#not sleeping right now probably at midnight like late

[kingcbras]

goodnight my precious Tumblr followers

[bluesidedown]

I just want to fly to Tibet and not think about character growth or the future or navigating relationships

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[orcelito]

Ok it's kinda rly fuckin weird that like. Ex assistant manager n me r like... idk things r still pretty awkward but it's not quite Tense anymore. Today she sent me the creme brulee recipe n gave me a few pointers & I asked for her to check it at a few points n like. It was just so Normal???? But it was the most I've talked to her in uhhhhhhhhhh like 3 months lol. Bc otherwise the only time she talked to me since everything went down was to tell me there was a gift card for someone to pick up at the front bar. Like THAT was really weird too bc it was the First Time she'd talked to me in so long and it was just so matter of fact. So Normal.

N idk. Idk how I feel about her bc like yea she made my life Suck for like 2 months but also I have short term memory re: interpersonal relationships n if someone is being nice to me in the current moment that's what exists and like everything is chill actually. Like should I still be mad? Probably. Am I? I don't really know.

[futureman]

body language

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows up at your place in the middle of the night with a camcorder and an idea

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, soft-dom!joel, soft!joel, sex tape, established relationship, smut, unprotected piv, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, mild camera anxiety, moodboard for aesthetics only

word count: 7.4k

“Joel? It’s two o’clock in the morning, you alright?”

He never calls this late. He’s never even up this late. Joel’s a creature of habit—asleep by midnight and up, bright and early, at seven. Yet, it’s still his name lighting up your phone and illuminating the pitch black of your bedroom, waking you out of a near-dead sleep. 

It takes him a moment to reply and, for a second, you think maybe he’s been out drinking with his contractor buddies. But that’s not like him, especially on a weeknight. 

When his voice finally filters through the speaker, he sounds…off. His deep drawl is lower than usual, thick with something syrupy and heady that you’d probably be able to place if you weren’t teetering on the cusp of consciousness.

“Be better if I was there with ya.”

Oh.

Now, you’re awake. The barely concealed intention in his tone and words is unmistakable, and now you know exactly why he’s calling you at two in the morning on a weeknight. Because he hasn’t seen you in weeks, and he’s horny. 

Heat licks at the base of your spine, and you get it. It's been a while since he’s been in your bed, and you're horny, too. You lean over to retrieve your phone from the nightstand, and your pilling flannel sheets slip down to your bare thighs, exposing your feverish skin to the brisk autumn air drifting in through a cracked window. It feels like the sweetest relief—you usually run hot when you sleep, but it’s nothing like this.

Switching the call off speaker, you unconsciously lean into the small screen as if it were him. A photo of Joel, soaked and covered in sand at the beach last year, flashes up at you and your lips brush against it as you murmur into the mic.

"If you wanted it bad enough, then you would be," you tease, your voice sultry and still heavy with sleep. You settle onto your back, kicking the sheets further down the bed so you can splay your fingers low on your stomach. They dip just slightly under the waistband of your underwear, closer to where you hope you'll need them soon. "So? Tell me how bad you want it."

You've never done the phone sex thing with Joel before, but if that's what he's looking for, then you're more than happy to play along. Every hushed sigh and bit-back groan, you want to hear it all. To let the gentle vibration of it in your ear reverberate through your body, feeding your arousal until it’s humming between your legs.

It’s been way too long. This might hold you over for now, but after tonight, you're going to need the real thing. Your boyfriend, close enough to touch, instead of a crackling, disembodied voice.

But, before you can even begin, your call is abruptly halted by a hard knock at the door. You shoot up, ripping your hand out of your underwear to rest over your racing heart. 

No one’s ever at your door at this hour, and the fact that someone is either spells trouble or a mistake. Part of you is relieved that you’re on the phone with Joel in case there’s actual danger out there, but another nagging part really wants to ignore the interruption. You’ve got better things to do. 

But you investigate, anyway. Better safe than sorry, right? Then, you can enjoy whatever Joel’s got planned for you to the fullest.

"Jesus, what...hold on, I think there’s someone outside," you whisper harshly into the phone as you slide out of bed, creeping as quietly as you can to the front door. "I'll be right back, I’m gonna go—“

To your surprise, Joel continues on anyway, undeterred by the commotion and the obvious alarm in your voice. But he sounds strange again, almost like he’s echoing. 

“Want it real bad."

You grip your phone tighter as you struggle to hear what he's saying, but you’re too distracted by the chaos unfolding around you to focus. He’s acting so out of character. Seriously, what the hell is going on? You have no idea why this night’s been so out of wack, but it's starting to get a little too weird for your liking.

“Uh, say that again?"

The call drops and you're left staring at your home screen, feeling confused as hell. That is, until you hear those same words in that familiar, deep drawl coming from the other side of the door. 

There's no way. 

You unlock it without bothering to look through the peephole, opening it to find a very disheveled Joel leaning against the doorframe. His face is already so close to yours like he’s been waiting for you to come to him, eagerly. Impatiently. 

The scent of his favorite spearmint gum fans over your face, and you subconsciously drag your tongue along your bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes follow the action, captivated by every minute movement you make, and you can tell how much just being in your presence is affecting him. The intensity in his gaze would make you feel nervous if it wasn’t for the obvious want simmering below the surface. 

God, why does all of this feel so potent? You’re panting...when did that even start? It’s suddenly hotter than the stifling warmth under your sheets, despite being half-naked in your open doorway, but it feels good. Right. Because he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

There’s no traces of beer or whiskey on his breath. So, he's completely sober, then. Whatever you were hearing in his voice, that wild look in his eyes, completely overtaken by his blown pupils—he’s not drunk on any of that. Only on thoughts of you. Your breath hitches when he speaks again, in person this time.

"Don't think I need to repeat myself, do I?"

Your eyes drop to the intimidating tent in his sweatpants before darting up to meet his.

"No, I believe you," you breathe out.

And, god, do you.

Adrenaline floods your veins as he lurches forward to kiss you, and, finally, you get to taste that dizzying combination of mint and Joel. The coolness of it on your tongue does little to quell the heat spreading from your lips down to where you need him most.

His hands immediately find purchase where yours were just moments before, sliding up your sides under your oversized sleep shirt—his shirt. He cups the soft skin of your breasts, and you moan wantonly into his mouth, suddenly desperate to be bare in front of him.

But he ignores the bunched-up fabric shielding you from his view. He actually seems pleased by the sight of it on your body and the scent of himself still lingering on your skin. You haven't washed it since he left it here, and you can tell it’s stoking something primal in him. Something he's left unchecked since the last time he was with you that threatens to consume him. Shit, you can hear it in his voice.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ya,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy lines marring his brow as if the thought of not being able to have you for so long physically pained him. “Been up all damn night…haven’t been able to think about anything else all goddamn night.”

He thumbs over a nipple while he tweaks the other, hard enough to startle a gasp out of you, and, oh, he likes��that. The blunt outline of his hardening cock is insistent against your hip, but he holds himself back from grinding into you. Even as his body reacts without his permission, he’s still choosing to prioritize your pleasure first.

“You got no idea, the things m’gonna do to you tonight. Gonna treat you right, pretty girl, give ya everything you deserve.”

Your heart stutters, and you practically preen at his praise. This fucking man. You swallow his words greedily, pressing your lips into his hard enough to bruise, and the kiss descends into desperation and an unexpected need to hear more. You want more of those sweet, filthy words, to see what they really mean when he finally delivers on them. And all you have to do is ask.

“Then, give it to me.”

He parts from you with a lewd smack, a string of saliva hanging between you. You use the brief respite to take him in, your eyes roving over his tousled curls and the flush that’s quickly traveling down his neck and spreading across his chest. 

He’s so fucking beautiful, and…and why aren’t your hands on him right now? He’s been standing there for minutes, or hours, you can’t even tell anymore. Yet, when you reach out to touch him, he catches your hand in midair. His grip is gentle yet firm, the side of his mouth quirking down as he raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you’re being scolded.

"Oh, honey. I know you can ask nicer than that,” he mutters, lifting it to his lips and softly kissing your palm. 

There's a sense of authority in the way he says it, contradictory to the saccharine nature of his words. You're starting to realize you're not in control—that, tonight, what he says goes—but it feels safe. You know he'll take good care of you.

He gives your breast an encouraging squeeze as his other hand snakes further down to palm your ass, pulling your hips into his so you can feel all of him. This is what you'll get if you're a good girl, he's telling you. 

You bite back a whine, gazing up at him through your lashes, wetting your lips before you try again. His way.

"Please." 

Your voice quivers around the singular syllable that guarantees you’ll get what you need. 

“There's my sweet girl. Just need’ta be reminded sometimes, don’t ya?” 

He nods his head slowly, commandingly, while he asks the question, and you mimic him. You can feel yourself slipping, drowning in him and this feeling of security. You can’t help it, and you don’t want to.

He leans in to press his lips against yours again, devouring you in a way that feels less hungry and more exploratory, like he’s mapping you out. Filing away everything that makes your breath hitch and your eyelids flutter. He’s not immune to you, though. That much is obvious.

There's a growing wet patch on the front of his sweatpants, and you belatedly realize he didn’t bother putting on boxers before he left his house. He rubs damply against your stomach, just below your belly button, but he’s still not nearly close enough to where you need him. You don’t even know why his pants are still on. They really shouldn’t be.

Then, that same cool breeze and the delicate sound of crunchy, autumn leaves blowing along the sidewalk reminds you why. The front door is still wide open, leaving you standing in your underwear, and Joel with his hand up your shirt, in full view of anyone passing by. Not that they would at this time of night, but the thought is still a little thrilling. But not enough for Joel to leave it open any longer.

He pushes you further into your apartment, kicking the door shut behind him, and leads you backward to your bedroom. God, you can’t wait to see him—his tanned, sun-weathered skin and sparse smattering of freckles. 

There’s too many layers between you and if your body isn’t pressed against his soon, you might actually lose your mind. You’ve never been this desperate for him before, but there’s something about the way he’s acting tonight. 

This unfamiliar headspace you’re in…fuck, it feels good. You’re trusting him to make up for those weeks apart and, even more so, to dictate your pleasure in ways that are totally new to your relationship. You’ll do what he tells you, you’ll moan for him, you’ll cum for him. He knows what’s best for you.

Your clothes come off first. Your shirt is pulled up and over your head, and then he bends to tug down your underwear, letting it drop soundlessly to the floor. Next go his shoes, then his socks, leaving a trail of fabric from the living room, all the way to your bed. 

It’s so sensual—surprisingly so—even though it’s something you do all the time. But tonight, he’s handling you with such rapt attention. His eyes never leave yours as each article of clothing falls to the plush, blue-patterned carpet beneath your feet.

You’re so naked. Compared to him, still clad in his jacket, t-shirt, and pants, you feel…exposed. Vulnerable. Maybe that’s the point. You approach him carefully, waiting for his permission to touch him, and he smiles softly.

“C’mere, baby. Could use a little help here,” he reassures you, reaching out to take your hand. But instead of letting you undress him, he guides it over the thick bulge in his sweatpants. 

His fingers close around yours and, together, you squeeze him. Your eyes shoot up to gauge his reaction, but other than a nearly inaudible sigh and pinched brows, he’s not showing any other signs of being affected at all. 

Craving more, you grind the palm of your hand into him, relishing the warmth of his cock as it pulses the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat in your grasp. He hisses out a breath, his hand tensing over yours, and a flash of pride lances through you. 

Yes. Gotcha.

But your satisfaction is short-lived. To your disappointment, he tugs your hand away, but he doesn't separate from you completely. Instead, he slides it up past the softness of his stomach to rest on his chest. It rumbles softly under your touch as he speaks, except, they’re not necessarily the words you want to hear.

“No more of that. S’about you right now,” he drops his forehead to yours, fixing you with a stern look. “Later, alright? When I’m fuckin’ ya, you can touch me as much as you want.”

Shit. You clench down hard, suddenly hyperaware of the wetness between your legs and the feeling of devastating emptiness. You want it now, but you still have no idea what his plans are. 

If you’re a brat about it, he’ll probably make you wait even longer, and, anyway, that’s not what you want to be tonight. You want to be good for him. 

His broad hands spread across your waist as he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw. Without warning, he sucks hard, likely leaving a mark you’ll have to cover up tomorrow before work. You hope he leaves more.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble remorsefully, shivering in his arms as his thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into your skin. “I can wait—I…I’ll be better.”

“S’okay, baby, I know ya will,“ he replies, dragging his lips down to your shoulder. “Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ so good.”

Finally, you push his jacket off his shoulders and it joins the rest of your clothes, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. The noise startles you enough to clear some of that comfortable haze, and you slowly pull back, eyeing him curiously. 

That’s…way louder than it should’ve been. It’s his fall coat so it barely weighs a thing, even with his phone and wallet in his pockets. 

But he doesn’t seem surprised at all. His face is unreadable except for the hint of a smirk, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to talk anytime soon. 

You bend down to pick it up, your eyes still on his, and you were right. It’s heavier than it should be by a long shot, and you’re honestly a little taken aback that you didn’t notice it earlier. But, in all fairness, you weren’t noticing much of anything earlier, save for Joel’s hands and lips on your body.

Reaching into his pocket, your fingers brush against something clunky and metallic. It’s not his phone. There’s too many moving pieces, and it’s at least three times its size. 

When the mystery item is finally revealed, your jaw drops. Joel can be a pretty spontaneous guy when he wants to be, but this? You never saw this coming.

In your hand sits a goddamn camcorder. An honest-to-god video camera that was just sitting in his pocket with no discernible reason for being there. 

While you wait for him to explain, the gadget begins to feel heavier by the second, just the idea of it burning a hole right through your palm. But you know you don’t need him to. You’re not a child, and, in the back of your mind, you already know exactly why it’s there. This is the reason he came here.

That pretty, hazy brain fog halts briefly, just long enough for you to get some answers. You want to hear him say it.

“You said you’d give me everything I deserve, right? I think I deserve an explanation,” you say, forgoing the pleasantries he asked of you earlier. 

You’re fighting not to sound weak, to emulate his authoritative tone, but your heart is pounding and you already sound out of breath. Fucking hell, this man. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, and he knew this would happen. 

Judging by the way his eyes darken and rove over your naked curves, he’s painfully aware of it. You watch dumbfounded as his patience runs out, and he discards his shirt and sweatpants. Now that his secret’s out, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, either.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, and your hands clench into fists at your sides to keep yourself from reaching out and touching him, but it feels impossible. It’s right there—his cock, leaking and flushed red at the tip from neglect. 

It jerks under your heated gaze, and he exhales sharply through his nose, wrapping his hand tightly around the base. He's clearly struggling as much as you are. Then, he moves closer, all but crowding you into the edge of the bed, and you can feel it pulsing against your bare skin. 

“Here’s the deal, pretty girl—you’re gonna cum s’many times as I want you to, and this here’s gonna record it all,” he drawls, holding out his hand for the camera. You acquiesce without any more questions. “Waited too damn long to see you like this and that ain’t happenin’ again.”

His other hand cups your cheek to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part around an almost imperceptible gasp. To anyone else but him, at least. 

“You gonna let me?”

You nod quickly, praying your eyes convey all of the want you’re feeling and none of the nerves. 

“Yeah,” you answer, breathlessly. “I’ll let you.”

But he sees right through you. The apprehension in your voice is too apparent, and he clocks it on the spot. His eyes instantly soften. He tugs you into his arms and holds you close, nosing into the hair just above your ear. Relieved, you sag into his familiar embrace. 

“If this ain’t okay with you, we stop right here. Alright? We don’t do anythin’ you're not a hundred percent sure you want,” and he sounds attentive and so earnest. 

His bare skin feels so warm against yours, and you allow it to remind you of everything he promised you. Of all of the things he’s about to do to you, for you, and the tape that’ll capture it all. For yours and Joel’s eyes only, whenever you need it. And you know you will eventually. 

Rubbing your cheek into his chest, you close your eyes and take a minute to let the calming beat of his heart make you feel less nervous. This is an entirely different kind of reminder, one that reassures you that you trust this man with everything you’ve got. You’re sure of your answer.

“I want this, Joel,” you murmur, slowly opening your eyes to meet his, commanding his full attention. “I promise you, I want this so fucking badly.”

That flips the switch. He swaps your positions in the blink of an eye, looping his arm around your middle to drag you up the bed until his back is against the headboard with you between his legs. 

“Don't need'ta be shy. You’re beautiful, baby, that’s all it’s gonna see,” he breathes out, his voice thick with affection and want.

He bends you both forward, his chest solid against your back, to set the camcorder onto the sheets, and tosses a few pillows behind it to prop it up. Something intimidating clicks just as Joel tilts the preview screen toward you. 

It’s on. Brightly lit and reflecting back a depraved mirror image of you and Joel, naked and panting and needy. 

Okay. Okay, here we go. Another click, and then a red light blips next to the lens. 

It’s recording. 

The light flashes steadily, and you can feel your body tensing with every strobe. Come on, loosen up. It’s just a piece of metal. A very…scary piece of metal that’s watching your every move. Your thighs tremble from a confusing mix of arousal and nerves, and you start to feel embarrassed. 

You can see yourself on the little screen, feeling small yet secure in Joel’s arms, but you’re too focused on the camera’s attention on you to relax. As if he can tell you’re about to shrink into yourself, Joel distracts you. You haven’t told him to stop or asked him to turn it off, and he knows you would if this became too much.

"See what I mean?" He smoothes his hands down your thighs, carefully parting your legs. He gives you every chance to close them, but you don’t. "Fuckin' perfect, just like I told ya."

You try harder to see what he sees, what you're praying the camera sees. He's so free with his compliments and praise, you want to believe you deserve them.

"Prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he mutters tightly under his breath, his fingers massaging the tense muscles in your thighs. "From now on, m'gonna get to see this whenever I want. See myself fuckin' you whenever I can't."

Once you catch sight of your glistening heat reflected back at you, you help him spread your legs even further, watching as your cunt visibly clenches in response. 

Oh. Oh...look at you.

You get it now, why he wants this on film. You’re captivated by yourself, by the way Joel bites back a groan and his body seizes up as he fights not to rut into you. You’d love to be able to see that again. 

But then his fingers finally press deliciously into your clit and any lingering anxiety completely fades away. You barely even register his lips brushing against your ear, checking in before he continues with everything he’s about to put you through.

“Doin’ alright?” he murmurs between damp kisses against your neck. That tranquil haze begins to settle in again as he mouths wetly at your skin, the coarse drag of his beard a familiar comfort.

“Mhm,” you hum before your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and you slip completely. “S'good...feels good.”

“That's my girl,” he breathes tenderly, rewarding you with more pressure, pressing down harder on your clit.

The slick friction is heady and so effective that all you can do is give in as your hips swivel into his touch of their own accord. He's taking such good care of you, attuned to every gasp, the quickening rise and fall of your breasts.

You tilt your head to observe his expression. It's your only indication of what he’s feeling since he’s still refusing to allow himself to react to you physically.

He's breathtaking, looking like a man starved with his parted lips and pitch-black eyes, locked on where his fingers are slipping through the mess he’s making of your pussy. He must feel you watching him because he suddenly smirks, snaking a hand up your body to cup your breast. 

Your eyes squeeze shut and you mewl, pretty and perfect for the camera, your hips bucking clear off his lap when he begins to languidly massage the soft curve. You're getting so close already and your entire body quakes with it, your thighs trembling violently against his as he swirls tighter, faster circles into your swollen clit.

“Joel…ngh—Joel, I’m...fuck, m’gonna cum,” you whimper into his neck, grabbing his thighs to anchor yourself. "C-can I? Please."

“I know, baby, I can feel it. C’mon, give it to me,” he rasps, your demand from earlier falling raggedly from his lips. "Show the camera how hard ya cum for me."

Then, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and calloused middle finger, and you’re gone. Your orgasm crashes over you in a blissful wave, your stomach tensing intermittently with every gushing pulse of your cunt, and he doesn’t let up. Not until you’ve ridden his hand through your aftershocks, and slump into his chest, completely spent.

“That’s one, pretty girl.”

That’s…one? He’s counting them? You’re struggling to understand, to even focus on what he’s saying, but he doesn’t leave you wondering for long.

"You're gonna give me four, alright?” His fingers shift from your chest to your chin, tilting your head up to face him. The look in his eyes tells you to listen because he means this. “Want ya to cum on my fingers three times before you cum on my cock. Can ya do that for me?"

Christ. Your eyes dart from the attentive device, still recording every move and reaction you make, back to his. Can you? You’re not even sure if that’s possible, and your bottom lip trembles as you start to overthink it. 

You’ve never orgasmed that many times in a row, not with him or by yourself, and yet, he sounds so sure that you can. That he can make you. His thumb gently strokes your chin, and you believe him. You will.

"Yes, Joel," you find yourself nodding obediently, and you're thrilled at how pleased he looks. 

He leans down to kiss away your worries, swallowing your surprised squeal as his fingers waste no time starting up those insistent swirls on your clit again. Your hips jerk away from his hand, but he only smiles against your lips, his strong arms holding you in place.

It’s way too much, nearly overwhelming you, and you whimper into his mouth at the oversensitivity. Your floor muscles clench painfully as you continue to try and recover from your last one, but you don’t stop him. You give into him so easily, letting his adoration and sheer desire fuel you.

“That's it. You can take it, I know ya can,” he encourages, pulling away from your lips to gaze down at you in awe. "Look at my girl...so damn responsive tonight. Listenin' so well."

You can’t help the satisfaction blooming in your chest, gasping in relief as the sensitivity begins to subside into intense pleasure. His eyes drop between your legs as your hips start to chase his touch, and yours quickly follow.

“Shit,” he mutters, his voice tighter than it has been all night. “You get so fuckin’ wet when ya cum. Makin' the prettiest mess.”

His middle and ring fingers abruptly slip from rubbing merciless circles into your clit down to your entrance, plunging inside you, and god, it's exactly what you need. His fingertips drag against your sensitive walls, stroking something repeatedly that steals your breath away, and your pussy flutters around him. 

He mimics the soft sound but it trails off, dropping to something deeper that rumbles in his chest, and his slow, purposeful thrusts turn aggressive. His fingers hook inside you, and your eyes roll back, lips parting around desperate, choked-out words he'll watch back and probably cum to.

"...t-there, there. Please...don't stop—," you keen, your voice catching every time your hips buck to meet his hand. "—n-need more. Please, Joel, I...c-can you...?"

That gorgeous smirk returns, his face alight with pride. He's so proud of you.

“Beautiful and polite, Christ. Whatever you want,” his fingers don’t let up, and he looks mesmerized by how slick and easy he slides in and out. “Keep askin’ nice like that and I’ll give ya anything.”

Adding a third finger, he starts to fuck into you in earnest, ramming against something deep inside you as his palm slaps repeatedly against your clit. You see stars. Your vision begins to blur, and you’re positive you’re moaning louder than you should be this late at night, but you can’t focus on anything else but the wet squelching of your pussy around him. 

You should probably feel at least a little ashamed, but your warming cheeks have nothing to do with the noise and everything to do with the wrecked, stuttered moans in your ear, and Joel’s cock rutting into your ass in time with his fingers.

He's finally losing his composure. That careful self-restraint he's tried so hard to maintain, slowly but surely being dismantled. He clearly doesn’t care anymore, and he wants you to know it.

"Feel that? S'what ya do to me,” he grits through his teeth, his head dropping to your shoulder to watch as he smears precum messily across your skin. You unintentionally squeeze his fingers at his words, and he groans raggedly. "Fuckin'...tight—Christ, ya just keep gettin' tighter. Think m’gonna fit?"

You shake your head furiously, already feeling too full around his fingers, but your body betrays you, grinding down onto his cock before you can stop yourself. He exhales sharply at your reaction, bucking into you a little harder than he means to, and for a moment, you think maybe he likes the idea that he's too big for you. That your pussy's just too tight to take him right now.

That little red light still gleaming next to the ever-observant mechanical eye in front of you would probably love to witness that. A filthy, intimate image of you caught between intense pleasure and pain, forever preserved.

"No?” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “S'okay, baby, we'll make it fit. Don't'chu worry."

It hits you like a freight train, your second orgasm catching both of you by surprise and knocking the wind completely out of you. He wrenches his fingers out of your heat so he can wrap his arms tightly around you, keeping you from knocking over the camera as you writhe in his lap. It's overwhelming, somehow even more intense than the first, but the sensitivity sets in quicker.

Your nails dig sharply into his arms, and he hisses in a breath behind you. You're scared you might be hurting him, but you're having trouble controlling your limbs as immense amounts of dopamine flood your system, so you scrabble against the damp sheets instead.

Fuck, you can’t. It's too much. He’s still moving beneath you, the slide of his cock against your skin made easier by the slick dripping between your legs, and you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it. You want to do this for him so badly, but you're not sure how much more you can take. 

One more. You can take one more. Then, he's yours.

Sensing your discomfort, he holds you through it, lets you ride it out until you’re whimpering softly in his arms. But all he offers is a brief, sweet moment of respite before his fingers return to your cunt. He mindfully avoids your clit as he slowly sinks two fingers back inside you, and, now, even you can feel how tight you are. Each one of his knuckles catches on your entrance and rubs you purposefully, if not a little painfully.

"How's that feel, baby? Talk to me.”

It aches. It’s so much. It’s not enough. The warring sensations between your legs intensify the deeper he plunges into you, but, this time, the sensitivity doesn’t ebb. Instead, it amplifies everything. You can feel him keenly, sweat and oppressive heat pooling everywhere your bodies connect, and you melt into it. Into him. 

"S'good...keep—," you accidentally clench around him, and your breath hitches at the dull throb that wracks your lower half, "—k-keep going. Want more.”

“Fuck. Such a good girl...so fuckin' good,” he breathes heavily behind you, grunting his pleasure into your shoulder every time your hips try to escape insistent strokes. It's not just the steady grind of his cock between your ass cheeks that’s getting him off. You can see the playful sparkle in his eyes on the screen, regardless of how small his image is. He's enjoying the chase. 

You think he could even cum like this, playing this dangerous game with you. It's then that you realize you like it, too. You both know how close you are to earning your reward, so agonizingly near, you can taste it. And he can feel you around his fingers, tensing and relaxing, beginning to adapt to the unbearable soreness as your orgasm quickly approaches.

"Almost there, baby. S'a lot, I know, but you're takin' it so well,” he groans encouragingly. You can hear the subtle anticipation in his voice. He’s a wreck behind you, all but fucking into your skin as he adds a third finger and increases his speed. You let out a pained moan together at the resistance. "Hurts, huh? Lemme make it better, pretty girl. Tell me what ya need."

“M-my clit, please…please,” you beg him. Politely, nicely, kindly, whatever he wants. It’s still swollen and rubbed raw despite how wet you’ve been all night, but, fuck, you need it. Just a gentle touch would be enough to send you over the edge. That’s all it’ll take.

And that’s exactly what he gives you. Three barely-there swirls with his thumb, and you’re screaming, cumming around him so hard, you’re almost worried you’ll break his fingers. Your spasming floor muscles are unforgiving, convulsing violently as you cream into the palm of his hand, but this time he doesn’t wait for it to subside. 

The internal pressure suddenly disappears and everything tilts on its axis. You’re being shifted, lifted higher by two strong arms encircling your waist, and something big—god, it feels huge—nudges at your abused hole. Joel’s speaking, but whatever he’s saying is too difficult to make out over the blood roaring in your ears. It sounds urgent. Impatient. He sounds needy.

He lowers you just a hair, and the stretch around his tip feels impossible. You were right. He's not going to fit, and the thought makes you want to cry. He has to. You need him to.

"...baby...baby," his voice finally cuts through the fog. He's shaking, trembling like a leaf all around you, but refusing to move until you can hear him. You realize he's been asking you a question, and he needs your answer now. "Need'ta be inside you. Christ, I—m'not gonna be gentle. I...can't, I can't anymore. Gonna fuck you hard, s'that okay? Can ya take me?"

He gives you a little more, a preview of what's to come before you make your decision, and it fucking hurts. It's also the most incredible thing you've ever felt. 

More. You said you wanted more, and you meant it. You nod frantically, whining your assent, but it's not enough. He needs you to say it.

"Need'ya to use your words, baby. Yes?"

"Yes," you choke out around a sob, wriggling in his arms to get him to move faster. He exhales sharply through his nose, the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing in his chest and cock.

"Yes."

It's the last warning you get before he drives into you in a single, earth-shattering thrust, burying himself to the hilt. It feels like he's splitting you in half, tearing you right down the middle, and replacing every part of you with Joel, Joel, Joel. 

And he doesn't stop there, or give either of you time to adjust. He pistons into you, a wet thock-thock-thock of drenched skin against skin, and you accept it gratefully. You're delirious with the feeling of him stretching you past your limit. So full, you're so fucking full of him. It's the only thing grounding you to the present, your unyielding walls fighting to mold around him.

After hours of giving, he finally takes. He's all but snarling into your ear like a starved apex predator feasting on his prey, biting and sucking and bruising every inch of skin he can reach. Yet, he's still so full of praise for his girl. 

"Look at us, baby. Y'see that?" he growls, just loud enough for the mic to pick up the wrecked reverence in his voice. He takes your hand and guides it down until both sets of fingers are wrapped around where he's breaching your swollen cunt. You cry out at the thickness of him, the unimaginable sight of you stretched around him, gripping him. "Takin' me so well. Knew you could. Goddamn perfect woman, s'like you were made for it."

You're starting to believe it. That you were shaped in his image, created just for him. You want to return his affection, even a fraction of the praise he's given you this entire night, but you're past the capacity for speech.

The tension in your chest is making it hard to breathe, and every attempted reply is forced from your body as an incoherent string of stuttered moans and broken sobs. Nearly every other thrust punches your cervix, and you can already feel that telltale heat flooding between your legs.

You can't tell him all of the things you want to. So, you show him, instead. Your entire body goes lax in his arms except your hips and hands, and you rock forward on every upstroke, caressing his inner thighs with your thumbs. 

His lips press against the underside of your jaw as he whines desperately into your skin, subtle groans rising in frequency and volume the longer you continue your ministrations. You can feel his stomach tensing behind you, and his grip tightens like he's either trying to stave off his release or anchor himself for when he inevitably erupts. He's so fucking close to the edge, now, you can tell.

He can, too. But he needs you to get there first. 

Your hips are already starting to buck into his, and he takes that as the go-ahead to give you more. A sign that your body can handle everything he has left. His arms unravel from around you, and he slows his pace to a deep, heady grind that sets your body ablaze. 

He snakes one hand up your stomach to cup a breast while the other drops to rub sloppy circles into your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out at the sudden onslaught of sensations. Your eyes dart to the camcorder as it builds and builds, in your chest, at the base of your spine, and against that spot deep inside you that has you fluttering around him. You promised one more, and you're ready to put on a show it'll never forget.

But that's the opposite of what Joel wants. He delivers a sharp slap to your clit to get your attention.

"Look at me, baby. Don't look at the camera," he grits out. You whine, turning your head to face him, your expression pleading with him to keep doing that. He acquiesces with a smirk, slapping it again, purposefully and repeatedly to punctuate his demands. 

"Ya look at me when you cum, alright?" 

Slap. 

"Nowhere." 

Slap. 

"Else." 

His hand collides with your cunt a little harder, and even he moans at the contact. 

Slap.

"Ya don't close your eyes, ya don't look away. Wanna see those pretty eyes when I fill you up."

He releases your breast to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger, holding you in place.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Then, his assault really begins. He jerks into motion, his hips slamming into yours frantically, matching the sweet, torturous pace of his fingers' rough touch. 

Everything goes fuzzy. You feel its steady approach, a surprisingly gentle wave that trickles from where the head of his cock meets your depths, past every sensitive pressure point to where you're gushing onto his coarse curls. But, as it peaks, you barely feel anything at all. A beat of numbness that makes you believe maybe that was all you had left in you.

A moment later, there's euphoria. You're cumming so hard, your vision blacks out, and all you can sense is your bottom half locking down and Joel sobbing into your shoulder while he empties into you, just like he promised.

He fucks you through it, quiet whimpers and murmured praise flowing uncontrollably from his lips. He tells you how tight you are, how your pussy's choking his cock and milking him dry. How good you've been and how perfect you are. He says all of it just for you, but the camera hears it, too.

For a while, he thrusts into you lazily, savoring his sensitivity and sighing through your final aftershocks. Maybe it's punishment for everything he put you through. Or maybe he just likes the syrupy pain of it. Either way, his girth nestled inside you is comforting now that you're both loose-limbed and pleasantly sticky with each other's release. 

He lets out a disappointed grunt when he eventually softens and slips out, right around the time your vision returns and the brain fog starts to clear. The flashing red light at the foot of the bed catches your attention again, and you're struck with a sudden idea. One last thing you want him to have on tape. 

Sliding haphazardly off his lap, you position yourself on your hands and knees, the camera situated with the perfect view of your core. You peek behind you, shooting a sly smile at the lens before you part your folds, allowing a thick glob of cum to leak out of your swollen cunt and drip down to your clit. Before it can fall to the sheets below, you gather up the mess with your fingers and shove it right back inside you, where it belongs.

Joel groans heavily in response, and his body finally gives out, collapsing against the headboard. You can't help but laugh, exhausted and sated, close to collapsing, yourself. Crawling back on top of him, you wrap your limbs around his neck and waist, and crash your lips messily into his.

As he returns your kiss with sleepy enthusiasm, he tugs you down flush against his chest. His hands slide down your sides to teasingly squeeze your ass, and you pull away with a gasp, intent on teasing him right back, but the bright grin on his face gives you pause. 

Now that your head is clear and you're starting to recover, you remember everything that led to this. That, after too many agonizing weeks, you finally got to have him again, in the flesh and in ways you never have before or thought you ever could. And you'll get to relive it over and over, as many times as you need on those lonely nights when he's not there to take care of you.

"I'm glad you came over," you smile softly, unwinding an arm from around his shoulders to brush back his messy curls. "I really missed you."

His grin widens, and he melts into your touch. God, he's...baffling. A total enigma. You wonder how you'll ever reconcile this man with the one on film, but, then, his eyes soften and it becomes clear. Both men love you. Both are Joel.

"Missed you, too, baby. Y'got no idea how much," he says earnestly and with so much tenderness.

"I think I got the picture," you snort affectionately, leaning down to brush your lips against his.

You kiss him again, and your tangling bodies knock over the camera just as the dead battery indicator flashes twice on the screen, then cuts to black.

thanks for reading!

[ramonathinks]

late night talking

content warning (18+) best friends -> lovers, fluffy-ish, brief angst, high schoolers (seniors; 18 y/o), soft sex, praise, light fingering, oral, guided oral sex, slight porn with plot, virginity loss.

summary: the day before graduation, satoru gojo realizes he doesn’t want to let go of his best friend.

@hoshigray 🫵🏾 now what. but anyways happy belated birthday to my satoru 😁😁. (this is probably terrible! but alas) 3.2k words

There was a rap of knocking heard, it was loud enough to hear over your headphones and it’s what made you look up, squinting. “Satoru, what are you doing here?” His face right outside of your window, his breath fogging it up as you move over to open it. He just chuckles as you help him in. “Wasn’t it hard climbing up here?”

Oh if she thinks that’s hard then, he thought, feeling his dick straining against his pants. But he rolls his eyes a bit and ignores your question. “Can’t I just come see my sweet best friend?”

“Oh, so you want something.” You snort, a small smile on your lips. 

“Just needed to be alone and not in my house for a moment that’s all,” He doesn’t go into it anymore and you give a tight smile. 

“But you couldn’t use the front door?” You raise a brow with a small chuckle.

“It’s almost midnight, are you crazy? Your dad would’ve killed me.”

You snicker a bit, “My mom loves you though, she would’ve fixed you a plate. Well, actually, she did make you one and told me to bring it for you, Shoko and Suguru, tomorrow.”

His stomach growled and he did an awkward cough as you gave him a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

 Your hand gently rubbed at the side of his face and he tried not to lean into your touch as much. Then you headed downstairs. He flipped his jacket off and snuggled up against your soft lush pillows and held one of you many hello kitty teddy bears against his chest.

“You got this,” He muttered to himself. He was by far not a nervous person, however… There have been times since he realized his feelings that he realized something. You made him nervous, nervous as hell. You were always so touchy with him and hanging on to every word he said, smiling at him and just anything. 

It was no doubt in his mind that you felt the same way. You didn’t do these things with Suguru or Shoko, it was only him who was blessed and special enough. He inhaled the strong strawberry scented perfume on your sheets and it made him relax deeper into the bed. He hears you quietly open the door and giggle a bit.

“You look comfy.” You smile at him and he tries not to look your way. “You’re all shy now?” You giggle again and he turns away from you, his body far away from your touch. 

“Just when I was going to play in your hair, just how you like it.” If he was a dog, you’d see his ears plop up all excited and his tail wagging. But he controls himself. He hides his face deeper into your pillows. “C’mon, ‘Toru… tell me what’s wrong. I know you didn’t come here just to eat and sleep.” 

There was a long pause before he spoke.

“When we graduate… you’ll leave me right? That’s why I had to come see you. Heard you telling Suguru you’re heading right out. I see your bags already packed away in your closet. Just wanted to spend one night with you before you’re gone.”

“Hey, even if I leave…. It’s not like we won’t be friends anymore.” You try to explain. It was weird seeing him like this, his eyes glossy but not with tears – just deep emotions as he looked into yours.

“It’s not the same. We’ll be apart and see other people and… and… we’ll be busy. Nothing will be the same.” He took a heavy sigh and turned the other way.

“Satoru, look at me.” He doesn’t move an inch. “You’ll always have me. Don’t worry. You’ll always be right here.” You intertwine your fingers  with his and place it close to your chest. “Okay?” 

He turned his head a bit, “You promise?”

“Of course.”

“Can I ask you something else?” His eyes are bright again and filled with something.

“Why’re you acting like this? You know you can ask me anything.” 

 He looks at you, stares and goes over your face almost a million times. “You like me, right? I like you too. I have for a while.”

“I… um.” Your body felt hot all over. It was true,  you’d been crushing on him forever. Of course you couldn’t say anything, why would the relationship if something were to happen? Who felt like picking sides when it came to group activities? Suguru would go with him and Shoko with you but, it was more than that. You all always were with each other, why ruin it? Your mind had been thinking these dreaded thoughts for closer to a year and you were scared that this would happen; you were more so happy that he was the one who confessed first. Your nerves were never on your side. But with a few deep breaths, you were ready to indulge. “Y-yeah. How’d you know?” You looked up at him through your long lashes.

“Sweet girl,” He pokes your cheeks. “I see the way you look at me… and I just hoped you’d see the same with how I look at you.” He chuckles a bit. “Just… Why didn’t you say anything?”

A chill ran through your body. “It’s hard not to notice when the Gojo Satoru has his eyes on you… I was just too scared to say something or hoped that I was imagining it. I mean, this only happens on television… Best friends wanting each other? Who am I kidding, but that’s all I could think. Or my mind was drowning in thoughts of…plain insecurities or anything of what’s next.” Your eyes on the floor. “Now, I’m killing the mood with my rambling.” You did a dry laugh.

He licks his lips, “I think it’s cute. You get like this sometimes and that’s fine. Whether it’s over homework, your job or even now… it’s always cute to me.” He touches the end of your braids. “Can I kiss you? Don’t overthink it. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.” His eyes glanced from your eyes to your lips with every word he spoke.

“Yes, please.” You weren’t his first kiss. But he was yours. His lips felt perfect against yours, as if he was always meant to be there. His mouth covered yours completely and his hand was on the back of your neck. He pulled you closer to him and with every second, he was taking more control over you. His tongue slithered inside of your mouth and he sucked on it, twirling his around in your mouth. 

“You like that?” He asked and you could barely open your eyes to look at him. You were too focused on the feeling and more importantly the throbbing you felt. “I can see, just from how you’re looking at me, how you feel.”

“Stop talking.” You muttered and he did a small laugh.

“You’re so cute.” He swallows, his lips dry. “You make me so crazy, I never climbed up to a window before. This is a two story house you know. Don’t I deserve a little…reward?” He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. “And I can see just how bad you want it, so let me take care of you, okay?”

Your eyes widen, “Don’t… don’t tease me.” He didn’t want to say it again but you looked so cute with your wide blown eyes with your eyebrows furrowed. “But… I mean, I’m not opposed to the idea.” You were just glad that your room wasn’t on the same floor as your parents and you thanked the stars for the thick walls.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d be so easy.” He pulls you closer to him. 

You snort, “Shut up before I change my mind!” Then he kisses you again, very light and all over your face making you smile. Your body felt so gooey and your stomach was tangled in knots. 

“I know just what to do, so just let me do everything, okay?” He pulled your cute frilly pink nightgown off of you and cupped your butt. “These little panties of yours are so pretty, look just like something I’d expect you to wear.” They were cream white and soft, small flowers designed on them. “Here, lay down.” He helps you lay flat on your own bed. 

He pulled your underwear down slowly, anticipating killing him. But it paid off when he saw how cute your fat pussy was. He groaned looking at how your labia was covered with bits of your slick as it peeked out from your lips. He just wanted to look for a second or maybe more; he pulled your  lips apart and he groaned. You were more sticky and dripping wet, your clit was big and engorged. “Oh fuck, I didn’t know what I was getting into, huh? Such a pretty little pussy. Prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He moved his body towards the end of the bed and sat on his knees, pulling you closer to the end of the bed. 

You looked cuter from where he was; your eyes squeezed tight and your hand already tangled in his hair. He blew a bit of air on you and he smiled when your entire body twitched. “You’re already ready, baby. Keep your hands right there.”

He kissed your inner thighs and sucked your folds in his mouth with a groan. His mouth wide as he dribbled spit on your clit. “You’re already so messy but I gotta get you ready for me, you understand that, right?”

“God, yes, Satoru. Just please—” You didn’t even finish your sentence before he spread you again and moved his head side to side and buried his face deeper into your pussy. A lewd wet squelching sound all over the room just when his nose bumps against your clit. He moves back and just admires you for a moment before kissing your thighs again.

He slurps at your opening before his tongue nudges at it and your hand grips his hair tighter. He licks a trail up your slit then places his tongue flat against your core. “‘Toru, stop teasing me.” You can hear him give a breathy laugh. 

“You just taste so good, ‘could do this all night.” He says before he sticks his tongue inside of you finally. His chin was already wet but now as he sucks and moves his tongue inside of your pussy, it just gets wetter. You wiggle your hips and push yourself down the bed, trying to get more of his mouth on you if possible. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Your hips grind against his face and your eyes roll back as he sucks on you really hard, licking up and down your slit again and again. Rolling his tongue around your clit messily. 

“Gonna put a finger inside of you, okay? Relax.” He tells you, nudging his finger at your hole. “Opening up, like a charm. There we go,” He eases his finger inside and you cream a bit, it runs down his finger. “Good girl.”He purrs, scissoring his fingers inside of you. A harsh whimper comes out of your mouth and he looks at you, rubbing a finger on your clit in circles. He presses kisses on your thighs again and one on your stomach and your belly trembles, so ticklish. 

With his finger working your clit, he goes back to twirling his tongue inside of you, switching between his tongue and fingers being inside of you. Your insides clamped down on his fingers and he groaned, your thighs trembled before you spoke.

“Satoru, fuck— I’m gonna cum if you keep.” Your back arches more off the bed; your face scrunches up as he adds two fingers to your cunt, pumping them in and out, pressing deep upwards and rubbing in that special place. You shutter.

“It’s okay, cum. Fuck, cum all over my face.” Your walls flutter against his fingers and a bit of wetness squirts out when he presses inside of you again. “You’re so pretty when you squirt for me baby. So fucking cute.” He curls his fingers inside of you; you gush more wetness out on him. “So good.” He mutters, removing his fingers and sucking on your clit. 

“Sa-Satoru please, I can’t— I just…wait…please… I just need a bre–akkk!” He sucks on your folds and rubs you clit again before he sucks hard on the bundle of nerves. Your legs shaking when he finally moves from your pussy. 

He smiles down at you, “You okay?” He watches you huff before you shove him slightly. He gives you a sly smile. 

“You’re so…” You’re out of breath as you speak. “Oh god, that felt so good.” 

He was trying not to smirk but it was hard. “You’re welcome baby.” He lets you lay there, before pulling you close. “You tired? We can sleep.”

“Nuh-Uh.” You sit up, hugging him to your body.

“C-can I?” You motioned towards his pants and he grinned at you.

“You sure you can take it? I don’t mean to brag but baby, this is a weapon of mass destruction.” He looked at you, his lips in a thin line before you both started laughing.

“You’re so lame!” You tell him, a small smile on your lips. You grab his face and sit on his lap, feeling just how hard he was under you. “But I want to,” You hands traveled up and down his shoulder. “I can’t ever stop thinking about you, you know. I just want to see it. I want to suck it.”

He bit his lip and lifted his hips upwards, his eyes on you and the tip of his ears red. “Okay, yeah.” He stumbled the words out. He couldn’t believe you right now; how utterly sexy you were being for him and how you had him being the nervous one. “You feel how hard I am? That’s just for you.” He tells you, watching your hand touch him through his pants. 

You unzip his pants and help him out of his boxers. 

“Okay, so be gentle.” He tells you, awkwardly patting your head. “So, just hold it and you can run your hand up and down but don’t–” He grips the sheet when you lick your hand and runs it up and down his length. You keep your eyes on him, smiling. His eyes are now squeezed shut and you like seeing him look so weak because of you. 

He doesn’t expect you to put him in your mouth so fast but you do. Not inch by inch like a virgin, no, you kiss his head and he shutters then with your hand on the base, you take whatever you can and put it in your mouth. “Ohhh fuck. Your mouth is so–” You meet his eyes as you bob your head up and down, swirling your tongue around him. Your mouth is sloppy – so much saliva covering his length and he can’t believe you were like this. Twisting your hand on the base of his cock and even touching his balls, massaging them. 

“Okay…okay, that’s enough. I– fuck,” You jerk his cock as he speaks. 

“You sure?” You lick his tip. 

“Y-yeah. Just wanna be inside of you.” He pulls your hands away from him. “C’mere.” He taps your chin and you stand up; putting your legs on either side of him. Taking your jaw in his hand, he kisses you. Then he does it again. His hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs into your back. Grinding against him, feeling your pussy throb against his bare cock. He smiles, “Feeling this pretty little pussy against me, fuck…feels so…” His cock twitches against you. He lays you down on your bed again and lays on top of you, not putting his full weight against your body. He tugs his shirt over his head. 

Both of you are naked and bare to each other. He slid his aching cock over your folds causing you both to moan. He did it again, his chest against yours. Grinding against you, raising his hips against yours. “You like that?” He asked, needy and pleased at your expression. 

He slapped the head of his cock against your clit, watching you flinch and jump. “You’re so fucking pretty. Prettiest girl ever.” He kissed your nose. “Gonna fuck you so good and make you even prettier, ‘Kay?”

Your back arched off the bed, “Satoru — fuck.” 

“I’m gonna rock your world, stretch this pussy out that you’ll have no choice but to only think of me.” He kisses your neck and pulls your legs further apart. He moves his hands down to your pussy; spreading your lips and rubbing the palm of his hand against your clit in a hard circular motion. “Relax. Deep breath.” 

Taking a deep breath and then a strong exhale, his cockhead rubs at your folds and his tip enters your pussy. Your nails dig deep into his skin and you bite your lip. “Oh gosh.” Your nails pinch his skin as he slides inside deeper. He pushes forward again and then you both moan. 

Locking your ankles at the lower end of his back and he does one small thrust, his hips rocking against yours. He pulls your legs on his shoulders and he bottoms out, sucking in a breath. “Fuck, you’re tight.” His pelvis comes in contact with your clit, making you moan with every thrust.

You’re crying; because of course you’d be and he thinks it’s cute and glorious how glossy your eyes get — your lashes stuck together and your pretty eyes shiny. This, it was this, that made him want to fuck you like this — your eyes on his as he wipes your face and you sniffle and gasp, he kisses your face.

He’s entwining your fingers and looking at you deep in your eyes, his pretty bright eyes staring you down as he fucks you. Your eyes roll back and you’re whining. He promised to ruin you for any other guy and he was fulfilling that as he went in deeper. You clamped down on him and wrapped your legs around him, your arms around his neck and he chuckled. “You okay?” He huffed.

You were quiet besides the moaning, almost too scared to talk. “Mhm. Y-yes.”  He slams inside of you, his balls slapping against your ass. Your pussy spasming against his cock, wet noises echo around the room. The jarring sound of wetness and skin against skin only making you hornier and you knew he could feel it.

“You’re so wet, you’re soaking the bed.” Every time he thrust inside of you, squirt spilled out of you and he smiled. “You’re doing really good for this to be your first time. You like my dick that much? So much that you can take it like a good girl?” Your body wound up and tight as he fucks you open, your stomach tight as you get closer to the end.

His dick made more squirt spill from your body. Your legs shaking as he spoke, all you could do was take it. “Please.” You whined. “Don’t stop.” Hips grinding against each other before his hips stutter and his body shakes hard. Wetness all over your thighs as he keeps going. You whine and sniffle when the wave comes over you again and cum. Creamy wetness at the base of his cock, grinding himself further inside.

He presses his forehead against yours and squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, you feel so good.” His cock brushed against your cervix, pounding inside of you. “Prettiest pussy I ever had. Best pussy I ever had.” He tells you, completely out of breath. Moving between your legs to rub your achy clit.

“Gonna come baby.” He groans and you take the chance to press your lips against his, letting his tongue explore your mouth, his cock bruising your pussy.

When Satoru comes, he comes hard. Hot liquid spilling inside of you, deep inside. He holds still, his face buried inside your neck. He does another thrust and you both take a deep breath, bodies trembling together.

You lay there for a while; him on top of you and you playing in his soft hair. Kissing the top of his head you say, “Wanna come with me? Traveling, I mean. It can just be us.”

His eyes closed while he drifts to sleep, “I’d like that.”

[lqnar]

ok so

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan thinks that having you as his roommate is possibly one of the best and worst things that’s happened to him.

you are, by far, the best roommate he’s ever had. you’re clean. not too loud. you don’t disturb him when he’s sleeping, you don’t take food from the fridge that’s clearly his and you never leave your dishes in the sink.

coming from sharing with soonyoung, seungkwan and seokmin, jeonghan doesn’t think his living situation could get any better.

or at least, he didn’t. now he’s starting to realise he has a problem, and that problem is his teensy tiny crush on you.

because not only are you clean and hygienic, you’re also nice. incredibly nice — and incredibly gorgeous, and jeonghan really doesn’t think it’s fair that you tick all three boxes so easily. and yeah, maybe it’s not the biggest crush, but it certainly doesn’t help when you go around doing stupidly endearing things, like tripping over the rug that’s been there since you moved in, or dancing when you’re cooking dinner.

or baking at odd hours of the evening — because when he gets home at nearing midnight after hanging out at joshua’s house, he can hear you clattering around the kitchen from the doorway. you don’t see him when he first enters the room, eyes fixated on the measuring scale in front of you, as you pour brown sugar into a bowl.

“what are you doing?”

you jump when you hear his voice, somehow knocking a wooden spoon to the ground with your elbow as you yelp. “when did you get here?”

“just now.” jeonghan leans against the doorway with narrowed eyes. “do you know what time it is?”

“i’m — i’m stress-baking,” you enunciate, with heavy, deliberate emphasis. “it’s relieving my stress.”

jeonghan directs a dubious glance around the kitchen. there’s a pile of flour on the counter that should definitely be in some sort of packet; chocolate chips are sprinkled across the surface; there are at least seven different dirty bowls in the sink. “is it?”

you let out a deflated sigh, rubbing at your nose and leaving an adorable smudge of flour on the top. sourly, you admit —“no.”

jeonghan pushes off the doorframe, helping himself to a handful of chocolate chips before you can bat away his hand with the wooden spoon. “so, darling roommate of mine,” he begins, lifting himself onto the few clean inches of the surface. “why are we stress baking at such an hour?”

your nose wrinkles, and you avoid his gaze with admirable intensity. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

jeonghan prides himself on knowing when to push and when not to push. he can tell, even after knowing you for only a matter of months, that you’re not ready to talk about it yet. this exact scenario, late-night, stress-fuelled baking, has happened a few times before. and, right on schedule —

“you should go to bed,” you say after a moment. but your voice wavers ever so slightly, and jeonghan knows that even though you’d never ask, you don’t want to be alone right now.

“what, so you can stress yourself out all alone?” he asks lightly. “not a chance.”

so he sits there and talks to you as you finish up your cookies, stealing chocolate chips and laughing when you scowl at him, and then offering them to you at the last second. he puts them in the oven for you because somehow, despite your nocturnal hobbies, you’re yet to invest in oven mitts, and he doesn’t want you to get burnt.

sometimes, jeonghan considers telling you how he feels. sometimes, like now, when it’s late at night and his logical thinking is dulled, and you’re laughing at all his jokes, even the stupid ones, and everything feels so indescribably right — jeonghan feels like he’s spilling over. he feels like sometimes there’s a light in your eyes when you look at him, smile with him, that makes him think that reciprocation is more than a possibility — it’s a probability.

but he won’t. he knows he won’t, not yet. maybe one day, maybe sooner than he thinks, but not yet. for now, he just slips off the counter to dry the dishes when you wash them. to flick soap at your eyes and blow bubbles with you and connect his phone to the bluetooth speaker and coax you into dancing with him in the middle of the kitchen until your brows are no longer furrowed and your smile feels fuller than it was when he walked in. until the cookies are done, golden-brown and warm and sweet, just how he feels on nights like this.

edit: if you’d like to read a sequel to this couple, in my head this drabble is about them getting together :)

an / i don’t have anything to say. hi guys

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

[d3vilcvntz]

hi if you're interested would you write anything for a clingy sub aki from chainsaw man? maybe ami woke them up from a nightmare or something or came home late and is craving them? thanks!

top male reader x sub aki csm

cw; somnophilia

you and aki have been together for almost a year now. everything were fine in the relationship except for the fact that both of you barely see each other anymore despite living together. both of you were busy working so the only time you see each other are early in the morning. your work always ended around 9pm and aki's work ended past midnight when you're already asleep. he won't admit it but he really miss you and your touch.

you were already asleep when he got home, slowly making his way to your shared bed so he won't wake you up. putting his hand on your face,moving your hair to the side so he can see your face better

"i miss you" he murmured, kissing you on your lips.

he really shouldn't be doing this but you did told him that it's okay to do this if he can't handle it on his own so, it should be fine right ? he won't do this if you don't agree to it in the first place.

slowly pulling your trousers down, revealing the bulge in your boxer. he can't wait for you to be inside him, it's all he's been thinking about all day while he was working ♡

"still asleep?" he whispered, looking at your face, eyes still shut, deep in sleep. you were always a heavy sleeper

pulling your boxer down to reveal your cock. he slowly stroked your cock and gave it a few licks on the tip

he stroke your cock faster as he started to prepare himself. inserting his own fingers in his hole, preparing to take your huge cock inside him <3 after what feels like hours for him, he finally got on top of you, slowly sinking down on your cock, hole already prepared to take you deep in him

putting his hand on his mouth to stop himself from making too much noises. he doesn't want you to see him being all pathetic like a slut !

desperately trying to get himself off, playing with his nipple, his other hand playing with his own cock while he rides you as you suddenly he grabbed his hip and thrusts deeper into him, finally awake from your deep sleep.

pushing him to lay on the bed as you press his legs close to his chest, ramming into his hole as he dig his nails into your back, probably will leave marks later on but who cares right ?

slamming your cock one last time as you came deep inside him as he came all over himself, painting his own face and chest with his cum.

"welcome back" you said to him as he smiled at you and drag you to lay down with him <3 you definitely can get used to this.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 4 - Nightmares Too

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

“You wanna get out from under there?”

What sort of question is that? Of course, you don’t. You’re going to live here now. You’re never leaving this tiny, cramped space till you rot away and die. The stained underside of some IKEA desk was your new home.

Well, since your actual home was seeming less and less like an option. Which kinda sucks, because you’re feeling surprisingly possessive of your stuff. You don’t want fancy dresses or bubbly champagne, you want your ratty couch and the neighbour’s cat that liked to visit in the middle of the night. Your mother was right, you were the type of person to never be happy no matter what. You could appreciate the food, though.

Shaking, trembling, knees clutched to your chest, you look up. Slowly, because you’ll probably piss yourself if you don’t.

Now that you weren’t holding his hand, the vigilante known as Red Hood was much, much scarier. He was sitting on the carpeted floor with you, but he still somehow looked incredibly menacing. You preferred his old look, honestly. The helmet had less ‘grim reaper’ vibes. The hood and metal face mask made him seem like a cyborg assassin, or something equally terrifying. He was terrifying.

Still, you could appreciate the insane sort of hilarity of this situation. The notorious crime fighter and crime committer was sitting here with you, crossed legs, twiddling his thumbs away. You press your face into your hands, laugh, and then scream. The sound is muffled, but he probably still hears the exciting new phase of your breakdown.

“Don’t…” your voice cuts off, you have to think before you can manage to speak again, “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

His giant shoulders shrug.

“I’ve got time.”

Did he? You don’t know how long you’d been up here, how long you’d been sitting here either. You’d fallen asleep, despite your desperate fight not to, so it could be anywhere between 10 to the next day. Had you missed midnight? God, you hoped not.

That stupid little ritual is what convinces you to leave. Not common sense, not the Hood, not your desperate desire to get home and sleep. No, it’s the image of your mother’s tired smile, the city in the background as you wish her another happy birthday after a long day of work. It’s a memory you’re not willing to give up, even if you technically already made your wish.

You’d lived this awful day twice. You got to blow out your candles twice, too.

Slowly, surely, you climb out from under the desk. Red Hood is quiet, careful. He doesn’t move apart from a subtle shift in his hood, suggesting he’s watching you. He’s acting like you’re a wild animal or something, like he might scare you off, or might prompt you to attack.

If he tries anything, you will. It doesn’t matter that he could snap your neck like a twig. Maybe he’s right to act that way, you’re feeling pretty feral right now. Half giving him your back, you turn the monitor for the computer on. It’s Wayne property, so you think you technically have some right to it. It’s not like you’re going to hack it or anything, you just need it to-

11:48.

“Thank god,” you sigh, relieved. Still, you’re not out of the woods yet. You needed at least a lighter, hopefully, a candle and a desert of some kind too. There were lots of cakes downstairs, if you felt you could do it. Big ‘if’ there. The mental breakdown was still well underway. And not everyone could dodge a punch like Red Hood could. Knowing you, you’d probably get sued for millions if you accidentally snapped at some poor rando.

Let’s start small. You wrench open the office’s drawer and start rooting around. You find lots of things, a Wayne Enterprises-themed stress toy, a kid’s drawing of them and their parent holding hands, and a surprising amount of hand cream, but no lighter. You slam the drawer closed and move to the next one.

“Hey, what are you doing?” his voice rumbles out, and your head snaps around.

You look down. Right. This is probably illegal. You were rooting through someone else’s private property. Of course, it wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, but it was definitely the first time you’d done it in plain view of a vigilante.

Crap. You hadn’t thought. That was your entire night, summarised.

“Uh, this is… Do you have a lighter?” you ask, wincing. You don’t really like the mask he’s wearing. Apart from being so intimidating, you’re shaking like a wet chihuahua, it’s also impossible to tell what he’s thinking through it. The domino mask, the metal face mask and the voice changer completely hid any emotion. Full coverage and all.

The helmet probably would’ve made that even harder. You’d still prefer it. This guy's creepy.

“You smoke?” he responds, slowly but surely getting to his feet. You back up quickly, pressing yourself to the wall of the cubicle. Red Hood pauses and then moves even slower. He’s careful not to frighten you any more than already.

This was all really strange. One of the strangest things that had ever happened to you. And you might’ve woken up this morning in an alternate dimension. Or something, you had zero clue what was going on. God, you really wished you’d paid more attention in science class. You’d thought Mr Gregory was crazy, but he’d gotten the last laugh.

“I don’t,” you clench your sweaty fists tight, “Maybe I should.”

“Don’t get started, it’s impossible to stop,” Red Hood says, digging into his pocket for something. You freeze, but relax again when he hands you a scuffed metal lighter.

Holding it close to your chest, you whisper a thank you to him. He nods his head in acknowledgement.

This was really weird. You couldn’t say it enough.

“I hate you,” you state because you sort of have to. Even when he’s being nice to you, helping you. It’s an obligation. You have to make sure that despite the show of good faith he was offering, you were certainly feeling no such thing.

“I figured,” he replies, which like- What the fuck? Does this make absolutely zero sense to anybody else? You’re not sure what about your panic-stricken tears and desperate hand-holding made you seem hateful, but you could work with it.

Maybe all the feelings you push down are starting to show. You ignore how worried that makes you because you’ve had enough for today. Today was more than e-fucking-nough.

You were going to find a cake and a candle, and you were going to make your wish. Again, because life sucks. You were going to finish this horrible day again because life sucks. And hopefully, you’d wake up tomorrow… tomorrow, not today.

You weren’t sure if you would. Life sucks, right?

You look the Red Hood in his creepy glowing red eyes and say, “I think I’m losing my fucking mind.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

There’s quiet between you two for a moment. You think he’s staring at you, trying to figure you out. He knows you hate him, but you’re… well, you’re too tired to be angry right now. You just want to go to sleep. You just want this damn day to end. Tomorrow you’d go back to hating all the vigilantes of Gotham with a fiery passion, but today…

Well, you wouldn’t call it peaceful, whatever this situation is. Maybe it’s understanding. He seems understanding, for some reason. You don’t really want to think about that.

You just wanted to hate him. It was easier that way. Then you didn’t have to hate yourself so much.

“I’m going to go find some cake and a candle. It’s my birthday and I haven’t made a wish.”

Red Hood nods, “I could eat.”

That wasn’t an invitation, but whatever. Guess you’re blowing out your candles for your twenty-first with… this guy. Better than yesterday, which was with nobody but yourself and your trashy TV. Or, well, the first today.

You really think you are losing your mind. Whatever, whatever, let’s worry about it later.

After one of the most awkward and uncomfortable elevator rides of your life, squished into a corner as Red Hood took up the lion’s share of space, you find yourself back on the first floor. It’s chaos. The gorgeously decorated gala is now in rubble, and people are rushing around with the sort of fear you’d expect after the fucking Joker showed up.

He wasn’t here, which was good. It was important to focus on the good.

First responders flit around the space, checking the people who seem worse for wear and the rich bastards who think they’re more important than the service workers who are cut or bruised. All the food tables have been knocked over, the waste of it making you upset. Of course the Joker wastes food, he’s gotta be the evilest man on earth or something. It’s not just the interior that’s been destroyed, either. The giant gothic windows have been shattered inward, and broken glass covers the entire floor space. Red and blue lights flash through the gaping holes, bits of glass still attached to the stone sending it cascading across the walls.

You look down. You’re missing your shoes.

“You can’t walk on that,” Big Red says, which like, duh.

“I know that,” you mutter, looking around for another way. Ah, good, there’s a staff entrance over there, which you think probably leads to the kitchen-

“I could carry you.”

You give him a disturbed look and he shrugs. Pointing to the ‘staff only’ door, you wish you had the strength to tell the guy to fuck off. He feels like a babysitter or something.

“I’m going in there.” ‘Please don’t follow me.’

He follows you, because of course, he does.

Lucky for you, the staff entrance leads straight to the kitchen. Even luckier, there’s absolutely nobody here to witness you lose your mind. There are also lots of dishes waiting to be served, already plated and perfect. This is a professional kitchen, but it was your birthday so you have to assume they’d have had candles or a cake prepared.

You walk through the giant kitchen, and Red Hood hangs back. He leans against the doorway, crossing his tree-tunk-esque arms and glowering. Nowhere can do a scary hero like Gotham can. He was really messing with your vibe, which wasn’t all that great in the first place.

Your eyes rove over the platters, head snapping back when you spot a tiny set of confectionaries at the back. Cupcakes, three in total. They don’t match the rest of the other high-quality foods, but you know they’re the ones you want anyway. You hope this didn’t belong to someone else, and promise to pay them back… somehow. You’d write a note or something, leave your number behind.

You were rich now. You’d have preferred the lottery instead of all this. What’s the saying, ‘beggars can’t be choosers?’ You’d certainly been begging.

It’s a struggle to reach the back of the counter without knocking any of the other food. You grab the plate, lift it up and over, and then set it back down on an empty stretch of countertop.

You look over the three cupcakes, trying to pick one. There’s one that’s a dark raspberry pink. A pink that’s a little too dark, actually. Almost… reddish. You glance over your shoulder at the devil lurking behind you, wince, and decide you’re going for the blue cupcake. You think this might’ve also been one of Sam’s favourite colours. It would’ve been at some point, at least.

Now, candles. This might be the hard part, but it’s the most important one. Again you start rooting through some stranger’s property, and Red Hood just watches silently. It’s weird. This whole situation is weird. You’re tired and confused and you’re half convinced you’re dreaming it all, but… but you’re definitely starting to think this might be real.

And that’s fucking scary. So, back to candle hunting. They had to have some, it was your birthday. Maybe, you were pretty sure. Somehow the worst day of the year had happened twice because God knows you had some shit luck. You’d really like some solid answers, instead of just ‘maybe!’. And for some reason, you really didn’t think you’d be getting them anytime soon.

Ah, shoot. You found your candle. It’s one of those giant ‘Happy Birthday’ cake toppers, all loopy and connected words. Your cupcake is way too small, and your candle is way too big. Well, you’re nothing if not resourceful. When you bend the candle, the wax snaps easily under your grip. You’re left with a capital ‘H’ and under that the ‘B’ and little ‘i’ and ‘r’ from the beginning of birthday. Good enough, you suppose.

You stick the crumbly, glittery monstrosity on top of the stolen cupcake, and swipe the lighter again. The letters sag to the side, and you nudge them back into balance.

You glance down at the ovens, reading the bright neon numbers. 11:57.

You wait, flicking the lighter open and closed. The metallic click, the rhythm of the movement, it settles you a bit.

“Why are you waiting?” Red Hood pipes up, breaking that comfortable silence. At least he doesn’t come any closer, still lingering half in the room, half not.

“It has to be midnight,” you answer, wishing him away. This is your thing. You didn’t want anybody here for it, didn’t want anybody else’s presence tainting this piece of your mother’s memory. You were greedy for it, not eager to share.

You were sharing today. There’s a part of you that wants to scream and rant at the man who for some unknown reason simply will not leave, but you imagine your mother’s frowning face, and you can’t do it. She’s the angel on your shoulder (nagging, nagging, nagging) compared to your usual devil-inclined self. She was always insisting you needed to be a better host, be nicer to people. Maybe make more friends. And after she’d gone, you’d tried, you really, really had.

But Red Hood was an altogether different matter. Everything they were, everything they represented, was an altogether different matter.

You were obsessed with the Waynes. And in a different, more bitter, spiteful, malicious way, you were obsessed with the Bats, too.

You weren’t going to be friends with Red Hood. You hated him, despised him. Mum always said you needed to get better at forgiving people. You disagreed, but just… maybe just for today, you wouldn’t make him leave.

You could glare at him, though. You felt that was fair enough. He ignores your narrowed eyes like a seasoned professional. Bet he’s had a lot of people hate him. Bet he deserves it.

“It’s 11:59,” he tells you, and you stop glaring at him to light the candle.

The light is weak, barely able to touch you. Still, it’s strong enough to get rid of those tiny glimpses of red and blue police lights, to keep away the darkness for just long enough. You sigh into the light, absorbing it into yourself. You’d always thought the world was too dark, and you hated winter when you’d lose the sun. So like you had to hate the dark, you had to love this light. This tiny little candle, burning away.

“What’re you gonna wish for?”

You stare at the flickering flame. It twitches back and forth. Casts light into the kitchen. Mesmerises you. It’s barely alive, and you’re about to put it out before it can even start. It could’ve been some great fire, some city-destroying blaze. And you’re going to kill it. Kill it before it can kill you, can kill everyone here. Kill it before it could have ever hoped to live, to thrive.

Just a baby. Just a little, little baby.

It doesn’t deserve it. That never seems to matter. It never mattered before.

“The Joker to die.”

You exhale, blowing the light out and sending the kitchen into darkness. When you manage to find the light switch and turn it on, the room is empty. It’s just you, your cake, and your tears. Your hands clench, and then you realise you’re still holding it.

You still have the Red Hood’s lighter. He left without it.

Well, finder’s keepers, right?

-

You’re shaking in the back of the ambulance, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders not enough to keep out the Gotham night’s chill. You don’t really remember how you got here, to be honest. Everything’s pretty goddamn blurry. You were talking to a vigilante, a red one. Not down here, staring up at the Wayne Tower. You remember his face in the shifting candlelight. Did you blow out your candles with him? That was a fucking crazy thought.

And now the Bruce Wayne has a hand on your shoulder. You don’t remember when he arrived. He’s talking with the paramedic, chatting over the top of your head. There words are going in one ear and out the other, it’s alien for as much as you can understand. You want to shake his hand off, you don’t want anyone touching you right now. Especially not a stranger.

Even if it was a guy you had owned a fan Twitter for. Those were the darkest days of your past. Even more so than the time you’d totally thought about jumping in front of the Gotham subway. You’d only not done it because you’d have felt bad for wasting other commuters' time. What were you doing? Ah, right.

In the end, you don’t shove him off, because you don’t know if you can move other than blink. Even that’s against your will. Your eyelashes are fluttering randomly, eyes flicking around the interior of the ambulance. You’re barely conscious. And you doubt you’ll remember any of this later, either. You can feel the memories slipping away, the drain at the back of your mind sucking up the fear and bad thoughts and leaving you blank and empty. Numb, safe, but numb.

The paramedic’s mouth moves. You don’t think she’s talking to you, which is good. You can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. She does some final checks, and then she’s off to the next person.

The two of you are left to silence, to watch the rest of the world in its chaos. You feel like there’s a barrier, a pane of glass, between you and the other people here. Like your TV screen, really. The paramedic goes to a woman and her son. The woman seems fine, but the son has a long gash on his arm. She’s screaming, he’s crying, and the paramedic is handling it all with calm professionalism. You wanted to start screaming too.

You glance at a man in a suit yelling at another first responder, spittle flying into the air with his rage. You think he’s one of the ones you saw earlier in the ballroom. His suit is still perfect, and he doesn’t have a speck of blood on him. Even his hair is still perfectly brushed and coiled.

You looked like a drowned rat in comparison.

“…Are you alright?” The question breaks the silence, and you slowly turn to look up at Bruce.

Well, that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. You thought Bruce Wayne was supposed to be brilliant. Maybe he’s just feeling bad because of the new trauma he’s gifted you tonight? It wasn’t his fault. As most of your mental health issues stemmed from, it was the Joker’s fault.

“No,” you answer, and he nods stiffly. Great chat.

He huffs out a sound of frustration, lifting the hand on your shoulder. Immediately, some of the tension in you seeps out. You hope he doesn’t notice. You think he probably does.

Someone calls out your name. Your head turns to the crowd. They call out your name again, this time closer, and you call back. You’re sort of surprised when a crying Jeanine pushes out of the throng of people. She’s a mess, her hair out of her pristine bun, her suit missing its jacket, and her glasses cracked. Seems she didn’t have a very nice time either.

You look down. She’s also missing her shoes. It’d be kind of gross, walking around on Gotham’s streets barefoot, if you could manage to give a shit. You’re still restarting, however, and all energy is going towards not crying again. You’re failing. Awfully bad, at that.

Whatever. Gotta try.

Panting, Jeanine places her hands on her knees, “I’m so, so sorry.”

It takes a moment for you to load the words through your Windows XP brain, but when you do, you’re more confused than you were a second ago.

“What? Why are you sorry?” you say, for a second imagining Jeanine as one of the people that attacked you.

“Because you wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t… hadn’t forced you to come…” Jeanine’s voice trails off, a look of horror on her face. Ah, she’s noticed Bruce. Apparently, she’s quite afraid of the man. You feel a sense of camaraderie towards the woman. God knows how many times you’d worn the exact same expression talking to one of your own bosses.

And then, well, then you usually got fired. It’s not looking good for her.

“Mister Wayne! I didn’t see you there, apologies!” she says, straightening her shoulders.

“Jeanine, it’s good to see you. Are you well, have you checked with the paramedics yet?”

“I have, Sir. Thank you for worrying about me,” Jeanine answers, with a healthy dose of hero-worship in her voice. You can’t judge, you’d be staring all starry-eyed at Bruce if you weren’t falling asleep where you sat. Apparently, traumatic experiences make you sleep. Who would’ve thought?

Like you hadn’t experienced this scenario a thousand times before. First time with fucking Bruce Wayne standing right next to you, though.

“Of course, I would. You’re one of my people,” he says, giving her a warm smile. Jeanine physically sags with relief at his words, because it sounds like she’s probably not getting fired tonight.

Bruce gets a notification on his phone, hums, and then slides it back into his pant pocket.

“Jeanine, we’re going back together to the manor tonight,” Bruce continues. Also, you were? Nobody mentioned that to you, and certainly nobody asked you about it. Well, fuck what you want, right? Who cares if you desperately want your cramped apartment in the Narrows, you’re getting shipped off to the fucking Wayne Manor of all places.

You just go along with it. Just go along with it. Wayne Manor probably has lots of nice, plush beds, and you’d kill for a pillow and some ambient rain sounds right now.

Bruce looks off to the side, where Tim is on the phone. They make eye contact, Bruce nods, and then turns back to the two of you.

“I’ll be right back. You two stay here, do not go anywhere,” he commands, king of the castle.

There’s quiet between the two of you. Jeanine squirms under your gaze, obviously guilty. You think back over her words, and then you groan.

“Jeanine. Jeanine, did I not have to go to this fucking party?”

Jeanine is quiet. She’s too fucking quiet.

“Jeanine?” your voice is shaky, and you have to bite the inside of your lip to force yourself not to tear up again. It was getting kind of embarrassing, honestly. You did not cry this much. Usually. This was not a usual day, of course. You’d been Ground Hog Day-ed into another reality… you think.

“No, Ma’am, you didn’t need to go. You’re… you used to be a Wayne, and even if you’ve parted from the name, you still have the power that comes with that. You did not have to come tonight,” she says, sounding remorseful and afraid. And maybe she should be.

If you had as much power as she said, you could probably fire her. You press your hands into your face.

“I thought you said you’d quit if I didn’t go,” you grind out, digging your fingers into your eyes, clawing into your already ruined makeup.

“I was lying, Ma’am. As I always do. I’m sorry,” she apologises. None of this makes any sense, and neither does she. Why would she lie? Why is this normal? What is the new normal, and how are you supposed to hide if you don’t know how to blend in?

You realise that you’re falling into old habits instinctively. That maybe you should say something about all this, or at least that you have some weird form of amnesia. You don’t, though. You’re scared, you’re far too scared.

“Well how- I thought you were serious this time!” you cry out, stuttering over your own lies, flinging your hands from your face. Jeanine winces at you. It’s probably the dried mascara running down your face in black rivulets, making you look like an odd mix between a raccoon and a banshee.

You’d seen your reflection in the ambulance’s side mirror. It had almost been as scary as the Joker’s goons. Almost.

“…Please, please don’t fire me,” she begs, her hands clasped tight in front of her.

You realise you probably should for an admittance like that. This was too complicated, this woman and her non-existent relationship with you was far too complicated. You also realise that whoever ran this stupid body before was very used to Jeanine’s baseless threats, and it wouldn’t be at all fair to her. And she seems quite desperate for this job. Which really doesn’t make much sense, because she seems quite important, and she’s working for you, someone else who seems quite important.

God if you fucking knew. You were quickly discovering you didn’t know shit.

“I won’t, just… just don’t say anything about this to anyone, okay? I’m…” you sigh, uncertain what to do, what to say, “I’m having a hard time.”

“Thank you, thank you so, so, so much. I’ll pay you back, I won’t do it again, I’ll do whatever you ask me to-”

“That’s enough, please. I just… I’d like some quiet,” you cut her off, closing your eyes and shuffling back in the ambulance. You cut yourself off from the rest of the world, hide your head behind your knees, and try to ignore the flashing lights and yelling voices. The ambulance shifts weight slightly as Jeanine sits beside you. She’s not too close to feel uncomfortable, just toeing the line.

Bruce comes back, looking over the two of you. He seems sombre, but you’re not sure why. Is it the entire night? Did something bad happen again? Is it just how miserable the two of you look? You don’t care enough to ask.

You just don’t care.

You tune out of their conversation again, even knowing it might be important. When Jeanine leaves, and Bruce invites you to a black car, you follow silently. He opens the door, and after a moment’s hesitation, you follow him in.

He knocks on the panel separating the two of you from whoever’s driving the car, and like a well-oiled machine, the car pulls out of the traffic and the paparazzi and out onto the street. Must be nice. You bet Jeanine is going to have to walk home.

Ah, wait, you’re one of them now. You’re one of those ‘must be nice’ types. Weird. You kept forgetting, somehow. Even with Gotham’s prince sitting next to you. Weird.

“I want you to stay at the manor for the night,” Bruce says, and you nod, barely listening. You’re barely conscious, far too tired to understand the implications of the words he was saying. If there were any, like you said, you couldn’t tell.

You’re watching the city go by, the light streaming past in a blur of colours. You rest your head in your hand, your elbow on the armrest. Even with you pressing your face to the glass, you can’t see the sky. The buildings stretch too high. And even if you could, it wasn’t like you’d see anything aside from some late-night flights. The Gotham light pollution and the smoke-filled sky would see to that.

Bruce doesn’t say anything else after that. You’re grateful for the quiet.

You squeeze your eyes shut, and maybe in some act of self-harm, try to remember what happened tonight. Try to pick through your thoughts, and understand whatever happened. That man… that horrible man. He disappeared into thin air. Gone, just gone.

And your world had changed. You’d gotten richer, more powerful. And yet, and yet… you knew this feeling. You knew this weakness. You knew what it meant when you looked in the mirror and you saw something barely alive.

You knew what grief looked like.

You want to rip out your own hair and chew off your own skin. It didn’t make any sense, and you felt crazier and crazier by the second. And none of it made sense, and yet, you had the worst feeling. An omen, a dark cloud. Something worse than the Joker, something that made even less sense.

Even in this life, were you alone? That wasn’t fair. That didn’t make any sense. That didn’t make any sense at all.

Your voice is quiet in the car. Her voice is quiet in the car.

“Do you know where my Mum is?” a little girl asks the big, strong man, her tiny body dwarfed by the black leather of the car. She’s out of place, out of time. She doesn’t fit here.

She doesn’t think she ever has.

The big, strong man, the hero, stays silent, his face hidden by the darkness. The little girl sobs, cries, wails. She wants her mum back. She wants her family back. And now, she wants her life back.

All have been stolen from her.

Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was dead. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were dead. Maybe this was another world, and both you and her now have to navigate another lonely place. At least you’d do it together, hand in hand.

It didn’t matter. You knew where you needed to be.

“I want to see it.”

You need to see it. You grasp desperately at Bruce’s arm, nails digging into his expensive and ruined suit. Begging him, pleading him.

He says something. You think it’s a ‘what?’

“I want to see their graves. I want to see my mother’s grave.”

Bruce’s face darkens, and you’re too tired, too exhausted to tell what emotion flits across it. You wonder if it’s the same desperation you feel. But it confirms it. They’re dead. They’re still dead. Despite everything, despite the entire world changing for you, the most important part had been forgotten.

They were still dead. And you were still here. Alone.

“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, but for tonight, you need to rest,” he promises you, and your hand releases. You watch your palm hang limply in your lap, and for a second, it doesn’t seem like your hand. Bruce starts speaking again, this apologetic, pitying tone. You can’t stand it. You can’t stand it one bit.

And in the rudest, most cowardly thing you’ve ever done, you cover your ears like a child.

The rest of the car ride passes in a blur of colour and sound. You’re in Gotham, driving away from the Tower, you’re at the edges of town, passing over one of the bridges, you’re driving through New Jersey’s countryside, passing green fields and old buildings. You go by the iron-wrought gates of Wayne Manor, up the alley’s winding entryway, and finally, the car rolls to a stop in front of the stairs.

To Mr. Wayne’s credit, he doesn’t open the fucking door for you again. You get to stumble your way out on your own two stubborn legs, swaying drunkenly, sickly. He waits for you at the stairs, and you ignore the arm he offers you. He’s just as blindingly irritating as his son.

Didn’t you like these people? You would again in the morning, you just needed your hate. It was the only thing keeping you going at this point. Pure rage was fueling you as you climbed those steps. You’re panting, but you don’t really know why. They’re not that tall.

You feel weak. You feel so, so weak. And you hate it. You’d worked so hard to be free of it, even when you longed for it like a toxic ex-lover, you’d pushed it away. And now it had it’s fangs wrapped around you again, and again, you’d have to climb out of hell.

Today, it was more literal. Tomorrow? God fucking knows. People were literally vanishing from thin air, Pete’s sake. You’ll try, of course. But god fucking knows.

A butler opens the door, and Bruce enters. Once you follow in, the butler closes the door behind him. This time, you really do try to hear what they say. It’s impossible. You concentrate, but all you get for your hard work is a headache. Tomorrow, you’ll try again tomorrow.

The butler rushes off, something important and butler-y to be done. You really didn’t know what butlers did. You couldn’t imagine what their jobs were other than cleaning and cooking. Accounting? Did butlers do accounting?

“I need to handle some things. Will you be able to find your old room alright?” Bruce asks, interrupting your increasingly inane thoughts.

You blink, at him stupidly. Because you were stupid. You had a brand to keep.

“Yes,” you lie. You don’t really know why you do. Some odd mix of self-protective instincts, exhaustion-induced delirium, and also a deep desire to be alone. You really, really wanted to be fucking alone.

“Goodnight then,” Bruce says, he pauses like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. He’s done that twice now, you think. Maybe he just doesn’t think you’re worth the effort. He’d be right.

You watch his back as he strides off into the darkness of the manor, leaving you shivering in the empty foyer. Your expensive ballgown is tattered, grimy, and worst of all, bloody. You want to get out of it. And then you want to sleep.

The click of his dress shoes fades, and you’re left wondering what the fuck you’re going to do next. Could you just start storming into random empty rooms? Where would you find any clothes? You were not going to sleep in this dress, no way.

So, you start up the grand staircase and start storming into random empty rooms. You find studies, bathrooms, and bedrooms. None that seem like anyone lives in them, of course. They feel like fancy hotel stays, the type you see online and sigh about.

The house, no, the manor, is quiet. Empty. It feels haunted, honestly. It probably was, a building this old and important. And it wasn’t like you didn’t know about Martha and Thomas Wayne. You didn’t think any Gotham native didn’t know about them, about the tragedy that had struck them.

It made Bruce seem like someone real, someone like you. Because if even the billionaires could get shot in alleys in Gotham City, it made more sense when the poor folks died. Like you were all human like God didn’t play favourites.

But, let’s be honest, you’d prefer to be an orphan in a mansion than the Narrows. Bruce Wayne had time to heal after what happened to him, for you it was from the frying pan to the fire.

The orphanage you’d been in for two years before you’d turned eighteen and been kicked out had had a very strict hierarchy. Probably still did, you never went back to check. It was technically a foster home, but the ancient sign beside the front door spoke differently. ‘Gotham Orphanage - Founded by Alan Wayne 1878’, the mark of the Waynes even found there. You used to touch the sign every time you went past it like it was some odd good luck charm. You still owe that sign your first successful job interview. Like you didn’t touch the copper plate every damn day, including every day you’d failed another interview.

And, well, it was Gotham. It wasn’t a good place. It had long been cemented in your mind that those theories that Gotham was cursed were true. That there wasn’t any other explanation.

You pause in your musings when you find a room that actually looks like it might be lived in. A long time ago, you think, from the dust covering the shelves. When you check the closet, you find men’s clothes, also untouched. You hope whoever lives here doesn’t care if you steal their shit, because you certainly don’t. Oh wow, this bathroom is gorgeous. The tub is gigantic, easily able to fit a group of at least six, maybe more. Still, you want to go to sleep more than you want a nice soak, so you go for a quick shower where you get rid of all… all the blood.

You watch the red run down the drain and are brought back to much simpler times.

Even as one of the older kids, you were still new blood. You hadn’t made any friends when you tried to defend the younger, weaker kids, either. The foster ‘parents’ who didn’t let you call them anything other than Mrs and Mr Hemming didn’t care about any abuse that happened under the house, as long as it wasn’t visible. You’d done this ritual before, but it actually had been your blood. It hadn’t hurt as much as this did, for some unknowable reason.

You weren’t a fighter. The very few punches you did take, you never hit back. Not like you had tonight. You’d been terrified the Hemmings would kick you out, stop feeding you. Still, you never moved, either. Never let the others take their anger out on the younger kids. You couldn’t do it. And now, looking back on it, your fear of the Hemmings retaliating was stupid. They’d needed the funds the foster caring gave them, and they were always trying to take in more and more kids.

They were empty threats. You were a terrified child. The what-ifs didn’t really matter anymore.

And maybe you were a bleeding heart type, like the other kids had said. Maybe you were gullible, naive, and a pushover. Like you hadn’t been through all the bullshit everyone else had. Like you being nice and hopeful and all those things that got you picked on weren’t all deliberate choices. One day, all the anger and rage you had would bubble over. It would destroy you and your life in a catastrophe, not unlike the one that took your family.

You’d already pushed it down so many times. Waking up today, in a different, unfamiliar world, had probably just made it worse. As always, you ignore it. It’s not worth worrying about.

Getting out of the shower, you do a very lazy towel off and then grab that mystery man’s clothes. They’re mostly dress suits, but you find a few old T-shirts. It hangs off you like a curtain, but it’s warm and it smells nice. Minty and earthy and… oddly free. Bouncy, alive, but still calming and relaxing. It’s a nice counter to the corpse vibes you’re rocking right now, which is decidedly un-alive and un-calm.

You wonder what it would’ve been like to mourn in safety. Where you didn’t have to worry if someone would steal your portion of food or the few funds you could hide in the garden. Where the glares of others didn’t constantly dig into your skin, reminding you that you weren’t wanted there. That you never would be.

That was alright. The place had stunk of mould and rat shit anyway. And maybe you had in this life. It didn't look like you were doing much better, anyway. No, this version of you somehow looked worse. You didn't know how it was possible, and then you remind yourself that none of this is possible, and you really ought to let go of that word.

Still, you lived in Gotham. You would always live in Gotham. You couldn’t leave, it was your home. It was a part of you, like every other sorry idiot who still lived here. School shootings, bomb threats, the city’s regular ol’ disasters. Even if you had been put in a good foster home, even if you had lived... here, you doubted your life would’ve been that much better. Of course, you were still bitter about it. Couldn’t the world just take a little bit off your plate? Maybe it was now, maybe this was the universe's way of saying sorry. A fancy, but empty house, with a still dead family. Maybe you were a little too greedy, a little too jealous.

You slide the duvet covers to the side, untucking them just like you do whenever you do stay in a crappy motel. When all the sides are thoroughly untucked, you slide underneath the covers. When your face lands on the pillow, you sigh in relief. Despite all the bullshit you’d suffered tonight, you had silk pillows, and this phone had youtube premium, so you could listen to rain sounds on it.

Safe. Sort of. Happy. Sort of. Alive. Sort of.

You told yourself it could be worse. And it could’ve been, so you kept on. Today, even after the night you’d had, you tell yourself it could be worse, again. At least the goon didn’t capture you, at least you didn’t actually see the Joker, at least you had a safe bed for the night, at least…

At least the Batman didn’t rescue you. You know it’s silly, but you can’t help but think it.

You hated him almost as much as the Joker, which was saying something since you regularly daydreamed about ripping that man limb from limb. Because the Bat refused to do anything about the supervillain, to finally put the mad dog down, you would always hate him. There wasn’t any other option. You sort of hated his entire entourage. Even Red Hood a bit, since even if they constantly fought, it was obvious both of them held back when dealing with each other. Still, you hated Red Hood and Robin a little less, after tonight. You kind of owed it to them.

You didn’t want to. You wanted to hate them and keep hating them till you died. It was one of your little things, the little things you couldn’t let go of. The little things that hinted at your less-than-perfect sanity. You felt that if you ever forgot what they’d done, what they kept doing every day, that you’d be disrespecting your family, forgetting some part of them. Some part of their memory, which you greedily hoarded away. Not a single precious recollection was to be lost, not ever.

You weren’t allowed to move on. Weren’t supposed to. Sometimes the many little rules you’d made for yourself felt like they were going to eat you alive. A swarm devouring its master. Swallowing you down bit by bit. Up and up, eating all the parts of you pushed down.

You wrap the blanket tighter around you, closing your eyes tight. Like if you tuck your feet inside the duvet, the monsters can’t get you. Your monsters can’t get you. Sometimes it felt like they were already feasting, and you just refused to feel it.

But only sometimes, right?

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[mercurygguk]

freaky deaky · jjk (m)

⤷ summary; being a worldwide superstar can be overwhelming at times – luckily he has you to help him get his frustrations out.

pairing; idol!jungkook x f. reader

rating; 18+

word count; 4.7k

genre/au; fwb au / idol au, smut/angsty and fluff if you squint

warnings; making out, swearing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, nipple play, slight choking, aftercare <3

author’s note; been wanting to write something like this for a while so here you go – i hope you like it !! slightly inspired by ‘freaky deaky’ by tyga & doja cat

ps. ignore my typos, i was speed writing this kskdls

let me know what you think – don’t be a silent reader, thanks <3

Jungkook is well aware that he should be heading home, get into bed and sleep for a whole day. He has barely slept for a whole week, the nerves and excitement for his upcoming concert too overwhelming. It was simply impossible to calm down enough to fall asleep.

However, he’s headed in the opposite direction of his own penthouse apartment. Instead of his own home, he finds himself in a quieter part of the city, the buildings in this area much smaller than the skyscraper he lives in himself. It's past midnight, a few houses are still lit up but it seems most people have turned in for the night.

There’s a yellow hue in the window on the second floor of the small house he pulls up to. The roaring of his bike is loud in this part of town late at night but he can’t bring himself to care about anyone else – there’s only one person on his mind as he turns off his motorbike.

As he gets off his bike, he glances around him to see if there’s anyone who might spot him; a scandal with the media isn’t what he needs right now. When the coast is clear, he removes his helmet and makes his way to the front door, knocking on it a few times. His teeth are chewing his bottom lip as he waits in silence, staring at his feet while listening for the sounds of footsteps on the other side.

Half a minute later, the door opens. He looks up from his stomper boots, the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen meeting his. There’s a possible chance he just felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. 

You smile at him, opening the door wider for him, silently inviting him inside. 

His eyes never leave yours as he steps inside, closing the door behind him and locking it. You’re wearing your pajamas – a flimsy top that doesn’t do much to cover your bare breasts underneath and loose, small shorts paired with a pair of fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm. You watch him with impatient eyes as he puts his helmet down, kicks off his stompers and unzips his biker jacket. He’s impatient too, too impatient to even greet you. Instead he opts for the next best thing; kissing you.

A soft whimper leaves you the moment his mouth connects with yours, the sound going straight to Jungkook’s cock, blood rushing to the tip. The kisses are eager, hungry and rushed, probably bruising too. He pushes you backwards, pinning you against the wall. Goosebumps rise upon his skin as your hands slide into his black strands of hair, your hips buck against him. A low groan escapes his lips as his hands roam your body, sliding over your curves and underneath your flimsy pajamas top.

The sounds of moans and whimpers tumbles from your mouth as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw and further on to your neck, open-mouthed kisses being left against your skin. His hands cup your breasts underneath your top, thumbs brushing over your already hardened nipples.

“How was the show?” You breathlessly ask him.

“Not important right now,” he manages to say between the kisses he’s showering you with. “Just need you.”

You whimper at his words as he bends to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, hands on your ass to support you. His mouth returns to yours, tongues meeting with wet, lewd sounds as he makes his way upstairs with you in his arms. He knows the path to your bedroom too well at this point – it might be a sign that he’s at your place way too often but he can’t find it in him to care or contemplate what that might mean.

“Feels like I’ve been waiting forever for you to get here,” you admit as you enter your bedroom. 

Jungkook grins against your mouth, a soft chuckle leaving him as he puts you down on your bed. You watch as he stays by the edge of the bed, looking at you with those big, dark eyes that hold the galaxy in them. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his hands as he slides them from the top of your thighs and down to your knees, giving them a soft squeeze. He fixes you with a slight smirk, a playful glint in his eyes.

“You missed me that much?”

Flustered, you groan softly and avert your eyes to the ceiling. Jungkook can’t help but laugh at your reaction to his teasing question, getting rid of his biker jacket and t-shirt before crawling onto the bed, hovering over you. He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him again. You’re glaring at him, a soft glare that makes his heart tingle in ways he didn’t know it could.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he quietly tells you, “I missed you too.”

The words leave him before he can think about the meaning behind them. He barely catches the way your face softens at his confession as he dips down and connects his lips to yours again, slipping his tongue past them to intertwine it with yours. You moan against his mouth, arms sliding around his neck to pull him down, as close to you as possible.

“Kook,” you moan his name against his lips as you feel one of his hands slipping between your legs, fingers pushing the flimsy fabric of your shorts to the side. His fingers touch your wet core instantly, your arousal coating his fingers. He groans against your mouth when he realizes you’re not wearing panties. “Please–”

“No panties, huh?” He muses, lifting his head just enough to watch the way your face twists in pleasure as his fingers slip between your folds, running up and down to collect more of your wetness. “You made yourself ready for me, mhm?  

You nod, your back arching and a whine leaving you as he sinks a finger into you, thumb pressing down on your clit at the same time. Your pussy sucks his finger in, your walls tight around it as he pumps it in and out. You’re already panting beneath him and he has barely done anything to you. He smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he rasps before sliding down. You feel his breath brush over your skin as he moves down your body, tingles shooting through your body as he leaves occasional kisses on your skin.

Cold air hits your core as he tugs your shorts down, causing another round of goosebumps to rise upon your skin. He throws them over his shoulder, a soft thud reaches his ears as they hit the floor. A shaky sigh leaves you as he leans down, face leveling with your core. Jungkook smiles to himself as he watches your pussy clench, your folds glistening as he reaches up with his fingers, spreading them apart.

“Been thinking about eating this pretty pussy of yours all day, baby.”

The words fall from Jungkook's lips before he can stop them, feeling his heart freeze over for a second in fear of how that might have sounded to you. He feels relieved when all you do is whimper in response, core clenching around nothing, inviting Jungkook to come closer.

“Could barely focus at rehearsals…”

He wets his lips, leaning closer, his breath brushing your bare core as he hovers right above where you want him the most. You whine his name impatiently, desperate to feel his mouth on you.

“What was that, ____?” Jungkook hums, lifting his head to look up at you. You shudder, another round of goosebumps rising upon your skin when he leaves a gentle kiss right above your clit, the action teasing and torture all in one.

“Want your mouth.. please,” you whimper, fists gripping the sheets tightly.

Jungkook smiles, kissing your inner thighs softly before throwing your legs over his shoulders and tugging you closer by a tight grip on your hips. You yelp in surprise, a surprised gasp leaving you as Jungkook’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly.

“Oh- god!”

Your hands dig into his black, curly hair, your fingertips tightening around his dark strands as he licks and slurps up your arousal, coating his tongue with it and swallowing it. He moans against you, the sound sending vibrations through your whole body, causing you to arch your back and digging your heels into his back.

Jungkook knows exactly how to eat you out, how to pleasure you to make you cum within minutes – his tongue sucking and flicking your clit is one of the safest and most effective ways to make sure you reach your high every time. He’s spent months learning everything about your body; what to do to make you cum quickly, where to kiss you to cause a shiver to run down your spine, where to touch you in order to have you pleading for more. 

He knows it all and it’s to his advantage as he sucks harshly on your clit, earning a whimpering whiny moan from you as your back arches off the bed once again, your chest rising and falling in pants of air as your orgasm sneaks up on you. He watches from between your legs, his mouth still working on your pussy as you reach your high – your brows furrowed together as you bite into your bottom lip, the orgasm rippling through you and causing your hips to jerk against his mouth, thighs trembling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

The word leaves your lips repeatedly as you cum on his tongue, your juices seeping out of your pretty, perfect pussy; sweet and delicious on his taste buds.

“Oh my god… please fuck me, Kook-“

Jungkook swallows every drop of your orgasm, humming and moaning as he does so, the sound of your pleads for him to fuck you going straight to his hard cock. It’s straining against his jeans as he leaves a kiss right above your slit before moving up to hover over you. He smirks softly at you, tongue poking out to lick away the bit of your arousal that’s sitting at the corner of his mouth.

You let out a soft groan of arousal, hands reaching up to grab him by the nape of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Jungkook grunts against your mouth as your other hand reaches down to cup his bulge through his jeans, giving him a soft squeeze. Jungkook is breathing heavily against your lips, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. You whine at the lack of his lips on yours, giving his cock another squeeze. He grins mischievously at the desperate sounds you let out.

“You want my cock, baby?” He hums, slightly breathless because of your touch.

His pride grows as you instantly nod, a soft ‘please’ leaving your pretty lips as you lift your head to kiss him again. Jungkook welcomes your kiss, groaning against your lips. He reaches down to undo his jeans before covering your hand with his, guiding it inside his pants, silently urging you to touch him through his boxers instead. You obey, receiving a low ‘fuck’ from Jungkook as he moves his mouth to your neck again, kissing and nippling at your skin.

“Want me to fill this pretty, sensitive pussy of yours, hm?”

Jungkook growls the words in your ear as he finds your core again, fingertips teasing your wet and glistening folds. You whimper underneath him, goosebumps rising on your skin as he teases your clit with his thumb, the bundle of nerves sensitive from your orgasm just a few minutes ago.

“Yes.. want your cock so bad, Kook-”

Jungkook tuts, the lack of a certain word not going unnoticed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, please-“

His lips curl into a smile as you obey in an instant, needy and desperate for his cock, to be filled to the brim and spread wide open for him to devour as he pleases. 

Jungkook removes his fingers from your heat, sitting up on his knees between your legs to look down at you. As if magnets connect the two of you, you follow and sit up, hands supporting you behind you as you look up at him; beautiful, intriguing eyes that are heavy-lidded and dazed as you stare at him.

Jungkook’s hand reaches out to cup your chin, tilting your head up as his eyes roam your face and down the expanse of your body. His eyes zoom in on your glistening pussy, clenching and throbbing in need of his cock. He smiles to himself as his eyes move further up, noticing the way your nipples are hard underneath your flimsy pajamas top, evident underneath the thin fabric and making his cock twitch in his boxers.

God, he needs to be buried deep within you right this second or he’ll lose his mind.

“On your hands and knees, princess,” he demands, thumb running over your bottom lip before he retracts his hand from your face. His soft and gentle touch causes you to take a few seconds to register what he said, your brain not catching up until he speaks again. “Now.”

He watches in amusement as you realize what he said, face twisting in arousal as you do as told and get on all fours in front of him, your back facing him. Jungkook’s smile widens into a smirk as you place your feet on either side of his knees, positioning yourself perfectly for him. 

“Pretty girl,” he hums as he reaches for your ass, grabbing two good handfuls of your flesh before giving it a squeeze, spreading your cheeks apart to reveal your holes; one of them wet and glistening with arousal practically dripping from it, the other tight and small, still untouched by Jungkook after all these months.

“Kook…” you impatiently whine, arching your back and pushing your ass closer to him, glancing at him over your shoulder. He looks so good – unbelievably sexy with his dark black hair and lip ring, tattoos covering one of his arms and hands.

Jungkook is biting his bottom lip as he continues to play with your ass cheeks, unable to keep himself from collecting a pit of spit before letting it drop to your hole, a surprised gasp leaving you as he runs his thumb over it, spreading it out in a circling motion. You let out a shaky breath, a delicate whimper escaping you as you press your chest to the mattress, ass in the air as he continues to circle your tight hole with his thumb.

“Would you let me fuck this tight little ass one day?” He suddenly asks, voice low and deep as he moves his gaze to watch you. The way your brows knit together and lips part in pleasure as he keeps on circling his thumb around your hole has his cock turning painfully hard in his boxers. “Hm? Would you?”

“Fuck- god, yes..” you moan, breathless voice and uneven breathing as you revel in the feeling of his slow and attentive touch.

“Yeah? You’d let me fuck you however I want?”

You nod vigorously and whimper, “yes.. would let you do whatever you want, Kook.. ah-“

Jungkook swears under his breath, the thought of fucking your ass making his cock twitch uncontrollably in his boxers. Unable to hold back any longer, he reaches down to pull his cock out from the right confinements of his boxers, fisting his length in slow, prolonged strokes as he guides his tip closer to your folds.

He huffs out a proud chuckle as you jerk and yelp in surprise when he presses his tip between your folds, prodding at your entrance teasingly. You whine impatiently, hands tightly gripping the sheets as you push back in an attempt to make his cock slip inside of you.

“So fucking needy,” Jungkook rasps, his words a growl in his throat as he rubs his tip up and down between your folds before slipping inside of you, pushing deeper in the slowest thrust he can muster. You moan delicately as he groans in pleasure. Your walls engulf him, sucking him in deeper and fitting just perfectly around his cock. “Fuck, you were made for my cock, princess-“

You let out a relieved, fucked out moan as he bottoms out, back arching as his hands slide over your ass cheeks and down to you waist. His fingertips dig into your flesh as he watches himself pull out and slide right back inside, lips parted as he settles into a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Ohh.. fuck- your cock feels so good,” you moan, moving back against him meeting his thrusts halfway.

“Yeah?” Jungkook grits as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you back on his cock, fucking deeply into you with every thrust, his tip hitting your cervix over and over. “You love being filled and stretched out, hm?”

“Y-Yes..” Your words are laced with a breathless moan, breathing ragged and following every thrust of his hips. The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room every time your ass slams against his thighs. Your moans turn higher in octave as he picks up the pace of his hips. “Love it so much, Kook-”

Jungkook groans at your words, loving how your pussy just fits him, how easy it is for him to slip in and out again in smooth thrusts, his length rubbing against your walls over and over again. In need of your mouth on his, Jungkook slides his hands up the expanse of your back, pushing the fabric of your pajamas top up. He pulls it over your head, getting rid of it before closing his hands around your throat to pull you up. Your back stays arched, ass continuously slamming back against him as he tilts your head back by his grip on our throat. You whimper, becoming immensely wetter the moment Jungkook catches your lips with his own, his tongue melting with yours instantly. 

“You take my cock so fucking well..” Jungkook growls against your mouth, slipping one of his hands underneath your body to grip your breast, giving it a tight squeeze before pinching your already hardened nipple. A sudden feeling of possessiveness fills him as you moan his name, walls clenching around his length every time he buries himself in you. “My good girl-”

Jungkook is too caught up in the feeling of your pussy to even think twice about how his slightly possessive tone might have sounded in your ears. He can’t find it in him to care or worry about it as his thrusts turn slower yet harder, slamming into you over and over. He moans against your mouth, his hand on your breast sliding down to your clit to rub it in circles. 

“Wanna feel you cum around me, baby- can you do that for me?”

Another whimper escapes you as you weakly nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rubs your clit in a circular motion, the bundle of nerves sensitive as hell, chills filling your skin as another orgasm sneaks up on you fast. Jungkook feels it all, the way your walls start to clench and unclench around him, how your breathing turns heavier than it already was, your moans becoming whiny whimpers as you near your high.

“Cum all over my cock, ____,” Jungkook growls, his lips now brushing the shell of your ear. “Let me feel it- come on…”

“Fuck- ah, Jungkook!”

“That’s it, baby- shit..”

Jungkook lets out a groan as you finally cum around him, the sound reverberating into your ear and sending chills down your spine. He continues to fuck into your perfect pussy, hitting deeply over and over again as he slams into you through your orgasm. You whine in sensitivity as he lets go of your throat, pushing you into the mattress, hands back on your waist as he chases his own orgasm.

“Gonna cum so hard, baby- gonna fill your pretty little pussy until it overflows..” he grunts as he slams into you, his thighs slapping against your ass as you whimper underneath him. One of your hands reaches behind you to grab his forearm, nails digging into his skin as his thrusts turn brutal and definitely leaving bruises for you to deal with tomorrow. Jungkook grits and swears under his breath as his hips stutter, his high sneaking a hold of him and pulling him under, tingles of his orgasm running through him as he fucks into you with a few more hard slaps before stilling inside of you. “Fuck-”

“Oh my god-” You moan as he slams into you one last time before stilling, the swear word he lets out in a growling tone sending a shiver down your spine.

Spurts of his orgasm fills you, white and warm cum painting your walls as he empties himself deeply inside of you. He’s breathing heavily as he grinds into you, riding out your highs. One of his hands supports himself on the mattress next to your head, tattooed hand gripping the sheets tightly as he tries to control his uneven breathing. Silence surrounds you as you come down, your hearts beating wildly in your chests and bodies buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Jungkook isn’t sure what to say as he pulls out of you, hissing softly as his cock slowly turns soft the moment it’s freed from your tight walls. Your arousal and cum mixed with his own coats his silky shaft, glistening in the yellow hue of your bedside lamp. Jungkook leans down to leave a soft kiss on your shoulder, his free hand sliding up and down the side of your torso in a caressing stroke. There’s an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest as he lingers above you, leaving another soft kiss to your skin before removing himself from you entirely.

You stay lying on the bed as he makes his way to the ensuite bathroom you have. Out of routine and growing habit, he grabs a small hand-towel from your cabinet under the sink. He wets it with lukewarm water, his gaze on you through the mirror. You haven’t moved since he got off the bed and you’re definitely more quiet than usual. Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh as he cleans himself up before wringing the towel under the water once again and returning to you.

“Hey..” He softly calls to capture your attention, gently tapping the back of your thigh to urge you to turn around. For some reason, he’s holding his breath, not sure what to expect when you face him. Jungkook feels his heart sink into his stomach as he watches you roll onto your back, eyes briefly meeting his for a split second before they shift to the ceiling instead, obviously avoiding his gaze. Not entirely sure what to do or say, Jungkook cautiously places a hand on your thigh to gently spread your legs so he can clean you up after making a mess between your legs.

He watches you intently as he starts cleaning you up. You let out a shaky breath as he touches your sensitive core with the damp towel. He wants to say something but he’s not quite sure what you want to hear right now or what he wants to say himself. He knows something has changed between you lately, especially from Jungkook’s side but he knows it will only cause more trouble than anything else.

“You okay?” He decides to ask instead as he finishes cleaning up his mess, an urge to make sure nothing is wrong overwhelming him because it feels like something might be exactly that – wrong.

“We should talk.”

Your voice is soft as you speak up. He stays quiet as you close your thighs and pull your sheets up to cover yourself, the sight of your beautiful naked body disappearing from his vision. He sits down on the edge of the bed and stares at you for a moment, chewing his bottom lip as nerves fill him.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his voice careful and quiet.

You shrug, frowning faintly as your eyes focus on nothing in particular for a second before returning to meet his, “you…”

Jungkook feels his heart melt at your answer yet it keeps beating harshly in his chest.

“Us…” You trail off, still frowning. “What we are and what we could be.”

“Could be?”

Jungkook can’t help but repeat your last words, intrigued by them and also very scared of what you might mean by them.

You nod, “yeah, you know… if you weren’t who you are.”

His heart sinks for the second time tonight, laying at the very bottom of his stomach with cracks in it because you sound so fragile as you admit what’s on your mind, as you talk about what you and him could be if the circumstances were different – if he wasn’t Jungkook of BTS but just Jeon Jungkook from Busan.

“Do you think that maybe… we’re wasting each other’s time?” You ask him, voice so small and careful he fears it might crack in a second.

Your question catches him off guard. 

When he rode his bike here, he didn’t think you’d end up in the middle of a deep conversation like this but here you are, talking about what you could possibly be if he wasn’t who he is, talking about how you might be wasting each other’s time by seeing each other, by being exclusive and only fucking each other, by having an arrangement with no strings attached.

Jungkook doesn’t feel like he’s wasted his time by being with you; in fact, you’ve probably made life a tiny bit easier and more normal for Jungkook. Being a worldwide superstar can be overwhelming and frustrating from time to time but he knows a night with you will remove every single hardship he comes across.

“No,” he finally says, shaking his head. “I don’t think we’re wasting each other’s time.”

“No?”

Jungkook shakes his head again, offering you a half smile along with a hand, silently asking you to come closer. You take his hand without hesitation, the gesture causing Jungkook’s heart to skip a beat. His smile grows a bit as he tugs you closer, pulling you into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist. Warmth spreads in his chest as you cuddle into him, your own arms snaking around his torso.

“This… arrangement of ours has been one of the few good things in my life lately,” Jungkook admits, his hands roaming your naked back, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair as he brushes his lips over the skin of your shoulder.

You lift your head to look at him, frowning at his words. “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

The evident concern on your features has Jungkook smiling as he reaches up to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. He nods, “yeah, everything’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Jungkook…” You gently say his name, eyes shifting between his, “are you not happy?”

“I am,” he tells you, “it’s just… sometimes a life like mine can be kind of hectic.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

“It all gets better whenever I'm here though… with you.”

Jungkook watches your frown turn into a small and shy smile, the sight making his heart flutter. You’re so beautiful, he can’t stop looking at you, a constant urge to kiss you filling his body whenever he’s around you.

“You treat me like me, like Jungkook,” he admits, “and not like Jungkook of BTS.”

You shrug, smiling as your eyes shift from his eyes to his lips and back again. “Well, you are just Jungkook to me. You’re human like the rest of us, aren’t you?”

He smiles and nods, “yeah.”

“There’s no reason for me to kiss your butt and boost your ego,” you giggle softly, the sound sending butterflies flying in Jungkook’s entire body. He cocks an eyebrow at your words, smirking softly.

“And why’s that?”

You lean in closer, lips ghosting his. Jungkook’s arms tighten around your waist as you press your chest flush against his.

“Because I already have you right where I want you.”

[awfcspencer]

Where Do We Go Now? || alexia putellas x reader

alexia putellas x reader

Part 1

prompt: Friends with benefits situation ended in flames. Will they make their way back to each other?

warnings: angst, smut, begging, oral, fingering, top!Alexia with bottom!reader

It was roughly a quarter after midnight and you were up thinking about Alexia. I mean, who else would you be up late at night thinking about? She invaded all of your thoughts. She had left such an impact on your life in the short time you knew the girl. It almost scared you how much you had fallen for the girl when you didn’t even realize it. Now wanting so desperately to go back and confess your love, but surely she didn’t love you back. Right?

Staring at the ceiling as if something might change. You can hear the wind howling outside through your open window. As it seemed sleep was not in your foreseeable future, your thumb hovered over the green call button. But you couldn’t get yourself to click it. She had found someone else. Someone who wasn’t you.

Nothing happened in the way you wanted. It was as if you wished you could take everything back. Go back and not leave the bar the night when you first met Alexia. It was all a bad idea to begin with.

Everything became blurred so quickly. One minute Alexia was guiding your body towards a release, and the next you were in your bed, alone. Alone and craving her.

It was more than sex though, you missed her soft but dominant nature, her voice, her witty personality, everything about her was lovable. But isn’t that what got you in this situation in the first place? Love.

The worst of all of it, other than the obvious, was that no one knew what you and Alexia had. No idea of why it hurt so much and what you lost. So when you threw yourself straight into your work and ignored your friends on any occasion they invited you out, you were even more alone.

Alone with nothing to do but reminisce. You had lost Alexia, right when you had realized you loved the midfielder. But did you even have Alexia to lose her to begin with? It was all a jumbled mess. Alexia was probably off with her new girl. But you can’t even seem to get over the girl who you hadn’t even dated.

For Alexia, the coffee shop barista was nice and charming, but she wasn’t you. She longed for the nights you spent in her tight grasp and the random conversations that you two dove into post-sex. She especially missed your body and the euphoric noises that left your mouth. She needed you emotionally and physically.

She wanted to call you but for some reason the way you abruptly left her home that night she told you that she was talking to someone confused her, to say the least. It was almost as if maybe you wanted to say something more, something to her.

But you left so quickly that she couldn’t even get a word out. She wanted to ask you how you felt about it, and if for some possible reason, maybe you didn’t want her talking to someone else. Maybe, just maybe, confessing feelings for the Spaniard. But surely you wouldn’t, it was just a friends-with-benefits situation for you. You hadn’t fallen for Alexia like she fell for you. Right?

_______

After much convincing, you were headed out to the bar with your friends. The dreaded bar in which you had met Alexia in, the bar you thought you would never step in again. Desperately praying and hoping she wouldn’t be there. The last thing you needed was to see Alexia when you still were not clearly over her. Simply just wanting to dance the night away.

Alexia tried sleeping with other people. But nobody felt like you, nobody touched her like you did. She tried to forget about the ache in her heart when she thought of you. She remembers the night she met you at the bar. She needed a night out, but more than that, she needed you. She would return to the bar tonight hoping you might be there.

The bar was loud, people fluttering in in large groups, looking for some fun. You were looking for a release. Maybe you would try to take someone home, someone to forget about someone else. The drinks were flowing, a wave of confidence and warmth entered your body. Friends pulled you over to the dance floor.

Alexia entered the bar with one mission on her mind, try and find you. It was a reckless attempt, what were the odds you would actually be here tonight, but Alexia had to try. It was her last chance.

Maybe it was fate? Maybe it was luck? But out of the corner of her eye, she saw you. Swinging your hips along to the beat of the music, talking to a woman who wasn’t her. The woman had her hands on your lower back as you grinded back into her. The realization hit Alexia like a million bricks. Yes, you were at the bar, but she hadn’t come soon enough, you had found someone else.

Overwhelming emotions hit Alexia, she was too late. She can feel the tears brimming in her eyes as she walked to the bathroom. She didn’t want you to see her. She would freshen up and leave. Leave you to be with a woman who wasn’t her, it broke her heart.

Dancing to the beat of the music, you found yourself gravitating towards a stunning brunette who was locking eyes with you. She swung your body around, pushing you into her chest. The music was just right, the alcohol streaming through your body was just right, everything was just right. Except one thing. The one thing you couldn’t seem to let go of. She was not the brunette you wanted. She was not Alexia.

You can feel yourself getting worked up. The emotions you kept trying to put on the back burner coming out front and center. You quickly pull away from the girl and make your way to the bathroom to collect yourself. Pushing the door open you run into a figure.

”Oh I am so sorry!” you immediately tell the girl.

Looking up to see just who you ran into, you are met with her eyes.

“Alexia” you chocked out. You feel as if the wind was knocked out of you, unable to breathe properly.

You could tell she had been crying. Your heart broke.

She can tell you were crying. Her heart ached.

“Are you okay?” is all she asked. She took her thumb and stopped the tear from falling farther down your cheek.

The bathroom was silent. There was no set in stone rules for when you run into someone of Alexia’s nature, yet alone in the same bar where you had met her. So many questions ran through your mind but never left your lips.

“Why are you here?” finally leaving your lips. Alexia was supposed to be talking to someone. She chose her and not you. So the reason she cornered you in the bar bathroom confused you immensely.

“I want you.” Alexia’s hand lingered on your face, thumb now brushing back and forth on your right cheek. You wanted to shout out that you wanted her to, but Alexia chose her path.

“I thought you were talking to someone.” Taken aback by her words, a mixture of anger and confusion.

“It’s over. She’s not you. What about the girl you were dancing with” She asked you.

"She's not you."

You're not really sure who leaned in first but suddenly your lips were on hers. She gently pushes you back towards the sink as her tongue enters your mouth. She easily lifts you up slightly so your ass is on the sink. She’s attacking your lips as she is standing between your legs. You’ve missed her, bad. Your hands have found home in her hair, treading your fingers through her scalp earning small soft moans from Alexia.

You moan into her mouth as she pushes her hips into your core. Whispering between breathes, “Lock the door Alexia.”

She swiftly turns and bolts the door shut, returning her lips to yours in no time.

Still in the searing kiss, her large hands have found your chest and pulled on your top hinting for you to remove it. You remove your top and bra all together, eager for Alexia to touch you, eager to make up for lost time.

Her tongue swirls around each of your nipples, it was euphoric. She then licks a long hot line down the valley of your chest, kneading your breasts with each of her hands until each of your nipples are perked and red. She treads her thumbs over the now raw skin.

Her long fingers hover over your pants on your hips, keeping you stationed in place. She makes quick work and discards your pants all in one quick swift. Grinning into another kiss as she notices the small circle of wetness on your underwear. She knew what she was doing to you. She knew you missed her just as much as she missed you.

Rubbing soft circles on your clit through your underwear as she went back and forth kissing your thighs. It was just not enough, you needed more, you needed her inside you now. Your hips bucked upwards to find some sort of friction, some sort of pleasure but Alexia forced your hips back in place. Your head was spinning, endorphins running through your brain.

“Ale please.”

She removes your underwear slowly and spreads you wide on the sink with her hands on your thighs. You were on full display for her. Your cunt pulsed waiting as Alexia took her time, taking a mental image of you. Desperate and needy but all for her.

On her knees, she is immediately attacking your clit, circling your sensitive bud with her pointer finger. Running her long tongue up and down your slit before she is inside you, pushing her tongue back and forth. The moans leaving your mouth spurred her on. She had missed your pussy, her pussy. You tasted amazing to her. All you could do was simply just throw your head back in pleasure.

With her tongue working your body up, she places her two middle fingers in your warm mouth. Wetting them with a string of spit that leaves your mouth when she pulls them out and into your needy cunt.

“God” you begin to yell out as Alexia pulls you in for another kiss. She picks up her pace and pounds her fingers into you, using a forward upward motion to hit every inch of you. She uses her other hand to hold down your left hip as you buck unwillingly.

Whether it was how needy you had been the past few days or the way Alexia was working your body, you were dangerously close. Alexia knew your body like the back of her hand, knowing which part of your neck was sensitive or how you liked clit stimulation while she fingered you senseless.

“Ale I’m going to cum.” you breathed out. Your legs ached in the wide position they were currently in and your core muscles were pulsating waiting for Alexia’s permission to orgasm. Your hands now were stationed above your head on the cold bathroom wall behind you with Alexia's strong grip on your wrists.

She could feel you tightening on her fingers, she knew you were teetering on the line of release. She quickens her pace and uses her thumb rubbing side to side on your clit for additional pleasure.

The words “Let go baby.” left Alexia’s mouth as your body huddles over in pleasure. Alexia holds you tight as your legs spasm and your body shudders as you orgasm.

She slows her pace on her fingers inside you as she pulls you in for another kiss, but this one is soft. It was slow as your lips rhythmically moved together. It was the warm lips you had missed on those lonely nights. Pulling on her wrist that was connected to the fingers inside you, you lick her fingers clean with dead eye contact with Alexia. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated as she watched you.

Another wave of silence feel over the bathroom, collecting your clothes and putting them back on. Almost like it was routine.

Breaking the silence, Alexia said “Come home with me.” You knew what it meant and so did she.

You knew there was a conversation to be had. But right now it could wait. You interlaced your hands with Alexia’s as you bid your friends goodbye and went home with Alexia.

[its-time-to-write]

hello! First thing first, I want to say how much of a good writer you are, I hope you know this 💕 second I have this idea of reader and Jamie dating, but nobody knows. One day reader is in the coaches room and starts yawning and Roy is like what's that 🤨 (something similar to that scene with beard after he gets back with jane) and reader answers with "you have been waking me up everyday at 4 am" or smt like that and this is how everyone finds out. I know you have already written something like this but I thought it was cute, so feel free to ignore

this was cute. you were right.

coffee at midnight

Neither you nor Jamie exactly decided to keep your relationship a secret.

“It’s not a secret, it’s private, babe,” Jamie insists. You just roll your eyes.

But like, it is private.

That means no instagram posts, no public dates, and no unasked opinions. It also means that Jamie gets a Polaroid camera (“so we don’t get hacked, babe,”), plans dates in his giant house, and keeps fans’ noses out of your relationship.

It also, also means that Roy Kent doesn’t know you��re in Jamie’s bed every morning when he knocks on the door loud enough to wake the dead.

You’re a week into these shenanigans, and you’re not sure how much longer you can handle it. You’ve barely been at Nelson Road for an hour, but you’ve yawned more than you’ve spoken. Jamie’s been sending you apologetic looks every time he passes you in the hall, but now the entire team is in the weight room as you bring the coaches their coffee.

You place Roy’s in front of him and he asks, “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

You glare. “Nothing. That’s rude to ask, anyway. I’m-” you pause to yawn- “fine.”

Ted looks between you and Roy. “Normally I’d side with the lady on this one, but you look dead on your feet. You been sleepin’ okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shortly. “I’ve been sleeping fine. I just don’t get a lot of it these days.”

“That sounds decidedly un-sexy,” Trent calls from his desk.

You snarl, “It isn’t,” then realize that Trent is undeserving of your anger. “I’m sorry. I’ve been getting like five hours of sleep every night this whole week. Me and my boyfriend just moved in together and we both talk like way too much. So we usually don’t fall asleep until late.”

The room fills with whistles and hoots from Ted, Beard, and Trent. Roy is stoic as always.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Ted grins. “What’s his name?”

You hesitate. You’re pretty sure Jamie would be okay if you told Ted, but you’re not sure you really want to. You let the silence stretch on for a beat too long, and Trent’s on you like a vulture.

“It’s someone here, isn’t it?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, but it’s not convincing. It’s hard for you to lie when you’re this tired.

Jamie and Sam choose this exact moment to come into the locker room to grab water bottles. Jamie glances at you and you make the mistake of glancing back. It’s just for a second but Trent catches it with his stupid eagle-eyes.

“Oh shit,” he says.

You round on him. Maybe he does deserve your anger. “Don’t say anything,” you warn.

He zips his lips as Roy says, “Why are you being so fucking weird? We know you’re fucking lying. Just say which of these little pricks you’re dating and get some sleep like a fucking normal adult.”

“I’d be able to get regular sleep, except you’ve been waking me up at fucking 4am!” you explode.

The room goes silent. 

“Fuuuck,” Roy whispers. “Fucking Tartt? You’re dating- fuck, you moved in with fucking Tartt?”

“Yes,” you groan, “We’ve been together for six months and it’s probably the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in, and I know how it sounds but we really like each other. Higgins already knows because of HR shit but other than that, it’s been private.”

Ted and Beard have matching open-mouthed smiles. It would be a little scary if you hadn’t known them for as long as you have.

“That’s the most adorable shit I’ve ever heard in my whole life,” Beard says.

“Hold on,” Trent interjects, “does this mean you and Jamie have been staying up late every night talking?”

“Yes,” you reply primly. “And then this prick bangs on our door at fuck-thirty in the morning and I’m awake for the rest of the day.”

Roy says, “Right,” very slowly. “Is that fucking why he wasn’t wearing fucking trousers?”

All eyes turn to you.

“I’m not answering that,” you say. “In fact, I think I hear Higgins calling me. I have to leave right now.” You back out of the room and down the hall before anyone can say anything else.

The coaches’ office is silent for a moment before they all clamor out of their seats to chase you down the hall. They have so many questions but first, they’re going to yell at Higgins for keeping it a secret.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Yell at Me and Tell Me You Love Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You distance yourself from Tim because you think he is still in love with Isabel. When he confronts you about why you've been avoiding him, you accidentally tell him the truth.

Warnings: angst to fluff, argument, friends to lovers, the timeline of Tim and Isabel's relationship is probably off but I needed to make everything fit

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: The first title I typed was "Yell at Me, Tell Me You Love Me, But Don't Push Me Away" and I'd just like to say (a very sarcastic) you're welcome for shortening it. (Unless you like the original, then I'm sorry.)

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You met Tim Bradford less than a week after he left the Army and quickly became one of his closest friends. Despite the secret kisses shared without thought, holding each other tightly for no reason, and falling asleep in each other’s arms, you continue to be just friends with Tim Bradford. Being part of his life for so long means you’ve seen more than most. You were at Tim and Isabel’s wedding, gave him a place to stay after the divorce, and you fell in love with him without even trying.

Since his divorce from Isabel, you’ve shared a few more thoughtless kisses, said “I love you” before ending phone calls, and slept in the same bed simply for comfort on more than one occasion. You know you need to stop, however, because Tim is still attached to Isabel, as far as you can tell. She calls occasionally, and he rushes to answer the phone, leaving you like an afterthought as the woman he truly loves becomes available again. You’re unwilling to be a rebound or a distraction while Tim works on his relationship with Isabel, but you can’t decide how to set a boundary you don’t want.

It's nearly midnight, and you can’t sleep with thoughts of Tim running through your head. As you consider the idea of simply giving him space, letting him know that you both have things you need to deal with before you can be his friend again, your phone rings. Tim’s name and face light up your dark room and life before you answer.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hi. I- did I wake you up?” Tim asks.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. Are you okay?”

When Tim asks that question, you realize that the only thing you want from or for Tim is for him to be happy. Alone, in the dark, you acknowledge that the only way for him to be happy is if you are willing to move out of the way of what he really wants. If you step away and give him room to work out his feelings toward Isabel, maybe he can find what he wants and focus entirely on that.

Tim says your name, and you rush to say, “Yeah, I’m fine, just- just thinking.”

“You want me to come over?” he offers.

“No,” you answer quickly – too quickly. “It’s late, and I’m really fine. Are you?”

Tim sighs before answering, “I guess. Isabel called today to tell me she’s going back to rehab. She wants me to come by once a week, act as part of her support plan.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I enabled Isabel for so many years that I don’t know.”

“You’ll do the right thing, Tim. You always do.”

A memory of last week, when Tim kissed you during a walk on the beach, flashes through your mind. Was that the right thing?

“Or you have too much faith in me,” he argues.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith in you.”

“It’s your turn to pick dinner on Friday.”

You see an opening to pull back and tighten your grip on your phone as you ask, “Actually, can we skip this week? I’m swamped and don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’d hate to leave you waiting.”

Tim hesitates before agreeing, “Sure. Just let me know when you’re free. We can do whatever you want.”

“I will,” you reply softly. “I’m getting tired now, though, so goodnight, Tim. And good luck with Isabel and your decision.”

“Yeah, thanks. Goodnight.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying I love you one last time, and as you set your phone down, actively pulling away from your best friend, you want to call him back and ask if you ever had a chance. Instead, you press your face into your pillow and force yourself to think about other things as you fall asleep.

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit in bed and stare at your phone as your finger hovers over the star beside Tim’s contact. When you remove him from your favorites list, everything will begin to feel real. Just as you lower your finger, your phone buzzes with a text from Tim. Three simple words make your heart pound as you read them.

Call me, please.

You want more information before you decide to call him or not. Distancing yourself will be hard enough without Tim vying for your attention the entire time you pull away. Clicking the star so it disappears, you make the first step in separating your life from Tim Bradford’s.

“Please be the right choice,” you whisper, staring at his contact photo. “I just want you to be happy. Happier than I could make you.”

An hour later, your phone rings, and you send Tim to voicemail. If it is an emergency, he’ll leave a voicemail. With each unanswered call and text, the time between them lengthens. Maybe Tim has already realized you weren’t as important to him as you both seemed to think.

By the end of the first day not talking to Tim, you want to scream and cry simultaneously. It’s hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose the one person you love. Reminding yourself constantly that you’re doing it for Tim and his happiness, you don’t give yourself time to think about how much your decision and the distance are hurting you. You knew Tim would hurt for a while before finding his way back to Isabel, but you weren’t expecting to feel like a piece of your heart had been ripped out. That’s what you get for giving it to Tim without telling him, you suppose.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, someone knocks on your door as the sun rises over Los Angeles. You roll out of bed and pull a sweatshirt over your head before looking through the peephole. Tim stands on the other side of the door and speaks before you can think about pretending to be gone.

“I know you’re here,” Tim calls. “I don’t have a lot of time, just wanted to check on you before work.”

After you open the door, you look out at him and give him a closed-lip smile. He looks at you like he can see straight through you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could.

“We made a huge arrest last night and a couple of us are going out tonight to celebrate,” he says instead. “Do you want to come out with us?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and-“

“Like what?”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means.

“What’s got you so busy that you can’t even text me back?”

“I- I don’t want to talk about it right now, Tim,” you say, opting to deflect rather than lie. “But congratulations on the arrest and have fun tonight.”

Tim’s jaw tightens as he nods. You watch as he walks away, wishing you could run after him. As you close your door, you decide that slowly pulling back will not work; if you want to give Tim room to find his way back to Isabel, you must leave him.

Pushing your fist against the closed door, you take a deep breath before walking through your place and gathering everything that reminds you of Tim. After placing it in a box, you shove it into your closet. Next, you turn off the notifications in your phone, so you won’t be tempted to answer when he calls or texts. The hurt of losing Tim worsens with each action as you pull yourself further away from him.

“Please be happy,” you beg as you close the door on your box of memories.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re grumpier than usual,” Nolan notices. “I mean- sorry,” he adds quickly.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. “A word?”

“No,” Tim replies.

“Bradford, now.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he stands and walks to her desk. She gestures for him to sit, and while he should feel like a kid in the principal’s office, he feels more like a man being told his wife is divorcing him and having to maintain a brave face even as his heart shatters in his chest.

“What do you want, Lopez?” he asks. “No small talk.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying with you, Timothy. I want to know what’s up with you and why you’re taking it out on everyone here.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re making it our business by pushing your frustration, or whatever it is you’re dealing with, off onto us. Is it Isabel? I heard she’s back in rehab.”

“No,” Tim answers, scoffing as he leans back. “It’s not Isabel.”

“Is there any chance that part of you still cares about her, and even if you’re lying to me and yourself about it, Isabel still affects you?” Angela asks.

“No, Lopez. I can guarantee that this has nothing to do with Isabel. She asked me to visit her as part of her support plan and I told her I would think about it, but the ‘source of my frustration’ hasn’t even let me do that.”

“Timothy, just tell me what’s bothering you and maybe I can help,” she offers quietly.

Tim stands as he replies, “You can’t. The only one who can help me with this is avoiding me.”

Angela’s brows furrow as she wonders who he could be referring to. Tim is adamant this isn’t about Isabel, but Angela can’t think of anyone else with this level of pull over him.

“Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk, Tim.”

“Will do,” he answers, though he and Angela know it’s a lie.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Isabel!” Tim calls, jogging to catch up to her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, hugging him quickly. “I thought you were going to call my sponsor with your decision.”

“I was, and I did. But I also wanted to let you know, in person, that I can’t be part of your support plan. At least, not right now, not after everything I did over the last few years.”

Isabel nods as she guesses, “You feel partially responsible and don’t want to risk letting me fall back into my old ways. I get it, Tim, but thanks for considering it.”

Tim nods, and Isabel can tell something is bothering him.

“You want to stay? Talk for a bit?” she asks.

“I can’t. I’ve got a work thing,” he replies. “Thank you, though, and good luck with everything. I’ll be back by when I have some time.”

“Tim,” Isabel interjects, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I recognize that look. I only saw it once, and it didn’t turn out well for me. Whatever it is you want to say to whoever it is, just say it.”

“I don’t know how,” Tim admits.

“My take: if she’s important enough to affect you like this, you’ll find a way to let her know what you’re feeling.”

“What if she doesn’t care, Isabel?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tim, but I can tell you that waiting too long doesn’t make things any easier… I have to go, I’ve got a group meeting, but, Tim, what’s worth the risk: saying something or keeping it quiet until it’s too late?”

Tim nods before he waves as Isabel turns toward another building. Tim texts Nolan that won't be at the celebratory gathering while he walks to his truck. He knows where he needs to go but doesn’t know how to deal with everything once he gets there. Hopefully, seeing you will give him the right words to say.

✯✯✯✯✯

You broke your heart trying to let Tim be happy and keep yourself from getting hurt in the fallout of losing him. Your house seems bare, every picture and memory of Tim tucked away in a failed attempt to keep your mind off him. A knock draws you out of your miserable reverie. Whoever it is knocks again when you leave it unanswered, the sound harsher and louder than the first time. 

“Coming!” you call.

You open the door without thinking and are surprised to see Tim standing on the other side.

“Can I come in?” he asks in response to your stunned silence.

Say no, your mind says, but your heart makes you step back and invite him inside again. Pushing him away the second time will be much worse, but you can’t seem to stay away from Tim.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tim says.

He leans against your kitchen counter with his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation you don’t want to give. The whole point of making room for him and Isabel to reconcile (like he wants) was for Tim to figure it out himself.

“Ready for what?” you ask defensively.

Tim shakes his head and scoffs as he tightens his arms over his chest. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? After everything we’ve been through together, you really expect to avoid me without an explanation or question?”

“Everything we’ve been through?” you repeat incredulously. “We’re friends, Tim. Friends stop hanging out when one of them gets busy.”

“Oh, now we’re friends? Were we friends when you crawled into my bed three weeks ago, or when we were making out on the beach? Because that didn’t feel very friendly,” he snaps.

“No, we weren’t friends; I was just a woman who made a mistake,” you reply.

“Am I your friend or am I a mistake?” Tim demands. “Because you can’t seem to keep your story straight. It’s a simple question: why are you avoiding me?”

“If I’m such a bad friend, why does it matter, Tim?”

Tim pushes off the counter, stepping toward you. His jaw clenches, and his biceps flex as he raises his arms in question. You would kiss him any other time, but right now, you’re angry that he can’t just trust you are busy. Granted, it is a lie, but you don’t appreciate the accusation, which is likely your emotions talking.

“I’m not answering your question unless you answer mine,” he says.

“Then I guess we’re not going anywhere.”

Tim looks up at the ceiling before asking, “Why?”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you all night. If you think I’m a liar, just say it, Tim!”

“Well, you are the one keeping secrets.”

“So, what, you think I’m avoiding you? Then get out and let me!” you demand.

“And go where? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not surrounded by friends, and I thought you were one of the few I had, but I can see now that I made a mistake.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry that your precious, perfect little world decided to turn you into this,” Tim seethes, looking into your eyes as he steps toward the door.

You move with him, chest to chest, as you yell, “And I’m sorry that you couldn’t figure out I love you enough to let you go back to Isabel!”

Tim falls silent, and your chest heaves with anger. You realize what you admitted, drop your gaze to Tim’s chest, and lick your lips before lowering your voice to speak again.

“Maybe I was stupid for chasing after you when I knew you weren’t interested, that your heart would always be with someone else. I thought that someday you’d realize that everything I’ve done over the last few years has been for you; I’ve been chasing you just to find out that I never had a chance.”

“I don’t want to go back to Isabel,” Tim says after a moment of tense silence. “I went to see her today to tell her that I couldn’t be there for her anymore. If I’ve been acting different, chasing after someone, it’s because I’m falling for you.”

“You don’t fall,” you argue quietly.

“You deserve better,” Tim adds. “I don’t remember what it’s like to share my life with someone who cares about me and wants the same thing.”

You nod and try to step back, but Tim moves with you. The couch is right behind you, and you have nowhere to go, so you look into Tim’s eyes.

“I am not in love with Isabel,” Tim repeats. “You really started avoiding me because you thought I was?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked instead of forcing me to start a yelling match for answers,” Tim replies, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

“I want you to be happy, Tim,” you explain. “And I thought that couldn’t happen if I was in the way.”

“You’re not in the way. You’re exactly where I want you.”

“Where is that?” you ask, leaning toward Tim.

“Right in the middle of my life.”

You raise your arms over Tim’s shoulders, smiling as his hands meet your waist. Tim pushes you against the back of the couch as he kisses you. He moves a hand up to cradle your head as you move with him. This kiss differs from the others; there is a need for more, an apology, and love coursing through you and Tim. Tim pulls back, and you pant for air as he places his hands on either side of your hips and leans forward.

“Just talk to me next time, would you?” he requests.

“And miss out on this? No way,” you argue.

“Don’t seem so excited about getting to yell at me for so long.”

 “You’ve never kissed me like that before,” you say before you distract Tim by moving your hands to his chest.

“You’ve never told me you love me before today.”

“Sorry I had to avoid you for a while to confess it.��

“Maybe we can do it again soon, without the insults before.”

“I don’t know,” you muse. “Insults and yelling are kind of your thing.”

Tim cuts you off, kissing you again and tipping you over the back of the couch. You laugh as he catches himself and hovers over you.

“I love you too, even though you were too blind to see I felt the same,” Tim whispers.

[sweetestdesire]

LATE NIGHT BLUES

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which coming home to Fem!Reader makes up for Jack Hughes time away.

It was late when Jack found himself in the doorway of his girlfriend’s apartment. It was probably too late for her to be awake, he could tell by the way the room was in darkness and the blanket that she was normally surrounded in was haphazardly abandoned on the couch he was sure she’d been waiting for him on all night.

The game had ran a little later than normal after going into overtime, giving him no time to reply to her texts. It had already been around midnight by the time he'd made his way home and he thought it would be more beneficial to kiss Y/N awake rather than call.

Now, Jack found himself here at her apartment. He squatted at the edge of her bed with one of his softer, handsome smiles on his face, still clad in his game day suit because he was too focused on seeing her. Y/N’s cheek was pressed cutely against the fabric of her pillow and he thought it was adorable the way she still instinctively leaned into his touch when he let his finger brush along the opposite side.

Walking to the dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants he always kept at her apartment, he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of Y/N. She looked so peaceful, so quiet and calm while lying on her back. Once he pulled on his sweatpants, he slipped down to rest a hand on his girlfriend's cheek, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Her breathing was slow and soft, her chest rising with every breath, and Jack couldn't stop staring. Had Y/N been awake, she would've snapped at him for staring and told him to quit it, but thankfully for him, she was a heavy sleeper.

Jack’s fingers danced against her jaw, fingertips grazing her skin, admiring every little detail he could see in the poorly lit room. His thumb brushed across Y/N's bottom lip, pausing there for only a moment before kissing her right below her lips. Something was so enticing about Y/N like this. Maybe it was the vulnerability or just how peaceful she looked, Jack wasn't quite sure. What he was sure of was how beautiful she was and part of him was tempted to wake her.

Part of him wanted to let her sleep, but when Jack pushed himself back to full height he couldn’t miss the sweet little pout that seemed to settle naturally on her lips when his touch left her, eyebrows dropping to frown like she already miss the presence, like she missed him. So maybe that's why the mattress was suddenly dipping underneath his weight with his next careful movement as he let himself curl over her, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead as he hugged her closer with a sigh until she was shifting slightly to curl into him as she woke up.

"You dreaming of me, pretty girl?" Jack teased despite the way his tone remained softer than usual, her features were still heavy with sleep but he thought it was adorable the way her eyes were already on him as she blinked slowly, making a crooked grin stretch on his lips as he breathed out a chuckle.

Y/N pressed the heel of her palms to her eyes as she rubbed away the lingering traces of drowsiness, but she still squinted up at him as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting — the peaks of his hair only slightly illuminated by the moonlight outside. "Jack? What’re you doing here? It’s late." Although her hands still rested around him, taking their natural place despite the way he just woken her from her sleep.

The silence hung in the room for a few moments as Jack looked over her with a fondness that she’d always found in eyes that were always on hers. Y/N’s gaze was still clouded, but it was on him too, and he felt something burst and warm along the back of his neck before he was breaking the sudden tenderness with a drawn out, exaggerated whine as he pinched at her cheek.

“Awe, c'mon. I thought my sweet girl would miss me more than that." Jack goaded, and she grumbled before she was playfully slapping him away with a yawn.

"I was asleep." Y/N began, and she heard him hum like he wasn’t quite convinced despite the way he knew he literally just woke her up, but he urged her to continue as they both took a careful breath. "But I did miss you." She sighed, and the honesty of her words seemed to catch him off guard when he blinked at her before he was kissing her once on the cheek with an exaggerated kissing sound then kissing her again on the lips with a smile.

"Oh, yeah? How much?" Jack hummed again before he was continuing his onslaught of kisses after a few moments, deliberately pressing them along the ticklish spots along her jaw and neck before he pinched at her sides, just enough to kick start a laughing fit as she flailed beneath him.

"Jack, stop.” Y/N laughed and he thought she sounded pretty like this as she tried to push him away, feeling the peaks of his hair trace along her skin as he only pushed himself closer.

"Nuh-uh, not until you admit it. Your handsome boyfriend is back and I don't see a single tear on your gorgeous face." The warmth that surrounded them both felt nice as she laughed and the moonbeams seem to served as her spotlight as Jack pressed her into the mattress beneath her, pushing himself closer until he was caging her between him and the mattress.

"You were gone a day, you weirdo.”

"And I barely survived without my sweet girl, you should coddle me more." Y/N giggled at the unfiltered amusement in his tone before she was grabbing at his hands that were still squeezing at her sides.

"I really missed you, Jack.” Y/N finally breathed after a few moments of rest and he thought it felt nice to love and let himself be loved like this.

Jack’s cheeky smile was in place when he leaned forward to kiss her firmly on the lips before he was suddenly rolling over to lie on his side, keeping her hands intertwined with his as he urged her to curl into his chest so he could press another kiss to her temple after.

"Oh? See, was that so hard?”

"I can always take it back, y'know."

Y/N felt him tangle his fingers loosely with hers before he was pulling back to send her a pink cheeked pout. Jack let her breathe as they both grinned cheekily and he found himself taking a breath before he held it, because he realized that love looked just like this, just like her.

Instinctively, Y/N curled up next to Jack, feeling his arm immediately find its place around her, pulling her in to smear a lazy kiss against her forehead.

"You sleepy?" Her voice was light, a little dreamy and it made his eyelashes flutter with his next slow blink, nodding into his pillow as his hand stayed wrapped tightly around hers to keep her in place around him. "How was the game?" Y/N asked, squeezing her arms around her boyfriend’s waist and he shuddered before he was nuzzling himself even closer to her.

"It was good. We won tonight, and I got an assist. Just wanna relax now." His words were muffled from where his cheek was pressed against the pillow, but she still heard him mumble something affirming under his breath when her hand traced underneath the hem of his shirt, letting her fingernails smooth along the plains of his toned abdomen as he whimpered.

"Hey, keep doing that. Just for a while, feels too good." Jack whined, giving her a softer sort of look that made her heart bloom in her chest, because he looked a lot like he was in love.

Y/N did, she pushed herself closer until her lips were pressed against the dip of Jack’s shoulder, bathing him in featherlight touches along his chest and stomach until his breathing turned a little softer. Her hands traced to his sides and he twitched slightly at the ticklish touch before he was groaning and sending her a drowsy, lidded look and a pout from over his shoulder.

“That’s mean.” Jack murmured, but she watched him inch closer to her before nuzzling into her neck, placing a few soft kisses against the skin between sleepy grumbles and obnoxiously loud kiss noises, while the low hum of his voice rumbled in his chest.

"You’re ticklish?" Y/N giggled as she pressed her lips into her boyfriend’s neck from behind and he pressed back into her again before he turned to send her another look, one that she recognized as a wordless little request for a kiss despite the way his messy hair rested along his features.

"No, I’m not." Jack huffed against her lips when she leaned in, but he almost whined when she pulled away a few moments later, his hand around her own squeezing slightly like he was trying to bring her back into him. "Why’d you stop? No fair." He sighed, followed by another pout and she couldn’t help but smile at how needy he seemed to get when he was sleepy before she was giving him another.

"Okay, baby.” Y/N smiled into the next kiss, but the tender moment only lasted a second longer before she was deliberately swiping her fingers along his sides again, laughing when it made him jolt slightly followed by a long, drawn out huff.

"Fuck, Y/N. You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?” She felt Jack pull her hand away from him before his huge figure was turning to face her, sleepy features pulled into the cutest frown before his arms were looping around her waist and he was pulling her close so he could nuzzle into the crook of her neck instead.

"You’re so mean.” Y/N replied and she heard him grumble something into her skin when she pinched at his before it was followed by a featherlight press of his lips against her lips, like he was doing damage control despite the way her words were a joke. But he was sleepy and she was warm so he was just trying to make her feel better.

“Yeah? And here you are, still so in love with me.” Jack drawled, his usual teasing tone returning to his words and she rebutted with a laugh.

“Of course I am.” Y/N sighed, and the weight of her words seemed to catch Jack off guard when pink dusted his cheeks, blinking at her and puffing out his chest because he was a lot more than just in love.

“Keep saying things like that and I’ll just have to marry you.” Jack grinned, letting his hands settle into the dip of her waist before he was kissing her again on the lips and she smiled into it. The way he kissed her was enthusiastic, rushed in a way that is was uniquely him as she felt him grin into her lips.

Even when Y/N pulled away momentarily, Jack was already seeking out more as he tried to drag her back into him, pouting and chuckling as he tilted his head and gave her an exaggerated, sad look before pulling her in for yet another kiss.

It was only when they both breathing deep that Jack pulled back to smirk down at her, his hair mused from her hands and he decided to busy himself with a few peppered kisses over her features, quick presses of his lips along her cheeks until she was giggling and pushing him away as they turn ticklish.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Jack drawled, fatigue evident in his tone. His words were soft, and the sound had her nuzzling into him, feeling his delicate fingers trace comforting shapes along her skin as the corners of his lips upturn slightly from where they were resting against her temple.

“Tired, Jack.” Y/N replied and his lips upturn softly, his other arm coming around to gently grab her thigh. His cheek was smooshed against her skin, sighing sleepily above her while his words were muffled against her but they still drawled so dreamily.

“Well, I’m here now, baby. Get some sleep.” His words were a low drawl, muffled slightly against her skin but there was an honesty to them when he pulled away to meet her drowsy gaze with his own, pulling her in for a kiss that lingered and made her feel hazy with how sweetly he held her close.

[carlyraejepsans]

Technically speaking, he was a light sleeper.

Which was just hilarious for two different reasons. One, he topped at twenty pounds soaking wet—and that was after he'd reached for the towel. The joke basically wrote itself. The other reason was, of course, that nobody believed him. Honestly, he could kinda get it. It's pretty hard for irony to escape him, even on a bad day. The way he saw it, though, maybe he wouldn't take as many naps as he did, if he just managed to get one to stick.

...heh, nah. Probably not. Late to rise, early to bed, makes a man lazy or clinically dead, or however the saying went. Still.

The kid stiffened against his ribcage and that was all it took for his eyes to fly open.

The popcorn ceiling of the living room stared back at him through the darkness in all its tacky glory. Now that's another joke that writes itself. It wasn't a movie night at Tori's without some comment about her taste in decor. That always earned him a round of groans. Or a halfhearted pillow to the head. It was one of his favorite moodsetters.

His hand dangled in the air at his side. Not on the floor. Just a few months earlier, that alone would've told him he wasn't in his room, but oh boy, had things changed. He had a bedframe now, not to mention enough self respect for one. AND fitted sheets—that was a lifetime first. You had to be careful not to fall off, but all things considered, it was the fanciest bed he'd slept on since he'd tried using his worker bonus at MTT's. If he risked falling off the bed now, he'd risked never finding his way out then. Not to mention the guy in the other room calling for room service the entire night. He almost retired the midnight snacks bit on Undyne out of sympathy the next time she came over.

Almost.

The kid's head twitched.

Right. Popcorn. Living room. Springy mattress. He didn't need to smoke a pipe to realize he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. Didn't need a goofy hat either to see that someone must've thought he'd make a good pillow. Go figure. He'd gotten real good at making himself look softer under his clothes, but still, it wasn't exactly the kind of magic a guy could keep up with his eyes closed and a pillow behind his head. He just hoped they weren't too uncomfortable.

He must've dozed off sometime after Papyrus left the house and Toriel turned in for the night, 'cause nobody had stopped by to throw a blanket over him. Most nights that would've been fine. Nice thought aside, skeletons didn't really feel cold "to their bones", on account of lacking all the soft and fleshy stuff on top of 'em.

Yeah, well. Most nights. Most nights he didn't have a human kid sleeping on top of him, either.

Sans looked down. He resisted the urge to blow a strand of hair out of their face.

Most nights, skeletons didn't have hearts beating against their ribs.

Ba-dum—ba-dum—ba-dum.

He would've asked them if it felt any different, having it beat on the other side of their ribcage, if they hadn't already crawled their way inside his months before.

Heh. Not like they hadn't done the same with everyone else. Or ever asked for permission, the little freeloader. But he supposed that part came free with being monsters. The whole HOPE and compassion and everything nice kinda shtick. As a rule, they were, uh, very prone to attachment. It was hardwired into their SOULs or something. Of course, he knew better than anyone that compassion had its cost, and he'd ran low on HOPE for a long, long while, but...

There was a ray of light coming through the kitchen at night like he hadn't seen in an even longer time. The kind with a moon and stars hung at the other end of it.

Yeah. Maybe he could afford something nice for once.

Frisk stirred again. He kept as still as possible as they wriggled around, pushing themself off of him—trying, he assumed, not to shove their boney little knees somewhere unpleasant.

Then they flopped to their side and fell to the floor with a thud.

See, THAT'S the kinda issue you don't have when you have no self respect.

Slowly, the kid got to their feet again. They stood perfectly straight for a moment, then took an unsteady step forward. Then another.

To call it "walking" would've been an act of mercy. It was more of an ambling. Maybe a shambling. Sans watched their journey towards the kitchen mentally listing of adverbs. Stumbling. Fumbling. Trailing. That one didn't have a mbl in it, points for originality.

Mostly, he was ecstatic. Nothing made for fun breakfast stories quite like sleepwalking. And well, he hadn't had one of those since Papyrus turned fifteen and stopped sleeping entirely.

When the kid finally reached the fridge, they all but shoved their head inside it. He heard them do... something in there. There were definitely teeth involved. He was about to ask them to bring some goods back to homebase.

The door of the fridge clicked closed.

He didn't.

Then, he almost made a joke about forgetting their headlights on, but thought otherwise. He was glad he'd left his own off.

Besides, it was the taillights that were supposed to glow red.

Eyesockets dark and still pretending to sleep, he kept watch as the kid turned around and retraced their shambling steps to the living room like a miniature zombie.

Halfway to the sofa, they stopped, making a small sound like a grumbling of annoyance. For a second their eyes grew even more unfocused.

"Sleep," they rasped out in a low, halting whisper, "I saved you a crick in the neck."

It took him a second to register that the kid wasn't talking to him. Mostly 'cause Frisk didn't speak. To him. Or ever.

By the time they reached their starting point again, his excitement had died off into quiet confusion and quickly curdled into caution. They stopped at the edge of the sofa and fixed him with a stare, looking at where they'd been sleeping before. Sans waited.

"I am not doing that," they rasped to themself again.

Then they climbed onto the other end of the sofa and curled around themself as small as possible. So tightly it looked like they wanted to tuck their tiny body into a ball.

When they stopped moving, they didn't move again.

Sans didn't lift a finger. His brain whirred in his skull, ready to chalk up the past few minutes to the sleepwalking and forget they ever happened. Staring up at the popcorn ceiling again, though, he couldn't shake off a wave of uneasiness; like he'd seen something he wasn't quite supposed to put together.

Any man would've spent the night awake.

He cast a glance at the kid, huddled in their corner. There was no heartbeat against his ribs now: something about the silence felt foreboding.

Sans closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, of course, he was out like a light.