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chestharrington · 5 months

Text

Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, handjob, p in v). Dubious Consent (coercion, power imbalance, failure to pull out), unhealthy/probably illegal power imbalance, stripper!reader, gator is an asshole (like extremely), degradation, misogyny, sexual assault (by a non major character), brief violence, kind of stockholm syndrome if you think about it, unhappy ending

Summary: Gator Tillman’s fixation of the week just so happens to be you, for better or worse.

A/N: If you know me personally please do not read this thank u <3

The foggy clouds of your breath were painted pink by the glow of the neon sign— The Venus Lounge— with a cute little clamshell opening and closing and everything.

You had a velour sweatsuit pulled over the skimpy costume you’d wear for your next dance, hot pink and bedazzled across the ass. It was trendy maybe fifteen years prior, so it cost just about nothing when you bought it at a bin sale.

Sweet, strawberry-scented vapor poured from your lips as you exhaled. You hated this stupid thing— you’d rather smoke a cigarette like a goddamn adult. But the owner insisted, “You ladies gotta stay smelling nice and sweet and respectable for our clientele.” Which was fucking stupid considering they came in smelling like sweat and mud and body odor.

From the alley, you could get a sneak peek of whoever was coming your way for the night— the big spenders, the handsy ones, the cheap ones… and Gator Tillman’s stupid entourage, who you avoided like the plague.

You made the mistake of getting cozy with him. Once. A few well-paid lap dances, then a private dance in one of the dimly lit back rooms. He’d been handsy, and you relished in it, in him. A handsome, powerful guy who looked at you like you were the hottest woman he’d ever seen. You sucked him off in the private room and he gave you a hundred to shut the fuck up about it. Like you were some sort of whore.

Gator. What a stupid fucking name. His dad was a grade-A cocksucker, so it made sense that he’d name his son something so goddamn stupid. The other girls were scared of Roy, with good reason. Their boyfriend get too rough? He’d brush it off— no domestic abuse charges on his watch. The man is the master of the house, and the woman is his property. One girl swore he came onto her, and she got a broken arm when she brushed him off. A lot of people thought that stepping to the Tillman’s meant winding up dead.

Fuck that.

You hadn’t wanted to wind up in this town anyway. You were married, once upon a time. You had the tattoo of his name on your hipbone, a shitty rental house in West Texas, and a wedding band he bought from a pawn shop. He found a job up north, and you followed like an obedient puppy.

It wasn’t your fault he’d racked up gambling debts— that he owed the wrong people money he didn’t have. And it wasn’t your fault that he was fucking a waitress at the local diner— thin, blonde, perky. The divorce was settled quickly— but you were left penniless, in bumfuck North Dakota, in Tillman territory.

Well, it was a good thing you still had your looks.

You saw the police cruiser pull into the lot, heard the slam of the car door and the mindless chatter between the valiant boys in blue. Those assholes did about as much for the city as a tick does for a dog. Your phone buzzed against your hip, warning you that your break was up. You took one more puff from your vape and slipped back in the door to the dressing room.

You warned everyone that Gator and his boys were out there as you slipped out of your jogging suit and adjusted your dancewear beneath— a baby blue bikini set that you’d bedazzled by hand. You slipped a sheer skirt overtop and surveyed yourself in the mirror. There was still a flush on your cheeks from being out in the cold, but it would be fine.

You slipped out onto the floor, passing by crowded tables. It was busy, even for a Saturday, which meant more money to take home. A hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it in a meaty paw. It was some drunk old guy who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore but had maintained his pervy inclinations. You bit your cheek to keep from saying anything and kept making your rounds.

“You want a dance?” You’d ask the safe guys— the ones who looked nervous to be there, whose eyes kept flitting around like they’d get caught any moment. Their button-ups were ironed, their slacks pressed. Usually, they had a nice fountain pen in their pocket. Clerks, CPAs, any of those nerdy desk jobs.

Most of the time they declined, too nervous to go that far, but occasionally you’d get a yes, do a bit of grinding, and walk away with a nice tip.

You’d done a few lap dances by the time you passed by Gator and his crew. Your money was tucked into the band at your hip, concealing your ex-husband’s name.

He called you like a dog– whistling low. You froze, and turned to face him, all smug and pleased with himself.

“You need somethin’, Deputy?” You asked, jaw clenched, raising a brow. “Because if you do, you can ask like a gentleman. I’m a lady, not a dog.”

He laughed, glancing back at his pack of asshole cops to make sure they saw the next part. “Really? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re actin’ like a bitch.” They all laughed, because of course they did. They thought he was so, so clever. Before you could respond, he held up a fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “C’mere, girl. I want a dance.”

Your eyes flicked between him and the fifty between his fingers. You were broke, but was it worth it? He saw your hesitation and his smug grin grew. “Aw, you need it that bad, huh?” He patted his thigh twice. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve said no, and walked away with their dignity intact, but he was right— you needed it bad.

So you approached and tried to pluck the money from his hand, but he pulled it away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Gotta earn it first.”

You huffed in disbelief, taking a step back. But meeting his gaze told you how serious he was. You swallowed your pride and straddled his lap, grinding to the beat.

It felt degrading, dancing on him while his friends all leered. Your tits pressed against Gator’s shirt, his hands firm on your hips, even though he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch. If you called him out on it, he’d probably just say it was nothing he hadn’t done before.

It could’ve been one song, or maybe more. Probably more. When he finally removed his hands, he nodded for you to get off. You swallowed uncomfortably and took a few awkward steps back.

“The money,” you said weakly.

His face scrunched slightly, like he was considering it. “Eh… I don’t think you earned it, Sweetheart. I mean, I’m not even hard.”

He got a real kick out of that, and out of the kicked puppy look in your eyes. You swallowed it down like a bitter pill and met his gaze. “It’s not my fault that all the blow you do is killing your dick. Keep your fuckin’ money, Gator. I don’t want it.”

Which was a lie. You wanted it more than anything… but you knew you’d pissed him off. You could see the vein popping at his temple, the way his hand clenched around his beer bottle. Better to pretend you were better off without it and walk off with some dignity left.

It took about three steps to realize that there was a little less pressure on your hip than there used to be. Your hand felt along the band of the bikini and came up blank. He’d taken your fucking money.

You heard him giggling behind you once he knew you realized, but what was the point? Who would you call to get it back? The police?

By the end of the night, you counted your meager earnings and tucked it away in your bag. Without your dancewear and the makeup and the heels, you could pass for the average citizen of Stark County.

You bundled up in a parka before you walked to your car, a shitty, beat-up car nearly older than you were. One of the side mirrors was ripped off, and the bumper was caved in, but she ran.

Tucked into the windshield was a tiny note, in a messy, nearly illegible scrawl— Impress me next time. You crumpled it and tossed it onto the asphalt.

You saw him again on Monday. The club was closed on Sunday, due to an ordinance that Roy Tillman had put in place about businesses of ill repute operating on the holy day. You wondered what he thought about his son bankrolling the lives of half of the strippers who worked at the club.

He was alone, though, which scared and comforted you in equal measure. You watched him from afar, sitting at the bar, drinking a White Claw and puffing on that stupid fucking vape.

There was a girl in his lap, one of the newer dancers who didn’t know better. Whatever. She’d figure him out soon enough.

Mondays were slow. You did a few dances onstage, made the rounds, flirted with some of the regulars. Gator was blissfully elsewhere, which you loved.

The night had been pretty tame until just before last call, when an overserved realtor got loud and handsy.

“C’mon, why don't you take me back to one of those rooms without the cameras?” One asked as you gave him a half-hearted lap dance. His breath was like a punch bowl at a senior prom, and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass.

You winced as he pulled you harder against him, and you felt the uncomfortable prod of his dick against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was grinding up against you, sweaty at his temples and forehead. He was deceptively strong, holding you down against him so he could rut against you and get off. “Ya know, the private rooms for the big tippers. Better than all this over the clothes stuff.”

“You need to stop,” you said, as firmly as you could, shoving at his chest to really get your point across. He didn’t let up, and gave you a smarmy grin as he began roughly moving your hips of his own accord. “Hey, stop it, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re the one offerin’ me a dance,” he said. “I sold a nice big house today, got a real good commission. I could tip ya real good if you’re nice.”

“Let me go!” You shoved at his chest, slapping at him, but he just grinned. You were just wondering if biting his ear off would do the trick when you felt yourself pulled off him and tossed aside on the floor like a rag doll.

Then there was the soft sound of blows landing against a stomach. Then the crunch of a broken nose. The wheezy rattle of the realtor’s breath once he started spitting up blood and teeth. Each punch made you flinch until finally, it relented.

“Should’ve let her go, asshole.” Gator’s knuckles were bloodied, and you realized he was holding out a hand to help you up. You took it, nervously, and readjusted your costume where the realtor had tugged at them. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine but is— I mean, is he gonna be okay?”

Gator’s brows furrowed as he spared a glance toward the bloodied pile of meat on the floor. He spat in his direction and shrugged. “Who fuckin’ cares? Goddamn lowlife.”

You wondered if he could sense the irony. His face lit up in recognition, then he knelt beside the realtor, patting him down, searching for something. He stood and held up a fancy, monogrammed leather wallet.

He sifted through, retrieving bill after bill. “Here. Y’earned it.” It was more cash than you brought home in a week. More cash than anyone should carry on themselves at once.

“I’m not taking that,” you said weakly. “I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking the money in your bra. “Such a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Can’t even say thank you or nothin’.”

He left you standing there over the broken body of the asshole realtor, who may or may not have been dying. Either way, you figured the Tillman’s would handle it. For better or worse.

“I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” you argued, which was a lie. And it’s not like anyone would listen even if it wasn’t. Police are on their way, they said. They’ll deal with thieving filth like you.

Well… they didn’t have to get quite so personal. You sat outside the Manager’s office at the stupid fucking sex shop, picking at your cuticles until you heard the police cruiser roll up outside. You heard the door slam, and muffled chatter until you saw him walk in.

“Well… look who got herself into some trouble. And here of all places too.”

Fuck. Gator Fucking Tillman.

You glanced up at him for a moment before returning to your nails. The shop owner was talking the deputy’s fucking ear off until you heard the question you dreaded.

“What is it she was tryin’ to steal? I mean… there’s a lot to choose from, I’ll tell ya that.”

You watched with a thin sense of dread as the shop owner laid out your would-be haul of lingerie that had been stuffed into your purse. Gator grinned as he glanced over at you, then back at the lingerie.

“Can I have the office? I need some privacy to interrogate the perp.” The manager complied, bending to the will of the law or whatever. Gator grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

You watched as he strode towards the nice armchair behind the desk, then sat down, legs spread wide. He unzipped the stupid police vest and shrugged it off, so it landed in a pile on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet as you stared at him dumbly, then he snapped his fingers.

“What? You want me to tell you why did it? Three fucking guesses.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I want you to try it on.”

You swallowed, and when you spoke your tongue felt dumb and heavy. “What?”

“You heard me. Try it all on, and tell me if it was worth the trouble.” He looked at you expectantly, and when you didn’t move, he sighed. “It’s this, or I take you to the station, get you booked, and all that. I doubt anyone’s gonna pay your bail, so that’s a few days before arraignment. Then it’s a court case for larceny, and let’s be honest, you’re guilty.”

You stared at him, speechless. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his things before you interrupted— “Wait! Wait. Just… sit back down.”

He grinned. “There’s a good girl. Make it good for me, yeah? You know how.”

You huffed, heart pounding as you grabbed the first set and turned around to change. You had just pulled off your shirt when he cleared his throat behind you. Your hands shook as you turned around, barely covering your tits.

“C’mon, I said to make it good, Sweetheart,” he said with a thinly veiled sense of amusement. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The fucking asshole. But you took a breath and steadied yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything.

His gaze was intense, tracing each curve and dip of your body as you moved. You slipped the bra on, clipping it shut with shaking hands.

“Alright, now you can turn around,” he said, nodding towards the panties in your hand. “And do it nice and slow for me.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as you turned around, working the buttons of your skirt so you could slip it down your legs. It fell into a pile around your ankles and fanned out like a flower. You hooked your thumbs into the panties you were wearing, pink with little flowers spotting the fabric. As slowly as you could manage while terrified and pissed, you slipped them down your legs.

When you spared a glance at Gator, he was smirking right back at you. “Give those here,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly.

“What?”

“Geez, you’re fuckin’ dumb. Lemme see ‘em.” He more or less snatched the panties from your grip, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he held them up. “Might have to keep ‘em. Evidence.”

You swallowed down your annoyance and pulled the lacy panties up your legs. When you were finished, you turned, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Shockingly, he was quiet as he looked at you, eyes raking over your tits, and every bare piece of skin he could see. It felt like you stood there under his gaze for hours before he finally spoke up.

“It’s not doin’ much for ya, sweetheart. I mean, you don’t look very fuckable.”

It landed like a blow to your gut. He was an asshole, so it should’ve meant nothing… but he knew exactly where your soft spots were, and just how hard to dig his fingers in. “Fuck you, Gator.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, patronizing and smug. “So fuckin’ sensitive, huh? Can’t take a joke. C’mere, lemme see you.” He grabbed your wrist in the tightly packed office and tugged you forward, so you practically stumbled on top of him.

You flinched as his hand moved up the back of your thigh, warm and calloused. When he gave your ass a rough squeeze, you closed your eyes and shivered.

“Ya know, I saw your husband the other day.” His finger traced along the name on your hip— Jack. Every loop and whorl of the cursive claimed by his touch. “Looked real happy with that girl of his. Sarah, right? The waitress he was fuckin’ behind your back?”

You swallowed hard and said nothing, but he was more than happy to keep running his mouth. “Well, she’s not special. I’ve fucked Sarah too, and she just laid there like a dead fish the whole time.”

“Maybe you just weren’t that good.” You smirked as you replied, unable to resist being a bit of an asshole right back.

“You gettin’ smart right now?” He gave your ass a quick slap, making you squeak. “I was trying to give you a compliment, but you don’t fuckin’ deserve it. You’re so fuckin’ used up that you don’t even know what good is.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you think that. It’s easy to blame it on the girl when you can’t make ‘em cum, right?”

His jaw clenched, anger painting his features. “Wouldn’t you fuckin’ like to know, huh?” He caught sight of the smirk on your face and shoved you back. “Put on the next one.”

Fucking dickhead. You rolled your eyes and quickly stripped off the lingerie, throwing it in his general direction once it was off. You weren’t as graceful in dressing in the next set. Why give him a show and let him win? Once it was on, you crossed your arms and looked at him expectantly.

“Well?”

He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I like it better than the first, but I don’t think your heart’s quite in it. Gimme a twirl.”

You gave a slow turn, then met his gaze again, raising a brow. He ran a hand over his mouth, looking you up and down. You caught the slightest movement as he spread his legs a little wider. It only served to highlight the bulge in the front of his stupid fucking cargos.

“You’re really enjoyin’ yourself, huh?” You snapped, eyes narrowed. He laughed, following your gaze to his lap.

“Well,” he began, lazily moving a hand to cup his growing hard-on. “I could always find a way to enjoy myself more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You ignored him and began trying on the last set you’d attempted to steal. A bright red set, skimpier than the others, which you were sure he fucking loved. Before he could ask, you gave a slow twirl.

“Atta girl,” he cooed. He was blatantly stroking himself over the fabric, eyes half-lidded. You swallowed hard, watching the sight before you. It was like something out of a bad porno. Or a really good one. Jury was out. He patted his thigh, nodding you over. “C’mere, I won’t bite.”

A moment of hesitation passed through you, wondering if this was really what you wanted. It was like you could hear his voice in your head, asking if you could do any better. You sighed and slowly settled onto his lap. He looked at you with a funny sort of expression— not so much that he was smug, just… a bit pleased.

“You gonna give me a dance?” His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tapping erratically. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t pay the other night?” You scowled. “I mean, I think you owe me now. I paid ya back a hundred times over thanks to Mr. Realtor from the other day.”

You stayed silent and still, looking anywhere but his face. He took your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him, so close you could taste the fruit flavor from that goddamn vape on his breath.

“Remember how turned on you got just from havin’ my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly. “I still remember the way you had to slip a hand between your legs to play with yourself.”

You made a weak sound in the back of your throat as you remembered it— that desperate, all-consuming need. Maybe it’s because he was an asshole, or maybe it was all of the authority. Maybe that’s why you shoplifted anyway. Because you knew he’d be the one to show up.

“You ever been with someone as big as me before?”

You shivered. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his lips. “Since?” You just shook your head. “Betcha been dreamin’ about it too. Stuffin’ that greedy little pussy full of your fingers whenever you think about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite deny it. It wasn’t a frequent fantasy, but it was there. “You’re a real narcissist. You know that?”

He grinned. “That’s not a no, is it?” He leaned in closer, nuzzling against your throat, his breath hot. “Bet if I slipped my hand inside those panties, they’d be fuckin’ soaked.”

And despite your better judgment, you fucking whimpered. All but confirming it.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he cooed. His hand found purchase on the small of your back, and when he applied the smallest bit of pressure, you found yourself giving in. Slowly, your hips ground against his, making a soft sigh escape your lips each time your cunt met his clothed dick.

“Want me to find some music?” He asked with a boyish grin. “I bet I have Pony somewhere on my phone.”

You shook your head before he could even try to grab it. “I’ll kill you if you even try.” He laughed, just a bit. It was rare to hear him laugh and have it not be at your, or anyone else’s expense.

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your waist, just at your ribcage. The tips of his fingers brushed against your tits, and he smiled.

“Takin’ charge now, are ya? You could’ve just put ‘em right here.” He moved his hands up, cupping your breasts in his large hands. You moaned softly as he gave a slight squeeze, arching into his touch. “ See? That’s much better, huh? Just take what you need, baby. I’ll give it right to ya.”

Take what you need? You could do that. You moved your hands along his chest, fighting the urge to just tear off his shirt and reveal the white tank top you knew he always wore beneath. Instead, you slipped your hands to his goddamn cargos and made quick work of the button and zipper.

He sat back and watched as you spit into your palm, his eyes hazy with arousal. You slipped your hand inside his pants and slipped beneath the band of his plaid boxers. A low groan escaped his lips when you wrapped your hand around him and squeezed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that.” His head fell back, leaving the plane of his neck for the taking. Your lips pressed against the skin there, leaving a mixture of soft kisses and bites as you worked him in your hand.

Gator’s stamina was absolute dogshit. You could tell when he was close from the way he’d pulse in your hand and whimper like a fuckin’ girl. You’d just have to squeeze him at his base to stave it off, give him a few seconds to cool off before you kept going.

“You want me?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“So fuckin’ bad.” He was bucking up into your fist, chasing the sweet pleasure of your soft hand around him.

A smile spread across your lips. “Then earn it.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze as you removed your hand from him.

He sat there, panting and staring dumbly as you sat atop the desk and spread your legs invitingly. “C’mon, Gator. You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

He huffed with annoyance as he stood, towering over you as he pulled off his shirt to reveal that fucking tank top. He leaned down just slightly, so his arms were caging you in. “I’ll fuckin’ earn it, alright. I’m gonna own this pussy by the time I’m through.”

He knelt between your legs, kissing his way up your thighs. You cried out as his teeth dug into the plush skin, leaving an indentation that would probably turn purple the next day.

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down.

He was quick to drag his fingers through your slit, coating them in your arousal. The wet sounds of him playing with you, spreading you open for him, made your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I’m an asshole, but you clearly fuckin’ like it, huh?” He said, holding up his fingers, glistening with your juices, as proof. His smirk made annoyance and arousal bubble up within you, tangling in an utterly infuriating way. “Relax for me, yeah? Gonna stretch you out, make you feel real good.”

You moaned softly as his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the idea of being full. A gentleman would start off slow, work you up to two fingers gradually. Gator Tillman wasn’t a fucking gentleman, but you didn’t care.

“Shhh… open up for me,” He said, speaking not to you, but to your cunt. “That’s it, atta girl.” A low whimper escaped you as his fingers pressed inside, thick and stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, needing him deeper, more, more.

“Jesus Christ, Gator,” His fingers flexed at just the right spot, making you cry out desperately. He grinned, then pressed a kiss to your thigh as he began fucking you with his fingers, acutely aware that the slightest twitch of his fingers could make you fucking sing for him.

It’s a funny thing he does with his fingers— not quite jackhammering them in and out like most of the other guys you’d been with but not exactly too far away. And you were fucking whining for it, your hips canting against his fingers until he finally had to throw his arm across your pelvis to just, in his words, keep you fuckin’ still.

It felt good, but you were also very aware that he was purposefully, or, worse, unknowingly avoiding your clit. The more you considered it, the more convinced you were that it was the latter. He was homeschooled, apparently, by his religious nut father, which meant his sex ed was probably just porn, and not even the decent kind.

You squirmed slightly. “Gator—”

“’M busy.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. I mean, sure, he was good with his hands, but you would also appreciate that skill applied elsewhere. Whatever, you weren’t helpless.

His eyes narrowed as you moved a hand between your legs, circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your head fell back as a string of moans escaped your lips. That’s what you needed.

“God, you’re desperate,” he muttered, but he didn’t bother to redirect your hands. “I coulda done that.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t already so close, the pressure and attention to your clit exactly what you needed to fall over the edge.

“I feel you squeezin’ my fingers,” he said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Wanna cum that bad, huh? Can’t even take what I give ya? Are you that fuckin’ needy?” When you didn’t think to answer, he leaned over and bit your thigh again. Harder.

“Fuck!” You shouted, annoyed that you’d have a second set of bruises to cover. But your annoyance melted right back into the siren call of pleasure.

Moans tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to answer. “Yes, I’m that needy,” You gasped as his fingers moved deeper, harder with every thrust in. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, making your legs twitch on either side of Gator’s shoulders.

He let you teeter there on the precipice for a little longer, until you were sure you were going to tumble straight into sweet ecstasy. So close you could taste it, sweet and heady on the back of your tongue.

And like that, Gator pulled away, slipping his fingers from your cunt and leaving you wanting. You sat there, panting and frustrated as he wiped his fingers off on your thigh. “Too fuckin’ bad. Bend over.”

He slapped the side of your thigh as he stood and looked down at you expectantly. Your legs wobbled as you stood in what little room he provided you, tits brushing against his chest for just a moment as you turned and bent over the desk.

“Isn’t this a pretty sight?” He grabbed your ass, kneading the plush skin roughly before landing a rough smack. You winced at the sting as you spared a glance over your shoulder. He landed another slap on the opposite cheek, then spread you apart with his thumbs. “You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, you know that?”

He was quick to free his cock from the confines of his cargos and boxers. Over your shoulder, you could see the heap of clothes he’d made on the floor. In the back of your mind, you noted the very careless way he treated the gun in his thigh holster, but said nothing. It was hard to focus on improper gun handling when he had his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re gonna pull out, right?” You asked, chewing your lip as you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, the tip of his cock notched right at your entrance, making you arch against him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. I’m not stupid, I’ll pull out.”

The prettiest groan escaped him as he rocked against your cunt, coating himself in your dripping arousal before the head of his cock nudged at your entrance.

“You want me?” He asked, his breath coming in pants. Your body felt like a fucking live wire, hyperaware of the feeling of him, just barely outside of where you craved him.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. I want you. So bad, Gator.”

He sank into you, nice and slow, so he could relish in the warm, soft feeling of your walls around him. A sappier man would’ve said it felt like heaven. Gator wasn’t sappy.

“Goddamn, you’ve got the tightest fuckin’ pussy,” He managed once he’d bottomed out, every inch of him fully sheathed inside. “Forget what I said about you bein’ used up.”

What a gentleman. You whined softly, pushing back against him to silently beg for more. He put a hand on the small of your back and pushed down so your back arched even more. Then he fucked you in earnest.

The noises you made should’ve been illegal— some form of indecency or something. Loud and whiny, desperate for more. Your nails scratched at the laminate of the desk, seeking something, anything to hold onto for purchase as he fucked you within an inch of your life.

He was so big you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your stomach, even though you knew physically that was impossible. Each thrust punched out a keening moan from your lips, a swear, a breathy whine, or just his stupid fucking name over and over again.

He reached a hand beneath you, so his rough fingers could play with your clit. “This is what you wanted so bad, yeah?” He asked, voice breathy as he quickly rubbed your clit. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Gator.” You were practically babbling. Thank you thank you thank you.

Over your shoulder, you watched him using your body, chasing his high. Every slap of your ass was for his own gratification, just to see it jiggle. He was only rubbing your clit so he could feel you squeeze him even tighter.

You didn’t care. You fucking loved it. Even as he manhandled you, lifting your thigh and placing it on the desk so he could fuck you deeper, you just laid there and took it like a fucking champ.

“Woulda fucked you sooner if I knew it’d be this good.” His voice wavered slightly with the effort it took to maintain the relentless pace he had set. He slapped your ass hard, making you yelp and clench around him.

What you’d said earlier was right— you were needy. You rocked back against him, meeting him with each thrust. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass with each thrust were nearly as pornographic as both of your moans.

Gator didn’t shut up most of the time, but when he was buried inside of you he could mostly only manage pretty moans.

“F-fuck, sweetheart. You’re… you’re really workin’ for it, huh?” His words were interrupted by low moans and grunts. “C’mon. Give it to me.”

He let you do most of the work, rocking back against him, making you fuck yourself on his cock. And he looked fucking smug about it too.

The switch snapped suddenly when he grabbed your hips and fucked you without abandon, skin slapping against skin as he roughly bullied himself inside of you again and again.

“That’s it. Just lay there and take it, sweetheart.” His voice was breathy and strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fuck! That’s it. Just like that.”

He came suddenly, thrusting deep and hard as he spilled within you. It annoyed you that he looked pretty when he came— his mouth ajar, eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling just slightly.

And then you were annoyed because he fucking lied. He pulled out after he had ridden the aftershocks with a few shallow thrusts and quickly redressed.

“You didn’t pull out,” you said, your voice was strained with annoyance and anger as you looked back at him. He was getting dressed, making sure he looked alright. He didn’t even care to get you off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered by it all. But you saw the annoyed tick in his jaw, the anger beneath it. Like a rattlesnake all coiled up, ready to strike if you made the wrong move. You were never on equal terms. You were no better than prey. And you should have known better, right?

Annoying, hot tears welled on your lashline, and you prayed to any higher power that he wouldn’t notice as you wiped at your eyes. You stood, doing your best to redress in silence, doing your best to remain small. He slapped a fifty on the desk and you flinched. “Buy some Plan B if you’re that fuckin’ worried about it. Jesus Christ.” He paused as he reached the door. “I’ll tell the manager we got it all sorted out. Isn’t that good enough for ya?”

You stood there, unsatisfied and used, with his cum leaking out of you, and stayed silent. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t anything at all.

You walked out with fifty dollars, streaked mascara, three sets of lingerie you’d throw in the trash, and a newfound desire to get the fuck out of Stark County. And, maybe, some misplaced hope that next time might be different.

#it's here it's finally here #gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #anyways if you read this pls like and leave a comment idgaf if you reblog truly just wanna know if u enjoyed <3

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tojigasm · 1 year

Text

Roots

Authors note: love this one very much and have fallen in love with truckdriver!toji, all thanks to @tojipie <33 I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, creampie, pet names, smoking, toji vapes, angst, fluff

"And that's how i'm gonna go about–" he pauses to ruffle his hair before meeting your eyes in a warm smile. "You're so pretty," he strokes his thumb over your chin softly.

Smiling, you pull his E-cig out of his lap.

"Why, thankyou." You simmer, hiding the piece between your thighs.

"Hey," Toji laughs, reaching to grab the e-cig back into his lap.

"Lemme finish this one, m'kay?" He sucks his teeth before his plush lips pull back into a sheepish smile.

You deadpan, "I'm not amused." You grab the vape and fall back into the couch. "Besides," you lick a stripe up your lollipop, "thought you wanted to quit."

Silver eyes drop to your thighs, tracing your hiked up shorts that've risen up some, revealing the pink lace of your panties.

"I did." He answers blankly, eyes still trained to your soft legs.

"Excuse me?"

"Do," he corrects himself and quickly looks up to meet your eyes, "I do."

You both watch one another for a moment, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing.

Clicking your cheek, you nod, "m'kay," you shrug lightly, plush lips kissing the sticky candy.

"Fuck do you mean 'm'kay'?" Toji takes a puff of the e-cig and a cloud of mint pillows from his lips, "c'mon, kid. Don't be a hard ass." He groans, dropping his head to the back of the couch.

Rolling your eyes, you crawl over to plop yourself into his lap, thighs on either side of his own.

Soft fingers thread and pull at the thick tufts of raven at the base of his neck, twirling the thick strands of hair around your digits as he shifts beneath you.

The hot bulge of his cock is thick and runs along the button of your clit through your panties and shorts.

Toji inhales sharply, a sift hiss falling from his lips as both hands run up either one of your thighs to cup the flesh of your ass.

"Gotta get back on the road again soon," he sighs, tilting your hand to lick a stripe up your lollipop before dropping his hand down to your hip.

You understand. Life is not something Toji finds easily. You've never known him to grow roots or to seed himself deep into one place and make memories before moving on. He's been this way.

"Gonna take me with you this time?" There's a light hope to your voice, optimistic though you already know the answer will be a definite 'no.'

Toji takes another hit, blowing the smoke to the side of you.

Whisky streams of cloud trickle through his hair before thinning out into the air.

The window is open, and a soft light speckles the tile floor. Trickling in past the tree that sits right next to the outside wall of the living room. The tree that you've asked toji to cut many a time. The tree you climb to watch his truck round the curve of your street. The tree whose roots have reached out of the ground, thick and covered in moss. The tree whose leaves grow and die and never trim. The tree Toji refuses to cut down.

"Kid," Toji's voice breaks you out of your trance.

You hum.

He doesn't say anything, eyeing you some before continuing.

"I just," he pinches the bridge of his nose, "you know how i feel about you out on the road. Can't keep an eye on you sometimes, y'know? Just don't like it."

Shifting your hips some, you nod solemnly, taking the cherry sucker into your mouth again.

"Hey," Toji tilts your chin, pulling the loli from your lips with a sharp 'pop' before taking it into his own mouth. "M'not punishing you," he drops the sucker onto the coffee table.

"Hey," he calls gently, "look at me."

Fresh tears threaten to dress your lashes and slip over your soft cheeks. You nod hesitantly.

Toji notices the tears. Even if he hadn't, He knows you well enough.

He clicks his tongue and sighs before shuffling down the couch by his hips some taking you to his chest.

"Honey," he strokes a hand up your back, and you whimper, "just want ya' to be okay. Okay?"

You nod against his shoulder, whispering a soft 'okay' before he's cupping both of your cheeks and bringing you into a soft kiss.

The bulk of his thighs spread beneath you and forces your cunt to rub against the bulge of his cock.

Hissing, Toji's hands work fast to help push your shorts off and out of the way to pull your panties to the side.

Rough fingers circle your clit softly and massage up and down your slicked folds. His digits press and run along your velvet walls, curling and circling as you mewl.

"Let me take care of you."

—

You hang to him in a sopping mess, arms chilled and tears bubbling over your cheeks as he fills you, stretching you open.

"Fuck," you sob, whining when Toji's hands knead into the plush of your ass. "You're so big," you gasp and Toji groans, "feel so full, oh my god."

Toji fucking moans — hips rutting up at your sobs before he's grouping you in his arms to flip the two of you over.

You lie on your back as he mounts you. Thick and built thighs on either side of your plush ones and heavy balls pressed up against you soaked folds.

You shiver at the angle, girthy length pulling up and down against your gummy walls.

The angle deepens the heat of your orgasm as it ripples through you. Soft legs tremble, and your breath catches in your throat in a shrieked whine.

"There you go," toji preens, kissing your forehead as he continues to thrust deeper into you. A vulgar 'pap, pap, pap' echoes throughout the room.

"God," he groans into your shoulder, biceps pulsing and black tufts of hair stuck to his cheeks and temples.

"Feels so good, daddy!" You sob, arms tremble around his neck, they slip to hold at his thick arms. "Can't—" You cry as pressure builds in your heat.

"Yes, you can." Toji nods, hips grinding into you and balls heavy against your cunt. "C'mon, kid." He pumps into you a couple more times, bulky thighs trembling against your soft ones.

"Shit, m'gonna cum," he warns before he's filling you with a guttural groan, "oh fuck, shit, shit." He hisses, pumping himself deeper into your heat.

The two of you rest for a moment before he's pulling himself from your cunt to fall onto the couch beside you, gathering you in his lap as he does so.

You pant into the soft of his chest, shivering at his warmth.

"Know I'll be back soon," he mumbles through heavied pants. "Sooner than you can say dash."

"Dash," you mumble tearfully, curling into yourself.

Toji pinches your side, sighing when you shy away from him.

Toji's set to leave early in the morning. You know the house will smell of coffee and toast, and you'll find imprints of his work boots over the carpet you vacuumed only a few days ago and he'll leave a wad of cash for you on the counter — he's never explained that part. You often find yourself curating ideas of what his intent may be; guilt, just a gift, maybe just a 'thank you.' Each one doesn't align with him.

"C'mon, let's get some food in ya'." Toji strokes a hand down your back, gently bringing you back to your wet cheeks and shakey limbs.

You nod, sitting up to let him pull up his boxers before making his way to the kitchen.

Sounds from stove and sink fill the room. You can't find yourself to leave the couch, eyes stuck on that willowing tree, and it's leafs and its roots that break away the soft mossy ground and crawl, dragging themselves while all at the same time forgetting what they're attached to.

"C'mere, hon." Toji calls to you.

You take a moment.

"M'coming."

#toji fushiguro #toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fluff

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nololginny · 1 month

Text

a little butthurt

summary: rafe cameron decides to go out with toppers sister, who turns out to be a complete freak even after 2 years of dating each other, he will never get over her oddness.

You sit on your bed, trying to find a cute tiktok trend for you and rafe to do, well against his will of course. you pick up your mango geek bar, taking a puff and suddenly hearing commotion coming from downstairs. You pick up your vape and phone, and head towards the noise. You go down to see that Kelce, Topper, Sarah, and Rafe are arguing about some music artist. You take in notice that rafe has his black compression shirt on ,with your favorite grey sweatpants of his. You notice how nice his ass looks in them. You smile to yourself, going up to creep on your boyfriend.

You go up behind him, raising your hand and smacking his butt so hard that the slap echos. Your boyfriend jumps at the action, screaming an "ow holy fuck, before turning around to see his girlfriend smiling at him. "Hi baby" you innocently say, giving him the warmest smile. He looks so mad "Babe what the fuck, that fucking hurt" he replies, trying to hide the smile that almost snuck onto his face. "Oh come on you big cry baby, let me take care of it" You smirk, taking his hand and dragging him upstairs. "damn i wish i had game like that" Kelce implies, watching his best friend and other best friends sister go upstairs.

"Seriously Tay that hurt so bad, you know how weird you are" he says, rolling your eyes because he has said that every day for the past 1000 times you have been together. "i think someone is a little TOO butt hurt about this" you laugh at your own joke, as your boyfriend sits there, with a straight face. 'i think my ass is bleeding" he states, pulling down his pants and boxers to see his ass up close in the mirror. "now that is a sight i like to see GYATT" you yell. "You need help and what the fuck is a gyatt" he replies, still looking at himself in the mirror. "Its all that cake you got baby, i just wanna squeeze it every time i see it".

"what the fuck are you on about right now" he turns to look at you, you just laugh, taking out your geek bar and putting it up to your boyfriends mouth. Despise his confusion about your comments, he takes a deep puff, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. He takes off his clothes, and heads to the bathroom. "I need to take an ice bath or something, this 'cake' is on fire" he states. you giggle, running up quickly to give his ass another smack, he yells in pain as you run out the door, laughing down the stairs.

"What the hell is going on up there" Sarah asks, seeing you run down the stairs abruptly, with Topper and Kelce turning around to see who Sarah was talking too. You were about to answer when you hear a yell from upstairs "TAYLOR GET THE FUCK UP HERE I THINK MY ASS IS GONNA FALL OFF" your boyfriend yells. Sarah and everyone stops before crawling on the ground in laughter. "please dont let him get me guys" you laugh, hiding behind the couch. Toppers phone is ringing, and he answers it. "yea bro" he struggles trying not to laugh. "you better get my girlfriend up these fucking stairs before i come down there ass naked and fuck all of you up"

Topper laughs even harder, him and Sarah grabbing onto each other, on the literal verge of tears. "NO GUYS DONT LET HIM GET ME PLEASE" you yell but also are laughing so hard. "oh my god Taylor you have to go rafe is not bluffing he will come down here" sarah says, wiping her tears from her now red face. "Topper your coming with me" you reply. "WHAT, WHY ME?" he yells back. "Your the second strongest doofus, come on i need protection from this scary man i call my boyfriend' you reply back, he sighs and follows you.

You make it up the stairs, pausing before the doorway into Rafes room. "heyy Baby i was just uh joking no need to do anything back okay?" you ask nervously. You open the door. "i hate you' he says with the now ice pack from his mini fridge on his ass, laying down on his bed. As topper walks in, he cant stand the sight and laughs on the ground. "HOLY SHIT IM TAKING A PHOTO" topper hoots, going to get his phone. "Topper you get that phone i am going to get that pretty gun in my drawer and shoot your head off" he says calmly. " Aw baby, im so sorry" You laugh, going up to him and rubbing his forehead.

"Taylor i cant feel my ass, you broke my ass." he says, topper tries very hard not to laugh. "aw its okay rafey, toppy will take care of you" he says, patting Rafes back. "babe, get the fucking gun". topper ignore him, and pokes the left side of his ass. "did you feel that" he asks. "feel what?". "on your ass" topper replies. "DUDE DID YOU TOUCH MY ASS, WHAT THE FUCK. "its lowkey fatter than sarahs" Topper states. "Actually thank you for that Top, its not that hard since shes built like a man, now get the fuck out" he yells, topper just scoots up slowly, leaving the room. Lets just say, after this rafe was always covering his ass around Taylor

#rafe cameron x y/n #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader

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jjsfavgirl · 4 months

Text

Pink tulips

.・゜゜・・゜゜・． ౨ৎ ・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Summary: JJ Maybank buying his coquette girlfriend pink tulips just because.

Warnings: pet names and very fluffy and sweet jay<3

JJ had scrambled up as much spare change from his pockets to buy you your favourite flowers, pink tulips.

Taking a puff of his vape, he entered the shop, the bell rung through his ears as he looked around the shop, he felt like an emo at a Taylor swift concert. He was so out of place in the bright pink, calm shop with a strong flower scent that filled his tan nose.

He looked around clueless, he’s never had a real girlfriend before he met you. He’d only had summer flings and hookups. But now he had to figure out how to be the perfect material boyfriend for his new bow-loving sweet heart girlfriend.

He bit his thin nails nervously as his beaten boots shuffled across the white wooden palled floors, his hands tucked into his dirtied cargo shorts nervously as he looked around.

Red roses. No.

Pink roses. No.

Daisies. No

“Need any help, sir?” An elderly woman approached him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, kinda.” He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck while chuckling at the grey haired woman.

“Who you buying for?” She smiled at the blonde, looping around the many pots of flowers which covered the shop as JJ followed her to the front desk.

“My girlfriend, she loves pink, super girly all that stuff.” He told the woman, a wide smile stretching across his face just by telling someone about his amazing girlfriend.

“I have the perfect thing.” She grinned at the young boy, seeing how in love he was and missing her youth. He took him around the shop again and picked up a large bouquet of pink tulips.

Checking the price, he was $5 short. Shit. He thought, these were so perfect for you and he couldn’t even get them.

“Do u think they’ll work?” She asked, passing him the flowers as she walked him back to the front desk once more.

“Uh- little out of my price range.” He chuckled, politely laying the flowers in front of the woman on the marbled desk.

“I’ll cover ya honey.” She responded, opening the cash register, “you seem so in love with this girl, it’s the least I can do.”

“I can’t let you do that, I’ll just buy something else.” He replied, digging into his pockets to scruff up his change.

“Seriously, let me.”

And here he was, stood outside yours and JJ’s white bedroom door. Withdrawing a breathe he didn’t know he was holding in, he twisted the nob and let himself in.

He spotted you still snuggled in the white sheets, you looked so comfy in your pink pyjama set which JJ loved.

“Baby.” He whispered, feeling guilty about waking up his sleeping beauty.

“Huh?” You muttered, lifting your face off the now dented pillow as you sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Hello, beautiful.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb with a smile, admiring your features which were perfectly framed by the early morning sun shining through yours and JJ’s thin curtains.

“Hi handsome.” You smiled back, lashes fluttering as you adjusted to the beaming light.

“I got you something.” He smiled brightly with a kid like excitement as his hand was hiding someyhing behind his back.

“Ooo.” You perked up at his words, sitting up in bed and crossing your legs to match his kid like exterior.

He pulled out the pink tulips, his smile reaching up to his eyes. You squealed, taking the flowers off him and smelling them deeply. Cheering three small thank you, thank you, thank you. As you deeply kissed his cheek and gazed at the flowers in awe.

“You like em’?” He asked, placing a hand on your bare thigh and rubbing up and down with his thumb.

“I love them!” You smiled brightly, wrapping one arm around your boyfriend’s neck in order to press a firm kiss on his lips.

Enjoy guys!!!

Love you all as always🫶🏻

Ivy:)

#jj maybank #obx netflix #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fluff #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx fic #jj x reader #jj mayback imagine

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christinarowie332 · 11 months

Text

god i love you

chris sturniolo x reader

matt sturniolo x oc

sturniolo triplets x reader

warnings : smutty smut !!! mentions of weed and nicotine, 18+ . profanity

———

reader , maggie, and the triplets have a beach day

———-

i dig my feet deeper in the sand , feeling the warmth hug my body and the soft grains scratch my bare skin. with my fingers sprawled out over the blanket i throw my head back in comfort , feeling the warm sun kiss my face as i lean back .

the sounds of a faint mac miller song humming in the background flood my ears .waves crashing to the shore , painting the sand white with its foam . i can hear chris giggling with matt and nick desperately trying to explain himself with whatever waffle he’s spewing at this moment. mags , my bestfriend, matt’s girlfriend, just sat playing with his hair laughing with them.

in my own world , i open my eyes finally, take a puff of my vape and grab my phone from my lap . opening the camera app and snapping a photo of the scene infront of me . a clear blue sky , my four best friends, boyfriend included , all laughing , their hair being plastered across their face ; brunette and blonde waving along with the wind .

i subconsciously decide to get up and immediately strip out of my oversized t-shirt i stole from chris . a black two peice caressing my curves and hugging my waist .

“chris” i call out to him throwing the t-shirt on the blanket we all sit on , large volcanic rocks holding down the corners . ”can i have my bobble babe?”

“uh yeah of course” he says after trailing his eyes down my body , before going into his joint tin and grabbing the bobble .he keeps it for me along with two joints , a lighter , a chewing gum and a polaroid of us together in matching fresh love , laughing while we jokingly do the doggy style position . his favorite photo for obvious reasons .

maggie gets where i’m going with this and mirrors my actions from before , stripping off and putting her hair in a clip , kicking her slides off and throwing her vape and phone down on the blanket .

“woah what’s happening ? i feel like i’m about to get a lap dance or some shit” nick exclaims , fake fear plastered on his face and also getting up .

“we have been at the beach for like an hour and haven’t gone in the sea ? let’s go.” i explain , chris is on his feet taking his shirt off in what feels like a millisecond. matt follows and helps nick up .

“last one in has to buy the bud next !!!” maggie screams before darting off towards the sea , me in tow and chris and matt speeding past us .

“NOT FAIR BRO” nick screams as he starts running throwing his shirt over his head while running and trying to kick off his slides while in motion .

we all run towards the sea , chris ends up falling over face first into the soft sand . i subconsciously stop and help him up , watching him lift his face up , showing his mouth full of sand and eyes closed , mouth agape laughing in shock . i loudly laugh and grab his hand pulling him up running towards the sea again . we run hand in hand still laughing , as we watch nick pass us and matt and maggie absolutely get obliterated by a wave as the meet the sea . nick makes it next and finally stops and sees his brother , covered it sand , struggling to run while laughing and spitting out sand .

me and chris make it to the sea ,both of us mermaid style diving into the sea as soon as we thought it was deep enough .

i plunge into the water , feeling bubbles trail my face and make their way to the surface, before the head reaches the warm air , hair slicked back and salty water running down my neck .

“HOW THE FUCK DID U FALL SO BADLY”

“YOU LITERALLY ATE SAND CHRIS!”

“BAHAHAHA BRO ITS ON YOUR TEETH”

we all take a second to laugh at chris and he just wipes the sand and salt from his eyes while laughing , his shoulders jumping up and down with the movement.

chris swims over to me and hugs me from behind putting his head on my shoulder . we’re not a very affectionate cutesy couple , a specially infront of his brothers , and maggie who is basically my sister . this is very evident when i turn around in chris’s hold smiling . he melted as i put both my arms around his shoulders, interlining my fingers around his neck .

“breathe” i said smiling at him. resulting in his face dropping and confusion being painted on his face . he does as i say anyway tilting his head , before i put both my hands on his shoulders and push him under the water .

i start laughing but quickly get cut off as i feel his hands grip my legs and i am also pulled under the water . we fight under the current of the waves . i emerge from the water first , and watch chris gasp for air as he surfaces. we all laugh and start relaxing in the water .

“i wonder why the beach is so empty today?” matt asks , looking at said beach , maggie narrows her eyes to where her boyfriend is looking before speaking

“probably sharks or something” she says nonchalantly, before furrowing her eyebrows and realizing that’s not so much of a reach .

“your just gonna scare yourself mags” nick says through giggles , looking at the girl slowly move towards matt for safety .

“nah everyone’s at work and school , we have no life bro we’re the only weirdos that don’t have a job” i say before angling my head back in the water , slicking my hair back again , feeling the cold water make its way onto my forehead .

“nah we have a job , just not a boring one . content creators bro . we get paid to hangout” chris says before moving his hand around my waist under the water , pulling us closer . i smile and him and put one of my hands on the back of his neck , playing with his now wet hair .

“i wonder how deep it is here” nick says , looking down into the dark swirling water , squinting his eyes , before meeting mine and raising his eyebrows , knowing i would be the only one to go to the bottom and see .

i took a breath and used chris’s body to lower myself into the water slowly, coming back up and diving down . i squint my eyes underwater and reach the floor , not too deep , watching the clean sand rippling under our feet

while swimming back up i see a blurred chris , and decide to scare the shit out of him and smack his ass under the water , i see him jump slightly, but he finds me and drags me up by my neck gently until moving his hands to my waist and bringing me to surface . i giggle under water , bubbles following my trail upwards before meeting them all and laughing before moving to chris’s back and holding his shoulders to hold me up .

“fully thought that was a fish for a good second” chris says looking back at me to meet my goofy smile .

“how do u open your eyes in the sea bro , my eyes sting just being here” matt days to me while rubbing his eye like a child , fist curled rubbing over his eye in circles.

“i literally feel like i just pored pure salt in my eye , that was a big mistake” i say laughing , rubbing my eyes like matt just was .

maggie lies down on top of the water , matt holds her and runs his hand through her hair .

we stay like that for a while . chris and i giving each other small affectionate touches , laughing and talking with nick. matt and maggie in their own little world .

“dude , do u know when u were younger did u ever like , when u were like seven like i used to like ….. no probably older then that just like i thought i was like really good at swimming and i was like kinda okay but like really i was…..” chris explains , making the entire group stare at him in confusion, before looking at each other , trying to see if anyone understands a word he’s saying .

“like i was pretty really okay but like when i would swim i like was good ….. WOW”

we all erupted into laughter at chris , him immediately getting embarrassed but also laughing, pulling me closer again and placing a small kiss to my forehead ,turning me around to hug me from behind .

“i’m gonna go back i’m freezing and i want my vape” maggie says before doggy paddling away , causing me and chris to giggle

“i’ll come too” matt says grabbing onto her legs and pulling him closer to her

“me too , i feel like i’m gonna get a cold this water is fucking freezing” nick says following behind matt and maggie , leaving me and chris in the water .

“i’m staying , i wanna chill in here longer” chris says looking towards me and smiling

i hum in agreement and swim towards him , wrapping my legs around his waist and putting my arms around his neck .

“hi” he says smiling leaning towards me .

his lips meet mine , the taste of salt lingering in my mouth as i kiss him , the cut on my lip stings but i barely feel it , relishing in chris’s hand moving up and down my thigh .

i pull away “hi” i say before placing another peck on his lips quickly. i put my palm flat on his back to stabilise myself while i run my hand through his hair , pushing his dark curls away from his face .

i put both my hands on the back of his neck and pull him towards me , attaching my lips onto his once again , one of his hands moves to my ass , lifting and squeezing it in one motion , causing me to gasp slightly and open my lips giving his tongue access to mine.

i move my hips on his , causing him to moan slightly into the kiss . i could feel him growing , my core pressed against his , grinding against him .

“chris” i moaned out , digging my painted nails into his back , clawing his shoulders leaving red lines over his muscles.

he grabbed my hand and put my palm over his hardened dick , looking into my eyes saying exactly what i needed to hear .

he pulled his shorts down , then pulled my bikini bottoms down , raising his eyebrows to get my consent he needed .

a nod of my head is all he needed , before lifting me onto him , throwing his head back in pleasure. my face burrows into his neck biting down at the feeling of him inside , leaving a mark where my mouth had been.

we moved together under water , him lifting me , me rolling my hips to the pattern i knew he liked after lots of practice over the year , moaning each other names through sloppy kisses .

after a couple of minutes we both can feel the knot slowly unraveling , thrusts getting sloppy and messy .

“y/n” he whimpered out before getting cut off by me loudly moaning into his neck

“i know chris , me too” i said before clenching around him and moaning loudly against his skin , throwing my head back in pleasure before feeling him release into me .

we both laugh and kiss each other messily , coming down from our high together .

“god i love you y/n” chris says out of breath into my neck as we both embrace each other , him still inside of me under the salty waves .

“i love you too chris” is all i got out before re-attaching our lips in a perfectly paced kiss .

———

milkie talks :

i have had a awful amount of alcohol so i don’t even know if this makes sense .

love u all . 🍼🤍

tag list :

@mangosrar @sturnphilia @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @sssturniolofart @littlebookworm803 @lividnity @deatthmatch @daddyslilchickenfingers @parkerssecrets @urmyslxt

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buckysgrace · 4 months

Note

request

what about drunk gator being all lovey dovey to his girl? im in my feels

The way I had to rush to do this because?? so cute. I hope you enjoy <3

Gator's shell slowly dissipated the greater his stack of red cups grew. The cheap beer spilled from the rim of the cup, thick waves crashing onto his nimble fingers as he staggered towards you once again.

"What are you-," You started, only to be cut off as his pink lips fell across the corner of your lips. You laughed, squealing as you quickly balanced the cup as he drifted his hands towards your waist, "Gator!"

He looked at you confused, eyes hazy as a lazy grin formed on his lips. His cheeks were flushed, his hair disheveled from its normal neat placement. You gripped his cup tightly, wincing at the sticky liquid that dripped onto your fingers.

The music from the DJ continued to thump as he grumbled towards you, his shirt half unbuttoned and rolled up towards his elbows. His suit jacket had long been discarded, thrown around somewhere in the dance hall that you'd have to try and hunt down before you left. The alcohol had clearly settled a permanent blush over him as his lips curled up into a cheesy smile.

You had decided on your own earlier in the night that you'd let him let loose as much as he wanted. He could certainly use it from his stressful job. Plus, it was only fair. He had babied you the previous weekend after you'd had one too many margaritas with your friends.

He moved slowly, but still caught you off guard as he gripped your chin and placed a sticky kiss across your cheek. You laughed at the feeling of his lips against your skin.

"You're so pretty," He mumbled as he continued to press sloppy kisses against your cheek, "My pretty baby." He cooed as he began to rock you both back and forth. You stuck his cup out, determined to keep it from spilling all over you.

"How much have you had to drink?" You teased him as he brought his chin down against your shoulder, his brown eyes wide and warm as he stared at you. The lights glimmered off of them, giving the illusion of stars within the deep colors.

"Mhm, just a bit." He replied cheekily, looking pleased with himself as he brushed his fingers across your curves. His lips fell against the crook of your neck, beginning to kiss you there.

"I think it was more than that," You smiled as you faced him, determined to stop his motions before he got too ahead of himself, "But thank you. You're very handsome." You added as you patted his cheek softly, enjoying the way he leaned against you.

"Wanna dance?" He asked as he fluttered his eyelashes towards you, "Gotta show off that I have-, That I've got the prettiest girl." His words stumbled out as he leaned against you, like he wasn't able to stand straight on his own.

"I think everyone saw that earlier," You reminded him gently, but were still flattered by his words, "You look tired." You observed as you pushed the brown strands from his warm forehead. He shut his eyes this time as he smiled.

"S'fine," He replied, his eyes still shut as he leaned against your touch, "Just wanna be with you." He mumbled a second later, his cheek falling against yours as he wrapped his arms around you.

You moved one hand to hold onto him, keeping the other one outstretched so he didn't spill anymore of his beer on either of you. He smelt nice, a little fruity from his vape that you were sure he was sneaking little puffs on here and there.

"I wanna be with you too," You added, pulling away a bit to meet his eyes again, "Are you ready to go? We can hang out in the hotel." You suggested, watching the spark that filled his eyes.

"And do what?" He asked, lips curling into a smirk as his eyes lazily drifted over you. You laughed, knowing it would be a miracle if he didn't pass out in the elevator.

"Whatever you want," You added before you set his drink down, pressing your lips together as he protested, "Don't worry, I'll get you something better." You told him as you linked your fingers together.

"You're going to gimme water." He whined as you slowly began to drag him around, eyes drifting towards where he may have lost his jacket.

"No," You said quickly, although that was exactly what you were going to do. You had developed quite a sly trick to it, just having to pretend that they were little shots. He was so far gone at this point that he couldn't ever tell the difference, "I would never." You turned your head, hiding your laugh as he began to ramble off about something.

"I love you," He mumbled against your skin once you were both in the elevator, his breath warm against you as he leaned his body weight against you, "So so so so much." He told you, face furrowed up seriously as he watched you.

"I love you too," You smiled as you met his lips in a gentle kiss, giggling as he peppered his lips against yours repeatedly, "You're very sweet." You told him, fully embracing this time as he held onto you tightly. Like he was afraid to let you go, even though you knew that would never happen.

"You're the sweet one," He said quickly, "The sweetest and prettiest gal I ever saw." He mumbled, looking as if he was staring at his whole world in front of him. Your heart hammered this time, completely taken away by his compliements.

"Come on, lover boy," You replied as you tugged him forward, helping him down towards the room, "Let's get you to bed." You told him, grinning at the way he started to whine about how he absolutely was not tired. It only took five minutes for him to be inside, to kick off his shoes before he was snoring into the pillows.

#Gator Tillman #Gator Tillman fluff #gator tillman fanfiction #Gator Tillman x reader #Gator Tillman x you #Gator Tillman x yn #Gator Tillman x fem!reader #Gator Tillman x female reader #Gator Tillman x reader fluff #He's the sweetest your honor

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shiny-crocodile · 3 months

Text

the best person i’ve ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary:

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10

CHAPTER 1

Chapter Summary: the wedding

Notes: first time writing, feedback appreciated, enjoy ☺️

Lucy was so looking forward to this day, her best friend’s wedding was something they have been talking about since they were kids. She had thought that it may have been her walking down the aisle first given her 7 year relationship, but that had ended a few months ago and her full focus was on her best friend’s special day.

After a hectic first half of the season at her new club, Barcelona, it was also a much needed opportunity for her to let her hair down, hang out with friends she hasn’t seen for a while, marking the start of a fun-filled festive season.

But first she had to make it there on time!

Day 1s group chat

Lucy S: Girls, I don’t need the stress of knowing the details but please tell me you’ll be here in time!

Jordan: We will be there, Stan. I’m waiting for Luce in the pick up zone now.

Lucy S: YOU HAVEN’T PICKED HER UP YET? Oh god, I don’t want to know, I really don’t want to know. Please hurry!

Lucy B: Calma, we’ll be there in 20, get the champagne poured!! Can’t wait to see you! x

Lucy put her phone away as she made her way out of the airport, practically jogging over to Jordan in her black Porsche.

“Nice wheels!!” Lucy exclaimed as she chucked her bags in the boot. “How are you, my friend?” She asked, sliding into the car and embracing her friend over the console.

“Bloody stressed!” Jordan said, immediately starting the engine and racing off. “Not made better by you promising a 20 minute arrival time to a stressed bride when we are at least 30 minutes away.”

“I know you’ve always liked a challenge.”

They spent the rest of the drive with Lucy debriefing Jordan on the last few months as Jordan concentrated on nipping in and out of traffic. After giving up her plus 1 invite and preparing to turn up to an event as a single woman for the first time in 7 years, Lucy was fully expecting to be bombarded with questions throughout the day. So it was nice to get one out of the way on the drive.

Lucy was feeling good. She was in a great headspace. Of course it was strange, it had only been a few months since her breakup, but she was well over the hardest part and had even started going on dates.

“Well you know what they say,” Jordan started, “Gotta get under someone to get over someone.”

“Exactly,” Lucy agreed, knowing she would leave that part out of her answers when others asked her how she was doing later that day. She was having fun back in Barcelona, but they didn’t all need to know that.

/////

As they arrived at the venue, Lucy S’s brother was stood outside the side entrance, vape in hand.

“Oh god, you look even more stressed than Jordan,” Lucy pointed out as she jumped out the car and walked round to the boot.

“Hard not to be when I’m getting stuck with all the maid of honour duties while the actual maid of honour is 2 hours late to hair and make up,” Sam muttered between panicked puffs on his vape.

“Guessing they’ve not quite got to your hair and make up then”, Lucy joked.

“Funny.”

“Got it, I’ll save the jokes till after the ceremony. Which way are we going?”

Lucy didn’t hear his response as a stunning brunette in a bright blue suit and sky high heels caught her attention. She was strutting towards the front entrance with her arm linked with a player Lucy knew, Millie Turner. Lucy recognised the beautiful girl in blue as a player she had faced a few times for Man City and England, but had never really appreciated how good looking she actually was until right now. She’d taken the English player’s breath away.

Sam and Jordan scoffed as they looked at each other knowingly once they’d realised they no longer had Lucy’s attention. They hadn’t seen single Lucy in action for years but they definitely still recognised her.

“Well I guess my sister was right then,” Sam scoffed, breaking Lucy from her staring session.

“Huh?” Lucy said, confused.

Jordan grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along. “Come on Luce, you can drool later, let’s go see the bride!”

///

Two champagne flutes were shoved in their faces as they entered the hotel suite, Lucy blowing a kiss over to the other Lucy and the Staniforth family while being hurried into a chair with a team instantly getting started on her face and hair.

“Wow you look amazing,” the right back said as she saw her best friend approaching in the mirror’s reflection. Lucy S was wearing a gorgeous long laced white dress, with a deep V at the front, showing off her golden tan. Her best friend wasn’t wrong, she looked seriously amazing.

“I’m so happy you made it,” the bride said, kissing the side of her maid of honour’s head, trying to not mess up either of their make up.

Lucy smiled, full of such happiness for her oldest friend, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m so so proud of you.”

“Oh don’t start, I’m not allowed to start crying yet,” Lucy S said, playfully shoving her maid of honours shoulder, “but I’m really proud of you too.”

This had deeper meaning to the Lucys given their frequent long late night chats over the past year, filled with lots of tears and comforting as the right back was forced to come to terms with the realisation she had to end her 7 year relationship, and also come to terms with the end of it in itself. None of it had been easy, there was a lot of love there, even if it became non-romantic. It sent Lucy into some really dark places where she didn’t think there would be any light at the end of the tunnel. She dealt with most of it herself but when she didn’t it was often the other Lucy at the end of the phone.

They shared soft smiles and damp eyes thinking about how much things had improved since then.

“Lucy you will NEVER guess who Bronzey was drooling over outside”, Jordan interrupted while marching over. Both Lucy’s and probably also the make up artists were happy for her intrusion before mascara started running.

“Drooling?! Oh my gosh, who?”

“Begins with an O, greats you with an ‘Hola’,” Sam jumped in as Lucy B rolled her eyes and turned her focus away from the group and onto herself in the mirror as she picked up her champagne.

“Shut the fuck up!” Lucy S exclaimed, “Ona?!”

“Mhmmmmm,” Jordan hummed in confirmation.

Sam nodded eagerly while his sisters jaw hit the floor, “So your plan of wedding day matchmaking is already off to a great start!”

The right back spun her chair back around to face the group, cheeks a slightly deeper shade of red than they were 10 minutes ago. “What do you mean ‘matchmaking’?”

“Well now all the wedding planning is out the way I will need something else to occupy my time,” the bride said while topping up everyone’s glasses. “And no offence but I’m bloody bored of having single friends, me and the mrs need some double date candidates.”

Now it was Lucy B’s turn to gasp in shock. “Wow, well ok then. But maybe you let me chat to her first and see if we actually get on? You know me, all about the personality.”

Jordan laughed a little too loud at that.

“What?” Lucy asked, insulted.

Jordan whipped her phone out and swiped through instagram, “look at some of the insanely fit Spanish girls she’s been going on dates with”. She held up the phone to show the group a series of photos of ridiculously beautiful girls. “Right Luce, these were aaaaall about the personality, yeah?”

“Whatever” Lucy laughed back, her friend may have had a point.

“Well at least Ona is ticking the good looking and Spanish boxes then,” the bride and aspiring match maker said, excited that her plan was coming together. She had obviously known Lucy forever but she had got really close to Ona over the last year and just knew they would be perfect for each other .

Although some people had other ideas…

///

With the ceremony getting underway, Lucy was already a bit buzzed from the 2 glasses of champagne she had in the suite. That would probably explain the surge in confidence she felt when she caught the pretty Spaniard’s gazing at her during the vows. Lucy raised her eyebrows with a smirk at them being the only two in the room whose eyes weren’t on the brides.

You couldn’t blame Ona, Lucy looked incredible in her green silk suit, a white top underneath that showcased abs that looked as though they had been carved by gods. Ona blushed and turned her head quickly to face the brides, which didn’t go unnoticed by Lucy or the Man United players around her.

The Spanish girl had been counting down the days till this wedding. Falling in December, this marked the end of her first full year in England. After a difficult first 6 months of getting used to the language, weather and food, she really felt like she had settled in this year and was looking forward to celebrate love alongside her teammates.

Ona had never been to an English wedding before, she had expectations of what the level of drinking would be like but was excited to see how the English did wedding parties, how it compared to the Spanish dance filled ones.

The ceremony came to an end, the beautiful brides making their way out of the hall, confetti thrown all over them. Ona felt her hands clam up as she saw Lucy start to make her way over.

“Bronzey!!” Tooney shouted, pushing past Alessia to give Lucy a hug.

“You look so good,” Alessia complimented as it was her turn for a hug.

“So do you guys! Look at us all dressed up! Although I desperately need to switch out of these heals,” Lucy complained, pointing down to her shoes that were already giving her blisters after just 30 minutes in them.

“Have you met Oh-na?” Tooney asked, dragging the Spanish girl closer to her side.

“Only in football kits, unfortunately,” Ona said, Tooney quietly chucking at Ona’s unintentional flirting, getting a light shove from Alessia. “Nice to meet you properly.”

“You too! I feel like I know you with the girls at Barça always talking about you anyway,” Lucy said, paying no notice to the childish chuckles from Tooney, full attention on the enchanting eyes of the shorter brunette. “You planning on sticking with those heels all night?” Lucy asked, pointing down to Ona’s shoes that were about double the height of the ones she was complaining about.

“Annoyingly, yes,” Ona responded, “I stupidly forgot my dancing shoes.”

“I’m sure we will work something out,” Lucy said, “I think -“

“Um Hi Lucy,” Millie T interrupted, making Lucy aware of the fact that she had gotten distracted and stopped mid-way down the line, neglecting Millie.

“Millie, hey!” Lucy said enthusiastically, “how are you?”

The brunette noticed an uncharacteristic coldness in Millie as she pulled the blonde in for a hug.

“Yeah, good thank you,” Millie responded, turning to Ona and the rest of the group, “we should go through to our table now.”

Lucy wasn’t sure the reason for the dismissive behaviour but she could take a hint, “Cool I better go see if the brides need me, I’ll catch up with you all later,” she said to the group before her eyes stopped on the younger brunette, “it was lovely to meet you Ona.”

As Lucy made her way out of the hall, Ona’s eyes were glued to her. She would be lying if she said Lucy didn’t look insanely good today, well Ona had always found her good looking, but today the green suit and perky bum bouncing as she left the room were hard not to be transfixed by. The Spanish girl was especially impressed by the English girl’s ability to correctly pronounce her name, despite being introduced by Tooney who completely butchered it. She guessed she had her friends in Barcelona to thank for that.

///

The reception area was buzzing with laughter and chatter as the guests enjoyed their 3 course dinner, followed by speeches and a first dance that made most of the room emotional. Then it was time to dance and Lucy kept to her word, really letting her hair down - she had lost count of how many drinks she’d had by this point - shifting from champagne, to wine, to beer and now onto the vodka sodas.

No matter the occasion, if there was a dance floor, Lucy was on it and tonight was no different. She was switching between groups of old friends, work friends, Lucy S’s family. Her green eyes regularly caught on Ona’s brown ones for the first half an hour, until they didn’t anymore, although she was too distracted by the fun drunken times she was having dancing with Sam Staniforth to really think about it.

That was until she saw the rest of Man United girls back out on the dance floor again but Ona was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the room and saw the young brunette sitting on her own sipping her drink, smiling over at her teammates as she watched them enjoy themselves.

“You ok there?” Lucy said as she approached Ona, pulling out a chair and slumping down into it to give her legs a rest. “I thought the Spanish loved to dance!”

Ona looked around and sent a pained smile Lucy’s way. “We do!” she argued, “I’m ashamed to be letting my country down but my feet are in too much pain. All I can do is drink.”

“Ah yes the shoes! Well my feet could do with a rest as well, so all good if I join you for that drink?” Lucy asked, holding up her empty glass and smiling at Ona hopefully. Even countless drinks in, she still felt an unexplainable nervousness talking to her new acquaintance.

“Of course! I would love that, I want you to tell me all about Barcelona,” Ona said, “make me jealous”.

Lucy excitedly jumped up, “what are you drinking then? I’ll get us another.”

“Well seen as though we’re talking about Spain, shall we have some Sangria.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up, “Yes! We absolutely should. You rest those pretty feet, I’ll be right back”.

As Lucy walked away she cursed herself internally for the “pretty feet” comment that she didn’t mean to let spill out of her mouth, now Ona will think she’s got some kind of foot fetish.

Meanwhile all Ona was wondering was whether she was dreaming or if the real Lucy Bronze, the most attractive person at this wedding, was flirting and they were actually going to drink Sangria together.

Once Lucy returned with a big jug and two glasses, the girls talked and talked. It felt so natural, it was flirty but sweet and they were so focused on each other that they forgot where they were and lost all track of time. Then the music switched to reggaeton and Lucy had a sudden urge to dance with Ona but she needed to do something about those shoes and the floors were too sticky for the spaniard to ditch them completely.

“Jordan!” Lucy shouted over to another table, waving her friend over. “Do you have some trainers Ona could borrow? You’re probably closer to her size and she needs to get out of these heels to have a dance” Lucy said, lifting Ona’s leg off the ground to show Jordan the 6 inch heels in question.

“You want me to get her out of her heels?” Jordan teased, “just kidding! Ona, come with me, we will find you something.”

Ona scurried off behind Jordan, trying to keep up with a half limp while smiling back as she left Lucy at the table. She blushed slightly feeling the older brunette’s eyes following her out of the room.

As Lucy picked up her drink for another sip, she shuddered at the grating of the chair next to her as she was joined by someone.

“Oh hi Millie,” Lucy said, noticing the blonde girl was particularly drunk now.

“Lucy,” she said as she grabbed the jug of Sangria, pouring herself a glass without asking.

“Having fun?” Lucy asked, suddenly feeling very awkward. She hated small talk and Millie wouldn’t make this easy, but she couldn’t exactly just sit there in silence.

“Yeah, I love a wedding! Where’s Keira tonight?” Millie asked, avoiding eye contact.

Lucy had successfully navigated that question a couple of times tonight but this was a weird one as Millie would have definitely known they had broken up. “Somewhere in Spain, I’d imagine. Her family are going over there for Christmas.”

“Left her on babysitting duty then,” Millie said, more of statement than a question.

Lucy was starting to feel more uncomfortable now, she was confused as Millie was usually so warm with her, “I guess. You know we broke up though right?” She asked, knowing that Millie would have known, everyone knew, the footballer community isn’t massive and it was the biggest topic of gossip this year.

“Mm maybe I did hear about that? So now you’re going after Ona?”

Ah, Lucy thought, realising the coldness was potentially Ona related. “I wouldn’t say so,” Lucy defended herself, “we’re just chatting and have things in common because of Barcelona and mutual friends.”

“Planning on shitting where you eat then?”

“Pardon?” Lucy asked, knowing what the saying meant but unsure why it was being directed at her.

“Well she’s going to be your teammate next season so might be a good idea not to use her as a rebound.”

Lucy dismissed herself, muttering an excuse about needing the toilet but she just needed to get out of that situation. Something was clearly going on with Millie and Lucy wasn’t going to take it personally, but she couldn’t help but feel a little surprised by the revelation of Ona signing for Barça. They play in the same position and of course Lucy knew she wouldn’t be the first choice right back forever but it did sting a little at the thought she could be replaced so soon.

Ona came back, bouncing over to the table where she left Lucy with a new spring in her step as her feet were finally freed from those heels.

“Where’s Lucy gone?” She asked Millie as she got to the table with Lucy’s seat empty.

“Dunno,” Millie grumbled, “I mentioned something about her girlfriend and she left.”

“Ex-girlfriend” Jordan chimed in, before wandering off to look around for Lucy, managing to annoy Millie with her interjection.

Millie turned around to scan the room, “oh look, she’s over there chatting up that blonde at the bar.”

Ona felt like she’d been punched in the gut as she looked over and saw exactly that. Lucy was leaning over the bar, face way too close to the bartender who was unquestionably attractive. She looked like a model.

“Well let’s go dance then,” Ona said, shaking off the feeling of rejection. They had just been flirting, and Lucy probably thought it as just harmless. It hurt a little as Ona thought they were having a good time together and she fancied Lucy, but it was nothing she couldn’t dance away.

Millie followed her to the dance floor to rejoin the other football girls, Ona finally able to show off her moves. Although the person she wanted to show off to was no longer nearby.

Until she was.

“Hey dancing queen,” Ona heard, feeling a pair of soft lips graze her ear before spinning round to see Lucy’s face impossibly close to hers. Lucy stepped back, holding up a tray of shot glasses between them, “got you something!”

“Tequila!!!” Ona exclaimed, grabbing a glass, some salt and lime before moving back so Lucy could pass the tray round to the other girls.

She even held the tray out to Millie with a smile, before discarding the tray and heading back next to Ona to take the shots together.

“I thought you’d found someone else to talk to,” Ona said, tequila coursing through her as she drunkenly confessed, “it made me sad.”

Lucy put a hand out to hold Ona’s waist and bring her closer, again brushing the younger girl’s ear with her lips. “No way, I wasn’t going to miss our dance.”

She stepped back again and took Ona’s hand in hers, spinning her around, moving together and apart in sync with the music.

The older brunette had considered not coming back, but a quick toilet break brought her back to her senses. She wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stop her from having a good time tonight, she’d been too excited for this night for too long to sulk. Just had to make a quick pit stop to the bar for the shots before joining Ona.

///

As the night went on the two girls danced and danced. They would occasionally part to dance with friends but were soon drawn back into each other like magnets, then glued at the hip until they were amongst the last on the dance floor and it was the last song.

Ona wrapped her arms around Lucy’s neck, pulling her in as the older brunette felt the younger girls breath was over her. She slowly leaned down, moving her lips closer to Ona’s, searching each others eyes for any hesitation, wondering if this was really about to happen in front of all these people.

Lucy was taken out of her thoughts by Ona jumping back suddenly, hand covering her mouth as she spun round and sprinted towards the bathroom.

Lucy stood frozen in shock before she pulled herself together and rushed after her. As she entered the bathroom she saw Ona hunched over a toilet, throwing up everything they’d drunk together over the last few hours.

Lucy rushed to the younger girl’s side and pulled her hair back, taking a hair tie and clip out of her own styled her to secure Ona’s out of her face and away from the toilet bowl.

Lucy gently rubbed circles on Ona’s back while the vomiting continued. As she paused between vomits, Millie entered the room with a glass of water.

“I can take it from here,” Millie asserted.

Lucy started to stand up, before Ona’s tear filled eyes caught hers, longing her to stay. She couldn’t and wouldn’t leave her like this.

“Actually I think I’ll stay, but thanks for the water,” Lucy said, taking the water from Millie and placing it to Ona’s lips, full attention back onto the sickly Spaniard. “That’s it, small sips, you’re ok,” Lucy reassured.

Ona breathed heavily as she seemed to be done vomiting. Ignoring Millie behind them, she grabbed Lucy’s hand saying, “thank you for staying, I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing.”

Lucy laughed, one hand in Ona’s the other still stroking her back, “don’t worry! Happens to the best of us and I’m probably partly to blame. Let me drop you back to your room.”

“Oh no, you’re sweet but that would make me even more embarrassed to have you escort my drunk self back. I’ll ask one of the girls,” Ona said, using Lucy’s strong shoulder to push herself up to stand.

Lucy followed suit and got to her feet, following Ona over to the sinks, where Millie was no longer leaning, neither girl paying attention to her exit.

“Fair enough, I’ll leave you to it. Honestly nothing to be embarrassed about though,” Lucy said as both girls washed their hands.

“I won’t hug you because I’m a bit disgusting now. But I’ve had a really good night with you.”

Lucy didn’t care as she brought Ona in for a hug anyway, “me too,” she said against Ona’s neck, “maybe see you up for breakfast tomorrow, sweet dreams bonita.” She left a soft kiss on Ona’s cheek before backing away and leaving the bathroom.

Ona turned back to the mirror, not able to miss the red that had washed over her face. She cursed herself for not being able to control her drink, but on some sort of high from the cheek kiss.

She left the bathroom and walked back over to her friends, catching Lucy gazing over at her with a smile as she helped stack away the chairs in the corner of the room.

“You ok?” Millie asked, “shall I walk you back to your room?”

“That’s ok, Less’s room is near mine, she can do it.” Ona said. Usually she would just say yes to Millie for a simple life but she could tell something was up with her today. She had been acting off ever since Ona had mentioned that Barcelona had offered her a contract on the drive over, then the weird behaviour continued and seemed targeted towards Lucy. She couldn’t be bothered with it, she was too exhausted, so she hooked her arm into Less’s and marched them off down the corridor.

“Well you looked like you had a good night,” Jordan said, making Lucy jump while mid chair stack.

“Hah I really did,” Lucy agreed before trying to change the subject, “how was yours?”

Jordan picked up a chair to help her stack, “good as well. Although I reckon the highlight was watching a girl run away to throw up when it looked like you were about to kiss.”

Lucy laughed, tugging the chair out of Jordan’s hands before shoving her, “shut up.”

“Hope the wedding photographers caught that moment,” Jordan teased, digging out a pack of gum from her pocket as she held them up to Lucy. “Maybe you could do with one of these?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, leaving Jordan to go get more of the chairs from other tables, knowing full well that she was going to be teased about this for the rest of time.

Once she’d helped out as much as she could, Lucy headed up to her room, still on a high from the whole day, already excited for the next time she would get to see her new friend.

#lucy bronze #ona batlle #luna fanfic #lucy bronze ona batlle #lucy bronze fanfic #ona batlle fanfic #woso fanfics #woso community #woso #woso imagine

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nightmare-niko · 2 months

Text

ATEEZ responses to “What are we?” [Hyung Line]

Warnings: NON IDOL ATEEZ!! NO MENTIONS OF Y/N!! GENDER NEUTRAL READER!! a lot of lying down and doing nothin! Mentions of weed!

A/n: I found this prompt list on Pinterest! I can link my Pinterest page on my master list!! Also you can def tell which members are my favorites😅 sorry not sorry!!

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Masterlist

Kim Hongjoong:

You would spring the question. on him randomly one night while hanging out in your room. Both of you in baggy pjs, limbs tangled together on your bed.

The room was dimly lit by the purple LED lights lining your nearby desk. You were calm, too calm. That’s why you popped your head up to look at the man next to you.

“Hongjoong, what are we?”

You watched as the corners of his mouth curled up, “You know what we are. You just wanna hear me say it.” He lifted his hand up to play with a lose piece your your hair.

Guilty. You blush, “maybe i do, Maybe I don't…”

He let’s out a content sigh, “you’re mine, l'm yours. Sound good?"

“Sounds perfect.”

Park Seonghwa:

The two of you have been friends for a while. Most of your hangouts consisted of you hogging Seonghwa’s bed while he sat at his desk while he played legos.

Every once in a while you would show him a funny post. After a while, your mind started to wander. You found your eyes falling onto Seonghwa. He wasn’t paying attention to you, all of his focus was on the LEGO set taking up his whole desk. You had bought it for him not too long ago.

The cashier had asked you if the set was for you. Not bothering to lie, you told her they were for your friend. But was Seonghwa just your friend? Buying a boy a set of legos was practically marriage in this day and age!

…Were you and Seonghas a couple— or just friends? You didn't know for sure.

“What are we?" You broke the silence with your intense question.

You heard him chuckle at your question, “I don’t thing that’s up to just me, now is it?”

You were taken aback at his honesty, "well I don't know? Do you like me?"

"Of course,” His voice was as calm as ever while you felt your heartbeat slowly rise. “Do you like me?”

You hum, "sometimes.” You joke.

“Wha-!" He whips his chair around, fake betrayal painted on his beautiful features.

"I'm Kidding!" You smile at him.

Seonghwa crosses his arms across his chest, pouting cutely. "I take it back I don’t like you anymore."

Jeong Yunho:

[a/n 2.0: I use the terms pen and vape interchangeably but I’m talking abt a normal weed pen🤓]

You and Yunho were best friends.

All best friends have rituals, some may shop, or play videogames. But for you and your best friend, it was smoking weed in your room. Yunho wasn’t allowed to smoke at the dorm due to Seonghwa’s rules, he lucked out that his best friend had their own place.

You balanced all of your stacks on top of eachother. Slowly making your way to your bed where Yunho layed sprawled out. You dumped everything onto him before kicking off your slippers and moving him out of the way.

“You take up so much room, bro." You complain, taking out your pen and clicking it five times to turn it on. Before you could even take your first hit of the night, Yunho was taking the pen out of your hand and taking one long hit.

"Thanks babe," he throws the vape back into your general direction.

You groan and cursed at him under your breath, Flustered at the nickname. You were thankful for the dim lighting. Finally taking your first hit, you take a moment to take in Yunhos apperence.

His face bare, his sort black hair fell perfectiy over his forhead. The hood From his hoodie was pulled on, he looked beautiful, but when did he not?

Too busy staring, you forgot to exhale your puff, the burn becoming too much before you let out a nasty cough. Gasping dramatically you reach out to Yunho who nonchalantly opens a water bottle before putting up to your lips to drink.

"Thanks baby." You blow him a kiss, and he giggles softly. God he was perfect.

As the night went on, the two of you got higher, passing the pen back and forth. Maybe it was just the weed (definitely wasn’t), but your best friend was looking too hot for your own good.

Here the two of you were, shoulder to shoulder on your bed, Sharing snacks and drinks. Almost as if the two of you were a couple. More times than not you felt like a couple, how come the two of you hadn't had the conversation?

“What are we?” Your hand flies to slap over your mouth. It was too late, your didn't mean to say that out loud. “wait no-I didn't."

His laughter rung out in your otherise quiet bedroom. Yunho turns on his side to face you, you mirror him, “whatever we are, I wouldn’t ask for anything difterent.”

The two of you couldn’t keep serious at his cheesy line. Immediately breaking out in loud laughter, “Mr. Cool guy over here!!” You tease him, hiding your face against his chest to conceal your laughter.

Smiling ear to ear, his large hand wraps around your arm gently, pulling you back to look at him. "I just wanted to seem cool, you made me nervous!”

Kang Yeosang:

Yeosang wasn’t the biggest fan of physical affection. But for some reason he can't fathom the thought of sleeping with out you in his arms. The two of you didnt live together, not technically.

That didnt stop the two of you from being in the same bed everynight. When you weren't together, he would text you to tell you he couldn’t sleep. Then the next day one of his roomates would text you about how grumpy your boyfriend was.

Wait- Boyfriend? No - Yeosang wasn't—was Yeosang your boyfriend?!

When you heard your front door open and close, your heart sunk. He had a hey, of course he did. What if he got out of work when you weren't home? Going back home to an empty bed was a big no for him.

You stayed on your bed anxiously, his footsteps grew louder as he approached your room.

“Hey, Yeosang. How was work?” You croak out timidly.

Letting his bag flop of his arm he furrows his eyebrows. "Yeosang?" He questions.

"That's your name last l checked,” you chuckle.

"Not to you? Is something wrong?"

You sigh and smile at him, “no Sangie, nothings wrong,” you try your best to reassure him, "Go shower quickly and come back. You’re all sweaty

“Okay..." He looks at you suspiciousy, not convinced your not mad.

One quick shower later and Yeosang was back in your room, excitedly making his way into his Side of your bed. You cursed yourself mentally for being so freaked out about something stupid it was freaking Yeosang out.

“Are you sure nothings wrong…?”

“What are we?” You blurt out, looking at the boy next to you. He looked stunning, his hair pushed away from his face, under his hair you could still see his birth mark.

"Whatever you’d like us to be, silly." He smiles gently.

You pause for a moment, somewhat surprised at how calmly he answered you. "So…boyfriend girlfriend?"

"That's fine by me, darling. But I’m tired so let’s sleep.”

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@nallasstuff

@chmpgneprblem

@qoopeeya

@lilybellalana

@sleepysongbirdsings

#friends #mutuals #art #wattpad #writing #original story #fanfic #fantasy #moodboard #kpop scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez park seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez yeosang

107 notes · View notes

sturniolos-blog · 7 months

Text

Peer Pressured - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - swearing, fluff, arguing

requested ‼️

disclaimer: third person POV again

—————————

6:47pm Friday afternoon

“My parents would kill me, have you guys met my dad?” 14 year old Estrella tells her friends.

Her group of friends consisted of Hailey, Gavin, Jackson, Shay, and Shawn. They were currently in Shawn’s basement, all of them were vaping except for Ella, she loves her friends, but they aren’t the best for her, she knows that, but she just lets it happen. Shay and Shawn were the nice ones, the one that would never make Ella feel pressured, which may be the reason she has a slight crush on Shawn, and why Shay is her bestfriend but who’s really keepin’ track?

Ella was sat on the couch with Hailey and Shay, Hailey’s feet were on Ella as Ella was in the middle of the two, Shay had her feet on the coffee table.

Gavin and Shawn were on the other couch, while Jackson sat in a bean bag chair.

Her friend Hailey shakes her head, letting out a puff of smoke, “You’re parents are literally amazing they let you do whatever you want.”

Gavin nods his head in agreement, “Yeah, bro, your parents are like mad chill. Mine freak out over the littlest things.” He says, taking a hit from his vape.

“Nah, for real, especially your mom, El. You’re lucky.” Jackson says, his head leaning back and now looking up towards the ceiling.

Shay shakes her head, directing at Hailey, Gavin, and Jackson, “Yall needa’ shut up.” Shay then turns to Estrella. “You don’t gotta do it, girl. Your choice a hundred percent.” Shay says as she takes a hit from her rechargeable blueberry vape.

Shawn nods, silently agreeing with Shay.

Jackson goes into a coughing fit.

“Well if you do it, don’t be like this dumbass,” Hailey laughs, throwing her head back also to rest it on the arm of the couch.

Shawn slaps Jackson’s knee, “Yo, chill man, my mom’s is right upstairs, she bouta hear you hackin’ it up and ask what’s going on.” Shawn scoffs.

Gavin looks at Ella as Ella picks at her nails, “Estrella, why would you even come? I mean if you’re not gonna vape then what are you doing here?” He laughs, shaking his head as he hits his vape.

Ella gives him a dirty look, “Excuse me?”

Shay sits up, “Gavin, chill, you freak.” She insults.

Gavin laughs, “We thought you were cool, you used to be so fun. Remember when you used to get yelled at all the time? And now you’re miss goody two shoes, i mean, what happened to the good, fun, Ella?”

Ella suddenly feels small in this moment, she was only getting in trouble when her father was working too much.

Shawn stands up, pointing at Gavin, “You needa watch yourself, man. She ain’t even do nothin’.”

Gavin stands up also as they get in each others face, “That’s exactly my point, she’s being boring as shit.”

Shawn shoves Gavin harshly, “I said watch yourself!” He yells.

Hailey lets out an obnoxious laugh as she stands up, pulling out her phone. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” She chants.

At this point everyone is standing up.

“You guys all needa chill, like now.” Shay says, Ella grabbing onto her sweatshirt.

As Gavin goes to push Shawn back, Ella interrupts, “I’ll do it!” She says.

Everyone looks at her before Shawn speaks up, “Nah, you don’t gotta.”

Gavin smirks.

Ella shrugs, “It’s not even that bad, Gavin’s right. I used to be fun. Just let me get a hit from someone.” She says, putting her hand out.

Everyone looks down and stays silent, except for Gavin, he pulls out a green vape which meant it was mint.

“Here.” He says, giving it to her.

She takes a hit, as she releases the smoke she lets out a few coughs before feeling better, “Alright, pussies. Can we all sit down and chill?”

Everyone mutters a yeah before they all sit.

—————————

7:49pm

Ella walks in her house, her vape hidden in her bra. The first thing she sees is Mailo on the couch playing Fortnite.

“I’m home!” She yells, taking her shoes off.

“No one cares.” Mailo, the twelve year old scoffs.

“I wasn’t talking to you, jerk.” She says, giving him a dirty look.

“I’m in the kitchen, sweetheart!” Y/n yells back.

Ella walks into the kitchen to see her mom cutting up some fruit.

“What are you doing?” Ella asks, walking over and sticking a piece of watermelon in her mouth.

“We are having a meeting for work tomorrow, so i figured i would be nice and cut up some fruit for everybody.” Y/n says, grabbing apples out of the fridge.

Ella goes to grab another piece before Y/n smacks her hand away, starting to cut the apples. “Where’s dad?” Ella asks, taking a piece of watermelon anyway.

“In the shower, he should be out now…” Y/n trails off.

“Yeah, i’m out.” Matt says, walking into the kitchen with his hair wet, his shirt off and sweatpants on.

“Hey, baby, how was your friend’s house?” He asks Ella, kissing the top of her head.

Ella pauses for a moment, “It was fun.”

Matt goes to reach for a piece of watermelon, getting smacked in the hand by Y/n.

“Ow..” He mutters, “Yeah, what’d you do?” He turns his attention back to Ella.

Ella hesitates as her face goes pale, “We hung out, dad. There’s nothing to it.” She snaps.

Matt’s eyes widen slightly, “Okay, i was just asking.” He puts his hands up in defense before him and Ella at the same time go for another piece of watermelon.

“Will you two stop!? If i cut you some will you leave me alone!?” Y/n asks.

Matt and Ella both nod their heads with a cheeky smile on their faces.

“Mom! Cut me some too!” Mailo yells from the living room.

Matt and Ella both laugh as Y/n tries to hide her smile, “What is wrong with this family?” She sighs, going to the fridge to get more watermelon.

Matt and Ella sneaking more pieces.

Y/n turns around and comes back with the watermelon, seeing that her watermelon pieces that she cut up already were gone.

“Seriously?!”

—————————

9:42pm

Y/n walks into Mailo’s room, knocking before she opens the door, “Night, Mailo.” She smiles at him, just sticking her head in.

“Night, mom.” He says, watching something on the TV.

Y/n smiles and walks out of the room, walking to Ella’s room and knocking before opening the door, when Y/n peaks in she sees Ella readjusting herself, putting something behind her back, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You okay?” Y/n asks.

Ella nods, her lips staying closed.

“Alright, night, sweetheart.” Y/n smiles.

Ella smiles back as Y/n leaves the room, shutting the door.

What Y/n didn’t know is that the moment she left Ella let out a puff of smoke from her lips, the thing she put behind her was the green mint vape.

Ella takes a couple more puffs, she’s not addicted, she told herself. I meant there’s no way if i just started, right?

In the middle of a puff, the worst of the worst happens, Matt walks in.

Matt’s smile he had plastered on his face drops slightly, “What are you doing?” He asks, soft tone to his voice.

Ella has smoke in her mouth as she hides the vape under her thigh, she shakes her head as her face starts to turn red from holding in the smoke.

“What’s the matter?” Matt asks, walking in her room now.

Ella shakes her head again, begging silently for her father to leave.

“Ella, are you-”

Finally Ella coughs, smoke releasing from her mouth, very visibly, Matt watching as this happens.

“What the hell was that!?” Matt snaps.

Ella coughs consistently, leaning over to grab water on her nightstand but as she goes so the vape slips from underneath her thigh and onto the floor.

“Ella, what the fuck?!” Matt yells.

Y/n rushes in the room immediately when she hears Matt’s yell.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why are you yelling?” Y/n asks as Matt picks up the vape from the ground.

As Ella recovers from her coughing fit she yells out, “Dad! Wa-”

His face red with anger, “Our daughter is smoking! Did you know about this?!” Matt asks Y/n.

Y/n shakes her head, putting her hand on her own chest as she feels heart broken, partly because her daughter is doing this but partly because her daughter didn’t tell her.

“Ella, seriously?” Y/n lets out a disappointed sigh, shaking her head as she rubs her forehead.

Ella gets out of bed, “This was the first time i prom-”

Matt cuts her off, “Yeah and your last time, your last time for everything, you’re grounded, your phones getting taken, no TV, no nothing, you are-”

“Dad!” Ella yells as she tears up.

Y/n puts her hand on Matt’s shoulder, “Okay, Matt, i think we should all take a breath-”

“Yeah, not a hit of a vape.” Matt snarks, him rubbing his stubble.

Y/n starts to bring him out of the room, “Now, you’re being ridiculous, and i think you should go calm down before you say another word.” Y/n says, holding onto Matt softly.

Matt looks at her, tilting his head slightly, “But-”

“Now. Please.” Y/n pleads. Matt looks at her and sighs before nodding, walking to their bedroom.

Mailo comes out of his room, “Is everything okay?” He asks his mom, looking at Ella’s bedroom door before Y/n’s and Matt’s bedroom door.

Y/n smiles, “Everything’s fine, you’re fathers upset. Go to your room, sweetie.” Y/n says softly, kissing his forehead.

Mailo nods and goes back to his room.

Y/n walks into Ella’s room, shutting the door behind her as Ella was sitting on her bed crisscross apple sauce, sobbing in her hands.

Y/n climbs on the bed with Ella and wraps her arms around her.

Ella wraps her arms around her mother and sobs into her chest, “I’m sorry!” She sobs out, it was heartbreaking.

Y/n shakes her head, “I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m not mad, i’m not disappointed, i love you so much. I don’t care what you do. I just wish you would’ve came to me first. I’ll always have your back, El. Through the good and the bad, for the better or the worst, i’m here, baby, i’m here.” Y/n says, kissing Ella’s forehead.

Ella cries for about 5 minutes more before she starts to talk again, her head still on Y/n’s chest. “I didn’t want to, mommy.” Ella whispers.

“I promise, i didn’t want to b-but then Gavin started saying i wasn’t cool and everyone else was just doing it so i figured why not, and then he gave me one to take home, so that’s why i have it.” Ella explains.

Y/n nods, running her fingers through Ella’s hair, “Okay, okay. You were peer pressured, baby. And that’s not okay but that’s not your fault, you said no and then they insisted, that’s totally not your fault.”

Ella sniffles, “I’m sorry.”

“Look at me, Estrella Leylani.” Y/n uses her daughter’s middle name.

Ella looks up at her mother, “Stop apologizing. Okay, you’re good.” Y/n says.

Ella shakes her head, “Dad hates me. He was so mad and disappointed. He doesn’t love me.” She tears up again.

“No, baby, no. Not at all. He does. I’m gonna go talk to him and then he’ll talk to you. I’ll calm him down, alright?” Y/n asks, Ella nods.

Y/n smiles, kissing her daughter’s forehead one more time before walking out of the room and into her and Matt’s room.

Matt looks up, he was pacing around the room, him biting his nails.

He wipes his hands on his pants, “Why would she not say anything? i mean, what has gotten into her? There’s no-”

Y/n grabs Matt’s hand and stops him from pacing, “Matt, baby. Listen to me. For a second, slow down.” Y/n says softly.

Matt takes a breath and looks at her, standing still now.

Y/n let’s out a breath, “She was peer pressured, some kid told her she wasn’t cool because she didn’t vape and everyone was so it just happened.” Y/n explains.

Matt’s angry expression drops, “But- she- why- who would even-”

“So, you can go and talk to her, but seriously, lose all the negativity you have because right now she thinks you don’t love her, and she’s really fucking upset.” Y/n tells him.

Matt lets out a shaky breath, “Okay, but i do love her, so much, she’s my baby.” Matt says in a quiet tone.

Y/n nods, bringing her hands up to his cheeks, rubbing back and forth on his stubble, “I know that, she knows that. But she’s not really feeling much of the love, Matt. You scared her, you swore at her.”

Matt scoffs, “I was just mad-”

“I know, baby. I know. So, go and talk to her. She needs you, i know she does.” Y/n says, putting a sad smile on her face.

Matt nods, leaning down and kissing Y/n softly. “Okay, i love you.” He says, resting his forehead on hers for a second.

“I love you too.” Y/n whispers before Matt leaves the room.

Matt slowly walks into Ella’s room, seeing her on her bed, picking at her fingers as she sits up, sniffles coming from her.

“Ella?” Matt says softly.

She looks up, noticing him now. “Daddy? i’m so sorry.” She sobs.

Matt shakes his head and comes over to her, embracing her in a big hug. “I’m sorry, i shouldn’t have snapped. I should’ve asked you why, i love you, i’m not mad at you, baby. I’ll never be mad at you and i’ll always love you.” Matt rants.

“I didn’t want to!” Ella sobs into his neck.

Matt tears up, “I know, my love. I know. And i’m sorry i swore at you, i didn’t mean it, your mother and i love you so much and we just want the best for you, okay? We good now?” Matt pulls away to look at Ella, wiping her tears with his thumbs, his hands staying on her cheeks.

She nods and sniffles, Matt places a kiss in the middle of her forehead before hugging her again.

Y/n walks in the room and joins the hug, “Mailo!” Y/n yells.

“What?!” He groans from his room.

“Get in here, buddy!” Matt yells as they all continue to hug.

Mailo then comes in the room, “I’m not joining that.” He says shaking his head in disgust, talking about the hug.

Matt scoffs playfully before pulling away from the hug, going and picking up Mailo and throwing him on Ella’s bed as Y/n and Ella laugh.

“Dad!” Mailo groans as they all hug each other.

Safe to say after this Ella stopped smoking, continued to stay friends with Shay and Shawn but dropped Gavin, Jackson, and Hailey.

—————————

alright i’m done for tonight i hope you guys liked this long fic

taglist: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #spotify #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you

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solarissun · 5 months

Text

Bad Idea, right?

afab!reader x Derek Danforth

Summary: You drunkenly bump into Derek at one of his parties.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (m receiving), choking, cheating, porn with (some?) plot, hard dom Derek, afab reader, p in v, P piercing, fingering, degradation, praise

A/N: I know I said I'd write a Sean fic but I just got severe Derek brain rot...

Enjoy!

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for. You just know you need alcohol. Well, you’ve already had… two? Four drinks. But, what’s the harm in a few more?

As you stumble your way to one of the bars, you run headfirst into someone’s back. The stranger turns around, looking down at you. You immediately recognize him. Derek Danforth, billionaire playboy. You had worked for one of his many companies before, and your sorry excuse of a boyfriend was the reason you were even at this party in the first place. Derek and him used to know each other a while back but they haven’t spoken in years. He still dragged you to every single one of Derek’s insane parties, only to abandon you halfway through.

When the parties died down and you got too tired to keep your eyes open, you’d find him trying to sneak around with one of Derek’s hookers.

Derek pulls a vape from his pocket, his eyes fluttering as he wraps his lips around it and inhales. While he speaks, sickly sweet vapor blows into your face. “What’s a girl like you doing here alone?” His head tilts to the side as he takes another puff of the vape.

“I’m not alone.” You cross your arms, your eyes not leaving his. A smile creeps down onto his face as he makes a big show of looking around you. “I don’t see anyone, sweetheart.” His voice is low and gravely, a telltale sign that he’s a bit tipsy too. The smell of whiskey on his breath mixes with the artificial vapor, making you dizzy.

You take a step back, looking around for the man you came here with. Your eyes land on him sitting on a velvet couch, women with scandalous dresses surround him and run their hands through his over-gelled hair. Derek follows your line of sight, his eyes squinting as he sees him. “Really? That fuckin’ loser?” He laughs, throwing out more insults. “Are you really here with him?”

You look back over to Derek, your hands finding their way to your hips. “Why is that so shocking, Danforth?” He laughs, scratching the scruff on his chin. “I’ve scammed that bastard hundreds of times. He’s just a dumbass. He’s got no business being here with a beauty like you.” You know you should turn around and bolt through the front door. You also know it’s definitely a bad idea to tease someone a part of a family as powerful as the Danforths, but something entices you.

Fuck it, it’ll be fine. “Huh. In that case, I guess I’m not here with anyone then. Are you interested?” You give him a sly smile. “Oh, that’s cute.” He smirks, his calloused hands finding their way to your chin. He tilts your head up, bending down to put his face inches from yours. “Sorry, Honey. You’re drunk.” You shuffle closer to him, your noses just barely touching. His eyes flicker down to your lips, his tongue swiping over his own. “So are you.”

He laughs, taking his hand away from your face and straightening back up. “Not enough.” He takes one last look over you, his eyes lingering on your breasts. He mutters something incoherent to himself when he turns to walk away. “Hey- Wait.”

Your hand wraps around his wrist and you pull him back into you. His breath hitches in his throat as you press yourself against his crotch, already feeling his bulge. “You sure?” You slur, the alcohol taking over your senses and filling you with a burning desire you’ve never felt before. There was just something about the way his eyes undressed you, shamelessly focused on each curve of your hips. You want him, and you know he wants you too.

What you don’t know, however, is he’s almost ready to rip your tight little dress off and take you right there in the middle of the room. His frankly perverted thoughts are interrupted as you slowly grind against him, his pants getting tighter by the minute. He groans and doubles over, his hands gripping your waist. His fingers dig into the skin, making you whimper.

He groans with clenched teeth in your ear, “Fuck.. You’re just a slut, aren’t you?” His degradation does nothing but make the fire inside of your core burn brighter. You feel like you’re going to explode if he turns you down again.

“Please…” You whine into his chest as your hips slowly begin moving against his again. You glance around, noticing people begin to stare and whisper. Derek doesn’t even seem bothered as he grips you tighter. He curses again, every amount of hesitation pulled out of him. He grabs your arm roughly, finding the closest bedroom.

He quickly pulls you both in, pushing you against the door with one hand and locking it with the other. He pushes you further against the wall, his thigh riding up into your crotch, spreading your legs further apart. He yanks up your dress to your hips, your panties and legs exposed.

His lips quickly find yours, his hands sliding down to your wrists. He pins them to the wall behind you, kissing you harder. You shiver as his tongue slides out and drags across your lips. Your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip inside. You whimper against him as you feel his tongue brush yours.

The rough fabric of his suit pants grinds against the thin cloth of your underwear. You buck your hips against his thigh harder, your panties soaking through and turning the light green fabric of his pants dark. He bounces his leg against your core. You whimper into his mouth as his thigh continues to hit your clit.

Derek’s lips wander to the skin of your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. You start grinding against his leg harder, feeling your stomach tightening. You moan louder as your back arches against the door. By the noises you’re making and the way your back is arching, Derek can tell you’re close.

He whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. “You wanna cum? Hm? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” You nod and groan louder as his leg quickens and his grip on your wrists tightens. Just as you feel yourself slipping away, his thigh leaves your clit. You whine, feeling the euphoria quickly get ripped away. “You’re going to have to earn it, Love.”

His hands leave your wrists and grab your shoulders, pushing you to your knees. The rough carpet scrapes against your knees. You look up at him through your eyelashes, his crotch inches away. Without a second thought, your hands find the cool metal of his belt buckle. You quickly undo it, his pants falling to his ankles.

His tight boxers leave next to nothing to the imagination, the outline of his erection is very visible, begging to be free. You notice something sticking through the fabric. You quickly pull down his boxers, interested to see what it is. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach. He’s pretty girthy and he’s already leaking with pre-cum. The most striking thing, however, is the frenum piercing right below his tip.

You look up, raising your eyebrow. “Really?” He laughs, his hands tangling in your hair, gripping it. “Never seen a dick piercing before, honey?” You shake your head, millions of fantasies filling your brain. All you can think about is how the cool metal will feel sliding in and out of you as he stretches you out. He pulls your head closer to his erection, daring you to do something. “There’s always a first time for everything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lips, dragging it from the base of his cock to the piercing. The cool metal drags across your tongue. Your hand finds his shaft and you slowly drag it up and down his length, keeping eye contact the whole time. He looks down at you, biting his lip and grunting as your pace increases.

He throws his head back as he feels your tongue swirl around his tip, taking it into the warmth of your mouth. You slowly bob your head up and down, only going as far as the piercing. It drags across your mouth, the metallic taste overwhelming you. Derek’s hand drags you forward, your head pushing down further. The tip repeatedly slams against the back of your throat as his hips begin thrusting forward.

You gag, your eyes filling with tears. You scrunch them shut, your hands reaching out and digging into his thighs as he continues his assault on your throat. With every thrust, he tests you by pushing further and further. Spit drips out, dripping down your chin and running down the front of your chest.

The sounds of your gagging and choking fill the room as Derek begins groaning louder. His movements quicken, his grip on the back of your head tightening. Blackened tears from your smeared mascara roll down your cheeks, mixing with the spit and pre-cum.

Derek pulls your head back, pulling completely out of your throat. You begin to gasp, trying to catch your breath. Before you’re able to, he pulls you back forward, slamming into you again. No one has ever done such a thing to you before, and it overwhelms you. At the same time, you can’t deny you love it. The feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair and the feeling of him pounding into your throat fills you with nothing but pure lust and need. You buck your hips against nothing, your ruined orgasm from earlier begging to catch up to you.

After a few times of Derek pulling out of your mouth and slamming back in, his movements get more sloppy. “God- Fuckk…” He groans loudly, not caring about the partygoers dancing right outside down the hallway. “I’m- I’m gonna…” His deep, gravely moans from earlier dissipate as whimpers leave his mouth. His lewd, almost pathetic noises flip a switch in you. You start bobbing your head faster, trying to match his rhythm.

His hips stutter, and he slams back into your throat one last time. Hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat, filling your mouth with a salty-sweet taste. He doesn’t pull out until you swallow every last drop. Once he’s finished completely, he yanks you up, pulling you over to the bed. “You’re such a fucking slut…” He says as he gets on top of you, kissing down your collarbone.

He reaches behind you, unzipping your dress. He yanks it off of you, throwing it across the room. He quickly does the same with your panties, throwing them behind him as well. His eyes engulf your naked figure, not leaving a single part unseen. He resumes his earlier actions, this time kissing down to your bare chest. His lips find one of your nipples, taking it into his mouth. You moan as he swirls his tongue around it, pinching the other one between his fingers. He takes it between his teeth, gently pulling on it. You whimper, your arousal getting almost too much to handle.

To your dismay, he pulls away, removing his hand as well. He glances up at you through his long eyelashes, his big brown eyes shooting through you. You grind your hips up against his, desperate for any friction you can get “You want more? Hm? Use your words, sweetheart.” He pins your hips against the bed, not letting you have any relief.

“Please.. Please.” You whine. “What? Please what?” You throw your arm over your eyes, your face lighting on fire. You hate how much he’s toying with you, but at the same time, it just makes you want him so much more. “Please, please fuck me.” He smiles, a satisfied laugh leaving his lips. “Good girl…”

He spreads your legs open, his middle finger dragging through your folds. “You’re so wet for me already..” He gasps out, his eyes widening. His finger slowly slides into your pussy. You gasp as he adds another thick finger. Both fingers curl further up, pushing against all the right spots.

You feel him lining yourself up with your entrance, his dick rubbing against your clit. His fingers leave you, quickly being replaced with his tip. You slap your hand over your mouth as he slowly inches in. You feel his calloused hand roughly yank your wrist down, pinning it to the bed. “I want to hear your pretty moans.”

Your hips involuntarily arch up as he pushes you further. You do as he says, your moans getting louder. Your head begins feeling fuzzy as you feel a slight burning. You don’t know how much more of him you can take. Finally, after what feels like centuries, his hips meet yours. The feeling of his piercing sliding against your walls is something you’ve never felt before. But you definitely don’t hate it.

He leans down, his lips capturing yours. He slowly begins thrusting his hips, groaning into your lips. He continues to thrust slowly, making sure you’re comfortable. “More... Please, Derek.” You plead, getting exhausted from his painstakingly slow pace. He pulls his lips away from yours, looking down at you. A smirk creeps onto his face, his eyebrows furrowing. “You sure you can take it?” You pull him back down on top of you, only whimpering out his name.

He immediately pulls out, slamming back into you, hitting your G-spot. You scream as he begins to relentlessly pound into you. His teeth find your neck, biting the skin beneath your pulse You dig your fingers onto his bicep, your fingernails leaving divots in his skin. Your back arches off of the bed as he continues to mindlessly ram into you.

He hoists your legs up over his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs. He mumbles out praises as he watches you squirm under him. You feel yourself climbing closer and closer to the end, your legs already beginning to shake. His hand shoots out, gently squeezing your throat. You start getting dizzy, your vision blurring.

Skin slapping skin fills the room, loud music still blaring from outside. Sweat rolls down your neck, your fingers digging even deeper into his arm. He starts groaning even louder as his thrusts start to have no rhythm. He tenses up, gripping onto you harder. He slams into your G-spot one last time before cumming into you. The feeling of his warm cum coating your walls throws you over the edge, nothing but bliss spreading through your veins. Your whole body shakes as you come down from your high.

He pulls out of you, laying down next to you. You sigh, his cum dripping out of you and running down your leg. You're sweaty and hot, but you don’t regret a thing. If you could, you’d do that a hundred times over. You look over at him and he gives you a suggestive grin.

“You should let your boyfriend drag you to my parties more often…”

#jhutch #josh hutcherson #derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth smut #smut #fanfic #the beekeeper #no use of y/n #josh hutcherson x reader

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ahtae · 9 months

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backstage entanglement (t.y)

warnings: sweaty sex, mirror sex, vaping, very very hot, pussy eating, slight getting caught kink (forgot what it's called)

this is nothing but a very messy drabble but imagine being backstage after a concert with Taeyong and he's sweaty and a tad stressed because he messed up so he's vaping and leaned back on the couch, head tipped to the sky. You want to help him so you straddle his legs and take his cock out of his pants. He quirks an eyebrow at you asking you what you're doing, claiming someone might see you two. You smirk, snaking your hands up his torso, stopping at each tattoo to run your hands over the ink. "Anything you need?" You quote. "Any fantasy," you smirk, beginning to take his length in your mouth. He groans, taking another puff of his vape before blowing it over you, the entire room smelling like watermelon. He eventually has you bent over vanity desk, pumping in and out of you furiously. Taeyong pulls your hair, forcing you to look at how much of a mess you are as he drills into you. The entire room is growing to a boiling temperature and even the mirror begins to fog up. Soon you are unable to see yourself in it. Your whole body is covered in sweat and you and Taeyong and sliding against each other as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, the heated makeout eventually landing on the couch. Taeyong pushes you back, wrapping your legs around his shoulders and lifting you towards his mouth while he devours your pussy — completely ravenous for you. You're not even laying on the couch anymore, your back is airborne as Taeyong wraps his hands around thighs, holding you up and forcing you to squeeze around his head so he can get the weightless feeling he needs.

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hoseoksluna · 4 months

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STRAWBERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. soon-to-be-boyfriend!hobi & spectacled boy)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 7.8k

summary: when your ex-boyfriend's fury burns you whole, you just might need to let hobi in to pour water over you and save you.

playlist: strawberries

pinterest board: j. / taglist: join

warnings: jungkook is nasty and mean and rly needs a trigger warning, oc is lost in her negative emotions and goes through a lot, sadness, crying, shame, longing for death, minor physical violence, oc and hobi take puffs of a shared vape <3, mental and emotional suffering, fighting, belittling, mentions of sex

note: this was an absolute pain to write as i'm not used to writing this genre of jungkook and i hope it's the last time i did skfskfsk, nah i'm just over exaggerating. i'm so happy i got this done in time. two updates in one week! wow. how did i do that? i hope you like this part. prepare yourselves for this jungkook and i'm sorry in advance..... that's all im gonna say. pls, validate me! asks, comments, anything. pretty please! i love you, my babies. big mwah.

You can still sense the ghost of his touch on your shoulder blades as you’re laying halfway on your tummy upon the crumpled bedding of your mattress. Your phone lights up and shuts off like the flickering of stars and all you can do is watch the wane and the rebirth, numbly, with the knowledge that death will never come, not when you’re still a living, breathing person because Jungkook is not the type of individual who gives up. Not easily, that is.

Hobi left but an hour ago while you slept. Kissed you goodbye. Murmured onto your forehead that he would see you again and you merely nodded amidst the magnetic pulling of your dreamland. Couldn’t peel your eyes open due to the heaviness of your tiredness, which didn’t steal, in all peculiar truthfulness, all of your attention, however. You carried on your shoulders a question way heftier. A question of how your body is still able to submit to slumber, when your blood curdles beneath your skin, when it’s so icy that you’re shivering on top of the duvet.

And the question didn’t leave when you woke up to your empty bedroom. It thumped, vigorously, against the nape of your neck. The very place Hoseok clutched when he poured his affection and admiration all over your body.

You wish he hadn’t left. You believe he would’ve possessed your burden, pretending it was his all along. Believe he wouldn’t need to know the alpha and the omega of it. Would pout his lips the way you’ve learned he often does, take the pain from you as if it were a backpack filled with stones. And it does feel like that, your mistake. Your torso is swathed with a double rope, whose end is tied with a stone that you’re cradling in your hands.

A few hours ago, you cradled Hobi’s face in your hands while he kneeled for you, and now you’re anticipating the death that will never come as your stomach hurts.

But the memory of his touch is soothing. While your imaginary wings are flaccid and lackluster on the bed, his invisible hands are the force that pumps blood, feebly, into its membrane. Still warm, though a little less firm. It’s as if he were here in the flesh.

Your body is asking for him, emotionally, however your mind is forbidding you from conveying your need for him to him. Logic is whispering to you that he’s spent the entire day with you, canceled his work meeting because of you. You couldn’t possibly ask for more of his time, for more of him when he had already given you more than enough.

And besides, you can’t let your attachment reach this unhealthy depth. It triggers you, reminds you of the very thing that spliced your heart open almost a month ago. You don’t want to wander there, nor do you want to be pulled there if you were to ever let go of the reins. You can’t afford Jungkook’s life to entwine around your world again. Not when Hobi diligently dug a grave for it, threw its flesh down and covered it back with the soil, his straining muscles the very force that made you forget about… everything.

You can’t do that to yourself. And most importantly, you can’t do that to Hobi.

It’s the latter that propels you to fight. That gives you strength to raise the top half of your body onto your hands. You don’t give a fuck about yourself—you know full well that your life is cursed. Nothing good has ever come out of the events that creeped in until Hobi came along. And you don’t wish to break him out of a selfish intent. You don’t wish to break him because of him. He’s a pure angel, a saint with an honorable heart, a God that has his eye on you. You wouldn’t take it well, if the bane of the ambrosia of your life were ever to touch his lips.

He’s here, and that’s stable. He’s here, and that’s the reason why you need to protect him. From yourself, from the poison, from the rotten apple of your ex-boyfriend current persistence in entering your space all over again.

You don’t want to eat that spoiled fruit anymore, and so you simply won’t.

This decision has shifted the atmosphere because your phone is no longer going off. You sigh a breath of relief, running your fingers through your hair, and you get up, a Virgin Mary that has become a warrior for her God, and you begin to dress yourself.

You need some fresh air.

Clothing yourself in a matching outfit—a light wash baggy jeans, a cropped white tank and a denim jacket with your Nike’s, you grab your phone and keys and drift out into the night.

Your hair has dried while you slumbered and it ripples in the gentle wind of autumn. The street is lit in a darkly yellow tone, also dried from the morning’s downpour and you stop in the middle of the road, where Hobi drove past while you teased him. You breathe in the freshness of the air in effort to inhale your God, in effort to bring him into your system and your chin quivers with weakened emotions, with a weakened wish that he was here with you, holding your hand, giving you the last bit of strength you need. You know his warmth would smooth out your blood, boil it to a temperature that would cook up your joy and bring it to your heart on a silver platter. Bring it to your mind and calm the hurricane within, feed it so it doesn’t wail anymore.

And with another sigh, you will yourself to stop. Will yourself to stop needing. You will stumble and you will fall if you keep going down that road that has never shone brighter, that looks nothing like the one you’re standing in the middle of. And as inviting as it is, you close your eyes to get rid of the blessing reaching out for you—only to discover that it’s waiting for you there, too. A circle of light, of fire amidst a cloud of pure, pitch-black darkness.

You want to scream, and much to your neighbors’ dismay—you do.

It’s a singular, loud stream of your frustration, swaddled with the pulsating energy of your affection. And then your shoulders tremble. And it’s your tears that are louder than that murmuring watercourse in their very silence.

You head to the convenience store down the street with your teardrops dotting the ground as if it were the rain. You don’t want your neighbors to detect it was you, who caused the disturbance, and tell your parents. You have enough fire in your orchard, you don’t need another filling of oil.

You ask the very drowsy guy behind the counter for a strawberry ice vape. His round eyes, behind thick rimmed glasses that make them look even bigger, are barely kept open as he reaches for it with a flabby hand. Your eye catches the glint of a myriad of plan B’s right next to the shelf scattered with packs of lung burners and your heart constricts, a rivulet of emotion cascading down your cheek, caused by the fond recollection of Hobi’s intimate desire and you break—terribly, terribly break. Fruit trees crack in you, collapse to the ground with a horrendous thud and the berry bushes… they wither until they’re mere wisps of blackness. A picture of devastation.

The boy blinks twice when he turns around, regarding you, and he asks for your ID, only to startle when you glare at him. He tells you the price and you pay with your phone, thanking him and saying your curt goodbye.

One he doesn’t reciprocate.

You probably gave him the fright due to the tears marring your pallid cheeks. You hope he isn’t there the next time you’re in the mood to douse your lungs with chemicals.

Your hands are shaking as you’re tearing up the unnecessarily sturdy packaging. And your tears resume in their outpour when your manicured nails make your life harder than it already is. The tape folded over the top of the rectangular box is too thick and you hurt your nail beds when you claw at it. You have to use your teeth and the fucking thing finally gives in.

You furiously throw it out in the bin.

Feel an incoming calmness when you take a deep puff. And you do it over and over again until your cursed world spins, the plump swirls of smoke mingling with the night, never fully connecting. Not like you and Hobi.

And your world tilts on its axis once your phone lights up in your hand and there’s no picture to be found on the screen.

Your heart hammers, threatening to fling out of your throat.

Hobi is calling you.

And the thing is, you don’t really believe it.

Your vision swims as another onrush of dense tears blurs the letters of his name. You stare down at your phone, dumbly, sobbing and not caring at all that the spectacled boy can hear you.

You don’t know who does it—who swipes your finger across the screen and allows you to hear Hobi say the pet name that stole your soul. Who anoints your tears with strawberry-scented mollification while you fail to comprehend that the person you willed yourself not to need in order to not hurt him the way you were hurt somehow heard your cries and answered them like the God he is.

Because it couldn’t have been you. Not when you’ve become a lifeless sculpture in the middle of a yellowly-lit street. A modern, urban art—awakening ugliness in anyone’s first impression.

Not a sculpture of the angel you saw at the museum, the one Hobi took your picture with, though.

You're a sculpture of a road kill. A wounded, small animal, laying on its side with its guts out. And Hobi places them, with gentleness you’ve never felt before, back inside, stitches your belly closed and picks you up, carrying you in his arms. All because he repeats the pet name—with a slither of panic this time.

He acknowledged that something is wrong, validated it.

And somehow, it snaps you out of your vapor of numb sadness and shame permeates your body, cold sweat coats it—something beyond it, too. Something that makes you shiver so hard that your teeth begin to chatter, preventing you from speaking, your tongue twisted, lifeless.

A reality check.

You sent a filthy video of yourself getting rocked from behind to your ex-boyfriend, in which you screamed that your most intimate parts belong to another man.

You’re not Virgin Mary. You’re Mary Magdalene.

You don’t hear your pitiful crying fits, but Hobi does—and it is through his inhale of a trembling breath and his words that you perceive that you’re baring your ugliness to him.

“Pup, what’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?”

You squeeze your vape in your small fist, sensing those words doing something in you—something that untwists your tongue and lets you breathe like him, though in painful, quick staccatos. Your frail legs hurt, not able to withstand your tremor, and they give out. You fall onto your bum, the impact and the gravel shooting a spark of pain up your spine and you whimper, your tears soaking your neckline.

“Hobi,” you call out, the last vowel breaking, teeth chattering, cacophonously. “I made a mistake. A terrible mi-mistake.”

He coos, sorrowfully, his loud breath still trembling—a strong rope nonetheless that you want to hold onto. That cord wouldn’t lead you to your death, wouldn’t scrape your hands with its harsh texture, wouldn’t be wrapped around a stone on the other end.

“Breathe for me, baby,” he says and guides you to do it. You inhale the night air with him, feeling like there isn’t enough of it to appease your lungs, and you exhale.

Somehow it halts the river of your cries and you do it again. Hobi lets you, patiently waiting on the other side, encouraging you and praising you. This time, it doesn’t sprinkle you with the sultriness of sin. No, you sense it cleansing you, giving you the kind of newness you stumbled across in his car this very morning. Your palm, the one that clutches your vape, opens and it rolls onto the ground. You grab it and when you wrap your fingers around it, you perceive that you do the motion around that newness. And your heart, your submission—they’re not letting up. Not again. Not when it’s him.

“That’s it,” Hobi praises, a hint of calmness in his tone. “Can you try and tell me what happened?”

You nod your head, even though he can’t see you, the newness gracing you with strength that spreads feeling into your legs and you stretch them out. Blood pumps in them and you can sense the direction it’s traveling to. You tighten your grip, open your mouth to talk.

“I sent the video to the wrong person,” you utter, and along with your grip, your lungs tighten as well. No sobs escape you, no tears. Only gravely stillness, nothingness while your shame stands behind you, menacingly, a demon set out on destroying you, the curse upon your life a bracelet around its wrist, a knife in his hand, to which it’s attached.

Hobi doesn’t say anything for a moment and you can sense his shock, its cold tendrils the ice that courses down your legs. An agony forms in your heart, stretches out an arm of regret and strikes against your ribcage, pangs of guilt and self-disgust seizing your body.

“I’m so sorry, Hobi, I thought I sent it to you,” you continue, your voice splitting, though no external expression of it is evident on your countenance. It’s as if you were telling him the most ordinary of a thing. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a puff of your vape. It is only now that you can taste its strawberry savoriness and it suffuses your lungs with a mockingly sweet, feigned fume.

Hobi hears you exhale and you hear him swallow, dryly. An exchange, most redolent of the one you’ve done many times earlier.

“What are you smoking?” he asks, and it catches you off guard. You didn’t expect him to yell at you, nor did you expect him to scold you. Truth be told, your fragile state of mind didn’t let you expect anything of him, any sort of outcome. Yet this question still surprises you. It flattens lukewarmness upon your skin and you feel like nuzzling your face into it, needing more of it.

You take a deep breath. “I bought a strawberry vape. Scared the guy in the store with what I looked like.”

Hobi laughs through his nose, barely. That’s the real sweetness you know. The original one, from God himself. “I’m sure he thought you were beautiful. Should I beat him up?”

The same sound leaves you and lightness descends upon you. You welcome it in, without a fight, and the sigh you let out is of a serene kind, at last. “Not at all and besides, I almost did it myself. He asked for my ID.”

Hobi coos, the endearment prolonging—wafting through your ear down your throat until it clings to your heart. You snivel, your inkling to nuzzle into the apparition of him lining your body growing bigger until you submit to it. You graze your cheek upon your arm, propping both of them onto your lifted knees. Feel his caress, but faintly. It should be enough, but it isn't. Could never be.

You open your mouth again to tell him to come get you, despite the fight rising in you, but Hobi speaks first.

“I don’t blame him that he did. You’re just my little pup. But my adult, little pup. I’ll talk to him.” You hear a shuffling in the background and your breath hitches in your throat, your heart joining it, ascending. “Where are you? I’m getting in my car.”

Your mind, where the war is coming from, wins. That quickly. Reminds you that if you face him and tell him what you’ve done, you’ll ruin everything. Ruin the connection, ruin the affection he carries for you.

You’re hasty as you scramble your words, but as your heart descends back into your ribcage, it throws you a lifeline. It all happens in an instant and distaste pools on your tongue from the rapidness of it all. You never liked it, and you never will.

The lifeline of your new life, created by Hobi, changes your words, but leaves the intention untouched.

“Can I tell you who I sent it to?” you ask, taking a puff to relax the electricity of your nerves. The strawberry flavor only heightens it, though. Out it must go, then. So you can forget about it the moment you see his face.

The shuffling halts. “You can tell me in person,” Hobi says, lightly, but you shake your head. You know he means well. Know that he wants to reassure you with touch, but it’s a risk you can’t afford. Not when the wrong kind of neediness is at stake.

“I don’t want to talk about it when I see you,” you push, pursing your lips, finding them in a serious need of a chapstick. You begin to nibble on the flecks of skin that stick out. “I want to focus on you. I want to forget.”

No ounce of a lie in your words, though your intention still remains hidden. Rightfully so—him leaving you because of the storm of your mental state and issues is another risk you don’t want to have staining your hands with blood.

You hear him sit down. Hear him play with his keys—and the clanging sound is oddly comforting. “All right. Tell me, then.”

“I sent it to someone from my past,” you start with great difficulty, pause afterwards because a light pours in from behind. The squeak of breaks, the impatient buzzing of a running car. Your mouth dries, your torso turns around. A silhouette exits the vehicle and as the person emerges from the darkness and steps into the bright lights that it’s emitting, the name that slips past your lips is more of an acknowledgement of his presence than a disclosure of information. “Jungkook.”

Jungkook stops right behind you like the demon of your shame did, with his hands in his pocket. You don’t feel warmth radiating off of him. You feel coldness, a wintry coldness so akin to the one that troubled your body before Hobi called. He zeroes his gaze down on you, piercing your irises with a fury that causes the fine hair on the nape of your neck to rise, painfully. The muscles of his forearms are clenched, oscillating as he drums his fingers on his thighs in the cocoons of his pockets. Your breath trembles, terror prickling you profoundly until it cuts your skin open and you whimper—you whimper with a sob.

“Who’s Jungkook?” Hobi asks, softly, and you close your eyes to incarcerate your tears, curling your lips under your teeth, terribly fearful that Jungkook can hear him.

Cursed, your life is.

He shows no sign that he does—merely burns with that fury, patiently waiting for you to end the call. Your heart stills, ache replacing it, and you think it’s been wounded so much that it can barely work anymore.

More than ever, you feel like that Mary Magdalene, face to face with the devil that tempts her to return to her vomit like a dog.

Hobi calls your name, panics, and it’s another lifeline—this time thrown over your torso by his own hands. You have to fight, you have to stand up to this hell and walk the fuck away from it.

“Baby, I gotta go. Please, hurry. Please,” you pule, stressing the last pretty word to divulge to him how grave the situation is that you’re in. Hobi lets out a breath, lowly and shortly, and it’s such a relief that he understood your vague message, that you can hear him scurrying to his feet and that comforting sound of his keys clanging.

“I’ll be there in a few, pup. Tell me where you are. Are you safe? Do you have your keys?” Hobi spews, massaging your heart with his care and there’s no ceaselessness to your tears.

“Down the road, like less than a minute away from my apartment. And I don’t know. And yeah, they’re in my pocket.”

A bang of his door closing. Jungkook begins to tap his foot. You scowl at him, despite your fear. He doesn’t stop. You withdraw your gaze.

Hobi’s breath quickens. “Pull them out and use them when you need to, okay? Have them ready in your hand.” You nod, doing exactly as he says, without a thought spared. “Walk to your apartment building, I’ll meet you there. You got your keys in your hand?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, pup, I’ll be there soon. Do you want to stay on the phone with me?”

You do, but you can’t.

“I’ll go to my apartment now, Hobi. Thank you.”

You don’t allow yourself to hear what he says next. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you hang up with a heavy heart. Your sudden, miserable aloneness enfolds around you, rigidly. But not as rigidly as Jungkook’s cold hand around your arm.

The heaviness in your heart grows as its drum speeds up.

“Get up,” Jungkook grunts, hauling you up onto your feet, awkwardly, causing you to drop your vape onto the gravel with the strength and hastiness he uses to do it with.

You stumble before you catch your balance and Jungkook doesn’t let go of his deathly grip on you until you do. Then, before your blurring sight, he bends at the waist and picks up your lung burner, skimming his eyes over it. Hands it to you with a scoff, his touch icy cold as he grabs your wrist and places it onto your palm. You sob, with ugliness that scars you, with such intensity that Jungkook’s narrowed eyes round and you pull your gaze away. You don’t want to see it. Tug your arm away from him, rubbing your wrist to get rid of the ghost of his fingers there, disgust flooding your bloodstream underneath.

And even though he seemingly softened at your tears, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. It didn’t touch his fury, not at all.

“Baby, huh?” he seethes with gritted teeth, letting go of you so harshly that you almost stumble again. “Your pussy is his, huh?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, rivulets of tears rolling down your cheeks, pain compressing your entire body. It’s at this moment that you will death to take you somewhere far, far away from him, because you’re too frozen on the spot to run away.

“You’re covered in hickeys and you’re smoking that shit again. Was it really that good? Did he fuck you so good that you had to send it to me in spite? Did he fuck you better than I ever did?”

Your sobs gain that same agony that prevents your lungs from inhaling. And when you open your eyes, all you can look at is your shadow and his, yours blackened so much that it digs a hole in the gravel, his furling with flames.

And along with death, you will a little strength into your anguish.

And most unbelievably, it slinks in, and your following words come as much of a surprise to you as to him.

“Stop.”

His shadow stills, his tremor following suit.

“You have no business talking to me this way,” you continue, your throat constringing, and you take a big puff of your vape—to spite him rightfully this time. It loosens the tightness and you open your mouth, not finished with your outpour.

But Jungkook stops you.

“I have no business? You crushed my fucking heart.”

Your head whips and the sight of him causes your pain to rise in levels. Palms outstretched towards you, his posture slouches and the breaths he lets out are wretched, the sound of a tumultuous sea at night. One would think he’s the one being inflicted great emotional violence on, not the other way around.

Jungkook raises a finger to his heart, licking his lips before he flattens them, as if the utterance of something so private, so fervent took all of his strength. He pants and you know it’s due to the fact that he can’t catch up to the thoughts rushing in his brain. And you wish you didn’t. You wish you didn’t know him so intimately.

“This fucking heart has never stopped being yours,” he confesses and cringes at his choice of words, triggered. Your stream of anguish is silent as you take them in. “And you crushed it. Ruined it.”

There was a time, one that used to be nearly endless during those weeks in August you spent at the beach, healing from the breakup, when you longed to hear that confession. Prayed for it. Sough it when you grazed your fingertips along the sand. And now that it’s here—now that you’re tasting something so great, greater than your entire being, something so burnt as he voiced out your tendency to cause ruination—you wish you never heard it. Wish you never had the ears that carried that message to you.

And there’s nothing you can do. Not as darkness swallows you, confiscating any bit of strength you had left. Your eyes sting from their downpour, face features droop. Your pain is an enormous stone and you can’t carry it. You can only chase away the heft. And you do—you take a puff of your vape.

One that he rips from your mouth and throws it out in the bin, preventing you from doing so. You don’t yelp, you don’t claw at his arm—you merely watch him rid you of your only salvation for the night, watch him exert his power over you all over again, bursting your indignation into flames.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you ask, your voice deathly, uncannily placid, carrying no tendril of the offense and anger you feel. Adrenaline courses through you, asking to be let out.

And you just might.

Jungkook turns around and spits on the ground. “Don’t smoke that shit.”

It’s not hurt, what the expression of his arrogance produced. It unlocked the door, which kept your adrenaline and your darkened emotions at bay, invited them out.

And so you lash out, using that freedom.

You slap him.

And he takes it. Without moving an inch. Still as a grand statue. You yearn to demolish it to smithereens, so you can never see him again, and you strike at his chest with your keys in between your fingers, pushing him. Affected from the force, it causes him to unwillingly take a step back and it feels fucking glorious until you catch stars flash in his eyes.

“You’re hitting me because I threw out your fucking vape?” he asks, his voice coated with a dark bitterness that deepens it. His brows furrow, grimness casting a shadow over his face, hiding the glitter of the stars. “I’m laying my heart out to you. I’m here in the middle of the night because of you and this is what you care about? This fucking thing that harms you is more dear to you?”

You push him again, fuming. Jungkook grits his teeth, takes your wrists and holds them in the air. You fight against it, but he won’t budge. Tightens his grip. And you’re a bird, locked in a cage—but you still have your voice.

“I’m hitting you because I hate you,” you mutter, burning him with the vapor of your anger through your narrowed eyes. “I’m hitting you because I hate the way you think you’re still entitled to have a say in my life. And it doesn’t even matter whether I have a man or not. You let me go and the moment you did that, your control over my life? It went fucking bye bye.”

You let him forbid you from smoking in the past. Needed it at the time, needed a father’s hand—and you liked it because you never had it. Never had a male care about you, about your health, about your actions. Your father never spared you a glance, never gave a fuck about you. He always had your mother handle you, blaming her for the way she raised you.

But during those weeks you healed, being alone by the sea helped you unattach yourself from that, from needing Jungkook to tell you what’s right and what’s not. The moon doesn’t tell the sea which shells to wash up onto the shore—it does it by itself, handpicks them, makes the decision. And the more time you watched it deliver it to you and you collected them with gladness, the more you understood it.

You’re never letting him have that power over you again. You’re your own person, carrying an armful of your right and wrong decisions—your own possessions. And so you will smoke if you want to. You will bring a man home on the first date. You will fall in love. And you will speak up.

You twist your wrists, unrelentingly, until he lets go. You will win, not your mind, not your heart. The raw, brutal, unabashed you.

You take a step back away from him, feel your blood rushing to the places of your body parts that he held, quick to recover them. “You don’t get to dictate my life anymore. You have no place in it. You didn’t have it then when I was by myself, and you most certainly don’t have it now.”

Jungkook takes in your words with a parted mouth, a red mark forming over his cheek, the light shunned from his eyes. The glorious feeling returns, blooming thin, translucent tissues of happiness in you.

“Hoseok is his name, isn’t it?” he chunters, placing his hands back into the cocoons of his pockets, tilting his head to the side.

Hearing him say his name is a taste of spoiled milk and bile springs up your throat, your guts longing to empty themselves out. You stifle it, you have to, clutching your stomach, feeling so horribly faint. Your hatred for him blossoms like that poison ivy you dealt with earlier in the morning.

“Keep his name out of your mouth,” you spit, scowling at him, clutching your stomach harder—just like Hobi did when you brought him home. A sliver of nostalgia forces you to look behind you, in case you catch a glance of his car, but the street remains empty and sullen.

“You can hate me as much as you want,” Jungkook mutters, his words swiveling your head back to face him, and your guts ripple. “Yell at me. Hit me. But don’t send me videos of you getting fucked. That’s not fucking right.”

You bare your teeth, seething. “I made a mistake.”

Jungkook nods. “Yes,” he hushes. “Yes, you did.”

You shake your head. “No, you don’t understand.” Confusion pinches his brows, creating a wrinkle in the middle and he lets you continue. You lick your lips, your face dry from the way your tears have seeped inside. “I thought I sent it to Hobi. I was too tired, I didn’t see. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jungkook scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip swiftly, mimicking you. “Don’t fucking lie to me, little girl.”

You mewl, painfully, at the pet name. It’s as if he sank a dagger in the middle of your sternum. Weariness descends upon you and you rub your eyes, wishing you had your strawberry vape, your salvation, in your fist. And you find no traces of any grit, any determination to convince him that you’re being truthful to him.

You turn around halfway. “Go home.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but the squeaking sound of brakes causes him to close it right away. You know it’s Hobi and the knowledge is more satisfying than the dose of chemicals Jungkook threw out. Relief washes over you, bringing along lightness and something that is kindred to joy. You don’t care that Hobi is about to see your ex-boyfriend. You don’t care about anything at all—you’re just so grateful that he’s here. And you’re willing to let go of your walls, of your war that you tend to be so submissive to. You’re willing to let yourself go and let Hobi take you, handle you, take care of you.

You need it. As much as it pains you, you need him after this encounter with Jungkook.

And when Hobi calls your name and you pivot on your feet to watch him walk, hurriedly, to you, your legs do give out after all. Because he’s caked in blood, a trickle of it flecked and dried on his brow, illuminated by Jungkook’s headlights. You land, awkwardly, on your bum and your wrist, wincing in pain, but it’s not his hands that lift you.

It’s a pair of hands that you know to be cold and, despising the sting of it, you shriek, pushing him away. The motion leads you to stagger into Hobi’s arm that he opens for you, his chaste, feathery touch grounding you, giving you the sense of home, even when the look he gives Jungkook is anything but warm and friendly.

“Hobi, what happened? Are you okay?”

You take his shiny, sweaty face into your hand. Your eyes could fall out of their sockets due to how beautiful he is, even bloodied, alarmed and bestial. You need to know what happened. Need to clean him up. Take him home.

But Hobi doesn’t answer you. Doesn’t look your way, only acknowledges you with his scalding touch. Stares down your ex-boyfriend with such contempt that you’re surprised the man is still standing.

You’re so pulled in, so focused on him and his unwavering expression of detestation, which flatters you and soothes you, that you don’t notice that Jungkook is leaving. Hobi snaps his fingers at him and beckons him to come back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hobi barks, his fingers lowering and hooking around the middle belt loop of your jeans.

Jungkook returns to that space of light, the black tank top he’s wearing making it seem like he’s hollow on the inside. Perhaps he is, he did hand over his heart. Wasn’t affected by your fragile state of mind, by your tears. Wounded you to the point that you will take days to recover. Only a person of complete nothingness would be able to do that.

“I saw you at the museum,” Hobi continues, brows wrinkled. “Who the fuck are you?”

You should speak. You should take this elsewhere, but you can’t. Not when you feel so small, like a little girl hiding behind the leg of her father who’s dealing with the boogeyman. And you’re reminded that this has happened before.

Only the roles were reversed.

In the wine-tinged room this morning while you were confronting Jungkook and his companion found him. She asked the same question, though the hostility she showed you could never be compared to Hobi’s unkindness. He emanates respect while she’s a condensation of insecurity.

“I see you’re the Daddy from the video,” Jungkook laughs, humorlessly, dipping his chin before he lifts it in a very evident effort to reach not only Hobi’s height but his supremacy as well. He will always wish to overpower—it’s in his nature. “Trust me, you’re not the only one she called Daddy. Long before you came along, it was all I heard from her—”

You blink and Jungkook’s face is in Hobi’s hand.

You gasp. You’re a witness to Hobi protecting your dignity as he squeezes his cheeks until Jungkook moans, pathetically, in pain. And all you can think about is how long he had that coming. For throwing out your vape, for his arrogance and now for the way that he spoke about you.

You don’t feel a slither of pity for him.

No—your joy, fully, forms.

“If I ever hear those words come out of your mouth again, I won’t hesitate to unable to you talk,” Hobi says with concerning seriousness and you shiver, grazing your fingertips along your collarbones after you fold your arms over your chest, touched, flattered, loved. A line of tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, but you hold them back. You don’t want to cry anymore—you’re sick of it. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything. Hobi waggles him before he lets him go and you swear you caught a tinge of whiteness scattering along his knuckles. Your mouth dries.

“Now you’re dismissed,” Hobi finishes, turning around and grabbing your hand, tugging you back home.

Your legs follow him, but your vision doesn’t. It remains fixed on Jungkook, on his heaving chest, on his reddened cheeks, embossed with Hobi’s fingerprints and the lines of your hand. His eyes are smothered with stars, a skyful of them, ones that expand until there’s no darkness left.

And you’re witness to regret taking shape in them.

And something about that tells you that this isn’t the last time you see him.

Hobi had been in a car accident on his way to rescue you. He tells you of it as you’re cleaning him up with a lukewarm, wet cloth and your arm gets stuck in the air, unable to move, as you comprehend the life-threatening danger he underwent because of you. Another driver bumped him from the back while he was slowing down at the yellow light, wanted to race on the almost empty highway. Was under the influence, Hobi found out when he stepped out of his vehicle to grapple with him. Deemed it wasn’t worth it, especially when time was pressing down on him, and with a little manipulation and an installment of fear, the silly guy agreed to pay for everything and Hobi got his number.

You wonder at how he managed to get back inside his car and drive when he hit his head on the steering wheel. You worry that he has a concussion. Suggest to take him to a hospital, but Hobi only shakes his head, reassures you he’s fine and once you completely clean the blood off of his brow, you can see a thin but bulbous scratch right beneath the fine hair, surrounded by violets and pinks. A different bruise from the ones bestrewn over his body from your mouth.

Your heart aches. This is all your fault, the repercussion of your neediness, the finished work of your ruination.

You grow solemn, your features drooping again, but Hobi isn’t blind to it. Cups your chin, lifts it, fondles it with his thumb. Pouts ever so slightly. Why is it a relief that you feel bursting in your chest amidst your lingering pain is something you can’t really understand.

But he’s God. No wonder he’s able to mount such strangeness in you and make it work.

“Did he hurt you?” Hobi whispers, cradling your other hand on your lap. He’s sat in your armchair, with you on his thighs, in the very corner of your dark living room, lit up coolly and solely by your antique lampshade. It’s where you read your poetry, where you recite it to nobody else but you, where you recharge your battery when your world exhausts you. The fact that Hobi chose to sit here instead of your couch speaks volumes, has a great meaning that you’re too weary to decipher and romanticize, but you like it. A lot. To the point that you’re comfortable enough to answer his question, despite the fact you looked forward to Jungkook’s absence in your alone time with Hobi.

“The way he spoke about me was the same way he talked to me,” you say, your voice coated with milky sadness. Your eyes instinctively drop to his hand holding yours, to his fist wrapped around your fingers. “He didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t send it to him on purpose.”

Brusqueness clouds his eyes, but he remains gentle with you. “You don’t have to care about what he thinks, whether he believes you or not. You don’t have to prove anything to him. Your one word is enough,” Hobi says, drifting his hand down your arm until it winds up at his other one intertwined with yours and you sob, tearlessly. It’s precisely what you needed to hear without knowing it, the final touch to the closing chapter that had so abruptly opened. You carry it into your minuscule heart, sinking it there, letting it permeate its entirety, and you nod your head. “Did he hurt you physically?”

You lay yourself down on his chest, on his bloodstained blue shirt, on his heart that you missed and Hobi locks you in, taking his hands and wrapping them around your form. You could fall asleep like this, forget and become the happiest girl in the world.

“Not that much.”

His heart quickens and you regret your words.

“What do you mean not that much?”

You’re quick to fix your mistake, not thinking it through.

“He was rough with me. My legs gave out on me before he came. He found me on the ground and he lifted me up. Then held my wrists when I hit him—”

“You hit him?”

You stammer, jumbling your words, deciding on just one. “Yeah.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, squeezing your arm, and this is the death you longed for.

Never in your life had you ever experienced praise from a man in a non-sexual context and not gotten lustfully affected by it. The purity, the newness is so healing, so consequential that you can’t help but to stroke his clothed ribs in side to side motion, in appreciation and even a faint smile of fondness curls your lips, one that Hobi can very well see from above. He caresses the trace of it while it is still there, causing your smile to blossom, and you sense the orchard in you gaining life.

“You went through so much emotional suffering today and yet you’re still able to smile. All because I praised you. You react so beautifully to it,” Hobi comments and you blush, his thumb skipping over to it, giving it the same attention, collecting it like keepsakes. You’d wonder at it, too, if you haven’t already acknowledged yourself, intimately, with his sovereign power of erasing past events.

And you tell him, peeling your torso off of his chest.

“It’s your doing. You make me forget about everything when I’m with you. It’s like it never happened at all. I don’t know how you do it.”

Hobi smiles, the corners of his glimmering eyes crinkling. “If it’s my doing, then it’s yours, too. You should know how you do it.”

You soften into liquid and it’s your heart that quietly weeps now. “You remember the poem.”

He nods, gliding his hand up and down your side. “How could I not? It’s all I can hear in my mind. I kept hearing it on my way home and then on my way back to you.”

That alone takes the unfateful events of the night off of you like a layer of clothing, dressing you in strength. You need a giant puff of your vape, just to recuperate from being drowned in the sea of your past longing for this. And you reach into the pocket of your jeans, only to be reminded of what happened to it.

It feels like a distant memory. So much had occurred that it slipped from your mind. You frown.

“What’s wrong?”

You purse your lips. “I thought I still had my vape.”

“You don’t?”

You shake your head. “He threw it out.”

Hobi seems as offended by the information as you were when you watched it happen. And as much as you bonded over your sexual desires, the same connection clicks over this.

“He’s such a dick. Let’s get you a new one.”

He pats your bum and then you’re on your feet, tugged back outside, with a smile quivering your lips. And this time you follow him with your vision, too. Your eyes sail over his strong imaginary wings, on which the pink dominates the black, and you feel your own being upheaved, slowly gaining the vigor that they lost.

And Hobi scares the spectacled boy in the convenience store. Not with his stained shirt, but with the way he provokes embarrassment in him by asking him if he wants to see his ID as well, staying true to the words he said to you over the phone. The boy didn’t even so much as peek at you, too afraid to do so.

It made you laugh.

Hobi double checked with you if it were the strawberry flavor that you wanted, and you changed your mind. Picked the blackberry one because you never had it before. Could use another dose of newness.

He opens the packaging with you, struggling at first, but then he immediately uses his teeth. You smile so hard that your cheeks hurt.

Smile even as he places it between your lips, but you can’t take a puff, can’t drop the presence of your happiness, even when he encourages you. That is until he inhales it first—you’re so struck by the beauty of it, of him that the muscles in your face let up. The smoke twirls around the feathers of his wings, adding just the right amount of white into its art, and you yearn to fall asleep on them.

“Can you stay over tonight?”

“Only if you take a puff.”

He carves it between your lips and this time, as you’re so mesmerized by him, you wrap your lips around it and suck; suck in that heady, hefty, colorful flavor that pools warmly in your throat, blowing the smoke around his neck while he kisses your forehead. Takes you back inside. Dresses you in your pajamas. Lets you smoke in bed with his wings swaddling you and your little childhood bows-adorned bunny plushie. Lets you put the vape in his mouth as he strokes your hair.

The night birds begin to sing and into their song your phone dings. You know who it is long before you prove yourself right.

But it’s not a text message that disturbed their music.

Jungkook sent you a picture.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth

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