#bc i love them and they deserve softness too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 3 months

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LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.

You couldn’t.

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.”

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

You exhaled, he inhaled.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”

Your body panics, but you will it to relax.

“Does that come with the premium subscription?”

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.

“I get to take Bam?”

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”

Probably not. Definitely not.

“But what about Bam?”

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.”

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.

Jungkook groans.

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.

You want him.

It began with a ring and ended right here.

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.

Jungkook grips your waist hard.

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.

“Kiss me, then.”

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.

“Bam, house.”

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.

No attachment, no liking.

Just sex.

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.

You broke him.

And now you have to face the repercussions.

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.

A lump forms in your throat.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.

Flowery or deceitful?

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you.

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.

“Are you scared?”

You’re an empty canvas.

“Not anymore.”

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”

“Okay.”

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips.

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.

“Feels good, baby?”

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.

“Did so well for me.”

The whisper takes you back and you awake.

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth.

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.

Musk, vanilla, wood.

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.”

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”

You nod. “So bad.”

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.

Neither, evidently, can he.

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.

So vulnerable.

You ache.

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.

“Talk to me.”

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.

He stares you down.

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.

“I won’t play with you, then.”

Panic. “No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

Silence.

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.

“Jungkook.”

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.

“Beg.”

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You groan in frustration.

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.”

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.

“Where?”

A challenge. Your throat dries up.

“There.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.

“Lick my clit, please.”

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.

“Like this?”

You choke out a moan.

“Yes, please.”

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy.

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.

Daddy and little girl.

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens.

“But what if it doesn’t fit?”

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, trusting him.

He pecks you. Smiles.

“How many orgasms are we at?”

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

“You obliterated my expectations.”

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”

You blush, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.

“I don’t stop coming.”

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?”

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?”

You scoff. “Just one.”

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.

He didn’t break his promise.

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.

And there you feel it.

The sensation unlike any other.

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.

“Please, come for me.”

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.

Jungkook grunts.

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all.

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.

“Good girl. Good little princess.”

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?”

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

Text

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t.

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.”

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?”

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

#yeah so #i wrote this in a TRANCE #want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll #can you tell that im ovulating #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse fic #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader

10K notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 12 days

Note

I DESPERATELY NEED THEM PIASTRI FICS 💳💳💥

FIRST OSCAR FIC 🥺 i know this concept has been done before but i loved how this one turned out and i hope you do too ! lmk your thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri and 2,574,339 others

yourinstagram GUTS has been out for a week !! what’s yalls favorite song? 🤧

view all 15,965 comments

ynfan1 DONT MAKE ME CHOOSE

mtv definitely get him back!

ynfan2 choosing a favorite guts song is like choosing a favorite child

dualipa STUNNING ANGEL 🤩

oscarfan1 can oscar reply to this i want to know his favorite song

↳ oscarfan2 wbk he has this album on repeat

chappelroan lacy oh lacy 😩

oscarpiastri Love is embarrassing or logical

↳ oscarfan1 THERE YOU HAVE IT

↳ oscarfan2 whatever you do don’t picture oscar singing love is embarrassing like a teenage girl

↳ ynfan1 crying bc i bet yn has no idea of who he is

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 287,689 others

oscarpiastri F1 race winner has a nice ring to it 🧡

view all 7,773 comments

oscarfan1 FINALLYYY MY WINNER

landonorris Congrats mate ! Deserve it 👊

↳ oscarfan2 LOMLS

mclaren YES, YES IT DOES! 👏 So good today, Oscar. 🧡

longansargeant So proud of you mate 🙌

oscarfan3 do you think his crush will acknowledge his existence now that he’s a winner?

↳ oscarfan1 wait who’s his crush im out of the loop

↳ oscarfan3 singer and actress yn lol

↳ ynfan1 i love this lore so much

liked by oscarpiastri, arianagrande and 2,740,727 others

yourinstagram tickets for the GUTS tour are on sale now who’s cominggggg🥶

view all 16,725 comments

ynfan1 LETS GOOO

chappelroan i can’t wait for thissss💜

ynfan2 tour of the decade already

mtv pop princess is coming

oscarfan1 do you think oscar woke up for the fan pre sale and got into the queue and all

↳ oscarfan2 you BET

oscarpiastri Count me in ♥︎ by author

↳ oscarfan1 HEEEEELP

↳ ynfan1 yn liked his comment 😭

↳ oscarfan2 somebody check on oscar please

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 288,293 others

oscarpiastri Days off 🌊

view all 7,238 comments

oscarfan1 this is the hottest man alive

mclaren 🙌

oscarfan2 not him posting this right after yn followed him 😭 we know what you’re doing sir

ynfan1 yn likeddd

↳ ynfan2 i love how both fandoms are rooting for them now

landonorris Looks dope 👊

yourinstagram niiiiceeee 😃

↳ ynfan1 HELLO????

↳ oscarfan1 now he’s for real going to pass out

↳ oscarfan2 i bet he’s staring at his phone wondering if this is real or if she was hacked

↳ ynfan2 i know this woman SHES FLIRTING

↳ ynfan3 come on girl give him a chance

four months later

liked by ynfan1, oscarfan1 and 17,397 others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri with singer and actress YN in Los Angeles today 👀

view all 3,028 comments

oscarfan1 OMFG

oscarfan2 no way…

ynfan1 YALL, HE GOT IT

oscarfan3 i cannot believe my eyes, oscar has been simping over her on the internet since 2020 and how we have THIS

ynfan2 i really need to know how did this happen

oscarfan4 okay but THEIR SMILES !!!!

ynfan3 finally a guy who’s not a loser and/or an old ass

liked by oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 2,836,473 others

yourinstagram pastry boy clearly didn’t wait until i finished sneezing to take this picture 🤧

view all 17,826 comments

ynfan1 IS SHE TALKING ABOUT OSCAR??

oscarfan1 PASTRY BOY AS IN OSCAR PIASTRI ?

conangray love me a soft launch 🧐

↳ ynfan1 OMFGGGGGG

ynfan2 i can’t believe she’s potentially dating someone her age and with a job FINALLY

oscarfan2 oscar is proof that persistence is key and manifestation works

landonorris Typical pastry fashion

↳ yourinstagram idk how you deal with him all the time

↳ oscarfan1 ALSJAO THIS IS TOO MUCH

↳ oscarfan2 i need her to befriend the entire grid ASAP

oscarpiastri But it made it to your Instagram, so you’re welcome

↳ yourinstagram well thank you you’re very humble

↳ oscarpiastri Anytime 🤍

↳ oscarfan1 I’VE DIED DEAD

↳ ynfan1 stop flirting in front of us HELLO?

after the date

liked by oscarpiastri, chappelroan and 2,027,933 others

yourinstagram the GUTS tour takes tokyo today !!! this is going to be one of the most special shows ever 🥺

view all 25,736 comments

ynfan1 AHHHH

ynfan2 huuuhh is she planning something ??

conangray that’s my best friend 😍

oscarfan1 oscar dating a popstar is the best thing ever look at herrr

landonorris Can’t wait 🙌🏻

↳ landofan1 HUHHH?

↳ oscarfan1 is he going ?? WITH OSCAR ??

sabrinacarpenter 💗💗💗

oscarpiastri Please sing deja vu tonight

↳ yourinstagram you got it

↳ oscarfan1 AH I CANT BELIEVE WE MIGHT HAVE OSCAR (AND LANDO??) ATTENDING HER SHOW

liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 538,299 others

oscarpiastri I had the best time ever in Tokyo 🙌🏻

view all 8,626 comments

oscarfan1 BABYYY

oscarfan2 i love him so bad

mclaren 🧡

ynfan1 oh we know why he had the best time

logansargeant Little boy in love

↳ oscarfan1 HWEEELP ME

landonorris Why are you posing like a five year old?

↳ landofan1 HEEEEEELP ME

↳ oscarfan1 i love them bad

↳ yourinstagram I SAID THE SAME THING !!

↳ ynfan1 man i love this

yourinstagram no picture credits ? really ?

↳ ynfan2 AHHH

↳ oscarpiastri 📸 credits to Miss America

↳ oscarfan3 WHY AM I CRYING

liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer and 2,197,499 others

yourinstagram night version. 📸 by vroom vroom guy

view all 17,836 comments

ynfan1 OMFG???

oscarfan1 VROOM VROOM GUY?

mtv 🏎️ & 🎤 together was the best thing that happened to us

ynfan2 it’s actually so refreshing to see her dating someone her age who she can have fun with and not some pretentious old ass man who mansplains her

landonorris My children 🫶🏻

↳ landofan1 lando is the biggest shooter for this relationship

oscarfan2 oscar really bagged his biggest crush by being on her comments all the time that’s persistence

alexandrasaintmleux Belleeee 💕

↳ yourinstagram aleeeex i loved hanging out with you let's go out without the boys soon

↳ charlesfan1 LET ME IIIINNN

ynfan3 and when yn writes a song for him

logansargeant I can’t wait to meet you!

↳ yourinstagram pastry is sooo wrong for not introducing us yet

↳ oscarfan1 oscar wdym you haven’t introduced your gf to your best friend

oscarpiastri 😍

↳ oscarfan1 OSCCCC

↳ ynfan1 he’s down bad i get him

liked by oscarfan1, ynfan1 and 18,826 others

ynupdates YN and Oscar out and about tonight !

view all 3,022 comments

ynfan1 OH LOOOORD

oscarfan1 I CANTTT

ynfan2 i can’t stress how good it is that she’s dating someone her age enough

oscarfan2 KING OF MANIFESTATION

ynfan3 i mean we already knew they were together but seeing them with all this pda is so cuuuuute

oscarfan3 IM SO JEALOUS

liked by oscarpiastri, troyesivan and 2,965,278 others

yourinstagram 5 new tunes for ya !!!! GUTS (spilled) out friday!!!

view all 25,926 comments

ynfan1 WTFFF I DIDNT SEE THIS COMING

ynfan2 CLAIMING SO AMERICAN

dualipa YEEES ❤️‍🔥

oscarfan1 i’m pretty sure there’s an oscar song there i just KNOW IT

ynfan3 more angsty breakup songs IM READY

landonorris 🙌🙌🙌🙌

oscarfan2 ready for oscar to annoy lando with those on repeat

mclaren We can’t wait to hear all of them 🧡

↳ oscarfan1 MCLAREN INTERN ARE YOU OKAY?

↳ ynfan1 she’s the people’s princess

oscarpiastri I can confirm those songs are amazing

↳ ynfan1 he already heard them IM SO JEALOUS

↳ oscarfan2 spill the tea are any of those about you

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 869,044 others

oscarpiastri I laugh at all her jokes and I say she’s so American. So I might just be in lo-lo-lo-love 🧡

view all 9,725 comments

oscarfan1 LAJSIAHAUAB

oscarfan2 I 😭 CANT 😭 BELIEVE 😭 THIS

ynfan1 she’s wearing a friendship bracelet for him MY HEART

charles_leclerc I’m happy for you, son ❤️

↳ charlesfan1 CHARRRR

ynfan2 this is so cute i can’t also when did that sneaky shit go to his race

ynfan3 YN LOVER ERA YN SIMP ERA YN WAG ERA

oscarfan3 long story short: never give up on your celebrity crush

logansargeant ❤️❤️

landonorris Young love, so adorable

ynfan4 THE LYRICS REFERENCE

francisca.cgomes 🥺🥺🥺

↳ ynfan1 she’s already so loved by the wags

yourinstagram love youuuu, pastry 🤧

↳ ynfan2 i love all the nicknames he uses for him

↳ oscarfan1 pastry, vroom vroom boy. she’s just so romantic

1K notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 8 months

Text

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | ch. i

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, slight actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, loverstoexesto ?, unrequited love

word count: 3,328

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, mention of gossip columns and unequal treatment of how oc is portrayed post-divorce, hint of differences between men and women in the business world, oc struggling to be professional, both care about each other and are not toxic but oc fell in love, oc has the need to groom him a little out of habit, talks about Bam, feat, Namjoon and Taehyung, and sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, desk s*x, d*rty talk, oc is on bc, handjob, swearing, making out, neck kisses, clothed s*x, impulsive s*x, light praising, growling, some minor petnames (baby, Kook), mention of threesome, recalling of past sexual events

playing: Unkiss Me

a/n: uh…this one has been in my drafts and idk its kinda angsty but I decided I will share it. Enjoy! 🥰

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From the moment he stepped into your office, Jungkook could tell every ounce of color was drained from your face. All except for your puffy red eyes that is, which he knows you've been rubbing fervently to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He doesn't blame you for it though–you're his ex-wife.

Recent ex-wife that is.

For three years the two of you masqueraded as the perfect power couple; appearing completely in love to the public eye in hopes of forming an unshakable business partnership (transaction more like). You attended charity balls together, collaborated on several work projects, and attended countless corporate functions to establish both your presence in your respective industries.

That's right, you and Jungkook were in an arranged marriage and it would have flourished into a classic love story if it wasn't for one obvious detail–you're the only one that fell in love.

Despite all the times he's called you "stunning" when you dolled up for formal events or that you "feel so good" during late-night sex, Jungkook never truly loved you. He cared about you, did his best not to intentionally hurt you, and even tried loving you back; thinking he could fall for you with time.

But the most he could ever see you as is a friend, a beautiful friend, though a friend nonetheless. He knows how much it pains you, especially after you've held out hope that he'll want you the same way someday. This one embarrasses you the most which he wishes it wouldn't.

Well, Jungkook doesn't want to trap either of you in a loveless marriage any longer. So even if it means being the center of gossip columns for a while, he's giving you a divorce so you can find the right person to share your love with.

After all, you deserve it; you both do.

Today's day one of looking at one another as exes and it's bittersweet, to say the least. The only factor that would make this worse is if children were in the equation, but there aren't any.

"Thanks for letting me swing by __," he speaks first, doing his best to conjure up a genuine smile. The black floral button-up he's wearing suits him well and his smooth chest peaking out near the collar is far too tempting, yet you know better than to let your eyes linger.

"Of course," you answer and grab a small box from behind your desk. "These are 100% yours so I wouldn't keep them from you." Jungkook takes the box of belongings from your hands with slight hesitation. You're keeping a brave front for the sake of civility and professionalism.

He doesn't blame you for that either.

As a CEO of a large multinational corporation himself, Jungkook's no stranger to the age-old philosophy that that office is no place to let your personal woes get out of hand; you have a team to lead and a reputation to uphold. The latter is proving to be harder for you than him, however, being that the media is portraying you as some kind of she-devil, spinster, or worse of all—a cheater.

Jungkook plans to personally make sure those articles get removed from the public eye before the end of the week. (Not that he'll tell you though.)

"I still could have dropped by the house to pick these up if it'd been easier. I feel bad for interrupting your work day over a couple of old books, records, and dog toys." He watches you nod silently as he vocalizes the inconvenience of it all; he really doesn't have to but he does it anyway.

"No, it's alright. You haven't been to the house since you moved out, so I thought it'd be better if we met here instead." You pause to check the time. "If there's anything you think of that you might've forgotten later, just let me know. In the meantime, I have a meeting in twenty so..."

"He misses you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Bam, I mean." Jungkook throws the box under an arm and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera gallery until he gets to one particular photo of a red and tan Doberman. "He hates the new place and all he does is sulk by the door."

Your heart's already struggling to settle down from the painful reality that the man you love is leaving you, let alone being reminded of another forced separation. Bam's the closest thing to a baby that either of you ever had and he was one of the few things that bonded you and your now ex-husband together.

Being Jungkook's dog, however, he couldn't stay with you. That means no more visiting the dog park, sneaking treats behind Jungkook's back, and snuggling together in the king-size bed after a stressful day.

"I'm sure he just wants his favorite chew toy that's been held hostage at the house," you joke lightly, thinking it simpler to spin the topic. It's similar to what Jungkook does when he uses flowery language to soften the cold hard truth of your divorce; that he doesn't love you and he can't ever. "Give Bam a lot of attention for me. I miss him too."

"Of cour—shit!" When Jungkook moves to slip his phone back into his pocket he loses his balance, causing the box with his belongings to spill out on your office floor. Naturally, you kneel down to help him clean up the mess. It's not until your fingers reach for the same item and come into contact with each other that you quickly retract your hand. "Sorry, did I shock you?" He asks gently and tosses the last item into the box before standing up.

"No, you didn't." You rise to your feet as well, until you're face to face with him. This time it's closer than before. His hooded eyes stare straight into yours and you can't believe it takes being inches from his face to notice how bloodshot his eyes are. "You look exhausted. You should go home and rest Kook." The petname is out before your brain tells you to stop.

Jungkook's eyes widen, the corner of his lip subtly quirking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Don't worry about me __. I probably get more breaks than you do. But thanks." He briefly glances at the ticking Snoopy clock behind you, a Christmas gift he gave you as a joke last year. "You still have that?"

You look over your shoulder at the small, Snoopy-shaped digital clock on your desk. Ten minutes until your next meeting. "It's cute and it makes for a great conversation starter with clients so I guess so. If you want me to give it ba—"

"Keep it," he interrupts. "Please, it was a gift and I'd like you to have it if you enjoy it." Jungkook gnaws on his lip before continuing. "Speaking of clients and business partners, I should make myself scarce now shouldn't I?"

"Yes. I do have that meeting soon." But once he leaves, neither of you is sure when you'll see the other again aside from the odd charity event. The Annual Winter Gala in December is one that particularly comes to mind.

Most high-ranking executives like yourselves attend the function to keep up appearances and to network with other professionals. Last year, you and Jungkook were the center of attention however now that you're divorced, you fear you'll be avoided like the plague—they always preferred Jungkook over you anyway.

"You're forming a new partnership with that actor, right? Kim Taehyung? I read an inkling about it online yesterday." He also read his whole biography too. The man is equally handsome as he is altruistic and kind.

"Nothing's signed and sealed yet. I'm sure you've heard that he's gotten dozens of other offers on the table. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't nabbed him yet."

"Yeah, we don't need...wait sorry, let me rephrase that. We aren't ready for a new partner or merger yet."

You can read between the lines despite Jungkook's correction. His company is thriving more than yours in every way, so he doesn't need the help of a third-party endorser...like you. Well, you're not doing too shabby yourself and this isn't simply about fame and fortune you want to argue.

The head poking through your door stops you from following through on that last line.

"Mrs. Jeon—shit." Your secretary Kim Namjoon screws his eyes shut at his drastic misstep. "Ms. __, Kim Taehyung called and said he'll be a bit late due to unexpected delays during his filming today. He apologizes profusely but is on his way over now. Sajangnim," he bows at Jungkook respectively.

"That's fine, Namjoon, thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets here. Mr. Jeon was just about to leave and I had the rest of my day cleared."

"Of course. I'll let him know to come in." Your secretary nods and shuts the door. Jungkook shifts between his feet once Namjoon is out of sight, a habit he's picked up that tells you he has more to say.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Jeon?" You shuffle a few files on your desk, prepping for your meeting with Taehyung. At this point, you're not even looking at Jungkook.

"Mr. Jeon? I think I prefer when you call me Kook more," he mutters, allowing his line of sight to catch a glimpse of your lips. "Can I...kiss you? Before I go."

The question knocks the wind out of your lungs and you instantly lift your head up toward him. "Kiss me?" You gulp slowly, then shake your head. "No, I'd rather we not. Goodbye kisses aren't really my thing." You couldn't be a bigger liar, evident from the sudden churning in your gut. Having Jungkook's lips on yours was the best and worst moments of your entire relationship but you have to fight yourself....your innate desires that tell you to say yes.

"Okay, I understand. What about a hug?"

"Jungkook..."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing. Thanks again for my stuff." He gestures at the box under his arm. "I hope your meeting with Kim Taehyung goes well. Maybe I'll see you both at the next Winter Gala." He makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait!"

Jungkook stills in his tracks as he watches you stride in front of him. He's unsure what you stopped him for until your hands reach out towards his shirt collar, smoothing the delicate material down. A light smile plays on his face as you do this, though he says nothing aside from a simple 'thanks'.

"It was bothering me the whole time." You finish fixing his collar and peer up into his Bambi eyes. Out of all the potential suitors, you wish Jeon Jungkook didn't become your husband. It's not like you got to keep him or anything.

Jungkook once again flickers his gaze toward your barely parted lips. And this time, you do the same for him. Before either of you have time to back out you lean forward and kiss him.

It's a hard kiss too. Painful but so inviting that neither of you pulls away.

With his free hand, Jungkook snakes a hand around your waist to hug you close. Having his fingers pressed against the small of your back is so familiar and all you can do is deepen the kiss.

You're obviously not the only one that gets a sense of pleasure from this because, in a matter of seconds, the box from under Jungkook's arm falls to the ground. He then places his second hand on the side of your neck and jawline which you lean into, exposing the other side of your neck.

"Jungkook," you gasp when his lips attach themself to the soft skin, sucking lightly. His teeth come out and nip too. "Wait, we can't do this, we shouldn't. Taehyung, he'll be here soon."

"That would have sounded so convincing if you didn't just moan the words, baby." He walks you backward until you're forced to sit atop your mahogany desk.

"Don't call me that." You allow him to push up your pencil skirt and spread your thighs until your panties are the only material he sees. You decided to go with black lace today, his favorite now that you think about it.

"Did you—"

"No, they weren't for you."

A brief growl leaves the man's rose-tinted lips. "In that case, we don't need them." He places both hands on your hips and brings you into another kiss, messier than before. His tongue shoves between the seam of your lips to lick every crevasse he can. He hasn't kissed you like this for months and to be brutally honest, he's missed it as much as you.

Jungkook hasn't been with anyone else since marrying you either, which means he's completely adjusted to your body, your preferences, and what turns you on. The same applies to you so while he's busy shoving his tongue down your throat, you palm his half-harden bulge through his trousers.

"Mm," he groans and bucks his hips into your hand. You smile at how well you've managed to draw a response from him. With a little burst of confidence, you hastily move to unbuckle his pants. "What are you doing?" He mumbles between kisses.

You decide not to answer, preferring to reach inside his trousers to take his length out. You make sure to pump it a few times until he's fully hard. Jungkook has a gorgeous dick, and that takes a lot for you to admit.

"Fuck, that's it." He says with gritted teeth, now watching your hand as it moves up and down his cock. "Get me how you want me."

"We don't have much time." You slide your panties down your legs and spread your thighs wide apart, which makes Jungkook's eyes dilate about 10 meters. "Fuck me, please." One last time. Make love to me one last time.

"Are you sure? I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on birth control. As long as you're still clean then its fine."

"I am. I got tested recently. But are you sure you want this?"

You glance at his pulsating length, tip leaking with pre-cum, and swallow hard. "Hurry."

"Fuck, okay." Jungkook wastes not another second and guides you flat on your back, his hands resting on either side of your body. The coolness of your desk has you shiver slightly. He then urges you to raise your legs until they can wrap loosely around his slim waist. And as if second nature, you link your arms around his neck as he eases him into you. He's able to bottom out without much effort thanks to how wet you've become.

"Oh god." Your back arches off the surface of your desk as Jungkook thrusts into you. They're only practice thrusts at first to get you re-adjusted to his size, yet the pleasure zipping down your spine already has your eyes rolling up.

You shouldn't be doing this at all. Your conscious whispers to again to which you blindly dismiss. You'll enjoy it now and tomorrow, start a new—another lie you tell yourself.

"Fuckfuckfuck, you're so wonderful for me," he chants while pushing his cock in and out of you, the speed of his movements picking up to an insane rate. Jungkook never had an issue with quickies so he's likely in his element now. "You know what this reminds me of?" He cocks a smirk and kisses down your neck.

"Hm?"

"That time when we were abroad for a weekend conference. Remember when we stopped at my second office to pick up some files? You were so horny that day that you pushed me into my chair and demanded that I let you ride me. It took the wind right out of my sails to see you like that, so confident and in control." He prys apart the top button of your blouse until he can slide the material down your shoulders. He doesn't take it off completely, favoring the chance to place kisses on your newly exposed area instead.

"I was beyond stressed that day. It was the first time I had to speak at that conference and you looked so good with your freshly slicked back hair. I couldn't stop myself—oh fuck! Right there Kook, don't slow down. Please." Jungkook grunts at the use of his petname and fucks you rougher, sweat forming around his forehead as his dark hair dangles messily over his eyes.

You manage to sneak a glance at the time on your Snoopy clock between thrusts. "Shit, I need to come soon, or Kim Taehyung's never going to agree to do business with me." The man laughs and buries his head on your shoulder.

"You never know, he could be really into threesomes."

"Fuck! Don't joke about that." You claw at his back and surprise both of you with the unexpected clenching of your pussy.

"You're right, I take it back," he groans and continues to snap his hips. "Looks like he's not the one who wants a threesome after all, considering your body's response to the suggestion. You wanna ask him if he walks in?" He whispers in your ear and you're embarrassed that your cheeks burn at the thought.

Of course, Kim Taehyung was sexy and you've rehearsed to yourself dozens of times not to let yourself get any crazy ideas about him. Still, one unrequited love is enough for you; Taehyung wouldn't want a divorcee. You shake the train of thought before it has time to go any further. "Make me come, Kook. Need you to finish too. It's not just Taehyung who could walk in at any second."

Jungkook grunts and continues to thrust into you, bouncing you up and down his thick length as the desk shakes underneath you. He feels you getting closer and closer by the sporadic clenching of your walls squeezing him. A big part of him doesn't want this to end but it has to....he doesn't love you. He only wants to make you feel good before he has to say goodbye. Both of you come just before Namjoon calls your office phone, giving you a heads-up that Taehyung's about to enter your office.

Jungkook shoves his pants back on while you button up your blouse and fold over your skirt. You decided to shove your underwear in your bag with the lack of time. No one has any business digging in there anyway.

"How do I look?" You turn around to get a quick once-over from Jungkook but he's already out the door. Now the person standing in front of you is Kim Taehyung who has nothing but the most genuine smile.

"You look lovely as always Ms. __. I'm so sorry I'm late by the way. I feel terrible about it so I brought you these." Taehyung whips out a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hope you don't mind that I did a little research on you ahead of time. I found out these have a special place in your heart."

You smile and accept the bouquet with thanks. As you set them on your desk, a messages comes through your phone. You manage to give a quick look.

Unknown Number: Sorry I had to duck so fast! I know it looked rude but Taehyung was already opening the door and you were dressed so I thought it'd be better if I left. Hope you're meeting goes well! And thanks for everything today ;) if you need anything, you have my number.

You flip your phone over and invite Taehyung to have a seat. Business is business, and you have to carry on even if your heart has completely sunk to the ground. Kim Taehyung is sweet anyway, so you'll enjoy his company.

Too bad you don't realize how much he enjoys yours as well.

a/n: so, yeah... there's a potential for our Jk to actually love oc and not realize it but either way he does care about her (despite the impulsive sex). And yes, taehyung likes oc... it's like a double unrequited love 😔 okay bye lmk what you think, thank you! 😘

Also, lmk what you think about jk in this poll!

masterlist

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

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verstappen-cult · 3 months

Note

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart.

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop.

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?”

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room.

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend.

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better.

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up.

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.”

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind.

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join.

Max doesn’t know what to do.

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know.

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say.

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down.

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does.

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear.

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already.

Max starts crying again.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids.

Max doesn’t deserve this.

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay.

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks.

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks.

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #poly!f1 #f1 grid x reader

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noxtivagus · 2 years

Text

hmmm i wna write

#🌙.rambles #T_T how many times do i speak of wants and how many times do i even reach out to them? hdkfajsdfl that said tho i find it interesting how #yk personally for me in doubt there i can find certainty. in silence we can find answers that speak more than words could at times #and we can realize the meaning of life when faced with death #idk all those r pretty obvious in a way bit i like pondering on them a lil deeper n. it's beautiful to me. perhaps rather bittersweet #it's 5 am n i shld be asleep this is likely to be a mess n i'm not gna make any sense hdfkajsdlkfsdj oh my god wtf am i saying #it's in my head the sentiment the sort of color of this thought but i can't write it!! this sucks #i'm a mess rn these r just random musings from a stressed sleep-deprived girl ok #read a belial fic from one of my favorite writers on this site n hdfjalkdfjd OKAY THAT PUT ME INTO EVEN MORE OF A MESS #n so i've been thinking of a lot more stuff too n oh dear my cramps r killing me i am rambling so much at this hour but #made me think about how yk i rlly love characters like that. those that r rather tragic. there's smth so bittersweet abt them #i like a lot of kinds of characters but those too me r really special in a way!!#one time of sad characters i like r those. yk those kind ones #the ones who help n listen n give to others but when it comes to accepting love n something soft for their own self.. Nah #that sort of.. pain is smth that touches me a lot probably bcs i'm similar. i find myself v drawn by it #wishing these characters were real in a way too so i cld. help them in a way. not rlly in a way that i'm responsible for it or its my duty #but. something that makes me so happy is seeing ppl i love. improve n get better. happier. they deserve it so much n #it makes me really happy to even just. contribute even just a little to it. even if i'm not. idk the sun of the sky. not the 1st or fav wtv #even if i'll just be the shadow or the ghost or forgotten n left behind i'm happy enough. w that #i'm crying i shld've wrote this in my notes instead there r sm words in my head that i can't say here #oh fuck #is this one reason why that one song made me so emotional #recently i have been.. denying myself haven't i? hiding. burying my own wants. can't reach out.#i don't fucking understand it's not like i never particularly lacked when it comes to.. yeah? growing up i #no wait it's.. not as simple as that there's a lot of factors i know affect me here. it's a bit overwhelming n.. it hurts.#i can't write anymore here goddamn it i'll write to myself sm words fuck but i'll write them to myself i've alr said more than i should hav #maybe being so used to fiction affected me negatively in a way bcs it seems i can't wholly n completely accept the.. no wait thats enough;;#it hurts but.. i will i absolutely will keep all this to myself. even if it suffocates me inside. i can't. i can't do or. have that #this is a painful realization smth i mentioned earlier's how i wrote the uh. 'reader' YK YH in that story two years ago lmfao 'starlit sky'#& my wol.. my wol is like that. my main oc too. who's basically my self-insert. no way. no fucking way i hate this

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joelsgreys · 6 months

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safe and sound

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your daughter has a nightmare—her daddy makes it all better.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. set in Jackson. slight canon age deviations (Joel is 56, Ellie is 17) READER’S AGE IS NOT SPECIFIED. she’s a child bearing adult woman so do with that information what you will. established relationship, reader and Joel have a toddler (her age is not specified in fic but she’s 3 ish years old), reader has NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION and neither does their child except she has Joel’s eyes and his dark curls, no mentions of her skintone. Joel and Ellie are fine bc he deserves it, Joel’s an overprotective girl dad, reader is the chill parent. implications of a toddler being told about clickers, bad dreams, almost smut, Joel and reader get cockblocked, SOFT Joel who comforts his babygirl, mention of Sarah towards the end. very minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: listen, i love me some daddy joel but tonight i needed a bit of actual daddy joel. this was whipped up last minute bc i haven’t had the best weekend and needed some comfort. also i didn’t have the mental capacity or energy to come up with a moodboard, so gif it is.

Joel looks down at the old, worn book in his hand.

Winnie the Pooh.

He never would have imagined it. This.

Reading a bedtime story to a toddler. His toddler.

He’s in his fifties—he shouldn’t have a toddler.

He shouldn’t have a teenager, either.

Yet, he has both.

The toddler has his blood, the teenager doesn’t.

But that doesn’t matter to him.

Joel still considers her to be his own kid.

Only, she’s not a kid anymore, not really.

She’s seventeen now. She doesn’t need him much anymore, not the way that his toddler needs him.

“Ellie’s not coming home tonight,” you’d said from where you stood at the stove, stirring in chunks of potato and chopped carrots into the pot of stew in front of you. “There’s a birthday party down at the bar. She’s going with Dina and Jesse.” You can feel the look of disapproval on his face and add, “I said she could go, Joel. She asked me permission.”

“She didn’t ask me,” he’d gruffed. He looked down at the little girl sitting in his lap, scribbling away on an old state map. He had given it to her along with the pack of crayons he’d found during patrol when his group stumbled across a schoolhouse. Though crumbling on the outside, the inside had remained untouched throughout the last two decades—little coats hanging over the back of little chairs, papers scattered all over little desks, little lunch boxes still stored in their cubbies at the back of the room. He instructed the group to search for anything useful, anything that Jackson’s teachers could use for the children in their classrooms. Joel knew that taking without trading was against the rules, but that did nothing to stop him from secretly slipping the box of crayons into his jacket pocket when no one had been looking.

His daughter’s squeals of delight when he’d gifted them to her had been well worth the theft.

“Because she knew you’d say no to her.”

“I would have. Kid’s got no business going to a bar at her age. She’s fuckin’ seventeen years ol—”

The little girl had gasped and stopped coloring.

“Daddy said a bad word.”

You’d turned around and glared at him. “He did.”

She looked up at him with her wide, brown eyes.

Those she’d gotten from him. His dark curls too.

Everything else?

Her smile, her nose, her softness?

That was all you.

“M’sorry, babygirl,” he apologized, sheepishly.

“S’okay, daddy.”

And back to coloring she went.

“Joel, let’s face it. Ellie’s growing up. She’s turning eighteen in a few months and truth is, she has one foot out the door.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the counter. “She was telling me how she wants to turn the garage into her own space.”

“There a reason she ain’t talkin’ to me ‘bout this?”

You’d smiled wistfully at him.

“Because she knows this is hard for you, Joel.”

It is hard. Because even though she isn’t his, she’s his and he’s afraid to lose her somehow.

Joel manages to snap himself out of his thoughts.

Rosemary’s now fast asleep, her well loved stuffed bunny rabbit wrapped in her arms. She’s a handful for him during bedtime—she has too much energy and most nights, you have to step in and help him. But tonight, after her bath, he had warmed a glass of milk for her to drink and it seemed to have done the trick because within minutes of him reading to her, her eyes fluttered closed.

Joel sets the book down and leans over to brush a kiss onto her cheek, quietly whispering goodnight. “Sweet dreams, babygirl.”

He switches off the lamp on the bedside table and steps out of his child’s bedroom, being careful not to wake her as he closes the door behind him.

“I still can’t believe she fell asleep within minutes,” you say, staring at him in utter disbelief. “How?”

“Gave her a glass of warm milk before I tucked her into bed,” Joel explains, tugging on a pair of faded black sweatpants. He peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before climbing into bed. “Worked like a fuckin’ charm. She’s out like a damn light.”

You set your book down and raise an eyebrow.

“Joel, I brushed her teeth before her bath.”

“I brushed them again after she drank it, darlin’.”

He outstretches his arm, beckoning for you.

Grinning, you scoot closer to him, draping an arm over his bare chest. “It’s only nine,” you tell him. “I have no idea what we’re going to do with all of this free time we have. Rosemary’s asleep, Ellie’s gone for the night.” You slowly drag your hand down his chest and over his stomach, a finger skimming the waistband of his sweatpants. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat and tease, “I guess we can actually get some good sleep for once, huh?”

Groaning, Joel rolls over and pins you down to the bed as he positions himself on top of you, his eyes glazed over with lust. “We can sleep,” he murmurs as his mouth hovers over yours. He reaches for the buttons of his flannel you’re wearing and begins to single-handedly pop them open only to find you’re not wearing anything underneath. He groans once more. “Or I can make you feel good. S’your choice, baby.”

You gasp as he nips at your chin and starts trailing his lips lower, peppering kisses down the length of your body. Heat blossoms in your lower belly as he settles himself between your thighs. Hooking both arms around them, he nibbles at the soft spot that is right below your navel, the spot you hate, but he adores. Having a child had changed your body and while you two seldom had time to yourselves to do anything of this nature, when you did find time, he never failed to make you feel like you were still just as beautiful to him, if not a thousand times more.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Please, Joel.”

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?”

His voice is low, husky.

Your hands reach down and tangle in his curls.

“Your mouth, Joel. Please. I need your—”

The sound of a teeny knock at the door makes you both freeze on the spot.

“You heard that, right?” you ask him breathlessly.

There’s a second teeny knock.

It’s then followed by an even teenier voice.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, scrambling off the bed. “What the hell is she doin’ out of bed?” Picking his t-shirt up from the floor, he quickly throws it on, ignoring that he’d put it on inside out. Watching you as you fumble to button his flannel, he calls, “Just give us one second babygirl, alright? We’ll be right there.”

“I’m decent,” you tell him, getting the last button.

Nodding, Joel opens the bedroom door. His knees protest when he squats down, lowering himself so that he can meet Rosemary’s tearful gaze.

“S’matter, Rosie Posie?” he asks her in a soft voice that he reserves for his girls. “What happened?”

She sniffles. “I—I had a bad dream, daddy.”

You sit on the side of bed and wait patiently.

Joel has it handled. He always has it handled.

He never stopped knowing how to be a father.

“You had a bad dream?” he repeats, frowning.

Rosemary nods, clutching her rabbit to her chest.

A single tear slips down the side of her little face.

Joel reaches out, gingerly wiping it with his finger.

“M’sorry it scared you, babygirl. Tell you what, just for tonight, how about you sleep with me and your mama in our bed? That sound good?” With a small labored grunt, he scoops her into his arms. She is getting heavier and you often tell him it’s not good for his back—he can’t care less. He’ll keep picking her up until the moment his little girl decides she’s a big girl and doesn’t want him to pick her up. Joel carries her over to the bed and sits her on your lap and reminds her, “But this is just for tonight, Rosie Posie. Tomorrow night you’re back in your own big girl bed, alright?”

“Okay,” she nods again and leans against you, tiny shoulders slumping.

“Rosie? What was your dream about?” you ask her gently, wrapping your arms around her. She hardly ever has nightmares—she’s too young to know the world outside the commune’s walls, smart but still too little to understand why she cannot go outside the gates. “What did you dream about, honey?”

She hesitates, then answers, “Monsters.”

“Monsters?” Perplexed, you glance at Joel.

He seems to be just as confused as you are.

“Who did you hear that word from, babygirl?”

“Robbie.”

Your neighbor’s unruly, troublemaker son.

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “Thought I told you he ain’t allowed to be around her. The kid is nine, ain’t got no business bein’ around Rosemary. Little brat ain’t nothin’ but a bad influence. He’s always up to no good.” He shakes his head at you. “Said I didn’t want that boy anywhere near our daughter.”

“The kids were out playing in the snow today,” you remember. “He must have been there too. It’s kind of hard to tell who is who when they’re all bundled up and flinging snowballs at each other, Joel.” You shoot him an apologetic look. “Rosie was having a blast playing with everybody—I’m sorry. I suppose I should’ve paid more attention to who was around her.”

He bites back a sigh. He knows it’s not your fault.

Rosie’s too good of a girl, too pure and innocent to know that not everybody is her friend.

“Rosie, what did Robbie say to you?”

Again, the child hesitates.

“He said—he said monsters live outside. They bite people and turn them into monsters too. He said it happened to his daddy.” Rosemary’s eyes flit from you to Joel. “He said it would happen to you, too.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “He said that to you?”

Hands curling into fists, Joel reminds himself now isn’t the time to let his anger take over. “S’not true at all, babygirl.” He reaches over and slides her out of your lap and onto his. Like you, he wants to lie—tell her those monsters she was told about are not real, that they don’t exist. But they do exist and as much as he wishes he could keep her from finding out about all that lies beyond Jackson’s walls, Joel knows that one day, she will. “Listen to me. M’real sorry to hear ‘bout Robbie’s daddy, baby. But I can promise you, that ain’t gonna happen to me.”

She points a chubby finger at you.

“What about mommy?”

“Ain’t gonna happen to her either.”

Rosemary drops her hand, fear clear in her tone as she asks the both of you, “What about me?”

“Of course not,” you say, smoothing back her dark curls. “You’re safe here, honey. As safe as can be.”

Joel nods. “Your mama’s right, darlin’. You’re safe,” he reassured her. “You’re safe and sound.”

“I am?”

He gives her body a warm, gentle squeeze. “Mhm. Always will be. Y’know how I know that, babygirl?”

“How?”

“‘Cause. As long as daddy’s around, he will always protect you,” he promises her. “He’ll never, ever let anythin’ bad happen to you, Rosie. I swear it.” Joel kisses the top of her head, his gaze meeting yours. He murmurs his oath quietly, “On my life.”

Flashing him a small, grateful smile, you reach out and touch his forearm and he places his hand over your own.

“And mommy too?” Rosemary questions him.

“And mommy too.”

“And Ellie?”

“And Ellie,” he nods, firmly. “M’always gonna keep my girls safe. S’long as I’m around, you’re all safe.”

Rosie tiredly snuggles into his chest, yawning.

“What about you, daddy?”

“Huh?”

You squeeze his arm. “Think she’s asking you who is supposed to keep you safe, Joel.”

The little girl nods sleepily. “Yeah. Who?”

“Well.” Joel’s throat bobs nervously. He knows the moment he says what he’s about to say, there’s no going back. Not that he never planned to tell Rosie about her sister, but he’d always imagined doing it when she was older and understood death. “I—uh, I have an angel in the clouds who looks out for me. She watches over me, keeps me safe and sound.”

Rosemary’s curiosity is all that is keeping her from completely passing out in his arms.

“Really? You have an angel?”

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. “Joel—”

He lightly shakes his head.

“S’fine sweetheart. I don’t mind tellin’ her.”

Rosie’s fighting to stay awake just a little longer.

“Daddy? What’s your angel’s name?”

Joel answers in the steadiest voice he can muster.

“Her name was—her name is Sarah.”

“Sarah,” she mumbles, her eyes closing. “S’pretty. Your angel has a really pretty name.”

“The prettiest name,” you agree, softly.

Rosie yawns again. “Daddy?”

“What is it, babygirl?”

“Will you tell me stories about Sarah? Please?”

Joel chuckles, rubbing her back. “I sure will. I have plenty of them to tell, Rosie Posie. But not tonight. I’ll save them for tomorrow ni—”

You cut him off. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s out cold.”

He glances down and sure enough, she’s asleep.

Moments later, the three of you are in bed. Rosie’s in the middle, curled up against Joel’s chest—your chest is pressed against her back but you’re being careful not to sandwich her in too tight in between your bodies.

In a beam of silvery moonlight shining through the bedroom window, you meet Joel’s gaze.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chuckles. “For what? Doin’ my job and soothin’ our daughter after a bad dream?”

You smile at him.

“For being so good to her. To me and Ellie.” Lifting a hand, you reach over and cup the side of his face in your palm. “You’re so good to all three of us and I can’t even imagine what we’d do without you.”

Joel turns his face, brushing a kiss into your hand.

“I mean it,” he says, quietly. “S’long as I’m around, you girls will always be safe and sound.”

credit divider @saradika-graphics

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