. You cried out his name over and over with a spew of curses right behind it. “God damn it!”

Draken groaned filthily as he felt your cunt clamp around him, his own release hitting him as he painted the inside of his sweatpants with a loud groan.

Your orgasm hit harder than it had in a very long time, your back arching as the new sensation filled your body. It swirled inside of you and a clear liquid stream appeared as your body let go, gushing all over him. His half-lidded eyes looked up at you as you finished, his tongue greedily lapping up every drop you offered him. “There you go, pretty girl. Squirt all over daddy.” Your body went limp underneath him as he climbed over you, his pussy drunk eyes watching your now fucked out state. “Nice and exhausted just for me. Looks like we’re gonna sleep nice now.”

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