#but especially in settings where a number of people are watching him talk

[daily-hanamura]

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

[hannieehaee]

hi!!!! im wondering if you could do a story about idol mingyu, idol reader, and a story about how mingyu couldnt control himself after seeing his girlfriend perform a hot performance on an end of the year award show because she looked stunning, and he also then accidentally reveals their relationship. TYSM!!💞

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, secret relationship, mingyu is a simp, afab reader, public embarrassment (not really), part of my lil idol!mingyu universe (even though ive created three separate aus of it oops), dry humping, penetrative sex, mentions of fingering, etc.

wc: 1429

a/n: thank u for requesting i love writing idol aus hehe hope u enjoy <3

original fic

masterlist

as a seasoned idol, mingyu was expected by now to have a pristine ability hold restraint in any and every public situation that required it.

there were certain ways in which he was expected to act while in the public eye.

for instance, he could never outwardly express discomfort at the few awkward fancalls he had to participate in. nor could he show dislike towards the few members of the industry he didn't quite get along with.

but above all, he was absolutely never to wear the lust he felt for you on his face in such a public setting.

especially not during an awards show that was being streamed internationally.

even more so while the camera was focused on seventeen for their reactions of your performance.

but mingyu was just a man after all. a man who was thoroughly and proudly obsessed with you.

except this was meant to be a secret kept between the two of you (and maybe a few other people you had let in on the secret).

so mingyu immediately knew he was fucked the moment your set had begun and you came out wearing the tiniest little number he had ever seen. it hugged your body perfectly, highlighting his favorite parts in the most delicious ways.

it might've been fine if that had been it, but your pretty outfit was also accompanied by the most sinful of sets he had ever seen you do.

watching you grind and twist yourself in ways that reminded him of the many hours spent between the sheets with you was just not something mingyu knew how to witness without it eliciting a reaction out of him.

and sadly for mingyu, his face told every single one of his emotions.

his droopy and lustful eyes said everything they needed to say on their own, but they were also accompanied by the constant biting and licking of his lips as he watched you.

the one thing he didn't realize, however, was that the camera had been on him that whole time, airing his reactions to your performance for everyone out there to see. it had even managed to capture the gruttal groan he'd let out the moment you started grinding sensually on the floor (in a fashion similar to the way you did to him so many times before).

it wasn't until one boo seungkwan kicked him from under the table to get him to react like something other than an animal in heat and clap for you like a normal human being.

but the damage was done, and now so he felt extremely self conscious for the remainder of the show, not knowing what type of rumors to expect to see the following morning.

for now, though, his priority was to catch you during the intermediate time between your show and that of his own group. fortunately for him, there was one group going between your group and his, allowing him a believable excuse to head backstage with his members and go astray as he looked for you before your own group had to head back.

without so much as a single word, he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the nearest empty room he could find, immediately locking the two of you in there as his eyes got a fill on you in your current ensemble; the main instigator of this whole predicament.

"gyu, what the hell are you-"

"no talking. fuck. please, just-" there was genuine desperation in his words. his frantic eyes showed how badly he wanted you, but he didnt even know where to start. so he let his body take control of his actions.

it started with a rough yet sensual kiss against your lips as his hands got a feel of your body. he groped and caressed every inch of you, his lust growing more and more by the second.

"made me make a fool of myself out there, baby," he grunted, lips now trailing down your exposed shoulder, making their way up and down your neck with wet kisses, "couldnt keep my eyes off you the whole time."

"g-gyu," you were defeated against him, allowing your body to be handled however he wanted as long as he kept touching you. he relished on this.

"they saw everything. the way i couldnt keep my eyes off of you ... the way one single look at you can get me on my knees in one instant, fuck", he uncovered as much of your body as he could, raising your skirt while lowering your shirt, "they all know how much i want you."

but you didnt process nor care for his words as he ground his solid member against your now bare cunt (sans some very thin seamless panties that accompanied your skirt), completely lost to the delirious feeling his cock gave you even through his pants.

he kept whispering in your ear just how badly you'd affected him just now, how everyone now knew how pretty you must look when you ride him – all while he hastily lowered his pants and moved your own panties aside, plunging inside as soon as you gave him the okay.

"f-fuck ... feel so fucking good, baby," he breathed against your ear.

he lifted one of your legs up, wrapping it around his waist in order to get a better angle as he thrust desperately into you. the praises leaving his mouth never stopped, only getting less and less intelligible as his arousal grew.

"o-oh, gyu ... right there ..."

"there? fuck ... baby likes it when i fuck her right there?", his taunts were followed by harsher thrusts, causing your nails to dig into his bare arms, "a-ah, shit! 'm baby's gonna leave her mark on me, huh? yeah ... go ahead, pretty. let everyone know i'm yours .."

"m-mine!"

"mhm, gorgeous, just like you're all mine," he opted to carry you now, holding you up against the wall as he moved your body to his pleasing, "fuck, wish i could mark you. show everyone who you belong to," he buried his face in your neck, simply opting to breathe in your scent as he landed soft kisses on the length of your neck.

"do it!," you begged mindlessly, "please? wan' everyone t-to know 'm yours," you babbled.

"fuck," he groaned before following your direction and beginning to nip at the naked skin of your neck. quickly he left a few blossoms of red on your skin, knowing that the moment you went out there, people would be able to spot a few from afar.

with his face buried in your neck, he timed himself so he could orgasm with you, having mastered the art of playing with your clit just at the right time to synchronize your highs.

mingyu stayed glued to you for a while, unwilling to let go as he panted against your neck, attempting to even out his breathing.

"how are you gonna go and perform out there completely out of breath and with scratches on your shoulders?", you giggled.

"i ... oh, fuck."

it was too late for him to realize that although you wouldn't be too scrutinized for your disheveled appearance due to your performance being over with, he, on the other hand, would still have to go out there and dance in front of a huge audience. the error of his ways was lost on him the moment he hardened under his pants at the mere sight of you dancing.

but hell, it had been worth it.

"baby, just ask your stylist for a jacket, okay?", you disconnected from him, knowing it was almost time for him to perform.

you pulled your clothes back together, wincing at the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and grabbing some nearby napkins to clean yourself as much as possible, as well as him. once the two of you were presentable, you gave your boyfriend a kiss for goodluck and headed back to your seat while mingyu walked over to his members backstage.

though no dramatic dating scandal broke out that day, various rumors questioning mingyu's lustful eyes during your performance began sparking up, with some people making the connection in the timeline of his mishap and your sudden reappearance in the crowd, with a messy, post-sex look accompanying both you and mingyu.

despite hybe ignoring any and every article insinuating anything between the two of you, you had now created a subsection of fans who were dedicated to unveiling what they were sure (and correct) was a secret love affair between the two of you.

[monzabee]

hot girls support 44 – lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff

Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.

That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.

The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.

It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.

In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”

The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.

You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”

The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”

“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.

Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”

“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”

As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."

With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Big Bird and his Cousins

(A/N): Thank you to @mclarengf for telling me about Big Bird getting shrunk and sharing the twitter thread with me

Summary: A small missing information nearly got Max and Lando into a fistfight aka this is my chance to tell more people about Big Birds eight international cousins

Pairings: driver!reader x f1!grid, but especially Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, Checo, Carlos and Zhou got more of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.3k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________

Most of the drivers have no problem with driving in the rain. But in a downpour straight from the seven pits of hell? That’s something even Max Verstappen says “no” to.

A considerable amount of the grid stays seated in the conference room, where they just got told that qualifying will be delayed by at least several hours. As soon as they were dismissed, (Y/N) sprinted out of the room, uttering something about a small bladder and long meetings and how they clash in the worst way possible.

“Have you seen what they did to Big Bird from Sesame Street? They made him tiny for the past week!” Lando complains loudly to Carlos while scrolling through his twitter feed. But the Spaniard is confused.

“I don’t know who you are talking about, mate.” He thinks for a second. “Oh, do you mean Caponata? They made her small?!” Carlos’ face lights up, remembering the bird fondly. It’s not something you think about every day, isn’t it?

Lando looks at his friend with a befuddled face . “No, you muppet! Big Bird is a yellow bird that is very tall.” Max, who heard the conversation involuntarily, because the Brit speaks passionately loud about this subject, turns towards the other two drivers.

“I don’t know what kind of off brand Sesame Street you two have watched, but the real name of the tall bird is Pino and Pino is pale blue.” His matter-of-fact voice sets something in Lando off. It just doesn’t sit right with him that Max acts almighty and knowledgeable about a topic he read something himself with his own two eyes.

He gets up from his seat, taxing the Dutchman with a belittling up and down look. “If I was you, I would get my eyes checked, because Big Bird is a bright yellow! Watch out for color blindness.” Max also squares up, getting toe to toe with Lando, getting ready to shoot back. “I can show you how good my eyesight is the next time I’ll drive an orange car with the number four off the track.” “It’s papaya!” Lando pulls up the sleeves to his hoodie, getting ready for a fight that goes beyond spoken words.

“No!” Checo intervenes, putting himself between the two drivers. In the meantime the majority of the remaining people in the room put their attention on the, for now verbally, fighting men. “The name of the bird is Abelardo Montoya and the colors are green, red and a bit of pink. Stop arguing about stuff you know nothing about. Also, I’m older. So I'm right.”

His confident statement attracts the arguments from Max and Lando. “You are absolutely wrong!” “Big Bird is not green!” “No, because Pino is a beautiful blue color!” “Shut it, Verstappen, or I’ll show you the way your skin will bruise a beautiful blue!” “Step away, Norris. You are like 12 and build like a stick. You have not the strength to show me anything.”

“Are you sure? Let’s take this outside and I shove a stick up you a-” “What is going on in the house of commence?” (Y/N)’s voice cuts through the noise sharply. The room falls silent for several seconds until everyone tries to explain themselves at the same time.

“Big Bird is yellow!” “No, his name is Pino and he is pale blue!” “No, she is orange and yellow and is called Caponata!” “No, it’s a green bird, you all know nothing!” “Sh, be quiet, Checo!”

(Y/N) sits down on her chair again and waits for them to get finished scrambling to find an excuse to defend their ego. “Did you ask Pierre what Big Bird looks like for him?” She smirks.

Pierre also smiles knowingly, all eyes on him. “We call our Big Bird Toccata and he is white.” Especially Lando tries to defend himself and his Big Bird another time very loudly. But (Y/N) is having none of it. She put her hand over his mouth, muffling his protests while starting an explanation of her own.

“Did you know that Big Bird has eight international cousins? They are part of Sesame Street from other countries all around the world.” While she starts explaining, Lando’s face drops. “While most versions have a yellow bird like the Big Bird Lando references the whole time, they call them different names. In German he is named Bibo, ask Hülkenberg. In the Netherlands, Brazil and France, they got some versions of Big Bird’s cousins. I think in China they changed his name to the literal translation of Big Bird, but he still counts as one of the cousins. They explain it by calling them identical cousins.”

She throws a look to Zhou, who nods in confirmation and adds “His name is Da Niao”. “The cousins also live in Spain, Portugal and Turkey. Did you not know about this? I thought it was common knowledge. It was all over Twitter a couple of years ago. Now I see the threat every now and then again on tiktok with some minecraft gameplay in the background playing.”

Max mulls over the new information. “This explains everything.” Meanwhile Lando is a bit more shocked. “So I nearly got into a fist fight with Max Verstappen, because someone in some writer’s room decided to give Big Bird cousins and never said anything in the show?”

(Y/N) throws him a confused face. “What do you mean you nearly got into a fist fight? Those are muppets from a kids show! How can you pick a fight over muppets in different colors? They are not even real? In what way does this warrant to get physical?”

Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit irrational. Maybe silly even. Of course, no one says this outloud, but the faces all around are enough confirmation for the female driver.

“Gosh, that’s childish. But on the topic of Sesame Street: Have you seen the tweets about Big Bird being shrunk? I need justice for Big Bird!” And so a new discussion starts about the sense behind Big Bird being tiny.

A few hours later the track is cleared again after the storm eventually cleared up. Qualifying can finally start.

The interviews after are relaxed in a way no one expected and most of the newer drivers have never experienced before. Maybe it is the collective relief that qualifying is over without any more delays due to the weather or other problems.

“Coming to the last question,” the journalist closes up her post quali interview with (Y/N), “How did you pass the time until today’s session started? Did all the drivers have another Fifa tournament? Or was it Mario Kart this time?”

The female driver laughs a bit about the joke. “Oh no, not this time. I wouldn’t play Fifa with them anyways, I’m too competitive for that and not good enough at this game at the same time. But I’ll keep the Mario Kart idea in my head for the next skyfall rain. But today I was able to educate the boys on some Sesame Street lore, specifically about Big Bird’s eight international cousins.”

The reporter has a bemused face on. “I never heard of them.” “There is a link on the wiki page regarding Big Bird, dedicated to them. It’s amazing and super cute. Look it up!” (Y/N) winks into the camera.

This is the story of how breaking up a close call to a fist fight between two very stubborn drivers led to (Y/N) being a feature on Sesame Street. And how the trend of #justiceforBigBird across many social media platforms became a thing afterwards.

[fandomunite2107]

Meeting Carmy

Meeting Carmy at a family party that he was hired to cater.

Finding a hiding spot at this anniversary party was not as easy as you thought. There were people in almost every room with drinks in their hands, all catching up with family that they haven’t seen since in a while. With it being January, it was too cold outside to stand on the patio, though hypothermia isn’t looking too bad at the moment. You love your family, you really do, it’s just after hearing Uncle Billy’s fishing stories for the third time and your great aunt trying to match you up with everyone she knows, it’s a been a bit much. Work today wasn’t bad, but dealing with teenagers is draining on anyone, and rushing to get ready and coming to this party makes for a long day. You at least look nice for the party tonight. You had just enough time to do your hair and find matching shoes and jewelry for your outfit.

Finally, you’re able to break away from your cousin telling you about her newest remodeling project at home and are able to make your way into the kitchen. The door swings close and for a moment it’s silent. You can still make out the voices from down the hall, and from the sounds of it it seems like Uncle Billy found someone else to tell that fishing story too. Walking around the kitchen island you look out the window over the sink to see that snow has started to fall outside. You set your drink that you have been carrying down on the counter and take a deep breath.

“Yo. Watch where you’re going.” The door to the kitchen swings open. Really needing some quiet time and not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment you slip down the island onto the floor, hoping that no one sees you and disturbs the moment of peace that you found.

“What the hell? Is uh there a reason that you’re on the floor ?”

Looking up, you see a man in a chef’s uniform, realizing that he is a part of the catering staff that was hired for this party.

“I needed a break from that,” Waving your hand in the general direction of the noise. “Am I in the way? I’m sure there must be some room in the pantry if I move some things if you need me to.”

“Nah, um it’s fine for now.”

“Y/N! Are you in here?” Hearing your great aunt coming into the kitchen, you try to motion to the chef that you are indeed not here at the moment.

“Oh. Hello young man. Have you seen my niece? Her name is y/n. She’s about this tall. Wearing a dress.” My aunt directs these questions to the chef.

The man slides his eyes down to you before he shakes his head. “Ah. No ma’am, I haven’t.”

You smile and relax a bit on the floor. Looking up to the man you take in his appearance, realizing that this man is so much more than attractive.

“Oh, well. If you do could you tell her that I gave her number to one of the young men at my church who is single. She should be getting a call from him soon.” You bite down on your bottom lip trying to stifle a groan. You love your great aunt, but really why does she always feel the need to set everyone up. “How old are you?” You shake your head as your aunt asks the question, continuing to look at the chef. “You are very handsome and you seem handy around the kitchen. You and my niece would make a nice couple. I’ll give you her number.” I hear my aunt open a drawer and shut it, moments later hearing the sound of paper tearing. “Here. You call her. You two would make beautiful babies.”

“Um, thanks?” The chef seems dazed as the door closes behind my aunt. “I. That. That was interesting.” He says as he pushes his hair back from his face.

Standing up from the floor, you turn to face the chef. “I feel like I should properly introduce myself now, especially after all that. I’m y/n.” You extend you hand out to him.

It seems as if he is trying to hold back a smirk as he reaches for your hand. “Carmen. You can call me Carmy, most people do. My restaurant was hired to cater. Your um. Your aunt is something.”

You let out a short laugh. “Yes she is. Sorry about all that. Thank you for not blowing my cover. This is all a bit embarrassing. You don’t have to keep my number.” Pointing to the paper that your aunt wrote your number on, which is lying by a cutting board.

“You don’t want me to have it?” Carmy tilts his head to the side.

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “What. No. I just. I. There was talk of babies and people at church. It’s a lot for anyone. I was giving you an out.” Please stop talking and making this worst you thought to yourself. Why does he have to be so good looking? It’s becoming too distracting to look at him.

“I don’t think I want an out.” Carmy says as you heart skips a beat, which now you know is actually a thing that can happen.

The door swings open to the kitchen revealing your great aunt. “Oh y/n there you are! I see you met this handsome chef. He’s handsome isn’t he y/n?”

“Oh. Ah, yes very handsome.” You say looking at Carmy, noticing a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

“I will leave you two alone. I already gave him your number y/n” My aunt nods at the paper with your number on it before she leaves through the kitchen door again.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. This is a lot.” You cover your face with your hands, after a moment you move your fingers so that you can peek through to look at Carmy, seeing him smile at you.

The door to the kitchen opens again, this time revealing another member of what you assume is the catering company.

“Hey, Chef. Everything is looking good out there, but we’re getting low on the appetizers.” The man sets down a tray on the island and seems to realize that Carmy is not alone. “Oh, who’s this cousin?”

“Here take this tray out and refill the appetizers. I’ll start getting the rest of the trays together.” Carmy hands a well filled tray to the other chef, who exits the kitchen, but not before he gives Carmy a smirk nodding at you.

“I should get back to the party” You say as you don’t want to be in the way of him working. “It was nice to meet you Carmy”.

“Yeah. You too.” Carmy says though he’s too busy getting back to work to look up at you. You pick up your drink that you set down earlier and head to the door, looking at the chef once more before you leave to get back to the party.

The next hour or so you mingle with family members that you haven’t seen in a while. The party is nice and you do end up having a good time catching up with everyone. The food is excellent and anytime you hear someone mention the food you smile knowing that Carmy had a hand in making everything. As the party winds down, you think of heading back to the kitchen just to see him once last time, but every time you come close to doing that you chicken out thinking Carmy might find the intrusion annoying if he’s working.

After another half hour of mingling, you decide that it’s time to head home. You say your goodbyes to everyone and put your coat on before leaving the house. As you’re heading home you hear a notification come through your phone, looking down you see an unknown number had texted you. Opening up the text you see the message: Hey. It’s Carmy. Must have missed you before you left.

Smiling and feeling giddy from the message, you type out a response.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 • eddie munson x reader

sequel to 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 and 𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • another album, another tour, this time with a stop in Indianapolis featuring a local opener that proves to be more familiar than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 5.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), semi-public sex, extreme fluff, jealous reader, cocky eddie, hatefucking (at first), emotions!!

Objectively, Eddie was never the best you ever had. Considering your long and storied history included a lot of very talented people— sometimes multiple at a time— it was hard to compete.  He didn't make you come the hardest, or the fastest, or the most.

But for some reason, he was always your favorite. 

Even if he wasn't a sex god, he managed to keep up with you and he was just the right balance of everything: sweet but not too grovelling; good-looking but not too self-obsessed; young but not too naive.

Truth be told, every time you thought about it, you wondered if you should've taken him on tour with you.  You imagined a life where you had this little boytoy to keep you company, where he held you close at night in that big empty bed while the bus was on its way to the next stop; where you finished your sets and walked just off stage to find him waiting, and he'd give you a big kiss and tell you how amazing you were.

But it was just a fantasy, something to get you through especially lonely nights.  You’d been thinking about him leading up to your tour stop in Indiana, wondering if you should find some way to reach out— all you had was an old phone number, and that was nearly a year ago now that you found out he graduated and moved away.  After considering looking him up a few times (and realizing you didn’t actually know if Eddie was short for Edward or Edmond or Edgar or… not short for anything), you decided it was best left alone.  After all, your presence in Indiana was pretty heavily anticipated, it’s not like he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to find some way to see you.  

Danny nodded at you from behind the drums as you walked onstage for soundcheck.

“Okay, we’re just gonna tune and run the first song on the setlist,” the sound technician announced over the speakers as you put in your earpiece.

“Great,” you answered into the microphone, slinging your guitar on over your shoulder and starting to pick at it to get it perfectly in tune— yes, most big stars have the venue techs or their roadies tune instruments for them, but you preferred doing it yourself.  It was like… well, it was sort of like foreplay.  You preferred warming up your guitar yourself.

“Hey, you heard of this band that’s opening for us?” Jerome, your second guitarist, asked you as an assistant adjusted his mic stand.  “I was talking to the venue manager— he said a ton of people are here to see them.  They’re local legends or something.”

“I didn’t even read who’s opening for us,” you admitted.  “I haven’t slept since Louisville.”

“They’re called Corroded Coffin,” he said.  “Real grungy stuff.”

“Well, it’s a decent name,” you offered.  “I’ll have to watch their set and see if they’re any good.”

When soundcheck ended, you retired to the green room for a drink and a rest, the closest thing you had to a pre-show ritual.  This venue was nice enough that you had a TV by the vanity, meaning you totally zoned out and lost track of time watching National Geographic; you didn’t even realize the show had started until you heard loud, echoing guitars from outside.  

Turning the volume down, you listened to the muffled sound for a couple minutes, nodding to yourself.  Hey, they’re not bad.

Deciding to venture out and get a proper listen, you navigated the crowded backstage— roadies, assistants, and for some reason a crowd of kids in matching t-shirts?— so you could peer in from-offstage to see the band.  The first thing you saw was the pit; it was full of girls.  Screaming, desperate girls.  Shit, who is this guy?  You figured you weren’t likely to get the same reception from that section of the crowd, unless there was a bisexual convention in town.

Leaning further in, you finally saw the back of the guitarist’s head.  Any other context, and that mess of long, curly brown hair would give it away— but this was the metal scene, after all, and most of the guys looked like that.

He took a step back, disappointing the girls who had been climbing over each other to try to touch his ankle, and shook his head to get his hair out of his face.  That was when you got a proper glimpse of him for the first time, and your breath caught.

No, it’s not… 

He was too far away for you to be sure, and if you leaned forward any more, you’d be visible to the crowd which was not worth the trouble.  Spinning around, you saw the group of kids behind you, and narrowed your eyes at their shirts.  “Hey,” you yelled over the music to get the attention of one of them, “what do those shirts mean?”

“They’re for our D&D club!” he answered emphatically.  “That’s our Dungeon Master!”

As he pointed to the frontman again, you spun around.  Fuck.

“EDDIE, WE LOVE YOUUU!!!” a girl with braces screamed from the front row, literally sobbing, and you wondered how you could physically fit in your body every emotion you were feeling in this one moment.

Euphoria, confusion, devastation, excitement, anxiety— he was here, he was opening for you, he really made it.  But was he too good for you now?  He was the next big thing— you could already tell, hearing him play, that he was the real deal— and you were… well, you were the last big thing.  He was Van Halen, you were Black Sabbath; he was video, you were the radio star.  He was the nineties, coming around the corner faster than you were ready for— wasn’t it 1979, like, an hour ago?

It didn’t hurt from a stardom standpoint— the record sales didn’t bother you, even when there were less of them.  You didn’t need to be famous, half the time you didn’t even like it, you just loved the music whether it was yours or someone else’s.

But it hurt seeing Eddie, because it made you realize how long it had really been.  It hurt wondering if tonight was the beginning of the end— but you had hope that you wouldn’t be facing the end alone.

As he focused on playing a complex solo, his tongue curled up over his lip.  Be careful, Ed, I dunno if these girls can handle that…

Looking out over his crowd again, your gut burned as you saw the girls fawning over him, even if you couldn’t blame them.

You watched the rest of his set from the best seat in the house, which was actually standing up just behind the curtain, until you heard Eddie speak into the microphone: “You guys have been great!  We would stay forever if we could, but this is our last song…”

Heart pumping, you stumbled back and out of the way, retreating to your green room— you weren’t ready for him to walk by, you weren’t ready for him to ignore you, or kiss you, or slap you, or whatever he was going to do.

He was probably over it; he probably didn’t even care, so casually flaunting his one-that-got-away-ness in front of you.  You slammed your door shut behind you, pouring yourself a quick drink and tossing it back in a second.  It dulled your nerves but only worsened the sickness gathering in your stomach.  This was everything you’d been waiting for since 1985, but it was so terrifying now that it was here.  Everything could go wrong.

But of course he still wanted you, right?  He had to, he was one of your biggest fans just a few years ago.  But wow, time can change so much— and you had no idea he could play like that.  It only made you more attracted to him, right when you were trying to play it cool.

You heard the crowd going wild, you heard the music come to a halt, and you knew you were supposed to be getting ready for your own set.  Right now, you weren’t sure if you could even name one of your own songs…

Well, probably just one— the one about him.  In your mind, it was sort of a graduation present from you to Eddie— but you weren’t even a hundred percent sure he ever heard it.

You waited a few minutes, hoping maybe Corroded Coffin would be gone when you stepped out— yet praying that they wouldn’t be— but when you entered the hallway again, you found a typical scene between the opener and headliner: musicians and their most privileged fans everywhere, getting in the way of crew trying desperately to set up between acts, and Eddie right there in the middle of all of it.

He was sitting on an amp, fiddling around on his acoustic, girls hanging off of his arm and sitting in a circle around him.  Christ.

Hesitantly, you walked up to the group, crossing your arms and watching for a moment.  "Guess you made it out of your garage phase," you smirked.

He looked up at you, his strumming coming to a halt, as he gave you a knowing smile.  "Yeah," he offered; his voice was eerily familiar yet different, and you wondered if things were too different now.  If you and him were basically strangers, and you'd just have to wave hello and leave all that history behind.

After all, you'd only met once before, technically.  But to you, it felt like your story wasn't over yet.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls jumped up to you, “I— I’m such a huge fan!”

“Oh?  That’s nice to hear,” you offered her, glancing between her eyes and Eddie’s a few times.  “I— do you want me to sign anything?”

“That would be amazing,” she beamed, “I’ve— I’ve got one of your CDs right here.”

“Ah, a CD,” you nodded as she pulled it out of her purse and you got your trusty metallic Sharpie from your back pocket, “that’s how I know you’re one of the new kids.”

“You can make it out to Pearl,” she decided as you took the album from her, “that’s me.”

“Will do,” you agreed, uncapping the pen with your teeth and writing over the cover.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

“Yeah?” you prompted, mostly focused on writing.

“My favorite song of yours is Pretty Boy,” she explained, “from your new album?  I wanted to ask you who it’s about.”

You glanced at Eddie again, finding him still smiling at you.  Of course he knew, he barely had to listen to the verse to figure it out, it wasn’t exactly cryptic.  Can’t take you home when there’s no home to go to, still remember you with all the guys that I go through, it was pretty obvious.  “Uh,” you stalled, voice slurred a bit from talking with a pen cap in your mouth, “it’s… not really about anyone.  It’s just about the idea of someone.”

You handed her back the CD and put your marker away.  “Wow,” she smiled when you gave it back, reading the message to herself.  Pearl— don’t be a slut, with your signature across the bottom.  Her smile faltered slightly, but she thanked you weakly. 

“That’s good advice,” you informed her sternly as she sat back down.

“You know,” Eddie piped up, making your heart beat faster, “I wanted you to sign something of mine, too.”

You smirked at him, summoning some confidence from deep within yourself.  “Kid, you’ve already got my name written all over you.”

A few of the girls started whispering to each other, and Eddie glanced down— he didn’t seem too caught off-guard, but his cheeks did flush.  “Then maybe you can make my guitar match,” he suggested.

“Sure,” you agreed, and he stood up, lifting the guitar’s strap over his shoulder so he could hold it out for you and your re-uncapped marker.

Your hands were almost shaking, at the worst possible time, as he stood so close, staring at you with those eyes.  You thought about what you might write, and decided as you made contact with the glossy wood.

Eddie,

I’m still waiting for you.

As you put your signature at the bottom, you were startled slightly by a flash; you turned to see one of the girls had taken an instant photo, and she pulled it out and shook it as it developed.  “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “just a little piece of rock and roll history.  Legends meeting for the first time!”

You didn’t correct her; Eddie just nodded.  “You’ll have to send that to Rolling Stone,” he decided.

“There you go,” you announced as you finished the signature, watching him read what you’d written.

“Thanks,” he smiled, turning the guitar and holding it forward so he could look at it better before looking at you again.  “Any chance I could bum a smoke?”

One of the girls started to reach into her bag, but without even looking at her, Eddie held his hand out and she froze.  “Actually, I—” quit, you were about to say, but then you met his gaze.  He really was still that boy you found waiting outside the back of a smaller stadium nearly four years ago— his eyes were the same: tender, pleading, hopeful.  You knew the feeling well.  “I… have a pack in my dressing room,” you offered.

“Great,” he smiled.

“Aw, don’t go!” one of the girls whined, the rest joining in a chorus of moping.  

“Uh— hey!  There’s Gareth!” Eddie pointed.  “Will you girls go cheer him up?  He, uh, just broke up with his girlfriend.”

Eddie gave his best sympathetic sigh as the girls’ eyes lit up; and while the cloud of adorers descended on the drummer, you guided Eddie back with you across the backstage tunnel, tumbling through the green room door with him.

When you were both on the other side and the door shut, he didn’t even give you a chance to offer him a drink, now that he was definitely old enough— he just kissed you, with every ounce of passion he’d been saving for you all this time.  You whimpered and grabbed his face, holding him close, letting his tongue roam wherever and tasting his smile in return.

He pushed you back against the wall, pulling your hips against his, pressing all of himself against you; he tried to break the kiss to say something, but you pulled his face towards you again, you just needed a little more.

He hummed against your lips, and you let him go so he could kiss your neck instead.  Your back was already arching up off the wall, and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt, tickling the dip of your spine, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a moment so he could bring his hands around to the front and grope your chest.

You grinned as his fingers toyed with your nipples and squeezed your sensitive skin; there was more experience behind his movements than before, yet the same boyish eagerness under it all.

That said, your grin faded when he pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing you to the air, indulging himself in a glance and a sigh at your breasts before he put his mouth on them.  “Fuck,” you whined.  “Eddie, fuck.”

Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, and he moaned around your skin, moving to the other nipple while his fingers gently pinched the first.  “Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Make me,” you countered.

He stopped right away, spinning you around as you held your hands against the wall to keep yourself upright.  He pressed his back up to yours, letting his hips rock so you could feel his erection against you and you purred.  The way his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans reminded you a bit of the way he fingered his guitar on stage; the way he pushed your pants and underwear down and grabbed a handful of your ass before giving it a sudden spank reminded you of someone totally different from Eddie.  I guess a lot can change in a few years…

“You gonna fuck me or what?” you sighed.  “I’ve gotta be on stage any minute now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised— or maybe it was a warning.  "But I'm not your groupie anymore, sweetheart, I'm a star, and I fuck like one.  All those girls wanted me to do to them what you did to me— but all I want is to be buried in you."

You hummed proudly turning around and facing him so you could start working on his belt for him.  “Did you miss me?” you wondered, taunting with your question, but he wasn’t fazed.

“‘Course I did,” he smiled.  "I wasn't a virgin when we met, but I still think you made a man outta me that night.  You even let me come in you, you remember that?  So dirty," he smirked, a hint of a snarl on his smile as he scrunched up his nose for a second.  "You just want this cunt bred, huh?"

"Damn," you sighed, "you’re all grown up— and you got nasty."

He laughed breathlessly, looking down.  "Guess I did.  You haven't changed, though."

He guided you across the room, to the vanity, where he spun you around and bent you over quickly— not too rough, but definitely hurried— yanking your head up by your hair so you had to look in the mirror.

"Want you to see how pretty you are taking my cock."

He was inside you a moment later, and your eyes rolled back.  “Fuck,” you groaned, legs quivering as he started off right away; he gave you long, deep strokes that made your walls clench.

"I remember how you like it," he purred.  "Deep, and rough— and you like being in control.  But right now, I wanna see you lose control."

Well, that was the plan if he kept talking like that…

“I wanna see you come for me,” he continued, “exactly when I tell you to.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled breathlessly.  “If you wanted obedience you should’ve snagged one of those little tarts from the pit.”

“If you wanted me to play nice you should’ve taken me with you when we first met,” he shot back, fucking you harder as anger tinted his voice and his movements.  “Back when I was still an impressionable kid.”

“That’s— that’s exactly why I didn’t,” you explained through your teeth.  “I was trying to do right by you.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes!” you admitted.  “Yes, I wish I wasn’t such a damn good person, okay?  Now just fuck me, damn it!”

He laughed a little, but finally did as he was told, taking hold of your hips and setting a brutal pace.  

“S’this… this how you fuck your groupies?” you choked out.  

He laughed as he shook his head.  “No, I take my time with them.”

Fuck.  “I liked you better when you were nice.”

He smacked your ass again, making you whimper.  “Don’t lie to me.”

Touche… “Did you like me better when I was just your fantasy?” you managed to get out.

“No,” he sighed, leaning down and laying his body over yours, holding you tighter.  “No, I like you best like this— here, with me.  Real.”

You whined and dropped your head down, hoping to hide your watering eyes, but he cooed as he pet your hair before grabbing it pulling you up again. 

“Look, baby,” he insisted, “I want you to see it— god, you’re so beautiful.  Look how beautiful you are.”

“Y-you’re beautiful, too,” you blurted out as you watched his face in the reflection, still a bit red as he panted behind you, and he gave you a breathless smile

"Tell me how good it feels,” he instructed.

"So good, Eddie, your cock is so good," you groaned.

“Y’love it, huh?” he taunted, but his eyebrows knitted together when you shook your head.

“No, Ed— I hate this… I hate that I’m the one that made you bitter,” you admitted.  “You were so sweet before…”

He slowed down a bit, one hand brushing your hair out of your face as the other held your hips— tight, but not painfully so.  “I’m still yours,” he whispered by your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back a sob.  “Baby, I’m still yours.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“Because you’re not mine.”

You laughed— you actually laughed, and he hissed as it made you tighten on him.  “Damn, you got older, but you didn’t get much smarter, huh?” you noticed.  “I was yours from the start, Eddie.”

He fucked you harder— but not exactly in the rough way.  In a patient, but needy, way; and you felt him smile as he kissed your neck again.  “You’re just saying that,” he presumed teasingly.

“No— god, it’s real, it’s not just ‘cause we’re fucking,” you promised.  “I’m yours.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, suddenly colliding his mouth with your sopping cunt.  You whined as your legs quivered.  "Fuck, Ed—!"

He growled as he lapped at you hungrily.  "So sweet,” you could barely make out his mumbled groan when it was spoken right against your wet skin.  

You were amazed he had the patience to stop fucking you in the middle of that— amazed and slightly pissed.  “Fuck me,” you begged, “c’mon, I said I’m yours— I meant it.”

“You’re gonna make me come too fast if you keep saying you’re mine,” he explained.  “I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, we’re already out of time,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “I should be on by now… they’re probably looking for me.”

“Well, let’s help them find you,” he encouraged with one more lick up the seam of your cunt before he stood up and shoved his cock inside you roughly.  His pace was faster after that, careless to the way he hit the end of you every time— except it wasn’t careless, it was intentional.  "Uh huh, scream for my cock, it'll get your voice warmed up,” he encouraged with a smile.

“God, I’m way too close,” you groaned, toes curling inside your boots, back arching deeper even as he held your hips steady.  “Don’t make fun of me for coming so fast… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“I’m— Christ, I’m not in any place to judge, am I?  M’gonna come too,” he promised, “inside you.  Gonna let it all drip out of you while you’re playing your set.” 

Imagining that was what pushed you over the edge, actually.  “Eddie, I’m coming,” you sobbed, “fuck, I— don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop, I’ll never fucking stop, I swear,” he grunted— and even though he stopped barely ten seconds later as his own orgasm hit him, you knew exactly what he meant.

You both caught your breath, and he held you close as his legs gave out— which meant you both fell onto the floor, but you hardly noticed; you just let him pull you closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was a beautiful, peaceful moment for exactly two seconds before someone banged on the door.  “WE NEED YOU TO SET UP!!” a crew member bellowed through the wood.

“GIMME A MINUTE!” you screamed back, making Eddie laugh behind you— and you followed suit.  “Not so romantic, huh?”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he assured softly, running his fingers down your back.  “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“I deserved it,” you sighed, “I’m sorry I left you in Indiana in 1985.”

He scoffed.  “I deserved that, too.”

You relaxed as he pulled your back into his chest, kissing along your neck.  “I’ve gotta get up and get myself together,” you reminded him.

“Okay,” he sighed, letting you go so you could awkwardly climb up and start pulling your pants back on.

He just laid on the floor and watched you for a second, before shoving his cock back in his own jeans and standing up to correct his button and fly.  

You bent down to look in the vanity again, wiping under your eye to carefully remove the evidence of an eyeliner-stained tear.

"I fell in love with you back then," he said suddenly, and you smiled, though you didn’t turn around.

"When we met?" you assumed.

"Before that," he replied.  You stood up this time and faced him, heart beating so hard it made you wonder if he could see your chest moving.  "Before you even knew me, before I really knew you, I loved you.  I worshiped you.  And before you even took me for yourself, I was yours.  I still am, baby— I'm still yours, and I always was."

“Do you still love me?” you asked hesitantly— only because you knew you were ready for a no.

“Yes,” he smiled, stepping closer to you, “of course.”

"I never stopped thinking about you," you promised quietly.  "I never forgot you."

He grabbed your hands suddenly, holding them up with his between the two of you, and you stared at them before you looked up at his eyes instead, brimming with optimism just like you’d dreamed of him for years.  "I'm not letting you leave me again," he insisted.  "You know how good we are together.  You know I'll always love you.  C'mon and let me be yours, angel— I'm gonna love you so much you won't know what to do with yourself."

You smirked.  "I think you're always mine, whether I let you or not."

"I think you wanna marry me."

You nearly choked, and you felt your cheeks burn but you tried to keep your cool.  "Bold claim."

"What if I ask you now?"

"You got a ring?"

"Do I?" he snorted, pulling a skull off of his right middle finger and getting down on one knee as he brandished it for you.  "I don't want anyone else.  You don't need anyone else.  No more of this ships in the night crap— us, forever."

"A skull?  Not the most romantic."

"Oh, but it is," he grinned, "til death do us part, babe.  It was almost four years ago I said I'd follow you anywhere, I meant it, and I'll follow you to the grave."

The sound tech banged loudly on the door again.  "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON TEN MINUTES AGO, THE CROWD'S GONNA REVOLT," he bellowed.

"I need to play my set, Eddie," you reminded the man on his knee before you. 

"Then play," he agreed, "and give me your answer after the encore."

You leaned down and kissed him, more gently than you’d allowed yourself before.  “I will,” you promised.  

You dashed out of the dressing room and towards the stage, a thousand people swarming around you to put your earpiece in, fling your guitar around your shoulder, brush powder over your face— and in a whirlwind of a few seconds, you were right there in front of the crowd, your band surrounding you.  The crowd cheered, and your heart swelled; I’ve still got it.

“Good evening, Indianapolis!” you greeted through the microphone, and the roar grew.  “Are we having fun tonight?”

It was easy, but it worked, and they applauded and whooped excitedly.

“How was that opener?” you prompted, and they cheered again.  “Is it just me or was that frontman kinda cute?”

A more feminine cheer answered as if to say, it’s not just you.

“Hope you like this first song,” was your simple introduction before the drummer counted you off and you all began to play.

All in all, it was a great show.  Crowd was good, band killed it (as always), and aside from a moment of feedback from one of the speakers, it all went pretty much perfectly.  And that was all in spite of your mind being totally overwhelmed with thoughts of Eddie.  Normally, music cleared your head, but nothing could keep your thoughts from everything that had just happened— and not even just that!  You were thinking about that first night, about how young he was then; about when you called him and he stayed on with you until you fell asleep so you wouldn’t have to spend another night alone; about when he first looked at you backstage half an hour ago, holding onto his guitar, surrounded by girls but looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Shows always went by fast, especially when they went this well, but this one seemed to go by in a moment— and there you were, waiting in the dark, hearing them chant.

Encore, encore, encore!

You were about to go back out, but you smiled to yourself as you grabbed a stage manager by the sleeve.  "Get me the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin— bring him out on stage."

"Now?"

"Now."

He ran off to search for Eddie, and you turned to your bassist, Alex: “Think we’ve made ‘em wait long enough?”

Jerome answered instead.  “Everybody knows you like to tease,” he smirked.

True, but not as true as it used to be.  “Let’s go back,” you announced, hearing a roar of applause wash onto the stage as the musicians took the stage once more.

"We missed you," you offered into the mic, hearing the crowd cheer.  "Want us to play one more?"

They screamed again, almost deafeningly, and you laughed.  You glanced over at the side of the stage and felt your heart melt just at the sight of Eddie there, the stage manager getting him ready to go out.

"I've got someone I want you guys to meet first," you explained.  "An old friend of mine.  You know him best as the guy who rocked the fuck out of this place before I came on…"

As they figured out who you were talking about, their applause restored.

"If you don't mind, I'd like him to come out and play this song with me."

Of course, that only made them more excited.  I’ll show you rock and roll history, boys and girls.

You motioned for him to come out, and he walked on with a smile and a wave to the encouraging crowd.  "But I want you to know something else about him,” you continued as he grabbed one of your guitars and put it on, fiddling with it for a second to make sure he knew the sound and feel of the instrument.  “He's not just the hottest new sound in metal, and he's not just a heartthrob—"

The girls cheered louder at that.

"He's also—" you glanced at him, standing beside you at the other microphone, smiling back at you with slight confusion.  You took a deep breath in and out, surprised at how shaky it was.  You didn't think you got nervous anymore.  "He's also my fiancé."

You expected a huge reaction to that, but there was a pause first— a stillness that said, did we just hear that right?

Time seemed to slow down as you stepped up to him.  The crowd was frozen, and silent, and then they were gone.  Your band was gone, the crew was gone, it was just you and him in an empty stadium.

When you were in front of him, his eyes blinking at you, his smile soft and patient, you reached up and held his cheek.  "I promised I wouldn't forget you, Eddie," you whispered.  "Believe it or not, I tried.  But I couldn’t— because I love you."

He smiled back wider.  "I love you too," he returned.  "Wanna get married?"

You laughed a bit.  "Okay," you answered flippantly, and he pulled you into a sudden, powerful kiss.

Then the crowd was back, and louder than ever.  You felt Eddie's hand take yours, squeezing it before gently slipping the skull ring on your finger.  Yes, it was a little big, but it would do for now.

You returned to the mic with a smile as you addressed the crowd again.  "We're gonna play a song for you all, it's called Pretty Boy.  Do you know that one, Eddie?"

"I think I can keep up," he answered into his own microphone with a smirk.

"Then let's show 'em how good we are together," you decided, turning over your shoulder to make eye contact with the drummer as you counted off: "one, two, three, four!"

[deltaromeo3]

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎..? ⋆ Charles Leclerc

requested by: this ask!

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: in which the reader does not recognise the famous Monegasque Formula 1 driver; the very same one that was about to change her perspective on the sport and also her life.

↪ you can find part 2 &3 here! : #2 #3

“You should really watch where you’re walking.”

You were out grocery shopping in Monte-Carlo, peacefully minding your own business when suddenly someone bumped into you. You turned to tell them off but before you could say anything the stranger immediately apologised.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” The man asks, holding your sides.

You were taken aback when you were met with a pair of green eyes staring right at you, awaiting a response. Further behind him stood a small group of people, one of which was holding a camera.

You figured he was famous, but you had no idea who this guy was. Clueless. But he was good-looking tho. Good lord.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. No worries.” You smile softly at him and he smiles back at you. You returned to picking out your groceries but in the background you heard him talking to what you assumed was his camera crew.

“Aw cmon, it’ll be fun!” Emma says, trying to persuade you to come with her to the Monaco Grand Prix.

Her cousin had bailed last minute and Emma quickly took this chance to ask you instead. You had taken no interest in the sport but she didn’t want to waste her tickets; especially if they were paddock passes.

You groaned, “Ugh, okay okay. Just this once.”

Emma jumps with joy, “Really?!” You nod and she squeals, “I’m so excited!”

The both of you took your seats. Emma was donned in Ferrari merch and she insisted you wore one too.. you reluctantly agreed.

You sat down, the cars now lined up doing their formation lap. You had no idea which drivers were in what teams, but you were happy to be here (because of the free food) with Emma by your side.

“Ooh, there he is. My favourite driver.” She points to the red Ferrari car with the number 16 on the front of the car. You just nodded in response.

The race finally ends, the both of you were walking home. Emma was rambling on about the race and her favourite driver but you were looking down at your phone, not caring about what she was saying when suddenly you made impact with someone.

“What the hell Em-“

“I’m so sor- eh, it’s you!”

You were met with a familiar set of green eyes.

“M-me?” You point to yourself as you stood frozen, confused.

“Yeah! The girl from the supermarket! Remember me?” He asks. You tried to recall back to the time at the supermarket.

“Oh yeah, I remember.”

Oh. You again.

He lets go of your sides and you say, “You should really watch where you’re walking.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I really should. Oh, a Ferrari fan I see. Enjoyed the race?” He asks.

“Mm, I really didn’t pay much attention to it. But number 16 did so well though.”

“Oh really? Well, thank you.”

“Thank you? Wha-“

“Hi! Hi, my name is Emma! Nice to meet you. I’m such a big fan.” Your friend interjects, shaking Charles’ hand.

Such a big fan? Who is this guy?

“I’m so sorry, I think my friend here hit her head. She doesn’t seem to recognise who you are.”

“Well yeah, who is he? Please, enlighten me.”

Your friend turns her head, shooting you a glare. “What? Don’t look at me like that! I really don’t know.”

“I’m Charles. Charles Leclerc. The guy who drives the number 16 car.” He extends his hand, waiting for you to shake it.

“Oh! You’re Charles! Yeah, Emma is right. She’s a big fan. Won’t stop talking about you. Anyways, congratulations on your win!”

“Thank you.” He smiles “And you?” He asks.

“I… don’t really watch F1.”

“And by don’t really she meant not at all. She came because of the free food.” Your friend interrupts.

Charles chuckles. “Well it was nice meeting you…”

“Y/N.” You replied

“And you too Emma.”

He walks over to his car. A 488 Pista.

You only took a few steps in-front when suddenly he calls you out.

“Hey! Want me to send you two home?” He says as he drives, the speed of the car matching your walking pace.

You looked over to Emma. You could’ve sworn she was gleaming.

“I’m good, and your car can only fit one more person. Emma, what about you?”

She hesitantly shakes her head.

“Okay!” was all he said before he drove off, revving the car as he drove off.

“I’m going to kill you,” Emma spoke.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you just said no to a once in a lifetime offer; a ride in Charles goddamn Leclerc’s car.”

“Well you should’ve said yes!”

“Not without you! And shit!”

“What now!”

“I forgot to ask him for a goddamn photo!”

You laughed. “Next time then.”

-

A/N: ahhh my first ask… I know this isnt what you asked for (or kind of.. along the lines?) but I hope you still enjoyed it <3 thank you for requesting! should i make a part two?🫣

[scary-lasagna]

Hello! (I literally almost sent this to thr wrong blog and got terrified 😭) anyway

Can you do resident reader x toby who has a massive crush on them and gets super akward around them? (Also how the creeps probably tease him)

Toby

Oooohhhh, they do not let him live it down no matter where he is.

He's constantly being poked and prodded by his friends, and he didn't even have to tell them!

It was so adherently obvious, that it was almost physically painful to watch as Toby tripped over his own feet and fumbled mixes of words.

Kate might shove him in their direction, and Tim might tell them that Toby wanted to talk to them.

The proxies are probably the historically worst wing-people ever when it came to attempting to set up Toby with this lovely [Y/N].

It's not just the proxies, who at least have a good heart in mind while teasing and nudging him toward [Y/N], but Ben can be especially cruel to him.

He'll offer to comb through their text messages, to see if they're talking to anyone else, or even slip his number into their contacts.

But Toby profusely declines, promising he'll handle it.

He never does. And Ben will take everything into his own hands with a light-hearted grudge toward Toby's backwardness.

He slips Toby into their DM's or texts with a casual opening line to invite a friendly conversation.

Toby didn't like this, but he's secretly thankful for it, knowing he would never have approached [Y/N] on his own accord.

[silentghosttimez]

Since everyone's reading comprehension clearly just went out the window when the person in the Epstein documents asked about Michael Jackson. The girl literally said nothing happened. And to go into more detail, this was before anything about Epstein came to light and when Epstein was still fronting as one of those financial businessmen. MJ was LITERALLY THOROUGHLY investigated and HEAVILY survellienced by the government/FBI for over 2 decades BEFORE and AFTER meeting Epstein, the FBI REALLY wanted MJ gone from the public eye, they even tried to use his childhood photos and some playboy magazines to prove he was guilty. In the 2000s MJ was in conflict with Sony and was going broke, some people(we dont know who they were yet) recommended he go to Epstein to solve financial issues. MJ dipped out and Epstein never got his number, his name literally was not in that black book. Y'all keep bringing up those false accusations with the boys when if you actually look up anything on it, the boys came forward and said their parents lied, and the bed thing was false because MJ's room was huge and had two beds, he had the PARENTS AND THEIR KIDS sleeping in the beds in his room while HE slept in his own GUEST ROOM.

Stop making shit up when the people who wanted so badly for him to do something criminal literally couldn't find anything at all in all those years that he was looked at so closely to the point he was literally having mental breakdowns from being watched every where he went, during every call, and so on.

(edit: To add to this, people constantly lie about his skin and how he felt about himself and his body too. When for one, his autopsy was right there and literally says he suffered from lupus and Vitilogo and his hair was literally the way it was due to it being set on fire in that one Pepsi commercial, there are literally graphic images of just how badly his scalp had been damaged. He never hated himself or his blackness, infact he actively tried to hide his white splotches for as long as he could. He used makeup and skincare stuff that he was unaware had any bleaching affects in the ingredients. He was very open and loud about being proud of his African heritage, he even was crowned in an African village.

I made this post cause I started tweaking because the singular black breadtuber I was watching was reading the Epstein documents and when he got to Michael being mentioned he and everyone in chat suddenly became illiterate and he was talking some shit like "it would seem he really was that guy if those documentaries, court stuff and articles didn't already convince you" like WHAT??? And chat was agreeing and someone was like "the Twitter stans are still gonna find a way to defend him after this" mind you, if you weren't bread dead and believed all that slander, all the court stuff declared and pretty much proved his innocence and later one people including his own friends and family came forward saying they were forced and coerced into lying. Those documentaries that came out and so many of those articles were straight up slanderous because they were damn tabloids, I don't get why people are still trying to use tabloids as proof when they were known for spreading rumors that often were not true in the slightest. This shit actually has me genuinely heated. Like, the breadtuber didn't bother reading the rest and was just like "well that proves it" even though it was stated right below that Epstein did not have his contact. Then there's the dumbasses on Twitter too making this shit worse. You'd think that most people at some point would bother to actually use their brains and seek out as much info as possible instead of taking lies and running with it, especially if they have a platform where they literally should be doing such a thing but nope. The guy was iffy about the star wars guy and whether or not he was actually a contact in Epstein's list but that same grace was not afforded to MJ.

Another edit:Oh and also it's wild MJ's false accusations are always brought and people say Elvis and Prince are better than him meanwhile Elvis and Prince were known pedos and abusers. Like are you fucking kidding me!!!)

[awoogahonkhonk]

There’s actually a lot of TWST characters who I think would (or wouldn’t) partake in the devils lettuce sooo here are some TWST weed Headcanons.

~~~

Also, Ik they teens. Teens, don’t do drugs. But I did as a teen and am still not of age, high while writing this soooo yeah. Please remember that this is fiction and these are fictional characters.

Note: not all characters are in this list. If I didn’t add a character it’s either cause I had nothing of substance to say about them or I don’t know the character enough to make a proper headcanon. Also if I say something wrong I’m sorry I’m not a connoisseur I just do what I get.

Warning(s): General talk about weed, Yuu is a stoner(maybe idk) in this, cursing, unedited and written by someone under the influence

~~~

Riddle Rosehearts: As much as I want him to, and I think he would actually benefit from it, he wouldn’t. Especially pre overblot but also post. And it’s more than it’s against the rules. All he knows about marijuana is what he’s learned from the anti drug PSA’s his moms had him watch. And he hates the smell. And his fragile lungs can’t take smoke. And he doesn’t trust edibles or like the taste. So, as much as I want him to just give it a chance and chill tf out, it’s a firm no.

Trey Clover: He’s impartial. Doesn’t like smoking, or getting high in general but he doesn’t have anything against others doing it. May smoke in group settings but rarely. He will 100% make some fire weed brownies if you ask. Also, number one guy to be with if you get the munchies.

Cater Diamond: I think he’s tried it, had a bad high, and never touched the stuff again. Might be convinced to try again with some close friends but only if they know what they’re doing. Also, acts like he knows what he’s doing but ends up hacking up a lung.

Ace Trappola: Yeah why not. He’s down to try anything once. Actually likes being high with people, like him and Deuce and Yuu have reg smoke sessions and he loves it. Just likes the feeling idk. I don’t think he smokes alone tho. Likes flavored pens.

Deuce Spade: Will attend every smoke session and get a second hand high but will rarely actually participate. He thinks he has to be the responsible one while Yuu and Ace get high off their asses. But he’s not against smoking a little every once in awhile.

Leona Kingscholar: For sure dude. Someone is almost always on something in Savanaclaw so he’s been around his fair share and tried a couple things. Doesn’t like the smell from joints cause yk beast man heightened everything. So he prefers edibles or pens. Pens still stink to him but not as bad. Casual stoner. It helps him sleep when everyone in his dorm is all riled up over nothing. Gave Ruggie his first edible but was not happy when he had to take care of him after he greened out. (I have so many nsfw thoughts about Leona and smoking with Yuu omg don’t)

Ruggie Bucchi: Like I said, first time he had an edible he greened out. In his defense, the dosage was way too much. Leona kinda forgot he wasn’t as tolerant as him. He didn’t really want to do it again after that but he figured out smoking was easier cause he could gage where he was better. So now he’s a lil stoner. High Ruggie = ravenous Ruggie. Like Fr you’d think this kid was starving the way he was shoveling shredded cheese into his mouth, straight out the bag.

Azul Ashengrotto: Just gonna make a blanket statement now, none of the mer students smoke. They aren’t technically supposed to have lungs and filling those lungs with smoke is just painful. So he doesn’t smoke. He’ll do an edible every so often, usually to help him sleep, but that’s it. IS the campus dealer tho. He knows a guy. He knows quite a few guys actually. Hooks everyone up, for a price.

Jade Leech: Never has, never will. Has absolutely no interest in it. Doesn’t like not being in control of himself. Will be around when others get high though, he thinks it’s hilarious. Especially when people do too much and get sick.

Floyd Leech: Complete opposite of his brother. Will get high anytime, anywhere, with anyone. It hurts to smoke, like I said previously, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying. It’s actually getting better. He also thinks smoking looks cooler than edibles. High Floyd is a very cuddly monster. Will squeeze anyone who gets close enough. Just be thankful that he’s too out of it to use his full strength.

Vil Schoenheit: Will loudly advocate against it and ban his dorm from doing it but probably has a secret stash somewhere. Only Rook knows about it. He’s stressed ok?! You try being a famous actor/model/fairest in the land.

Epel Felmier: My boy wants to. He really does. He thinks it looks so cool, and if Yuu can do it so can he! But the smoke burns his lungs and edibles taste bad. But that doesn’t stop him from trying!

Idia Shroud: OKAY so there are two ways I could write this. Cannon how he probably is, or headcannon how I want him to be and see him as. Cannon, he probably talks a big game but actually knows jack shit about drugs of any kind. And is kinda scared to try. But he will, to seem cool. Ends up coughing up his heart but he tried and that’s what counts. And now he can officially say he’s ‘done weed’. Headcannon, Idia as a little loner stoner. It calms his nerves and makes it easier to talk to people. Usually if he’s out of his dorm, he’s high. He’s also high when he’s in his dorm. It helps him sleep and he thinks better with a lil weed in his system. May have developed a small codependency but that’s okay(no it’s not seek help). Mr wake and bake.

Malleus Draconia: Weed? Like, dandelions? What? He’s so confused when someone offers. Why would you smoke weeds? Lilia has to explain it to him three different ways before he gets it. He’ll try, but please give him an edible. It’s for your own safety. His lungs could probably take the smoke but if he ends up taking a hit too big he will cough up flames and not little ones. Very spacey once he’s high. Will stair at the ceiling for hours and say absolutely nothing.

Lilia Vanrouge: Has, will, wants to rn actually. Lilia lived through the 70s, he’s done almost every drug known to man, and probably some not yet known, at least once. Why not? He can take it. Doesn’t smoke often but also does? Idk how to explain it. Likes flavored cartridges more than anything else. The weirdo who fucks with cotton candy. He gets bad cotton mouth tho so… I mean, if you believe in the vampire theory like I do…👀

Silver: The first time he smoked was with his dad. He walked in on Lilia and a bong when he was like 15 and Lilia was like cmon m’boy. Now, he’s concerned that Lilia wasn’t more careful and exposed him so young but that also means he has an okay relationship with weed. Like, he’s able to make his decision firmly due to plenty of experimentation. He hates smoking and edibles generally but will absolutely body some weed brownies.

[reveluving]

I AM BACK AGAIN WITH MY HEAD IN HANDS AND HORNY BRUCE WAYNE ON MY MIND I NEED THAT MAN ABSOLUTELY INSANELY DESPERATE FOR BATMOM. SOMETHINNG ABOUT THE URGE.... DELICIOUS

BRB MICROWAVE NOISES ARE HAPPENING IN MY HEEEEAD 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

writing milf!Batmom was bound to happen at some point lol I was waiting for the day to finally happen fr fr SO HERE ❤

warnings: smut (18+ content, minors DNI!)

Look, with that many kids in the household, did you really think no one's going to talk about how sexy of a mother Mrs Wayne is?

Don't get me wrong, Bruce being called a DILF is not uncommon! Just look at him; a rich and respectable hunk of a man, who is also a father of six children and counting? So much hotter than when he was known as a playboy all those years ago. It was only natural for the public to talk about the missus in question as well.

Who could've possibly been the one to finally tame the Bruce Wayne and better yet, encouraged him into the married life?

You, obviously, and boy, did the public understand why.

No matter how much the media tries to deny it, they can never ignore your beauty, your grace, and dare I say, your MILF-ness.

C'mon, everyone's eyes were always on you the second you'd step foot into the gala. Oh, Mrs Wayne is here, in her new silky, silt-cut dress, matchint heels and jewellery that complements your every feature?

Sign me the fuck up!

You may have acknowledged the reputation bestowed upon you, but what you didn't realized was just how strong that power was.

But, of course, your reputation comes with a bit of a price to pay. Not by you, but by your children.

If there was one thing Dick, Jason and Tim were especially too familiar of hearing, especially on social media, it's about you, and the Internet can be very open with their thoughts. People are getting too comfortable on the app, as one would say.

While there was no denying that you were in fact beautiful, they were still your sons, and to see such language about you was almost as traumatic as seeing you and Bruce fooling around in bed.

• 'Mrs Wayne is so hot??? HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HER IN THOSE HEELS??? GYAT'

• 'I've seen her IRL when I was visiting her café and let me tell you; photos do NOT DO HER JUSTICE 🥵'

• 'If my future husband and I don't give Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne energy, I don't want it ☝🏼🤨'

• 'mrs wayne's thighs appreciation: a thread that will having you SCREAMING [includes 10+ photos]'

That last one in particular had an intimidating number of likes, mind you. As if their own set of fans weren't a lot to deal with already.

But hoho, if we're talking about Bruce Wayne's opinion on the matter?

Picture this.

It's like watching an edit of your favourites; going from a random video of you adorably scrunching up your nose to BAM—a slow-mo of you looking like a literal model. How or where anyone's ever gotten that footage from was uncertain, but if you asked Bruce if he's ever seen that video before?

Chances are, he'd say yes.

Repeatedly, even.

Hell, he might've saved it somewhere, amongst other 'tresures', for educational purposes.

He acknowledges the fact that you may be a teenage boy's fantasy, the dream trophy wife of many men, regardless if they were in their lonesome or in a tasteless marriage, but in the end of the day, you were his, just as he was yours.

And while he has the means to save your most intimate moments via his greatest machines, he actually prefers the good ol' polaroid. Saving at least a couple of boudoir photos in his pocket, wallet, the Batmobile, locked away in one of the Batcomputer's rack and much more. Whether they're photos of you lying on your stomach cross-legged in your lingerie, or even a picture of the two of you, glistening in sweat and naked in front of the mirror, he never ran short of his precious 'supplies', and he has more where that came from.

Knowing he was the only one able to not only see you, but make you writhe and scream and cum in his bed—in your bed, around his cock? He could die a happy man, truly. And he'll do just about anything you ask him to, no question?

Want his fingers inside you while he smothers his face in between your breasts? Certainly.

Want him to lie back so you can straddle his face and make you cum with that talented tongue of his? You don't have to tell him twice.

Want him to take your dress and lingerie off so slowly, even though his cock is aching to be touched by those sweet hands of yours? Say no more.

That man is always hungry for you, borderline desperate even, but what's new.

But, if it ever goes down to you, or when the public gets too comfortable voicing out, especially in front of you, and it clearly rubs you the wrong way, best believe he'll do something about.

He doesn't need the comments of others to know how sexy of a woman his wife really is, after all.

I wanted to write smut for this, considering it is a milf!batmom after all, but we all know how long it takes for me to do that HAHA I hope y'all still liked this one tho! Please don't forget to leave some sugar! ❤

[skyler10fic]

In the Tyler Family panel, Billie recalls the 2000s fashion as a strange time in fashion history but loved Idiot's Lantern, and they agree Jackie would have shared Rose's clothes to be the Cool Mom. 🤣

Shawn says he was surprised to be asked back at first since his character died, but it made sense for him to come back in a multiverse story.

He says it was easy to come back and Camille adds it's the quality of writing makes it easy because you know who you (the character) are at that point because you can trust the writers are guiding it.

Billie says she struggles with how much she didn't understand how it was going to take over her life before s1 airs. Before social media, even though everyone hated it and the idea of her doing it, but it wasn't the constant stream of trolls the new actors have to hear about now with social media. She says with RTD, Julie, and Phil, there was so much confidence and joy, it was easy to believe it would be good.

Camille says her neighbors and friends were surprisingly fans. She didn't realize how many people she knew who loved it and knew about it.

They talk about how cold it was filming the Cybermen. Billie says her jaw locked because it was so cold!! The trick to getting through them was "youth" and she doesn't do night shoots anymore if possible because of that experience.

Camille talks about how Jackie "grew a pair" lol

Billie: "She's a boss!

Camille: "It's Russell, really."

Billie: "No, it's you!"

Love that Jackie's speech and situation in Love and Monsters got a shout-out. Especially going off on Elton for taking advantage of her: "Many people can relate to that moment, I think."

Talking about Pete not being the perfect husband:

Billie: "Why did they break up again?"

Shawn: "Because I died!"

Billie: "I forgot!!!" 🤣

They banter so well! Total family vibes between them all.

Fun moment where Shawn thought Billie was saying "old Pete" when she was saying "alt Pete!" Lol

Rose having the "rose-colored glasses" taken off: Billie says many can relate to realizing their parents are flawed people, and things are more complicated than you thought.

Camille says the Tylers spoke a language people understood, making something fantasy into a relatable story that was relevant to the audience.

Mod jokes that Rose "parent trapped them" across multiple universes!

Billie talks about how she enjoyed the overall romance and human element of their series, as opposed to the more sci fi feel in other later seasons.

Camille says Chris's intensity helped launch the reboot, but David's "Labrador" energy was different and special too to keep it going.

Billie says there was a totally different energy after they knew it was a success, allowing for more playfulness with David's Doctor and in general on set.

Billie says she always thought there was something complex about the romance with the Doctor, it's weird for a 19 year old to just take off in a box, and maybe wasn't written with Chris but it was there in spirit, and then was written in more explicitly in their relationship with David. Hard to keep that intensity of awe and adoration platonic! Camille adds the chemistry between them was a big element as well.

Billie says it was always a thrill to get the script, eager to read the script as soon as she got it to see what new world they were building with each episode. She says she didn't want to go to set when shooting Tooth and Claw because she was riveted reading the Doomsday script! Haha

Billie says the costume tricks can help body language shifts when changing character, like with Rose possessed by Cassandra, the push-up bra helped develop a unique physicality for the previously (literally) flat character!

Camille says they got in trouble for talking a lot because they got on so well!

Billie says she loves the new episodes, especially the dance numbers and theatrics now, and that's exactly where the show should go. "It's super fun again." Sitting down and watching a family show with the kids, an event for everyone to watch together.

Camille said it was good but it would be better if the Tylers were there! 😁

They love Ncuti as well. Excellent casting.

Billie praises RTD's heart and rooting for all walks of life. Everyone can feel represented. Camille says he is so good at pulling heartstrings and "that's what we want as Doctor Who fans." They also love his joy but also his power if they are being unkind. He defended the actors from stupid questions from the press and "told it like it was" when he needed to be the man in charge.

[meowzfordayz]

Author’s Note: this was actually supposed to be a lil nsfw fanfic (Shy!Giyuu turned Needy!Giyuu 😏), but then world building (re: cafe setting) got ahead of me, so yeah. 😆☕️

cafe meet-cute (ugly?)

Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000

CW: explicit language

cafe meet-cute (cute!)

~faqs~

Shy!Giyuu as a regular at the cafe where you work part time to afford college. He always looks so tired, but manages the faintest of smiles whenever you greet him.

Shy!Giyuu who didn’t really notice when you started working at his favorite spot, but did notice when he found himself hoping you’d be there on his usual, dreary Monday morning, your absence duly noted when he’s met by a monotonous, “Hello sir, what can I get you?” instead of your usual cheery energy.

Shy!Giyuu who makes a point of reading your name tag the next time he sees you. You know his name, so it’s only fair that he finally put in the effort to learn yours. “Thanks, [y/n],” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “You’re welcome!” you chirp, and he swears he feels heat emanating from your cheeks. Or maybe he’s leaning in a little too close. Oops.

Shy!Giyuu who, even when he’s in a rush, no longer orders ahead, because then what excuse would he have to chat with you? And when the line is long? He absentmindedly—not absentminded at all—dallies on his phone, ignoring people as they hesitantly creep in front of him, itching for your full attention once the cafe empties out again.

Shy!Giyuu who asks about your area of study, your favorite color, where you got your sweater It looks comfortable, if you’re resting enough 😕 (that slipped out on an especially exhausting day, and he’d promptly turned so pink that you’d politely stammered about needing to check the fridge temperature Can’t let the milk spoil! 😃 as he dropped his tip in the jar and just stared at you).

Shy!Giyuu who asks so many questions you wouldn’t know he was shy. Truthfully, he’s glad his few acquaintances—dare he call them  friends—don’t frequent the cafe too often. He’s certain he’d hear a mouthful from them otherwise.

“You talk to people?!” 🧐 <— Tengen

“They know your order? By heart?! Try something new for once, jeez.” 🙄 <— Obanai

“Seems like someone’s earned special privileges from the pretty barista.” <— 👀 Shinobu, after following a reluctant Giyuu into the cafe and watching him receive a free muffin

Shy!Giyuu who makes things a tad awkward when you eventually write your number for him on his cup (hidden underneath the cup sleeve — he almost misses it 😬). Awkward because he immediately saves your number in his phone, and proceeds to not text you.

Shy!Giyuu who’s never really dated, let alone experienced a ~meet cute, and definitely hadn’t envisioned himself in a sort of cafe-romcom situation. Aka, he’s in a panic (and utterly clueless).

Shy!Giyuu who’s grateful for your professionalism when he comes in two weeks later (he may or may not have been avoiding you, and “you” = his feelings for you), disappointed by the lingering stiffness in your tone, knowing it’s entirely his doing. He still blushes though when you shove a free muffin his way, I’m sorry on the tip of his tongue, fleeing on foot before it can take flight.

Maybe he does like you?! You ponder his behavior that night, lamenting to Mitsuri that, “I gave him my number weeks ago! Do you think he has a partner?! 😳 He must. Fuuuck. 😭 He’s so handsome. 😖 But MITSURI, nobody’s paying him to get to know me???! 🤔”

“Either he’s super bored,” Mitsuri giggles, “Orrr he’s super shy and totally crushing on you!!!!!”

Shy!Giyuu who nervously sets a travel mug of coffee on the counter, gazing away from the confusion in your eyes.

“Giyuu, it’s… already full?”

Shit. You didn’t mean to sound so dumb. 🙃

“It’s for you,” he croaks, face your favorite shade of red, “You make me coffee, like, a lot. So I wanted to return the favor.”

Giyuu, I literally work in a cafe you nearly deadpan I have unlimited access to coffee caught off guard by his gesture.

Internally screaming, actually.

“And,” he’s melting inside. You can practically see the steam billowing from his ears. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

He’s so close, he can probably hear how fast your heart’s beating. Not good, not good, not good. He definitely has a partner!!!!! Oh fuck, and now he’s here to let me down easy.

“For not texting, telling, you sooner.”

He gulps. You lick your lips. The thought occurs to him that he’d very much like to kiss you.

“You have a partner!” you squeak, exhaling like a deflating balloon, “Of course! Why are you apologizing?! I crossed a line! My bad!”

You nudge the travel mug toward him, so focused on your own embarrassment that you miss his expression falling, taking a deep breath to collect yourself.

“Hi Giyuu!” you hope you’re doing the right thing, starting over, “What can I get you today?”

Shy!Giyuu who, admittedly, turns tail and runs. 💀

Damn.

Shy!Giyuu who goes to class mortified yet… excited, recognizing the misunderstanding that occurred, cursing his lack of communication and deer-in-headlights reaction, eager to make amends. To make you see him.

He has to strongly resist the urge to bang his forehead into the desk.

Shy!Giyuu who recalls how his latte art gradually switched from intricate swans and tulips to hearts. Simple, but cute, and always capable of brightening his mornings.

Shy!Giyuu who realizes that, the first morning you ever created a heart for him was also the morning you gave him your number.

Shy!Giyuu who’s determined to clear the air, and take you on a date. 

Not a coffee date. 😅

I'm 99% likely going to conclude this w/ pt 2 later today (or sometime this week). 😉💙 Update: cafe meet-cute (cute!) aka pt 2.

[jenna0rtega27]

hi! I found you just a few days ago and i love your stories, love the way you write.. you're my comfort writer, really!

I kind of have an idea for a story and, if you can and want, i'd like you to write it.

So.

It's a fem!reader x jenna

R is an actress, jenna's coworker.

During a IG live, someone in the comments insults Jenna and Reader is sooo pissed off about it and she answers to the comment defending her with so much passion and "fire" that she ends up accidentaly confessing she's in love with the girl.

The video goes viral and R is ashamed and embarassed, she starts avoiding her castmates, especially Jenna, 'cause she's afraid to be rejected by the girl.

Bye!

Live IG

Masterlist

Thank you for asking Jenna x F!Reader Summary: RequestWarnings: Maybe some drama but nothing alarming Thank you for your comment and your request. It means a lot to me to be your comfort writer. And that’s exactly why I write. I want to make people happy. And if it’s writing that can make people happy then I’m fulfilled. I love you all and thank you very much for all your support, it really warms my heart. Continue to send me your requests, I love reading you so much. Number of words: 1963

" Are you ready? »

" Yes I am ready. » You and Jenna are getting ready to do an Instagram live. Jenna is your work colleague but also your best friend. But the little brunette is also your biggest crush. But you never dared to talk to him about it for fear of ruining your friendship and that would be your biggest loss.

In short, like every Monday, you and your best friend do an Instagram live to be able to interact with your fans.

Jenna starts the live and you watch the first people to arrive.

"Hello everyone. » You have always loved with your fans. Without them you would not be where you are today.

Jenna sits next to you on the couch and your thighs touch. You try not to panic and blush at the proximity. Jenna's phone is hung on a tripod so she doesn't have to hold the phone.

“Ask us questions and we will try to answer them. »

Jen_Y/n: are you in a relationship?

“No, we’re just best friends. » Jenna replies with a big smile and taking your arm in hers.

“Yeah, we’re just best friends. » You try very hard not to show that you are hurt by Jenna's response. Even if you're not together, it hurts when your crush says you're just friends.

You've been live for 30 minutes now and there are over a million people watching you. You are always so intimidated every time there are so many people on the live show. Because you know that right now, lots of fans and even non-fans are recording you either to post it on their fan account, or to use it against you later.

As you read the comments, your jaw is picking at someone saying a lot of crap about Jenna.

User5647392948465: Jenna is so ugly. Plus it's too small. Y/n I don’t understand how you manage to be with this shit.

User5647392948465: Plus Jenna is so bad. She is literally the worst actress I have ever seen play. Take it off the set and send it somewhere else so that we never see it again and can never talk about it again.

You turn your head and see Jenna looking at the comment and you swear you saw a tear in your best friend's eye. Seeing his sad crush made you angry that you weren't able to remember what you were going to say next.

“Listen User thing, Jenna is the best actress I know. And she's not just the best actress, she's also the brightest, smartest, mentally strong and kindest I know. And she is the most beautiful woman on this Earth. And you know what, we're always going to talk about her. I will always talk about her because I am madly in love with this magnificent woman. »

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. But soon you realize what you just said and your eyes widen. Your cheeks redden with shame. You couldn't think of what you had just said. You have just admitted that you are in love with Jenna in front of millions of people but especially in front of the person who concerns her.

“I think we’re going to go.” It's starting to get late. Goodbye everyone and thank you for being there. We'll see you again soon for another live. Bye. » Jenna thanks and cuts the Instagram live. You remain frozen. You don't want to look at Jenna. You are sure she is angry with you. You just screwed up your relationship. She will never want to see you again.

“Y/n…”

" I have to go. » You get up without saying goodbye to Jenna and leave your best friend's house. Or ex best friend?

You run to your car and once inside you collapse. “But what a fucking cunt I am!” » You scream and hit the steering wheel, letting hot tears flow down your cheeks. You put your forehead on the steering wheel and scream.

“I’m just a big fucking bitch!” FUCK!!! » You continue to hit the steering wheel and you are sure that the next day your hands were going to have bruises from how hard you hit.

After 5 minutes, you notice that you are still in Jenna's driveway. You wipe your eyes and quickly leave for home. After 20 minutes of traffic, you arrive home. When you get home, you immediately head to your bed. You don't force yourself to change or eat. You go to your bed and continue crying until you fall asleep from exhaustion.

It's now been 3 days since the big reveal and your phone hasn't stopped ringing. Videos have been posted of you saying your declaration of love. You are so ashamed of yourself. Jenna sent you lots of messages and calls but you didn't respond to any of them. Even your friends sent you messages to see if you were ok. You make yourself sick thinking that Jenna will never forgive you. And you especially think that she is calling you to break up your friendship.

5 days now and you are still locked in your house. You still don't talk to anyone. You hardly eat anymore. All you do is watch TV and cry yourself to sleep. Every day you think of the little brunette who you miss so much.

Today it is raining heavily. The sky is gray, there is lightning and thunder. A bit like your feelings. It's 5 p.m. and you're listening to season 3 of Outer Banks while trying to forget about Jenna. But your mind is still focused on the little brunette.

After 15 minutes of the 1st episode, you hear someone knocking on the door. You huff in anger. All you want is to be quiet and cry for the rest of your life. So you let it go. The person will perhaps leave thinking that there is no one there.

But other blows are heard and louder than the first time.

“It’s okay, I’m coming! When someone doesn't respond, it's because they're either not there or they don't want to respond to you. » You say, getting up from the couch and going to open the door to yell at the person who is bothering you in your moment of sorrow.

But when you open it, you open your eyes wide, not expecting at all from the person right in front of you.

“Jenna?” » The little brunette was completely soaked. Her hair was stuck to her beautiful face and it was stained with her running mascara.

Without answering, Jenna pushed you and walked inside. You are surprised by her behavior and why she is here at your house. Jenna looked furious. And you hope it’s not because of your statement you made on your last Instagram live.

“Why didn’t you ever call me back when I texted you or called you?!” I was worried to death! » Jenna practically shouts at you.

“You know very well Jenna why I didn’t talk to you. » You say, looking at the ground and playing with the ring on your thumb.

“Well you should have called me back or at least sent me a message to let me know you wanted it!” Even your friends you didn't talk to them! »

“To tell you what Jenna?!” I'm sorry for ruining our friendship?! Sorry for developing feelings for you?! » Your anger was growing. You don't want to take it out on Jenna but you've been keeping your anger buried so much that you have to explode in front of Jenna.

“Our friendship has never ruined Y/n. » Jenna said more slowly as she slowly approached you. You look at her as tears flow freely down your cheeks.

“Jenna, I humiliated myself in front of everyone. And because of me, everyone is sending you the live video. » You respond sadly.

“Y/n I don’t care about this video. All I want is for you to be okay after this. When I called you and you didn't answer, or you didn't respond to my messages, I thought you were never going to talk to me again. I was so scared. » Said Jenna as she too had tears running down her cheeks.

You frown in confusion.

“Jenna, you should be the one pushing me away, not the other way around. It was me who humiliated you in front of over a million people. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I should be the one to blame. I ruined our relationship. » Your last sentence is weakened by tears and the fear of losing Jenna.

“Y/n can I tell you something?” » You nod your head to continue. “I remember the first time we saw each other was on the set of X. The first time I saw you, I wondered who this beautiful, magnificent woman was. This woman with beautiful y/h/c to y/e/c. You looked so beautiful in this costume that made you look so sexy. » You feel your cheeks redden at Jenna's words. “I told myself that I have to go talk to him, otherwise I would blame myself for the rest of my life. And you know what? It was the best idea of ​​my life. Because I met a strong, intelligent, courageous and so kind woman. But above all very sexy. » You both laugh at the last comment. “And after filming X, we became best friends. But I was missing something. For a long time I wondered who I was missing. »

“And what was that? »

“It was you Y/n. Every time I saw you, butterflies flew in my stomach. Every time you smiled, laughed or spoke, I loved you more every day. But at first I didn't want to admit it to myself because I thought you were straight. But when I saw you defending me the other day, I knew in that moment what my feelings for you were. » Jenna steps forward and cups your cheeks in her hands. “I’ve been in love with you Y/n for so long. »

You don't believe your ears. Your crush for years confesses his feelings to you. You wanted to pinch yourself to see if you would wake up. But Jenna's thumbs gently caressing your cheeks brings you back to reality.

“I love you so much Jenna. You can't believe how much I love you. I've been waiting for this moment for so long. » You place your hands on his hips and rest his forehead against his. Jenna runs one hand through your hair and the other on the back of your neck and scratches your skin with her nails.

" Can I kiss you? » Jenna asks you looking into your eyes and doing the triangle technique. You do the same and accept immediately. Jenna leans towards you but you step back. The brunette looks at you confused but you place your lips on hers. You wanted to kiss him first.

The kiss is soft and slow. There is no language just pure love. Jenna's lips are exactly what you imagined. They are sweet, pulpy, they taste like cherries.

You continue kissing before pulling away for lack of air. Your forehead is pressed against Jenna's and you look at her lovingly. She looks at you the same way.

“Jenna would you like to be my girlfriend?” » You ask with a smile on your face seeing her smile after your question.

“Yes Y/n, I want to be your girlfriend. » You both smile madly before launching into a kiss that's a little more intense than the first.

For now, your life is filled with happiness.

Thank you and fuck you User5647392948465.

[ukrfeminism]

Rebecca Whitehurst never wants to set foot in a school again.

She also wants all teachers, especially female ones, to wear bodycams, to have CCTV in every classroom and for teachers to operate in pairs. “I think teachers should never be alone with children, there should always be someone else there. I know it is dramatic but I don’t want what happened to me to ever happen to anyone else,” she said.

The views of Whitehurst, who is married with two children and has been a modern languages teacher for more than ten years, have been shaped by what she describes as a “modern horror story”.

Last week the 46-year-old wept as a jury at Manchester’s Minshull Street crown court cleared her of two charges of sexual activity with a child and one of sexual communications. She had been accused of a sexual act with a 15-year-old pupil in the back of her Volvo and of sending him explicit texts, including a photograph of her breasts.

The court heard that the teenager, who had declared he was in love with Whitehurst, became obsessed with her and lied about or faked the messages. The boy, who watched pornography involving older women, assaulted her in her classroom and sent an abusive message to her daughter, the court was told.

The family spent £43,000 fighting the case, which dragged on for three years. If convicted she would have faced up to 14 years’ in jail.

Speaking from her home in Cheshire where her husband, Billy, an accountant, has “been unbelievably supportive”, she said her experience at times felt like a television drama.

It unfolded against the backdrop of a rising number of schoolboys watching online pornography, and pupils’ mental health becoming a frontline problem for many schools.

Last year, an Ofsted report found 90 per cent of girls and 50 per cent of boys polled by the schools inspectorate said they had been sent explicit pictures and messages they did not wish to see. A survey for the British Board of Film Classification last year found that almost half of 16 and 17-year-olds had recently seen pornography. Figures from NHS Digital found that one in six children in England had a probable mental health disorder last year, up from one in nine in 2017.

Whitehurst’s ordeal started in April 2019. The boys’ school where she taught French, German and Spanish had paid for her to attend a three-day course on mindfulness. She was asked to teach the subject — not to lower the stress of high-achieving children in the run-up to exams, which she had suggested, but to children on the inclusion register, who have special educational needs and disabilities. “I said yes because I am that sort of person,” the Sheffield University graduate said, but admitted to being nervous about teaching a “wishy washy” subject to children who may have experienced significant trauma.

In an early session with the group of ten boys the 15-year-old who would go on to accuse her said he was hearing voices in his head telling him to kill someone. “I thought OMG,” she said. “As soon as I could I reported it on our safeguarding system . . . I reported it on there and thought someone would talk to me about it, but no one did.”

As the sessions continued the teenager “latched” onto Whitehurst, who tried to give him “sensible advice” via the school’s email system.

He talked about being in a gang and, in an area of the city linked to the Manchester bomber, Whitehurst also feared he was at risk of getting involved in terrorism. When he started to talk about how he had “this big secret” and she was the only person he could tell it to, she made, she admits, a critical mistake.

“He had said he wants to kill people and is in a gang,” she said. “He was talking about going to the mosque. All these things were adding up in my head. I thought there was a bigger picture and I would find out about it and report it.

“I tried to get him to talk to staff who were better trained in such matters but he said no. He said he did not trust the school email which we were already communicating on. In one email thread he emailed me a ghost emoji and I realised he meant he wanted to tell me the secret on Snapchat. I downloaded Snapchat on purpose because I thought he was going to give me this big secret.”

Whitehurst said the secret was nothing to do with terrorism: “The secret was he was in love with me. I realised I had made an idiot of myself. I told him nothing like that was ever going to happen and there had been a misunderstanding. I told him I had to tell the school. He would say ‘they are not going to believe you’ and that I had made a mistake in giving him my Snapchat username. I should have reported it but I did not and I know now that that was an error.”

A few weeks later the teenager came into Whitehurst’s classroom when she was alone. He tried to force his tongue into her mouth, touched her intimately, slapped her face and spat at her. She tried to push him away, which he told the court he thought was encouragement.

“I do not think he knew how bad it was what he did; I know porn was available to him, he sent me lots of links which I never opened but I have an idea of what he watched,” she said. “I think he thought slapping me and spitting at me was sexy in some way.” Again, she did not report the assault. Whitehurst admits she was scared and also “again I thought I would be held responsible as I am the adult and he is the child”, but from then on things got steadily worse.

Over the coming weeks he gave her a necklace and sent naked images of himself which she deleted. He “begged” her to meet him outside school. Still worried about his state of mind, she met him several times in public places, including at a charity run she was doing in a Manchester park where she thought there was no risk of him “launching himself at her”.

At school Whitehurst volunteered for extra duties to ensure she was not alone. She applied for jobs in other schools.

In September 2019 she broke down in the playground when a colleague asked her if she was OK: “I said no and blurted it all out. She said she would have to take this to the head teacher.”

Whitehurst agreed with the head teacher that the matter would be reported to the police and the local authority safeguarding officer and that she would be suspended pending an inquiry. “My logic was, they will understand,” she said. “They will know he is difficult and that I wanted to help but mismanaged things.”

Whitehurst was shocked in her first police interview, two months later, when she heard that the boy had accused her of having sexual activity with him and sending him photos of her breasts.

The pandemic meant that the investigation dragged on. She did not hear anything until last year when police said they had downloaded data from both the phones, including a screenshot of a fake text conversation in whch she appeared to be suggesting sexual acts with the teenager outdoors.

“I thought, ‘I never sent those’. They did not look right. They were obviously fake. The language did not add up. I did not need a professor of linguistics to say that was not me,” she said.

“It was extraordinary that what he said was believed and I was not. He said it was consensual. And we were in love.

“I kept thinking the police will look at all this properly, tell me this will be dropped and say, ‘You poor woman’.”

As it became clear that the case would go to court Whitehurst switched lawyers. Her new team instructed an expert witness to look at the downloaded data from both phones. His report — which cost the family £8,000 — made clear there was no evidence that a photo of her breasts or a text suggesting outdoor sex acts had been sent by her or received by the teenager. Still the case was not dropped.

A week before court, Whitehurst says “calm descended”. She decided not to wear a face mask or hide her face and be “as brave as I could be”.

By video link the teenager gave contradictory evidence and admitted the assault on Whitehurst. The jury took less than three hours to acquit her.

Whitehurst’s case may be extreme but it is not isolated. There is a website on which teachers share dozens of accounts of false allegations. Teaching unions called last year for pupils who make them to be excluded and for fully funded mental health programmes aimed at boys.

Christian Harbinson of the law firm Thompsons solicitors, which represented Whitehurst, said: “An underfunded criminal justice system is unable to cope and that stretches out the agony for innocent people like Rebecca. It’s taken almost three years, since the allegations were first made, for her to clear her name, during which time Rebecca’s life has been on hold and her family have had to deal with an unimaginable level of stress and worry.”

Asked whether the teenager, now 18, would face an inquiry for possible criminal offences, Greater Manchester police said it had no intention to investigate “the child victim in this case”.